Rise & Fall

Yesterday was a day to rise above it all. Both literally and figuratively.

I have been wanting to hike Multnomah Falls for a while now, and never got off my ass and did it. So yesterday, being one of the biggest weekends for families to go out and get in my way, I decided to finally do it.

I crafted a playlist for the drive out, singing loudly and mostly in tune along to Lady Gaga and Kelis, among others, and found the exit to the falls was closed due to the parking lot being full. It had never occurred to me that a park would be closed because it was overfull.

With a sigh, I decided to keep going. I figured I might find someplace else to go, maybe a kitschy restaurant to sit and write or something. Eventually, I realized that there would be nothing between me and the Dalles, so I turned around and headed back home. Passing the falls again, I saw that there was no closure on the exit. I pulled off the highway and parked immediately. Things were looking up!

I strapped my backpack on (just like my walks home) and headed up. There were tons of people up through the first bridge where all the oldies, invalids, and too-small children go. Then the actual hike to the top.

Eleven switchbacks. It was tough. I get winded each day on my walk home ascending the bridge to cross the river. I don't slow down or anything, but I do get winded. That's nothing compared to this one-and-a-quarter mile hike up a steep slope. I made the first four switchbacks just fine before I had to rest a moment and let my heart rate slow back down to normal human speeds. With just a couple more rests, I made it all the way to the top. I looked out over the observation balcony, I got down to the actual stream bed and wet my hands, I even did a couple yoga stretches to ease my legs.

Then I decided to see where the other path leads to. Apparently, it goes into the mountains fora few miles of hiking loops. I trooped along, higher and higher, seeing less and less casual day-hikers and more and more people with camel-backs and walking sticks. It was beautiful!

I found this spot that was perfect to stop and rest. It was about twenty feet down from the main path, with a rock that stood out from cliff face and was large and flat enough to sit upon. Settling myself on it, all I could see was the ground falling away and trees rising hundreds of feet above me.

I sat, thinking about what I'd accomplished. I had never hiked that far. I hadn't even realized there was a "that far" to hike, but something kept pulling me farther onward. I was so high above everyone and everything. There was also something about knowing next time I could go even farther, go even higher if I wanted.

It was a clear euphemism. I had achieved a great deal that afternoon. There was more I could do if I wanted, but it was important to recognize that I couldn't scale the entire mountain in a single day. I've worked on a lot of my issues, and I get frustrated that I can't just fix them all and make them go away. But it's important to stop, to realize that I've already achieved so much in my recovery, and that I can't do it all in one day.

Sometimes I've got to just sit down, breathe, and admire where I have gotten myself to. Right here, right now, is still pretty awesome.