"For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse." - Romans 1:20
It has been nearly two years since the odyssey on the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail) began. Much of it, especially those “not so good” times, has been forgotten or stored in the collective unconsciousness, anyway. Over the past year I have reflected much on that journey, wishing how I were back there and how I wish I had done a lot of things differently. Isn’t that the story of life?? Looking back on the past, remembering with fondness those things of yesteryear, yet wishing somehow there was a way to recapture those days and relive them, perhaps changing a few things along the way? Much has happened in the 1 ½ years since the last day on the PCT. I am finishing my thesis, I have worked as an emergency dispatcher - a job come and gone, that was a good experience. And now, I live in Palo Alto California, working as a geologist specializing in earthquakes, and still looking for the perfect girl for me. Some things never change, I guess!
And yet, all of that pales in comparison to this moment. Here I sit at approximately 7850' in elevation, surrounded by snow on a glorious March morning in the looming presence of Half-Dome. Stretched out in front of me are the peaks of the Ritter Range, and the head of Yosemite Valley. The Ritter Range - alas! I can think back just by looking out at Banner peak and seeing through the mountain to the other side - hiking past Thousand Island Lake, with Banner Peak towering over both the lake and I. The ever present breeze here is the voice of God, calling me back to my roots. The woodpeckers are out; their task of searching for food in the bark of the Jeffrey Pines never complete.
It is a glorious view, and my presence here feels natural - I belong here. Recharged now, I can return to the city. Yet I do not want to return. Not return? To a place where I am an important and integral part of human expansion? Why would I not want to leave a place where I feel so insignificant in the shadow of such worthy grandeur? Because I belong here. Yet, I sigh with reluctance because I know that I must return, for now anyway. This is a harsh and hostile land, despite that God blessed me with some beautiful winter weather this weekend. Yet, the very nature of this place prevented me from reaching my destination - the almighty summit of Half Dome. 2/3 the way up quarter dome, I gave up because the snow was getting too deep and slushy. I had lost the trail long ago - but kept at the task regardless. I am humbled by that towering monolith, yet I do not regret that loss. I still have an impressive climb behind me; one that has left me with a tremendous view of the Sierra high country. My first winter experience is nearly over: My first real hike in a year and a half. (I was prepared this time: lots of warm clothes, a warmer bag, and snow shoes).
Right now, there is a slight breeze, and the stillness coupled with the rustling of the pines and cedars gives me an aching longing to be back here for a great length of time. My heart aches tremendously to be able to soak everything about this place up and keep them all: the crisp, clear march air, the towering snow-clad spires of granite, the breeze, the rustling of the pines, the birds chirping, the views, the very essence of this place - the Incomparable Valley. I feel like through all of these things, I am staring in awe face to face with God.
And I see now why man was removed from Eden. He can’t fit in. His own sin got him expelled by God, in part because he is not God, and as such, can never in this life truly be completely immersed in the presence of God. That is the definition of heaven, and this world, though grand in its beauty, is not heaven. We can accomplish great things with the help and aid of God, but in the end, it can never ultimately be about us, because in the end, we destroy and demolish Eden, and it can destroy and demolish us. The beauty of our natural world - God's creation - is about as close as we can ever get to Eden, and in itself pales to comparison with the paradise of Eden. God's creation is both beautiful and terrifying. One little slip anywhere could destroy life itself - we certainly cannot survive here without significant aid.
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A later addendum to this trail log: These observations seemed so poignant re-reading them, and like so many things in life, much of what was said here was forgotten, or ignored - either accidentally or intentionally (or a bit of both) - in the years between then and now. A couple of constants to ponder as I reflect back here in the heartland of America: I miss those days still, longing for more but knowing that my age and life circumstances mean they are over, and nostalgia aside, accept that willingly. The second is that all of these experiences - THIS log from a weekend trip in March of 1990, another trip in April where I summited Half Dome for a second time AND had the entire dome to myself all night long, along with extending that hike to the summit of Cloud's Rest to the east, all led eventually to my life vocation of being a minister and ambassador of God's Holy Word. Not just an ambassador, but one who recognizes the extreme importance and truth in all of it - fed in part by seeing the creative hand of God first hand on this trip, and many others. The mountains may always be calling me. But in that calling, it is only to feel insignificant in the presence of God's sheer creative power - to get but a glimpse of God - highly incomplete that it may be - in what He has made. It is the essence of Romans 1:20.
Yes, the original post before the "addendum" is my actual trail log from that winter trek into the Yosemite backcountry.
