Summary: 6/13/09: I went up Dumpling Mountain today. All the way to the top. By myself. In the rain. I can die happy now! And then I got lost for seven hours out in the wilderness. Here's what I learned.

Mountains and Faith

By Alicia

As I write this, I'm sitting on my top bunk in my cabin. I am blessedly warm all over, and I am also sitting down. I used up five band-aids covering the blisters on my feet. Today did not go according to my plan for my day off. But I'm safe and happy, and I learned something today.

The Story

I was hoping to fly to King Salmon today for my day off and just get online rather than relying on mail (yeah, everyone who said I'd die without my instant messenger…I retract the pffffft…or maybe turn it back on myself). But the plane schedule was such that while I could fly there, there was no space on any flight back that would get me back here in time for my work shift tomorrow. So instead, I asked my boss if he'd let me use his Internet for a half hour or so – he said that was ok as long as I came in early in the morning. I did what I had to do for the school site, sent out some personal messages, and received a very pleasant surprise in my email – turns out that Cytec wants me back, and they're already asking Accounttemps when I can start. I wrote back and explained that I'm totally offline, but I'll be home on October 5 and I'll give them a call then, because I would very much like to return to Cytec. I was planning on either napping in the morning and hiking in the afternoon or vice versa, catching up on some letters, doing the back days of Bible reading that I seem to have skipped, and possibly starting that novel that I keep on making noise about.. It was drizzling – so far we've had very good weather for a summer in this part of Alaska, so no one's complaining about the little rain we're getting. Anyway, I would up deciding that I would hike in the morning, and then (so I thought) taking my nap in the afternoon instead.

That's not exactly what happened. I wound up walking for ten hours straight!

At about eight thirty this morning, I put on what turned out to be a perfect hiking outfit for the rain – long johns on top and bottom, jeans, t-shirt on top of top long johns, then thick hoodie that I can wear on the downhill parts and tie around my waist on the uphill parts. I slathered on mosquito repellant, filled my little water bottle, put the Uncanny X-Cast on my ipod, and started up. (Some say that it's not safe to use ipods at all while hiking here, because it decreases the chance you'll hear a bear coming. They're probably right, but Dumpling's not a short hike – three hours at the very minimum even when you don't walk all over the mountain – and I don't like the idea of being stuck in my own head that long! So I compromise – I keep the volume low, and I try to select podcasts rather than music because it's much easier to hear over voices than music. Oh, and everyone here uses his or her ipod while hiking, so it can't be all that dangerous.) The trip up the mountain was glorious. I got to the overlook without having to stop. I got my breath, drank my water, and marveled at the way that I couldn't see the valley and the lakes the way I usually could – everything was cloaked in thick fog. Then I marveled at the way that I was wet (soaked through already by that point) but I wasn't cold. And I marveled at the way that, just like it does on the roller skating rink, my head was telling me that my body shouldn't be this powerful on its own, but my body was accomplishing the climbs easily. And so I went on. I figured this would be a good day to try to reach the peak, since I was on my day off and I wasn't too hot, too cold, or too winded. The trail on Dumpling runs stops before the peaks, so you have to find your own way from there. Kara and another of my coworkers went that way the other day, deliberately taking a different way down, and they told me that it was impossible to get lost up there, because the higher you go, the more of the mountain you can see. So I kept going past the trail. Dumpling has three or so peaks – they really are a little like upside-down dumplings. The nearest and the farthest have radio catchers on them. I came close enough to touch both radio catchers. And I was looking around the whole time. I mean, the view must be spectacular when you can see all the way down (I have been almost that far before on clear days, and it is spectacular), but I don't think anything in my life could have prepared me for that sensation of being above the clouds. It was just me and this little dome of green below me, and then rings and rings of different colored grey. The sun was bright and clear above me, and when I turned my ipod off, there was absolute silence. I've described the sense of majesty here before, but this was that same sense of majesty magnified about fifteen times. I laughed for the sheer joy of it.

(Oh, by the way, I didn't even have my camera with me, so there are no pictures. I did that quite deliberately. It adds weight to the pockets of my hoodie that I don't want, and on a day like this, I just knew that it would get soaked – it's not covered in a case the way my ipod is. Besides, I'm no good at photography anyway, and I'm not sure a picture could convey the sense of having all these different layers of water below you. I'm much better with words.)

