One for the Road.

On my third journey to the mountains the road looked clearer and more spacious. But I knew the fog was still a few kilometers away.

Before taking off, I told myself it would be different this time. I would get there, I would climb, and if I didn’t reach the peak, at least I would escalate closer to it.

The thing is, the toughest part wasn’t the climbing, no. It was the road.

I feared the street lights, the pedestrians, the potential tickets, and the weather.

I remained anxious that I wouldn’t even reach the park, or that if I did, I would take the longest, most complicated trail in the forest. The road often seemed daunting to me, and the funniest thing about that was that I already knew it well. I had travelled that road multiple times, first as a passenger, then in the driver’s seat.

My ambitions as a hiker revealed more about myself than I ever thought they could. I realized that, contrary to popular belief, one can not only fear the unknown, but also be terrified of the known.

It’s kind of ridiculous, if you think about it. It’s like knowing tomorrow’s weather forecast shows a 100% chance of rain, having a perfectly good Patagonia raincoat in your closet, and still fearing you’ll get soaked. What’s more, you choose to get soaked, because you leave your house without your raincoat. Aha! That’s the key: realizing you have a choice.

The last time I found the courage to climb again it was summer time. I remember playing my “Let That Shit Go” playlist on Spotify and feeling over the moon! I felt so secure, so wild, so ready. But it was the story I was telling myself. I fell hard on my face and broke my neck. What had always looked naturally beautiful outside and inside, became estranged to me. I spent months recovering. I went to physical and emotional therapy, I swayed from confidence to insecurity, over and over again, until I healed. When I did, I had to make a decision: Would I climb again?

I gave myself time. I Focused on work, spent time with friends, went to yoga, and watched many movies. This continued several months, until one day, as I was walking to my yoga studio, I saw a flyer that said: “Join us next Saturday March 16 outside the Northern Parkade for a group hike through Garibaldi Provincial Park.” I smiled.

It was time to come back, into the mountains, and into myself.

I reminded myself I had a choice. I could choose to do things differently this time. I could choose not to fear the road, and to look forward to the climb. I didn’t meet the group outside that parkade, and instead drove my own car. I signed up for the group hike and packed my bag. I dressed lightly, and put my raincoat on. When I had packed it all, I sat on the driver’s seat, put my seatbelt on and connected my phone to the Bluetooth.

I played “One for the Road” by Arctic Monkeys on loop. I turned up the volume;

God I love Alex Turner.

Mr. Blue Sky was out, it was a beautiful day, and I was ahead of schedule, what a miracle! When I had travelled for about an hour, the weather conditions changed.

It was darker and grimmer. There was some construction going on and it confused me. I hadn’t driven this path in two years. Where did I have to turn? Left? Right?

Sunshine state my ass, I thought. Road trips across British Columbia are beautiful yes, but that does not mean they are easy. I pushed my Yogi self to breathe and relax. The cones and broken cement were about 500 meters ahead. I kept going, and without hesitating too much, I took the exit to the right.

I few kilometers down, the fog continued. Traffic signs told me I was going the right way though, and the lack of traffic as well as the many green lights allowed me to travel fast and smooth. But the density of the clouds concerned me, I worried that I would get there only to have to drive back home. When I realized that had happened before and there was nothing left to fear, I shrugged it off. I kept driving and singing to the top of my lungs. I turned the car headlights on and cut through the darkness.

As I was reaching the last extension of the Sea to Sky highway I surpassed the fog.

I sang to Turner’s lines “I thought it was dark outside. I thought it was dark outside.” The sun was shining again and I could see my beautiful dream of a mountain.

All I had to do was keep the lights on and enjoy the road.