We all have one... a certain adventure goal, an elusive summit, a particular set of rapids, that so distant island... Maybe it seems a bit strong to refer to them as a Nemesis, as our own personal infernal goddess of retribution, that bane to our adventure aspirations, or even as an act in a play of some sort of outdoor tragedy - but they surely do feel that way at times...My own personal downfall of motivation at times, an opponent of progress in years of scrambling seasons, had been our Mt. Smuts. A mountain of a seemingly unassuming name, but with a quietly intimidating reputation. It is spoken and written about as one of the most difficult scrambles around here, as a ridge route of distinct exposure, where many begin but few actually attain the true summit of. Friends who have tried also state it is 'Not' a scramble, not really a 'climbers scramble' either, not even made simpler or easier when a piece of rope is taken, but rather a route that dictates things to us and then demands as much from us...
Mt. Smuts has a longer approach giving you lots of time to contemplate its challenges, and is also a scramble requiring a certain skillset and a distinct commitment. I have engaged with this objective every second summer over a long course of years now. The first time out was in reasonable weather but became a test of my beliefs and confidence in the abilities one needs on such slabs of rock with a very real exposure endlessly pulling at us. Later this challenging, yet enticingly angled stone was less daunting but not very dry, and again the nature of Mt. Smuts and its history of keeping its summit secret remained. Another set of seasons passed and the elements still conspired to stall my intentions as did an injury which undermined my efforts too. A further two years would close until during what should have been a calm day, instead grew into high winds that on such a ridge would have been way to risky to push on through. Many times this beautiful peak with its taunts and teasings has eluded me...
Then came a reading of Andrew Nugara's account in 2004, when he and his brother Mark were turned away in July, only to return again that August, with focused energy and new found determination. His enthusiastic account and encouraging words prompted me to head out to Smuts once more at a later point as the gauntlet still remained thrown.
My return then became a very different experience though... While the summit itself was still not to be mine to enjoy that day, as the weather again was in no mood to cooperate, I wandered around and upon that mountain in a most interesting way... I felt I was beginning to understand Mt. Smuts even if I did not know its summit. The peak was yet to be known for those brief moments, but rather than opposing one another, maybe the mountain and I were now sharing in a company of a higher kind...
I began to wonder if this wild place of rock and stone and dreams, was not something more of an Elemental, something other than what first impressions were made of... Not a Nemesis as such, but something much, much more...
In more obscure historical literature any 'nemesis' are also written about as beings more like the Muses, who shroud themselves in hidden forms to see if we mortals deserve their time and wisdom and gifts... They make us endure trials, long journeys, odysseys of another kind, to test us, to see if we are more than just the shell we inhabit. These kind of Elementals are more truly there to teach each of us rather than just acting within the assumed role of a nemesis in supposedly being there to defeat us.
It has taken a number of long journeys, over even longer years, but it seems I have learned more now than just the lay of the land out there. These are the lessons from enjoying such an adventure experience regardless of the outcome, in gradually understanding more in that the nature of a mountain is not just the summit, and the value of embracing such challenges because that is why we are truly out there in the first place, is it not my friends...
I needed to shift one stormy and stony perspective after another in trying to see what this mentor was attempting to teach me... Mt. Smuts has become more of a wise old friend. I think we share in an alliance now, an association, a connection - where in testing each other we have become more united than opposing, more respectful of each other.
My brooding mentor and close elder friend has allowed me to take my due because of what I took part in upon its slopes. These are the earned lessons and so useful teachings that have now been applied on other adventures... In that so very dark and deep southern canyon, upon a northern lake that is hardly ever accessed because of its incessant wind and waves, over a waypoint on a coastal trek very few wander through, and on another summit in the Yosemite highlands which only some have actually shared in...
I think Mt. Smuts is a place of spirits too that I am more aware of now also... Other spirits reflecting a certain kind of effort, spirits of lost ground but gained experience, of better understanding oneself, and other spirits there also I am sure I have sensed...
Over a decade will have passed when I likely will decide to plan and prepare a journey back, for furthering my continuing education with Mt. Smuts. I will review others and Andrew's account again of their experiences for sparks of enthusiasm. Then a return to that class will occur, for a further course, hopefully for other lessons and affirmations of patience, persistence, and passion... For a joining with, a blending with, rather than just a struggling against, me dear wild place nemesis.....
DSD
My real thanks to Andrew for both the inspirations and the above images:
2 comments:
Sometimes Mother Nature turns adventures into Sisyphean tasks. Every time you gain an inch, she beats you further back down. Sometimes she beats you, but you never win. Such is the challenge in adventure, it is facing the onslaught with courage and coming out the better.
why do we need to be in war with Mother Nature and always talk about 'winning or losing', Scienceguy288? I loved your photos, DSD.
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