I checked the watch on my ipod. It was about eleven (two and a half hours in getting to the mountaintop) so I figured I'd make it back before lunch closed at 1:30 no problem. I meandered around the various peaks a bit, but basically retraced my steps back to where I thought the trail would be. And I couldn't find it.

I think the fog must have risen while I was being awe-struck on the peak; at least, I remember climbing above the clouds before I left the trail. But on the way down, I was just encased in white. I couldn't see more than a couple of feet in front of me. At one point, I looked ahead and saw a sheer drop down. I realized that wasn't the trail, and turned back, but I wasn't sure quite where to turn. I should explain something about my sense of direction. Some of my friends have an innately good sense of direction. I don't. I read maps as well as the next person now (how I got to LA and back without having to turn around once), and I'm good at managing cross streets, and good at intuiting the grid in Phoenix. In other words, all the learned skills that come with finding one's way around, I have finally mastered. But some people seem to have this innate sense of where they are in relation to other things. I don't – if I enter a store, when I come out, I have to find two landmarks to tell me where and from which direction I came in. (I habitually find those landmarks now – that is something I can learn.) But I don't have the sense of "I came from this direction and not that direction, and if I forget to find a landmark before turning, I'm equally likely to turn the wrong way as the right way. So at the top of the mountain when I couldn't see anything at all, it was needle in a haystack for me to find the trail down. I wandered and prayed. I was busy feeling stupid for getting lost at all, but one of my friends said later that I did a smart thing from there, to follow a river to a body of water. I found a stream and followed it down. Actually, I just saw the cut in the earth, and by that point I was so relieved for a trail to walk on that I took it no matter what it was.

I did have to walk in the stream itself, but it wasn't as bad as you might think. I was already soaked, but I still wasn't cold. The rocks were a bit slippery, but it was better than trying to force my way through the trees on the lower part of the mountain when I was never sure if a drop would turn sheer. I would guess it took me…an hour…hour and a half, probably…to get off the mountain. And then I didn't know where the heck I was. I kept walking forward. The mountain is such that there are these little clearings where you can see down. When I saw one of those, I knew where the lake was – or a lake anyway; you can bet I was regretting not learning the names of the lakes or the mountains around here. I had to force my way ahead through a whole lot of trees and swamps to get there, though. Once I saw what I thought was a bear in a clearing – asleep in the grass, or so I thought – I backtracked and gave that clearing a wide berth. But besides that possibility (and it wasn't moving, and there are an awful lot of bear-shaped rocks on Dumpling, so maybe it wasn't a bear at all), I didn't see a bear the whole afternoon. I was praying the whole time, too; mostly praying the trip would be almost over and I'd know where I was when I emerged at the water (and that I would emerge at the water, since I thought I was just moving straight ahead through the forest, but what do I know?). I was very tired by this point, and also getting hungry – I'd given up getting home by lunch and was just hoping to make it for dinner.

I sent up a prayer of thanksgiving when I finally did reach the lake. I checked my ipod clock for the first time at that point, and it was about three in the afternoon. I switched to Buffy Buffcasts for the rest of the trip (in case that's relevant at all). Then I looked at the formation of the beach, and headed in the direction where I thought the camp was. Which turned out to be the opposite direction from where I was supposed to go. I kept seeing that point in the Chronicles of Narnia when Lucy is told to go in a counterintuitive direction and she refuses at first and then gives in later. It was an hour and a half later when I finally looked around, realized I was not heading toward camp after all and I must have come off the mountain on the wrong side, and turned around. I wanted to cry in frustration by that point – it's really hard to just keep moving when you don't know how much longer it's going to be, but you don't have another choice. I got back to where I'd turned in the first place, crossed the stream in a couple of places, and headed straight across to cut off a large chunk of peninsula where I didn't want to try to walk all the way around on the beach. That was probably the roughest going yet. There are "bear trails" all through the forests, but sometimes they don't go in the right directions, and finding them is pure chance. I'd already slipped and fallen more times than I could count (never hard enough to hurt myself, but my clothes dried completely and then got soaked again a couple of times). The mosquitoes mostly left me alone, but they swarmed around me when I tried to cut through forests. I was never sure whether the ground would be solid or swamp. I was so tired. So I kept going, and kept on praying that God would bring me home soon. Then I saw the Cultural Center that our camp keeps. I swear, I have never been so glad to see a human-made building in my entire life. So I walked down the path back to the cabin, guzzled water in the bathroom, told the story to a couple of people (including Lanee, who was kind enough to give me a hug!) changed out of my clothes (my socks went in the trashcan), went and scarfed enough dinner for two people, then spent a half hour in the shower trying to get the mountain out of my hair. I got home right about 6:30, which meant I'd been walking for ten hours.

