Tag: yes you can

Mountain Love: Aguille du Midi

Aguille du Midi is a mountain in Cahmonix, France. It holds a very dear spot in my heart.

We had been to Chamonix twice before. The first time, we had to turn a planned attempt of the Tour du Mont Blanc into a series of day hikes due to snow levels. The second time we embarked on our great adveture of the Tour du Mont Blanc. Now, on our current adventure, we returned to Chamonix years later.

At this point in our journey, we had three solid weeks of hiking in the mountains under our belt. I had struggled in Gstaad. With two solid weeks of hiking in the mountains, when we first arrived, I was tired. So tired. The first hike was tough, but then I found my flow. Gstaad turned out to be our best climbing week at that point in the trip.

When we moved on to Chamonix, all the ions in my body were vibrating with excitement. This would be our third time in Chamonix.

You know when you go to a place thinking it can’t possibly be as beautiful as the first time you saw it, but then it is? That’s Chamonix for me.

It’s a lovely French town in the very core of some spectacular mountains. We revisited some hikes and explored some new ones.

The fourth day was special. We climbed Aguille du Midi. As I said, this mountain is very near and dear to my heart. The first time we visited Chamonix, we attempted to climb this trail twice. The first time, the snow was too much for me to handle along a certain ridge. The second time, enough snow had melted that we were able to get to the top despite the last section of trail being completely buried by snow. It was cloudy and cold and we couldn’t see much at the top. Both times were emotional experiences for me.

Now, back here again, with no snow in the way, we began our ascent. It was tough. The trail starts with straight up fuck you up for quite a while. Eventually, there is some relief, but not for long as each short section of relief is soon followed by more straight up. This climb is one to be taken seriously. I slogged my way up, slowly watching the meters of ascent increase.

It was hard. But I wanted it. I was deep into a zone, each day getting up, lacing up my boots, and hiking up a mountain.

When I saw a refuge, I thought, “Oh yes, we are almost there.” I soon realized that, of course, we were not. My memory reminded me that the very top is right next  to a cable car station. I looked up at the rocky switchbacks, winding up the impressive incline. Buck up, Jules. You got more climbing to do. And I did. I kept putting one boot in front of the other, huffing, puffing, and slogging it out.

That’s the way. Simply focus on your steps, traversing one step at a time.

The last section after the Refuge is more exposed. I thought back to climbing it straight up in the snow. This time, I got to experience the full path.

As I reached the top, the view of a spectacular mountain range opened up beofe my eyes. The sun gleamed off the snow capped peaks. It was glorious. We didn’t get to see this the last time. It was cloudy and cold.

This time, I sat down on a patio bathed in sunshine and stared up in awe at the mountains. My heart swelled. It was such a feeling of elation.

Hubby went into the hut and emerged with two beers brewed with d’leau de la montagne and sandwiches made with local cheese. Omg. Could this moment get any better?

I thought back to the first time we came here and hiked these mountains. I did the hikes. But there was a lot of fear, anxiety, worry. Don’t get me wrong, I think that will always be part of the journey for me when I’m pushing myself and moving into uncomfortable spaces. I had experienced moments of that during this trip.

But, since we’d been in Chamonix this time, each day, I got up, laced up my boots, and climbed a mountain. I hadn’t been thinking, can I do this? I did think, wow, this is hard, and omg, this is steep. Of course I did. But I never stopped putting one boot in front of the other. I never doubted I would make it. I simply did it.

I loved that feeling.

Basking in the sunshine, sipping my beer and savoring the mountain cheese and fresh bread, I sunk into the moment. I took in the feeling of being right beside this massive mountain range. I relished in the fact that I had gotten here with my own two feet.

It feels pretty good to work at something day after day, year after year, and reach a moment where you realize, OK, I’ve got this. Even for this moment.

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Reflections on Gstaad: Finding my Inner Mountain Woman

With two weeks of hiking in the mountains done, the third one got tough.

We arrived in Gstaad, a beautiful mountain town nestled in the Swiss mountains. I was quite tired the whole day as we transferred from train to train. Waiting to board our last train, I sat and basked in the sun, taking in the view while hubby trotted off to the store to get us a snack. The last train ride was lovely. We enjoyed a cold beer and a spectactular mountain view. We had the small front section of the train to ourselves. I relaxed and let my body be tired.

Upon arrival, I was enchanted by the beauty of the small mountain town. After checking in to our hotel and strolling around town, we enjoyed a pizza on a patio. I realized how tired I was. We had done a good amount climbing on the mountains, but I was eager for more. I had to listen to my being and give in to a nap.

