(Photo: In the chute above Black Lake with 13,242ft McHenry’s Peak in the background.)
This post is about a 13-mile journey into the high country I took several years ago, but also, it’s about deeper takeaways I’ve applied to other areas of my life…namely, to how I see the change process. The emotions up on that trail…uncertainty, self-questioning doubts, irrational fears, and ultimately, battling with the idea of turning back…they were deep, and at times moved me well beyond my comfort zone.
As I look back, I carry a deep sense of satisfaction from fighting through all the negativity out on the trail because the fulness of the experience has left me hungry to return to Black Lake, and next time the journey will be shared with my daughter, who is eager to be a part of this in the summer of 2023.
Join me as I reflect on this experience and apply what I’ve learned to the concept of “Change”.
BLACK LAKE
It was late September 2020 and the leaves in the high country were well into the transition process. My goal was Black Lake sitting at around 10,600ft elevation a bit under 6 miles out from the Bear Lake trailhead, but I was also curious about continuing up the trail through a steep chute above the lake which led into a large bowl area that sat just below Longs Peak at around 11,200ft. Up in this bowl sat two lakes I was curious about.
Being the intelligent guy that I am, I was hiking alone with no trek poles, bad knees, and no clue whether I had the physical ability to not only get to Black Lake…but then, to turn around and get back to the trailhead. Another testament to my intelligence was telling my wife the night before that I had no idea where I was heading, but I’d figure it out at some point. On a positive note, I was armed with two breakfast burritos, some beef jerky, and a 2-liter Camelback so I figured that compensated for anything I might have lacked.
Looking back, it seemed reckless of me, but isn’t it often true that things that bring reward come with some level of risk?
THE FIRST THREE MILES
Mills Lake sits at about 3 miles out from the trailhead on the popular Glacier Gorge trail. On this morning just before sunrise, there were a handful of hikers heading the same direction. I passed the amazing Alberta Falls and continued another 1+ mile to a fork in the trail. At this fork, many hikers headed off toward Sky Pond, a very popular destination hike, but others continued toward Mills Lake along with me.
Once I hit Mills Lake, the view was breathtaking. Mills is a good-size alpine lake that forms along the Glacier Gorge and there were a handful of people spread out along the shoreline. As I continued the quarter mile or so around the lake, the number of hikers diminished.
I continued upward past Jewell Lake, a smaller lake that sits just above Mills and then the trail began following Glacier Creek. I was enjoying the solitude of leaving so many hikers behind and being alone with my thoughts and the incredible beauty of the Rocky Mountains. The sounds of the birds and the wind blowing through the pines and aspens is a natural high for me.
…until it wasn’t…
SILENCE
The distance between Mills Lake and Black Lake is somewhere around 2.5 miles, and the trail is marked by rock formations, dense pine forests and steep canyon walls coming down on both sides of the gorge. As you progress upward, there is a section of trail with a large number of fallen trees from a microburst that I later learned happened around 2013 or so.
As I navigated through the area, I began to be aware that I had not seen or heard anyone for a while…I kept walking. Perhaps 15 minutes went by…then 30 minutes. Questions began to creep into my mind.
- If I was injured, would anyone come along to help?
- What if I cross paths with a cat?
- Am I the only one out this far?
I realized the nagging questions in my imagination soon replaced the joy of the journey. I began to look at rock formations and dark areas underneath fallen trees and my imagination kicked into high gear. I could see mountain lion potentially being everywhere. I couldn’t shake the question, wondering if anyone was out beyond the point I was at this early in the morning? Had enough hikers come through the area already to shew the wildlife (okay…the cats) away, or was I breakfast coming up the trail.
I know! I know! None of this is rational thinking, okay?
But looking back, I’ve concluded it’s very possible we’re not always rational when we head out of our comfort zone into the wilderness.
I began to contemplate my recklessness. No one knows where I’m hiking, and although I’d lost a lot of weight over the past two years, my knees have endured multiple surgeries, and returning to the act of hiking was still new so I was not sure what this late 50-something body was capable of accomplishing yet.
Then, the real fight began…
Am I completely stupid right now? Should I turn back? There it was! The real question I wrestled with… “Should I turn back?” I remember stopping a few times as the question demanded to be answered. I looked up the canyon trying to gauge where Black Lake could possibly be sitting nestled in those mountains; assessing how much further I should chance this little adventure? Then, I’d look back down the canyon from where I came trying to determine how far out from Mills I had gone…
“Should I turn back?”
It had now been well over 45 minutes since I’d seen anyone. At some point I was walking along, probably with much less conviction and much less speed, when suddenly I saw movement through the trees up ahead of me. I couldn’t make it out as the trail snaked along through the dense pines, but I’d seen something. As I continued further, I finally saw what gave my heart great relief…I saw a lone hiker coming my direction…a guy possibly in his 50’s, appearing in much better condition than I, moving along eyeballing me as he grew closer. I remember no other words were exchanged between us other than “hello”, but from that point on, the fear, the doubt, all the uncertainty…it was gone. I felt like I wasn’t alone…there was someone else out here.