As difficult as today was, it could have been much worse. Although it wasn't the way I'd have chosen to do it, I saw miles and miles of the Alaskan wilderness that people pay big money to come see, and it was beautiful. I have the experience of standing at the top of Dumpling looking down at the clouds, and nothing can ever take that away from me. It would have been much worse if I'd dressed inappropriately – an extra layer would probably have had to have been left behind, it was all I could do to carry my hoodie and myself; a layer too little or an inappropriate layer would have meant I'd have been cold all trip, and as it was, I was just the right temperature the whole way despite being soaked to the skin. It would have been worse if I hadn't just charged my ipod that morning – as lonely as the walk was, it would have been horrible if I'd been alone with my thoughts without a way even to tell time or to stay entertained as I started long stretches of walking that had no conceivable end in sight. It would have been worse if the mosquitoes hadn't mostly left me alone. It would have been worse if I'd started the walk in the afternoon instead of the morning, and wound up being stuck out there until dark (it doesn't get true dark until midnight here now, but ten hours…). God help me if I'd twisted my ankle or broken my leg. As it is, I'm developing hiking muscles, and I already have this finely honed sense of balance, so I was never in danger of hurting myself. God really help me if I'd seen a bear! He was definitely looking out for me.

My Interpretation

Faith has been a struggle for me lately. When I try to imagine what faith is and isn't, I still keep thinking of the whole idea of surrender (i.e. that one of the core tenets of Christianity is that our lives aren't our own), but in practice that looks like blind obedience for me, and condescension and judgment toward other people. And maybe I'm drawing the lines in the wrong places…I don't know…I used to be so sure of the doctrines that I held and wrote about, and now I'm not sure of anything. And then that plays into the sensation that none of these religious ideas are "real," (I don't have this social future waiting for me where I'll feel at "home" and I won't mess up all the time; I don't have a Heavenly Father waiting to say "well done" and finally give me an actual hug at the end of this journey), and then I ask God if He'd please give me a sign of His existence, but even if He chooses not to I will still keep on obeying the best way I can because I'm not trying to test Him and I know there's more going on than I see, and then He's silent and I find the whole thing very painful. This has been going on for months. When I started my Confession right before Easter with, "I'm having trouble believing in God at all," the penance assigned to me was to pray the Act of Faith. I haven't prayed the prayer itself yet (I have time since it'll be three months before I can get to Confession again) but I have been asking God a lot if He'd increase my faith. I think today He answered the prayer.

It all started with the fun part during the first two hours. I was already happy with the news from Cytec, and the way that I'd scratched the Internet itch and I could go for awhile longer now without having to be online. I don't think I've felt so light and free in months as I did climbing that mountain. The view from the top – from each of the peaks, each a bit different – sang to my heart. I've thought these kinds of things in nature before (and I've heard a lot of Christians describe similar kinds of thoughts), that how in the world could something like that mountain come about by chance? But you can believe in design without believing in the Christian God. So it wasn't that. It was more…a gift. I was paying more attention to the joy inside me that the beauty outside was creating. For so long I was sure I'd never be totally happy again, but I was totally and purely happy, for a few hours this morning. And there were God's fingerprints in the fog. The two main things that come up when I struggle with my faith are, is there a real God, and…it's difficult to put into words…but why and how does He care for me…what does He see in me that I don't even see in myself, and can He see me when in my own mind I passed the point of no return a long time ago? But then He creates this sheer beauty for everyone, and the silence and pure joy just for me. When I got done listening to the silence (and listening to myself laugh), the next song I listened to was "Sunrise of Your Smile." This world is full of narrow lines / I pray by grace your smile survives. I can hear God saying to me the very thing that Xena said to Gabrielle: if the light in your heart goes out, I don't think I could bear the darkness. That's a very personal and intimate kind of love. And it was just all real, in a way that it hasn't been before.

