The Pre-Departure Climb

After a year of preparation, in five days, I will be leaving my home on an eleven hour flight from California to Denmark. And after a year of preparation, just five days ago, I journeyed on an eleven hour hike from the Yosemite Valley up to Half Dome. Coincidence? I think not.

Eighteen miles, five granola bars, and many sore limbs later, I have begun to realize my pre-departure moments from both travels may be more similar than they are geographically.

A fact: I’m a sucker for metaphors.

In truth, I have never journeyed on a hike that required any serious preparation. My adventures had never needed a hydration pack, carabiners, a headlamp, or serious hiking shoes. And, like going abroad, I wanted to prepare for just about anything–a scraped knee, a bear, a lack of snacks. However, because I’d be limited to what I could carry on my back (read: not a lot), I could only bring what was essential: myself, some water, and some hope.

Similarly, as I attempt to tackle the mountain of clothes consuming my room while packing for abroad, I realize that the essentials may be wrestled into my not-quite-large-enough suitcase, and many of my more frivolous items must be left behind. Like my eleven books. And curling iron. And dog (sorry Ella).

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Climbing Half Dome has been on my bucket list since I first saw it from a distance ten years ago on a camping trip. Its striking appearance against the sky, arching over the rest of the mountains, embodied adventure with its mysterious presence. The night before our hike, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to look upon the valleys and craters and mountains below. I couldn’t imagine the feeling of adrenaline coursing through our veins as we summit the peak.

And that same, buzzing feeling of excitement persists in the quiet moments before I leave for Copenhagen. My excitement to travel across the world, to meet others in my kollegium (a residential community filled with local Danish and international students alike), to meet my visiting host family. My excitement for this journey to begin. There is SO much to look forward to.

And yet, just like this past week, in the nights preceding my journey I was also terrified. Why?

Fun Fact: I’m afraid of heights.

And how tall is Half Dome?

Tall. Like 8,835 feet up tall.

And yet, despite this, I’ve forced myself to challenge this fear. I’ve zip-lined above canopies. I’ve bungee jumped out of trees. I’ve cliff dove. And I think it’s because I’m not actually afraid of heights.

I’m afraid of falling. I’m afraid of losing control. Heights itself is the passive background–it’s the setting. And that setting can be strikingly beautiful–it’s simply not worth the comfort of staying at elevation zero.

And I think it’s why I’m so inclined to find the highest peak and climb. Because as great as it is to always be in control, to map everything out, the best moments are in the climb–so caught up in the moment, in the experience, you forget to fear.

I knew that there would be challenges as I hiked. I knew that as much as I had planned, that I may run into difficulties. In going abroad, I can guarantee I will not always have a plan, be totally in control, and be comfortable.

But,

I don’t want this journey to be 100% comfortable. Because if it is, it might just stop being an adventure.

I don’t know how my journey studying abroad in Copenhagen will go, but if its anything like how my hike to Half Dome was, the preparation, anticipation, and optimism will all be worth the incredible experiences waiting at the top.