That evening, despite the rain, I needed fresh air. I needed movement. We followed a path along the river to the next town, enjoyed a beer at the one place filled with locals, then walked back. I felt better. I was eager to continue with our big hikes.

The next day, we embarked on our first full day hike in Gstaad. It wasn’t far into the trek that I realized how tired I was. I kept moving at what felt like a snails pace as I pondered my situtation. Was I ascutally physically tired? Was it all in my mind? Was I emotionally tired? I really wanted to continue hiking the way we had been. It had been so gratifying to see so many mountainsides in another part of the world. We only had so much time. I didn’t want to waste any of it.

I quite enjoyed the hike. But I was concerned with how tired I was. I slogged it up to the top. We had a picnic break. My being was settled. I loved being out there, the view, the satisfaction of getting to a peak with my own feet and hard work. I did wonder how I was going to hike five more days in Gstaad. And continue hiking after we moved to the next town on our itinerary.

I tried to focus on the descent and not think too much about the next day.

After a fairly lengthy hike down, the beer on the patio at our hotel was amazing. To make Gstaad work for us, we were staying in a sport hotel and eating picnic dinners from co-op on our balcony. Gstaad is a fancy place, and the cost of things can get out of hand quickly. Unless you hike all day and picnic at night.

The next day, we filled up on breakfast before starting another climb. I was thrilled that the hotel provided fresh farm eggs, homemade bread, jams, cheeses and meats. It made the long days of hiking more feasible.

As we started the trek, I went through the same thing as the day before. The start is always tough. Getting warmed up takes a bit, especially when you start climbing right away. I was worried about my ability to do this hike and the next four. Let alone the ones after that.

Sounds like the kind of thinking I don’t like. Right? Right.

I went through the same process I have gone through many times, including the recent climb up Kitzbuleh Horn.

I acknowledged that I was tired. That I’d done a lot of climbing. That it was getting hard.

I also acknowledged that I wanted this. I wanted this climb, right here, right now. I focused on this hike, this section, this footstep.

None of the other days mattered. Not right now.

My mind transitioned and I focused on each piece. I was no longer worried or over thinking things. I was simply climbing a mountain.

My body began to respond. Between the rest day, allowing myself to go a slower pace on our first Gstaad hike, and now allowing my body to warm up as I transitioned my thoughts to a more positive place, I felt my body finding its flow once again.

The hike was in two parts. The first part was a climb up to a cable station. By the time we reached the top, I felt so much better. My mind was repositioned. My body was feeling strong again.

We continued on to do a forest section up another climb. It was lovely. A bit challenging but we were surrounded by fresh forest and chirping birds.

We picnicked, then made the descent. It was long and hot. We ended up in Saanen, the next town over from Gstaad, where we found a shaded patio, cold beers, and some recuperation time. The picnic that night on our balcony was amazing. I was falling in love with the long, challenging days, the cold beer at the end, and the long, luxurious picnics on the balcony at the end of the day as the heat eased.

The next four hikes continued to go well. We had some real adventures, which are all stories of their own.

The third day was a climb up to the top of a waterfall followed by a descent along a thin trail on a ridge. It was adventurous and I was thrilled with how relaxed I was. The fourth day was a climb up to Col du Pillon. The fifth day we found ourselves on quite a little adventure on a glacier walk. The final day was a big one. We climbed a hefty peak and took a long route back down.

My mind and body were strong. I allowed myself to warm up at the beginning of each hike. I talked myself through it when it got tough. Most of all, I was thrilled that I had tapped into a positive vibe and that my body had found strength and I had found my inner mountain woman again.

We had ascended about 6828 m over the six days. The first day was tough. The second day I adjusted my mind. The third day I was so focused on the mountain I was on, nothing else mattered.

When it isn’t working, an adjustment is in order. Choosing what you want can be the first step. I wanted the climb. I didn’t want to miss out on any of the climbs. I knew there wasn’t any reason that I had to.

Think about your own mountains, your own climbs, the things that you want to do but your mind is holding you back. What can you do to release those thoughts that aren’t serving you? What pieces can you focus on to make real progress?

Whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right.

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When it’s Incomprehensible, Break it into Pieces

It. Your mountain. The one you want to climb.

A mountain can be anything. It symbolizes the big goal you want to achieve, the giant thing you want to do. The thing that causes excitement and fear to churn in your belly. The thing that your mind tells you you can’t do.

But you can.

This story is about an actual mountain.