And then I got lost, and I was back to praying that God would show me the way. I was relying on my own (very flawed) sense of direction as well as on my prayers. But there were a lot of times when I did feel a slight pulling toward one direction or another. There's no way to tell whether that was a subtle nudge from God or if my own sense of direction is better than I think it is if I act on my intuition rather than questioning it (in my experience, Christians lean too heavily toward the first and non-Christians too heavily toward the second, and the reality is that it's both at once). Sometimes there were times when I just couldn't bear taking another step uphill in thick grass, and then another, and then another, and I'd pray that God would give me strength and it would be over soon. I can't count the number of times that I prayed, "Lord, please let me come home soon," all out loud ('cause y'know, you want to make as much noise as possible in case there are bears around). It occurred to me that there are a lot of times when I think that I've done enough, that I've trained hard enough, that I've reached my limit, when actually I haven't. There's no way to tell God that I'm done training for the afternoon. And I think I trust Him a bit more, now that I've had this experience, now that I can trust myself more too, and I know just how far I really can walk, and how much of anything in life I can endure before my strength truly runs out.

I was scared. I never panicked. It didn't feel as intense as something that would warrant panic. I knew the entire way that no one knew exactly where I was. People knew that I was planning on going up Dumpling that morning, but they didn't know how far I'd gotten off the trail (I was totally on the wrong side of the mountain by that point). I wanted to stop and rest, but at the very least that would have meant an expensive and embarrassing rescue, and in my own head, I was convinced that they probably wouldn't find me. The trees were so thick. The mountain is so big. So I figured that if I broke my leg or saw a bear, I was probably just going to die. *thinks* My own death doesn't scare me, not like you'd think. I've always been that way. Even as a ten year old, I'd have dreams about dying, and my only thought as I'd rise from my body would be, "is that it? Am I done, can I go home now?" Relief and not fear. But instead, I had a task in front of me. Death doesn't scare me, but hard, painful work to stay alive does scare me. The best way I can describe it is a Relient K line I was listening to as I made my way down the stream: Being apathetic's a pathetic way to be…but I don't see just how I can be motivated to break a sweat over a dying race / it seems our fate is something we've already embraced. I've been aware that's a character flaw for a long time now. It seems God is starting to work on it now. The work He gave me was very simple. Keep walking. Pick your way through the trees and rocks. Use your balance, and don't be squeamish about slipping in the mud. Keep walking. But once again I had thoughts that the work was too much. Time runs at a different pace when you're walking for so long. Even job offers far in the future don't seem to mean as much, and different interpersonal dynamics and possessions have no meaning whatsoever; all you're thinking is either getting home or else dying in the attempt, and all you want is to be safe, and to rest. But instead of that (what I ultimately wanted), what I had to focus on was the work given to me, and that my life is indeed worth doing the hard work it takes. I'll try to keep it in mind. This is one of those situations where I know exactly what I have to do, but training those muscles to do it is going to be a long process – it's not something I can just "decide" to do, just like keeping a brisk pace to the overlook of Dumpling wasn't something I could just "decide" to do the first time I did it. Caring is like a muscle. And I'm finally starting all the push-ups.

In Conclusion

There's no chance this will ever happen again, 'cause I'm never hiking off the trails again. The only reason I left the trail at all was that leaving the trail is the only way to make it to the top of Dumpling, and now that I've done it once, I don't need to do it ever again. I'm not going to hike by myself in the fog again (although I will try to take someone else along to enjoy the fog together!) and I'm not hiking at all tomorrow…I might actually use my split shift work break to take a nap, the way everyone's been advising me to do in the meantime.

'Till then, peace be with you all. And thank You, Lord. You didn't answer my prayer the way I'd expected, but Your way was even better.