What the Mountains Taught Me

By Suchita Salwan, Little Black Book Delhi

This is an excerpt from a journal entry I made on my return from a trek to Chandrakheni Pass in India.

It’s taken me a whole week to really fathom, contain and reflect on the Chandrakheni Trek. I feel it’ll find a way to penetrate into my life and the way I go about my being for years to come. I say this because the mountains taught me a lot of things. To begin with, I’m glad that I took a good month prior to the trek to engage in some form of physical activity {being Yoga}; I don’t think I would’ve managed the climb otherwise. At hindsight, the first two days which seemed heartbreaking and challenging in the moment seem like a joke compared to the two days that followed. That said, what took me through it all were the gorgeous views, beautiful weather, and the most heart warming sights and sounds that accompanied us.

What set this trip apart, or aligned it more closely to the way I’ve spent the past year traveling, in business and in friendships, is how I let go of wanting to know what it entailed, what the itinerary was, where we were going and how long it would take. This was primarily because a. I hadn’t trekked since school, so the question of where we’re going and how we’d get there was answered by ‘follow the leader’ and b. how long it would take and if I’d last the journey was purely up to me. The power that choice brings is exhilarating, but more on that later. Moreover, none of that really mattered because at the end of it all I was going to be back home in Delhi. What would be significant was the journey and all that it brought with it.

I sincerely believe that if one were to live every day of one’s life as one behaves while walking on the mountains, that is life in its truest sense. The trek gave us a chance to walk through every possible surface, as I imagine and am told any other trek would; and as you go from uphill to downhill to rock to snow to pine and grass, hop over rocks scattered on water, you see and understand your body’s ability or inability to adapt. I had to work with moraine, a fear of heights, loose rock and small streams because they weren’t going to change. They weren’t magically going to transform into paths cemented and paved for me, and stopping or giving up was not an option. I wasn’t equipped with proper mountain gear- I mean those shoes fucked my feet over and how, my training pants were waterproof and that’s about it, I didn’t have a walking stick, and turns out Prada shades don’t help while battling the sun’s reflection off snow. But I had to find a way to make it work. I feel you can find a million and one excuses to not do something, or you could just shut up, accept your circumstances and make it work. Or you could take another route, but that would mean another journey, which would make for a different story.

I learnt so much about myself while trekking and being out in the wilderness. And while I could argue that this holds for every experience in life, I don’t think I’ve been through anything that enabled me to reflect on a moment instantly. You take a step and you breathe it in. You think to myself ‘What other step could I have taken to get to where I am now?

While walking over the pass, which was at a height of over 3600 meters, I was only obviously petrified courtesy my vertigo- it conveniently came knocking at my insides as we walked on the edge of the mountain {so much for not looking down!}. One of the porters said that I was gripped by my fear; and it wasn’t only evident on my face, it was also holding me back from taking the next step. I was so consumed by the thought of ‘what if I fall?’ that I didn’t get a chance to really soak in what surrounded me. This trepidation made me want to rush to complete the task at hand. I can barely recall the splendour of the mountains during the climb downhill, because I didn’t bother looking. I was too busy being scared.

What’s interesting is how, as when on the mountains, I feel in business and in life while progress and growth are important, it’s also equally important and imperative to take in and internalize whatever it is you’re feeling and going through. We build, or I built, the possibilities in my head of ‘What if ‘this’ happens to me?’. Questions are important because one can’t be reckless about taking risks. I slipped and missed steps countless times while traversing through snow. Sure it was funny to slide down 30 feet at a slope on snow, but had the incline been steeper, I don’t think I would’ve been laughing as hard. So yes, one should think before one acts. But the mountains taught me that I will think if I’m in the moment… That I will feel, if I’m simply just present. And I will not fall if what consumes me is not the fear of falling, but a desire to take the next step.

The mountains taught me to adapt to what nature endowed us with, forget what I’d been denied- being good shoes, comfortable pants and PMS at an unfortunate occasion- and persevere with thoughtfulness. Though it may be hard to always achieve this in practice, what’s compelling as a way of life is finding a balance between your instinct, precedence and actions.

To phrase more philosophically, an intricate balance between the past, the present and the future.

I want to write what the mountains taught me about love. But maybe I’ll find the words when I find the love.