PAYOFF
The payoff of getting to Black Lake was amazing. With Ribbon Falls, a slide waterfall about 5 miles out, then Black Lake Falls (see picture below) at the edge of Black Lake, and then getting up above Black Lake into the bowl (cover photo) …it was such an amazing experience.
And to think…I could have missed it all had I turned back.
PLAYING IT SAFE
As much as I would love to continue reminiscing about the hike here, this post is about some life perspectives I have taken away from that experience. The mental battles I had to wrestle with out in the wilderness…outside of my comfort zone: feeling completely alone, wondering if I was doing something reckless and irresponsible; ultimately, questioning if I had wandered off course, out-of-bounds, off the radar, beyond what my abilities could deliver me from.
I wrestled with a strong desire to return to the safety and security I so strongly desired to leave only hours earlier during my early morning drive up the canyon:
- Sitting in the safety of my truck parked at the trailhead…
- Returning to the safety of the crowded parking lot with little challenge or adventure…
- Driving down the mountain and back into the normalcy of the overcrowded front range and blending in to yet another Saturday morning/afternoon in September, sitting at stop lights; driving in the heavy traffic of another weekend day of more American consumerism.
Really? I really wanted to return to this?
THINKING OF MY CONVERSATION WITH CASEY AGAIN
I was reminded of the great insight I got from a conversation with Casey several years ago. Casey was a guy I met in jail when I was doing an assessment for Probation. It sounds weird but we hit it off well, and what should have been a 30–45-minute assessment turned into a 90+ minute conversation about life. Weeks later, after he was sentenced to probation, he came into the office, met with his assigned probation officer, and then asked if he could stop by my office before leaving.
I was happy to make time for him, so we caught up briefly and I decided to get his take on something I had been wrestling with personally…the change-process. Casey had done three stints in prison in his past and I wanted to hear his take on “change”, and perhaps at the same time, challenge him on how things were going to be different for him this time through the legal system.
Casey shared a perspective that I could connect with…another example of how so many of us probably have much more in common than we care to admit.
Casey said that he knows when he’s making bad decisions, and he has no desire for the outcome which he knows will come from those bad decisions. But to change is to travel into the unknown, where outcomes are in doubt. He knows what he can expect when he’s violating the law, and even though he does not look forward to the consequences, the known is far more comfortable than the unknown.
“The known is far more comfortable than the unknown.”
Hmmm… This is coming from the mouth of a 3-time convicted felon…
That’s good, I’m going to run with it here.
How often do we avoid the uncertainty of the UNKNOWN and choose to remain within the safety of the KNOWN…the predictable; understanding that in doing so, we will likely find little fulfillment because we’ve already been down this road many times before?
Long awkward question…maybe you should read through it again.
We’ve been there; done that, and we have a good idea what outcomes we can expect, but to go against the norm, to leave the security of our comfort zone… “Why…that’s too risky? I have no idea how things will turn out if I go that direction. So, I’ll play it safe and keep doing what I always do even though it brings me very little joy and satisfaction.”
So, we avoid risk…Yeah! We keep it safe and predictable, and we remain in our passionless life, safely living in the bubble of our comfort zone…
But what the hell! At least we’re safe…right?
MORALE OF THE STORY
Is there anyone out here? Likely, the answer is yes. If you’ve made the decision to step out of the proverbial comfort zone, which I tend to see as an oxymoron, you may feel you are at times, out in a wilderness. You may find many questions surface, many extreme imaginations attacking your resolution to keep moving forward. You may question if anyone would know how to find you if you lose your way.
I would encourage you to keep moving forward; maintain your convictions. Doubt and fear often want to push us back into conformity with the masses. But chances are, if you’ll keep trusting the process, at some point, you will find someone else out there…taking the same challenge. It’s likely you are not alone…but sadly, there are many who remain at the trailhead looking at life through a windshield rather than stepping out and experiencing the joys of the challenge.
I’m not advocating for living recklessly here, but perhaps living a life with some risk can put us in a place where we feel our heartbeat once again. It can be scary and uncertain, but maybe that’s exactly what we need to do if we want to find the passion and purpose for what this life was meant to be.
And, if my experience is typical, I can say with utmost certainty that when we make an intentional decision to step out and do things differently, to pursue different outcomes, to make changes in our lives…we will be faced with a powerful urge to question whether we should turn back.
And on a sidenote here…what about this force known as the “comfort zone” …
THE NATURE OF THE COMFORT ZONE
I wonder if the concept of the comfort zone is a force that is constantly trying to apply pressure in one direction…making our world smaller and more controlled. Just openly questioning here, is it possible that only with intentional efforts to stretch it, will our zone expand…and again, if left unchecked, is its very nature to shrink; to make our world small slowly and gradually?
And this leads to another thought…if it shrinks slowly, are we even aware of what is taking place in our lives, and do we simply become use to our world growing smaller and smaller with each passing day?
…until one day…we wake up and wonder what the hell happened to me!
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