A Climbers Journal

I walk out on the snow, ice axe in hand. I hear the familiar crunch of my footprints as I begin the slow arduous slog up the mountain. The wind is playing with me today. Its faint whisper against my ear alerts me to its presence only to blow itself into silence again. I walk on axe in hand, the weight of my pack like a comfortable old friend. It’s the middle of the night but my body doesn’t seem to mind. The glow of my headlamp coupled with the natural lightness of snow and the play of moon shows me the way. As I climb the stiffness leaves my mind and is replaced by the stillness that only the fluidity of my rhythmic steps can provide. I am a climber and my body knows this. My climb today was short, as I have work in a few hours, yet I needed to climb. I need to know this snow, this ice, this mountain. As I walk back to my car, the sun rising off my left shoulder, I feel accomplished with the steps taken today. And tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will wake again well before dawn and walk out on the snow, ice axe in hand.