Part I: Waiting in the mountains
This is a series of journal entries from my recent trip to the mountains...which I fell in love with originally when I first visited K2. Read about that here.
This is Part 1.
It’s been one day since I’ve arrived here in Gilgit.
Already, it seems as the whole world has slowed down. The change is immediate and drastic.
Beyond the challenge of it, I’ve come to love the mountains for their utility in teaching me something that does not come naturally to me: waiting.
Last year, I trained for six hard months to go up on Khosergang, only to see the whole plan being swept away due to a freak avalanche. The guide had casually said ‘InshAllah next year’ — as if this were the most normal thing in the world, to wait and maintain position for a year for the same goal.
On this trip, I’m in the mountains to prepare. But even preparation must involve patience. On day 1, you just….. look at the mountain.
At first I didn’t understand. What is it that I will achieve by looking blankly at the mountain? Why aren’t we on it?
But the longer one holds their gaze, the longer one begins to see possibility. This is very unintuitive, but still true. After a few hours, bored out of its wits, your brain starts doing something extraordinary: creating routes. Even then, tracing a route means your brain has to keep several variables at play: gradient, avalanche risk, snow vs rock ratios. Without exquisite focus, it really can’t be done. So your brain has to first calm down, and become patient.
Then, the second day is spent away from the mountain too. This time to learn the tools needed to climb the mountain. Ice axes, crampons, belaying equipment. There’s another deeper module to get to know your teammates on the mountain: to set intentions — because these are the people who you bank on when things go south.
The majority of the prep work for climbing a mountain then, is away from the mountain. That’s the way the Baltis do it. This is their way of respecting the mountain: of giving it attention/care rather than jumping into climbing it.
My mind has this habit of saying thinking ≠ action. But it is very much action. A slower, more deliberate kind.
Once on the mountain, one has to be very much on their toes. Every decision has seconds between it. That’s the zone where everything becomes a blur.
The thinking zone is the yin to the yang of the brutality of actual climbing.
And as with other things in life, there’s a place for both.
Postscript: I’m the only one on this course! This was originally meant to be for 15 people. One night before most of them saw the temperature forecast and cancelled! So it’s just the instructor….and me.