I called in sick earlier this year. On that sick day, I woke up at 5 a.m. and set off for Leavenworth, a small Bavarian-themed town about two and a half hours east of Seattle. Near Leavenworth is the Stuart Lake Trailhead, an entrance to The Enchantment Lakes, quite possibly the most beautiful hike one can do in Washington, especially in mid-October when the larch trees paint the landscape with their golden needles. I was looking forward to being sick this day; all my hikes since June had fostered my discernment about whether or not I should stay or leave the school where I have taught the last 14 years. God speaks to me through these experiences, truly. This day, I thought, I would make my decision.
My plan was utter stupidity. I would day-hike The Enchantments — a feat accomplished by few — with three energy bars and 50 oz. of water — a feat attempted by the foolish. To even get to The Enchantments from the Stuart Lake TH, one needs to scale Aasgard Pass, a wall of stone much like the one from which Gandalf and the Rohirrim descended in The Two Towers. Why yes, I am a nerd.
I entered the hike in the best shape of my life. I had trekked 14 miles the weekend prior, making it to the summit and back to my car in five hours. I can run up a mountain in long segments, and down all the way. I felt that I was giving myself ample time, setting off from SLTH at 8 a.m., hoping to return by 7 p.m. I didn’t even know that the end of the hike would spit me out at a different trailhead, a few miles away from my car. See kids? That’s why it pays to do your homework.
The hike started out easy. After veering away from Stuart Lake to Colchuck Lake, I made it to the base of Aasgard in 90 minutes. The next two miles would be murderous on the muscles. The whole time, scaling boulders and scrambling up scree, I would look up and see this concave horizon line at the top of the pass, a cluster of larches congregating as a welcome wagon. The elusive trail challenged my navigation skills, as I had to follow cairns that weren’t always visible. Still, I got closer at a rapid pace. Not even noon yet, and I was half way there. Then three-quarters. Then an eighth (by my visual estimation).
When that cluster of larches seemed so close, something happened that freaked me out. I took account of my water reservoir. Two gulps left, at the most. To press on would be dangerous, and my middle name is Carlos. Not Danger. I thought to myself, maybe I can huff it up to the top of this pass, then head back the way I came. Even though descending the pass would be a piece of cake (to the gluten allergic), I would at least know my path, and it wouldn’t present new challenges. So I did what I always do in these dilemmas. I stress-ate.
Looking longingly at the party of larches looming above, I decided to listen to my parents’ voices screaming in my head to return to my car the way I came. Defeated, I went down. This was the first time I attempted a hike, and did not finish. It was hard for me. I’m a closer, not a quitter. Between bitter steps back to the lake, I would often look at the summit and say, I was right there. I was right there. At the foot of Aasgard, I thought to myself, if I had just pushed a little harder, I could have made it, which translated into: just work a little harder, Jace, and you’ll be there for this class who have gone through the wringer of losing teachers. Stay at OLG.
With that thought, I had made my choice to remain at Guadalupe for one last year.
Until…
Reading more about the hike at Aasgard Pass, I learned that the friendly clique of larch trees on the horizon is a false peak. False peak – In mountaineering, a false peak or false summit is a peak that appears to be the pinnacle of the mountain but upon reaching, it turns out the summit is higher.
I’ve been chasing summits my whole life, and I’m not talking about mountaintops. Writing the novel was one, and I finally reached that summit. Losing weight was one, and I finally made it to that one as well. Mind you, it’s not like I’ve just begun wanting those accomplishments. I’ve been wanting to do those things for the majority of my life, but every time I tried, I only reached a false summit – one that told me I had to work harder than I did. Only when I made the choice to sacrifice and persevere, did those dreams finally come true. No accomplishment in my life compares to these. Except the work I’ve done at Our Lady of Guadalupe School.
Guadalupe is not a pretend peak. It’s a real one, and I’ve been sitting here a while now, pretending I’m just at another false summit. If this hike taught me anything, it’s that I can often delude myself in order to remain comfortable. I love OLG with all my heart. I’ve poured everything I am into this community, and I love, love fiercely the people around me. But I can’t stay here forever. I have to own my time at OLG as a summit. The greatest summit of my life. If I keep treating it like a false one, I’ll never know what it’s like to face a new challenge. And a false summit is all I will ever know of the dreams I have outside 3401 SW Myrtle. That really frightened me.
I changed my mind, a few days after the hike. It’s time to descend the mountain. Not defeated, but fulfilled and ready for the next mountain to climb.