Opinion: The challenge of mountain climbing leads to the magic of the wild

A few years ago, I learned that I have OCD, a type of obsessive-compulsive disorder. From my understanding, OCD can range from severe to mild. Fortunately, mine seems to be on the milder end of the spectrum. He also got a lot of help understanding the effects of OCD and learning how to live with it in a fairly healthy way.

One of the things I’ve been able to do as I’ve gotten older, and I like to think of myself as healthier and wiser, is to play with my OCD and sometimes use it to my advantage.

Here is an example. Ever since I learned that my iPhone’s Health app counts my steps and calculates my elevation gain (or “flights climbed”), I’ve made it my goal (or maybe I should call it my mission) to walk at least 10,000 steps every day. (not). In my case it’s about 3 miles. At the same time, I decided to “climb” at least 10 feet every day (one “flight” as defined in the app) and 1,000 vertical feet every week.

This is where the OCD element comes into play. Checking his daily “health data” on his iPhone shows that he has been walking at least 10,000 steps every day since December 29, 2019, when he was bedridden with the flu. For over four years, there were times when I had to make an extra effort to “keep my footing,” such as when traveling by plane to far-flung destinations. Some may consider it compulsive behavior.

My daily climbing streak isn’t that long, but it’s been over a year since my iPhone recorded at least 10 feet of elevation gain. Again, I had to go out of my way sometimes to get that 10 feet.

The bigger challenge is my weekly climbing goal. I spend a lot of time in the Chugach Front Range all year round, so most weeks I can easily climb over 1,000 feet in elevation. However, with heavy snowfall like the one Anchorage has had this winter, climbing 1,000 feet in a week can be very difficult, if not impossible (at my age and ability). there is.

After November’s record snowstorm, deep snow prevented us from gaining 1,000 feet of elevation for a week or two. And after the 17 inches of snow that buried Anchorage in late January, deep snow is once again a challenge.

But this time I had a stronger determination to accomplish the thousand foot challenge because it was a new year and the OCD inside me wouldn’t let me give up on the goal so early in the year. That was one of the reasons.

After considering various options, we zeroed in on the Turnagain Arm Trail, which begins at the Rainbow Trailhead. Towards McHugh Creek, the trail rises steadily for over a mile, gaining hundreds of vertical feet in that distance. It seemed worth a try, especially since this area doesn’t usually get as much snow as the Anchorage Bowl. On days when the temperature in Anchorage reaches below 10 degrees (or lower), the temperature is also high. This is an important consideration.

As a result, the condition was better than expected.

Joined by my hiking companion Denali, a mixed collie, Rainbow admittedly had a much shallower layer of fresh snow than in the city (and the snow underneath was well-packed and providing a solid foundation), and already I quickly realized someone was hiking there. Any little bit of snow since the recent storm has helped solidify it. So while Denali and I had to negotiate soft and “punchy” trail conditions, we didn’t have to shovel through deep, pristine snow.

To add to our good fortune, the sun shone brilliantly in the deep blue sky, flooding the wooded hillside we climbed with bright, warm light. And the air was almost completely still.

In short, conditions were ideal for a hill climb.

The air was warm and calm enough, and the hike was strenuous enough, that I eventually took off my wool hat, outer wind jacket, and sometimes even my wool mittens during the climb. The temperature felt mild, about 15 to 20 degrees warmer than what Anchorage experienced that morning.

In contrast to the weather in our idyllic woodlands, just a mile or so away as the crow flies, ferocious gales are blowing huge plumes of snow from the peaks of the Chugach Mountains, creating an entirely different and A far more frightening world was unfolding. It seemed amazing to be able to stand in such a warm and serene environment and marvel at huge pillars of snow blown by the wind.

Yet another world, the fog-shrouded, ice-filled waters of Turnagain Arm moved darkly and eerily below us.

The neighboring worlds, so close and yet so unlike each other, added joy and a kind of intrigue to our walk through the forest. But something else was happening.

As the sun approached the horizon, the snow-covered forest seemed to shine even deeper with golden light. And when he looked in the direction of the sun, he saw many small, glittering ice crystals floating in the air. They were so small that when I turned away from the sun, their sparkling light disappeared, like the ice crystals themselves.

There seemed to be a kind of magic in the interaction of air, light, and crystals. But it was more than that. For a while, it seemed as if the forest itself had somehow transformed from an ordinary woodland into something magical. Or maybe the magic, the mystery that this forest has always held has somehow been revealed.

At that moment, my entire body was filled with joy. As I caught glimpses of what I sometimes call “the great wild,” I realized and felt what a blessing it is to be alive and a part of such an amazing place.

This experience was so mesmerizing that I whispered to myself: Remember all this and imprint the beauty, magic and joy of this day into your being. That way you can remember them in dark and difficult times.

Then I returned to the more mundane but enjoyable act of climbing trails.

By the time Denali and I stopped climbing, we had gained over 700 feet of elevation and were easily within reach of our weekly goals. While it was certainly satisfying, it was only a small part of what turned out to be a much bigger and more epic experience.

A part of me wanted to make sense of everything that happened along the Turnagain Arm Trail that day. But another part, I would say the wiser part, understood that everything I experienced, from my OCD urges to the witchcraft of the “magic” of the forest, was simply a different aspect of my self. doing. You don’t have to understand things.

More importantly, my experience of both the world and myself continues to deepen and expand as I grow older. We focus on growth.

Anchorage nature writer and wildlife/wilderness advocate Bill Sherwonit He is a widely published essayist and the author of more than a dozen books, including Living with the Wild: Travels in Alaska and Animal Stories: Encounters with Alaska’s Wildlife.

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