My North Cascades Story - My outdoor education

My outdoor education

By Ingunn Markiewicz

I had spent the summer months feeling inferior to my mountaineering peers, wondering where I was headed with my outdoor education. My term as a climbing student had ended abruptly as I was clinging to an outdoor climbing wall in Spanaway, Washington - I was, it turned out, absolutely terrified of heights. Gone were my dreams of summiting Mount Baker. I would never scale the forbidding spires of the Picket Range. 

While my adrenaline-hungry friends scrambled Black Peak, I waited for them below, snuggled up in my down cocoon on the shore of Wing Lake. We had spent an entire, glorious morning hiking, dodging bear scat in the forest while debating the presence of grizzlies in the North Cascades. Popping through a few treacherous inches of snow, we crossed what must surely be the longest boulder field known to man, and posed for photos in front of the pea soup waters of Lewis Lake. Now it was just me, alone, waiting.

As the October sun changed the color of Wing Lake from silty turquoise to sparkly sapphire right before my eyes, it occurred to me that, for the first time in months, I felt genuinely content. Maybe it was just the impending hypothermia talking, but right there, right then, nestled among the golden larches, I had everything I could possibly want. I didn’t need to constantly challenge myself and try to conquer my fears. What I needed was to sit back, breathe, and be fully present in these moments of clarity.

Four hours later, friends reunited, we hiked back by the light of our headlamps and the fog of our breath. It felt like walking meditation. I looked up at the starry sky and smiled to myself. I didn’t need to stand on top of a mountain to feel alive. My outdoor education was going just fine.