Chasing Enlightenment on the Big Trails
by Peter Bakwin
This article appeared in the Gemini Adventures Newsletter, Summer 2009
What is adventure? Adventure means having experiences you have never had and in fact never knew you could have. It means pushing the boundaries of what you believe is possible for yourself. For a runner, that could mean taking 10 seconds off your 10K PR. For ultrarunners, the context of a big trail speed attempt can provide a whole universe of new challenges. Making a plan and then seeing if that plan works, and dealing with the consequences of the failures of your plan and unexpected circumstances, while you are under extreme physical and mental duress, provides a venue for a unique type of adventure. I know I can finish a 100 mile race, and lowering my Leadville 100 time by 30 minutes doesn't really turn me on. I want to attempt something that I have no idea if I can finish, such as running the 223-mile John Muir Trail in under 4 days, or completing a double Hardrock Hundred. If I knew I could do it, what would be the point?
I discovered decades ago that I feel a special kind of connection with the universe when I spend long periods of time doing a high level of physical activity in nature. Many people have experienced this, climbers and mountaineers know it well. As we push through our physical barriers we can reach a deeper state of awareness which helps us understand the fundamental nature of ourselves and the world. We recognize that our sense of separateness is an illusion, that we are actually inseparable from the oneness of all reality. This is a very deep thing and experiencing it even for one second is worth every bit of physical, mental and emotional struggle we may put ourselves through on these trips. This experience can transform our lives forever.
Steph Davis describes this beautifully in her very personal memoir "High Infatuation" (2007). On the crux section of her multiday attempt to free climb the Salathe Wall on El Cap (Yosemite): "I started up again, knowing I would try until my fingers gave out. I barely stuck the first deadpoints, my mind full of failure. Just then, a loud whoosh sounded, like a base jumper. Almost in slow motion, in the middle of crux moves, I turned my head. A dark cluster of birds rushed past, the wind from their wings washing over me. Joy rose through my body. The word 'MAGIC' flooded my mind, driving everything else out. Immediately, I broke free. ... I stood up, strenuously balancing into the tight, flaring seam above, and stopped in the precarious position, gathering my force. With detachment, I noticed that I felt nothing. There was nothing to feel. I breathed deeply, brought my feet up to waist level as I clamped onto the slick, rounded layback edges, and floated way out onto the face to catch the final granite knob. I was light as a dandelion seed, completely in control, perfect at last. For a few precious seconds, I reached the inexorable flow I had been craving on the entire route. I was finally free." (p. 183-4)
And, my own experience running the double Hardrock, as I wrote shortly after in July 2006: "Now it is deeper. There is a universal support, a loving, unconditional support for each and every one of us. I see that the true nature of the universe is tender and compassionate. All we have to do to experience this is open our hearts. There is no need to struggle and fuss. There is no need for fear. We are all one, and that oneness is beauty and love. "
This is the deeper truth of our being, and something that can be experienced by pushing our physical, mental and emotional limits to the utmost. This is the ultimate adventure. It transcends goals or results. It is inside of all of us.