It’s not About The Destination, it’s About The…?
Most would say the journey. Alright, I’ll give you that one. I knew that when I started this trip that while Mt. Rainier would be one of the craziest experiences of my life, I would ultimately look back on the unplanned moments and small things that happened along the way as my favorite memories from it. Whether that be a waterfall I stumble across, seeing one of the best sunsets I’ve ever seen while making dinner on the side of the road, or swimming in the bluest and deepest lake in the USA. It’s the journey that matters. But I have an argument against that. Throughout the process of trying to figure out who I am by subjecting myself to uncomfortable situations every single day, I’ve discovered what really makes living this kind of life worth it. Worth every flat tire, exhaust leak, uncomfortably hot night, and horrible public bathroom. And it’s the people.
A few days ago I was planning on attempting a summit of Middle Sister in Oregon as some training for Rainier. I had my bag packed, clothes ready, and my hydration needs met the night before. I drifted off to sleep at an uncomfortably late time because of the heat, and as such slept well past my 2 A.M alarm. By the time I was on the trail, the sun had already come up. Now, that’s already not ideal, as you want to be climbing any snow as early in the day as possible to ensure it’s nice and solid. But I also had a 6 mile approach in front of me, and it was already getting hot. So, for once, I listened to that nagging feeling in the bottom of my stomach, and I turned around. Eager to still make the most of the day and the 2,000 calories I had for dinner, I headed over to Smith Rock, one of the premiere sport climbing destinations in the U.S. Having only climbed once in the last three weeks, and with no sport experience under my belt, I was a sore choice for a partner.
Sunrise on North Sister
I arrived at Smith Rock and headed to the most popular climb to try and scout some potential partners. It was looking to be a hot day, so I didn’t expect to see many people out there but figured I’d find somehow. I got to the climb and saw a group of three same wall. I plopped my bag down and watched for a bit, nervous to start talking to these people who obviously knew what they were doing and seemed pretty preoccupied. After a few minutes of awkwardly sitting away from the base, one of the group of three asked if I was waiting to hop on the route they were on. As I talked to him, explaining how I was trying to find someone to climb with, I realized that I recognized this man. The group of three turned out to be Cody and Victoria, who’s YouTube videos I had watched many times, and their friend Zack. We started talking, and they all invited me to hang out and climb with them for the day. What started as a shitty day had just magically turned into something special and completely unplanned. Within five minutes of arriving at the base of the route, I had found a group of experienced climbers who were all living the life I was seeking and who happily invited me to tag along with them.
Zack leading a route
The innate connection with others that live in their van simply can’t be understated. While it is undoubtedly one of the loneliest ways to live, these few moments of instant connection make it all worth it. To outsiders it might seem like a cliquey, tight knit group, but the more time I spend out here and the more people I meet I realize it’s far from the opposite. To feel so immediately welcomed in circles of people that you’ve never met before and will probably never meet again is a privilege that few people get to experience, and I am incredibly lucky to be able to experience it. After we got done climbing, Zack let me know about a large meetup happening just an hour North in a couple days. Seemed like an interesting time, so I figured I’d also give it a shot.
What followed was 48 hours of me being reassured that it’s not only possible to live in your van, but possible to thrive. The sense of community that developed over the course of just a couple days was overwhelming. Groups of people coming together to help someone stuck in the mud, insane 80+ person dinners where everyone chips in with ingredients, and even a dance floor?? Yeah, this was insane. I walked away from that event feeling like I had a whole new group of friends by my side, even though I’ll probably never see most of them ever again. One thing about being on the road, though, is that there’s the high chance you will see them again, especially if you stick in the same area long enough.
That all being said, it is about the journey. But the journey is only as good as the people you meet along the way. Don’t ever let your self doubt get in the way of you meeting the kinds of people you deserve to have in your life. And to everyone who I’ve met so far on this trip, thank you all for making this the most memorable experience of my life. Without you guys I probably would have driven my van into a ditch long ago, especially with the price of gas in California.
I may be alone the majority of the time, but I can think of few times I’ve felt less lonely in life. Anyway, we got Aidan Weik in from CT to fill you in on what’s next for us out here in Washington.
“No one knows aura farming like Mount Rainier. From the tarmac of the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, to the North Shore Mountains in Vancouver, all the way down in coastal Oregon; for over 100 miles in any direction ‘The Mountain’ looms above you. Superimposing in a way only the most prominent mountain in the contiguous US can be. At 500,000 years old, she’s no elder, but her spiritual presence is undeniable as the lone clouds in the sky billow off the stratovolcano’s curved rim and jagged edges. For many Seattle residents Rainier is simply part of their skyline, reminded of it on clear days or with any glance at a Washington license plate, but never influenced to ascend. For Carter and I, Rainier is proof; proof we are capable of conquering the most physically demanding peaks in the region. Proof that with hard work and determination, perhaps that region will widen. As I stared out my plane window and saw her peaking out behind the Delta service building, it looked ridiculous to even think I could climb up something so impressive. Then I remembered how I had felt staring up at Mount Washington just this past winter, and how I imagine I’ll feel staring up at Denali and Everest one day far too soon.”
And there you have it.
My first view of Rainier, from the summit of Mt. Adams
