Enduring like an Antarctic Explorer

I’m late to the chat. The book Endurance, by Alfred Lansing, about Shackelton’s Antarctic crossing rose to popularity early on in our days overseas. Guys primarily read the book and gleaned all kinds of significant lessons for leadership and life. I started it once and then didn’t finish it.

When my son gave me the book as a gift, it confused me but I tried to hide it. He didn’t seem interested in the book personally. It just seemed like an unlikely book to gift a mid–40’s…ok late 40’s… mom by a teenage son. I put it all together at book club yesterday as we reminded each other of upcoming books. Endurance is a fall book club selection! I’d put it on my Amazon wish list.

I finished it a week ago. It’s a good book to read when it gets hot outside–just a little tip from the south. Really, where I am, you could read it anytime but if it’s cold and dark in the winter in, say, Alaska, and you tend towards depression. Just wait and read it in the summer.

a cold photo of the Grand Canyon

If you’re ever read Unbroken, Endurance pairs nicely. About a quarter of the way into the book you figure out you’re just going to be here for a while–in an impossible and lengthy stretch of circumstances most people avoid. And then it just goes on and on and on. Spoiler alert–everyone survives mostly intact but you should know that because of the early 2000’s and that Shackelteon’s journey happened over 100 years ago.

Knowing how it ends kept me going. I wanted to know how the author would describe the point where the Shackelton party was rescued or found help. They spent two years of their life where on the daily, their survival hung in the balance. When help came, what would they do?

Several times the happiness of the men struck me as I followed their journey of survival. Tight quarters, meager rations, bitter cold, darkness, danger all plagued their group but they enjoyed each other in ways humanity longs to connect. Not all the time, but they made life full as best they could with what they had. The simplicity of life in their circumstances seemed also to aid this joy, this living in the moment with what they saw before them.

It resonates with me as I think about some of the hardest seasons of life. The days when our apartments hovered close to freezing in Asia because of power brownouts and we traipsed over to friends whose brown out day differed from ours. The times when getting kids to a doctor involved 3 flights of stairs, strollers, taxis, trains filling an entire day and even then I had to translate the drug flyer and write an email to a pharmacist in the US to confirm dosages. Something about physically difficult things in life binds community together and I got to experience that in crossing cultures living abroad.

As hard or even harder is to experience trials that exist in ambiguity, undefined and sometimes invisible to others. Establishing the needed camaraderie to go through those hard times is essential but often more illusive. The dangers of an arctic floe are without, not within and the crisis are in tandem and aligned. In contrast, the endurance necessary for trials like grief is unique to each in its coming and going, and not visible to the naked eye.

And yet, reading a book like Endurance inspires awe and raises my soul to believe that God can enable people to endure far beyond our imaginations and that a key to that endurance is community. The people around us, even the difficult people, inform our ability to keep going when keeping going seems impossible.

I laughed when I realized I’d already completed our book club selection. I’m curious to how our group of middle and older women will talk about Shackelton and his great adventure. I don’t expect us to hammer down into how we will lead like Shackelton but women endure so much.

I’m sure we will hear some good endurance stories from each other!

The Misty Trail Hike

I stepped again looking at the back of the legs of those ahead of me, my glasses covered in mist, my hands reaching for anything that gave me a third point of stabilization, my heart pounding and my lungs gasping. Hikers packed the trail with stopping reserved for the occasional side platform graciously planned for those not conditioned for the steep climb.

the steep steps

Some, like myself, underestimated the amount of mist the Mist Trail contained. My mind imagined gentle clouds of mist in the distance, making for beautiful misty photos of a mysterious waterfall. In reality, the mist pervaded the area around the waterfalls, blowing up into our faces, coating all it touched with beads of water.

I confess I wore a rain jacket that day only because the forecast predicted rain, not because we planned to hike Mist Trail. Usually I do more than my fair share of research but recently I’m trying a new thing and not obsessively researching for family vacations. I did research our housing when I read about how we needed to use bear lockers. That seemed significant, but Mist Trail sounded ethereal and compelling and beautiful and the “moderate” level sounded doable.

At points on the trail I faced the potential reality that “light” best described my true hiking level.

But I kept going, one foot and one step and then another, thankful that I’d accidentally gotten trail shoes instead of running shoes a few weeks before. Each step felt sticky and I never slipped. Did that mean I was confident? Oh no! I encountered each step like it could send me to the bottom of the falls in a tangled heap, much to the chiding of some in my family.

At one rest place right before the last push to the top, we caught up with the boys who expressed they’d waited a very long time for us to catch up. Those mountain goats were snacked up and ready to go again. Before they tackled the last stretch of stairs we enjoyed the view right below the falls. The mist provided perfect conditions for a rainbow and the constant roar of the water somehow calmed me.

the misty rainbow

Beauty surrounded us and the power and majesty of mountains and pounding water humbled me as it did a while later as we waited again to consolidate our hiking group for lunch. We got to sit and observe and notice what only gets noticed with time.

I’d hoped our vacation being in a majestic place like Yosemite would bring life into clearer perspective as it often does.

In some ways it did.

In other ways clarity came as I absorbed more deeply the realities of the strenuous climb that life can be in certain seasons. The clearer perspective came in affirming and accepting that the path right now really is strenuous and feels beyond me. It takes my everything to take the next step of faith in some areas of life, to believe I can make it to a rest stop, to believe that God will provide a place to catch my breath or give me the breath I need to keep going. To trust that the climb is worth it and that there might even be beauty along the way…

that I might enjoy it more for what it costs me.

What’s even harder is knowing some around me are facing a strenuous climb and it feels like I can only hike in breathless silence near them–on a parallel path but unable to climb for them. Will they make it? Will they take the next step? Will the beauty along the way even be noticed or appreciated?

The next two days my legs barely functioned. Because going up to the falls meant that one must come down the same way, especially if one cannot make it to the top of the second set of falls and take the path around. Every step off a curb or down stairs the next few days was a decision to suffer and illicited a grunt of pain, much to the vocal and triumphant lack of understanding that teen boys like to exploit, being so young and fit.

I’m reminded often that no one thing on the journey I’m on is going to resolve what needs resolving just like no snack or rest stop or shoes or pep talk meant the Mist Trail wasn’t “moderately” difficult. I’m also reflecting on what does help on the difficult trails of life–the company, the training, and the truth that it’s not forever all aid taking the next steep step.

I often think about something a fellow writer once observed about some current views on spiritual journeys–that many talk of the journey of faith more as a wandering around with no destination when in fact as followers of Jesus, there is a destination that will be reached one day.

And while the journey may feel wandering at times, in fact, God’s purposes embeds even the experiences of wandering in seasons that feel like a wilderness.

So if you’re on a hard stretch of the hike right now, I get it a little. I pray encouraging companions surround you, eternal perspective settles you, and the Truth empowers you to keep going.

the beautiful Yosemite valley