Our first full day in Kitzbuhel, we embarked on a hike to a peak. It usually starts the way this journey did. When we arrived the day before, we found a spot for lunch on a patio. As I sipped a beer and watched a man with his guitar and his dog serenade from across the cobbled main street, my husband says, “we should go up there.” (Or something to that effect). He pointed. I looked up. There it was, a peak with some sort of cross on top.

The next morning, we embarked on the climb. I could see the peak from the valley floor. We started the trek. The time ticked by. We climbed, climbed, and climbed some more.

As I watched the meters of ascent accumulating on my watch, I wondered  how high this thing was. After reaching 1000 meters of ascent, I thought surely this thing can’t go on much longer.

Overall, I was having a good day. It seemed my body was getting somewhat used to climbing and hiking most days. When we reached a cable car station, my mind was tested. I looked up at the switchbacks snaking their way up the side of the mountain to the next station and to the peak that we were after.

As I continued, I felt my mind waiver. I can’t do this. The panic laced words shimmered in my mind. I don’t like those words, but sometimes they present themselves.

Another look up the daunting climb and I was shot back to the first time I saw Alpe d’Huez hovering over me as I clung to the bike that was supposed to take me to the top. That was the day I truly learned to break the most incomprehensible thing into digestible pieces. It was a survival mechanism. It got me up that climb.

In this moment now, I didn’t want to dwell on thoughts of I can’t.

I chose to apply my strategy from the day of Alpe d’Huez. I focused on the next switchback, and nothing else. I told myself that the rest of the climb didn’t matter in this moment. The only thing that mattered was this switchback. This footstep. This moment.

That’s the whole point of this, really. Be in that moment with nature, on the mountain, taking the next step.

When you truly focus on the next step, your being sinks into that moment. Next thing you know, you’ve taken a bunch of steps.

As I made it to the last couple of switchbacks, I realized I was completely in. There was no turning back and I felt present.

Getting to the top felt real good. There’s nothing like making it to the top of your mountain and knowing that you did it, one step at a time.

By the end of the day, I’d climbed 1700 m. That felt pretty good. I’m so happy I simply took the next step.

As I re-read this post now, preparing to post it, I’m a good week or so ahead of my hiking adventure as I got a little behind in writing. I realize that this has become a common theme on this hiking trip, and I’m learning more and more about reframing things to set myself up for success and reach my goals. More in that soon.

What’s the mountain you want to conquer?

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Finding my Soul on the Mountainside

It’s been a whirlwind couple of weeks. After years of travel restrictions, I laced up my hiking boots and filled my backpack, ready for an adventure with my hubby.

In the first two weeks, we immersed ourselves in the culture of some familiar places and some new ones. We made new friends, we tried new food, and we sampled some very special beer.

We also hiked to the less travelled places, even in the big cities. My trail shoes took me along rivers and canals, through foresrs and gardens, and stops were made in outdoor beer gardens unlike anything we have at home.

My ability to keep a pace, get my blood pumping, and keep my mind in a positive space even when it got long, hot, and hard was quite good. Only a couple of glitches when things got tough and I had to reroute my mind to more positive pastures.

It’s taken me years to get to this space where I spend more time believing in myself than not. When it happens now, because I am human and am not nor will never be perfect, I handle it. I treat myself better than I used to.

Although two weeks of nonstop travel and trekking by foot were a bit of a challenge, this next part of the journey is where the real adventure begins.

The mountains. They were calling to us. So we listened.

Another day of travel landed us in the small town of Leogang, Austria. A ski village by winter and downhill biking and hiking spot in the summer, the over 400 km of trails with a massive gondola system is like a dream.

The access to mountains has never felt easier.

Our first day of hiking was nothing less than amazing. With only small hills over the last couple of weeks, and a bit of a break from training leading up to my last book launch, it had been a bit since I’d climbed, and a while since I took on a mountain.

Climbing a mountain is never easy. Some attempts are more graceful, and others are a mess. I used to get quite nervous, even anxious, the night before, and even more so the morning of. I’m finally here, in a place where I found a sense of peace before the big climb.

We had a leisurely afternoon watching the rain from a cozy lunch spot. I was excited for the potential of good weather and a long day on the side of a mountain.

The morning of the climb came. I was calm. The breakfast buffet was amazing. My body was ready.

The first section of the climb is what I call a fuck you up, go straight up section. The gradients are high. My heart thrumming against my chest, sweat drenched my hair and shirt, I focused on one step at a time and found a decent pace. The best approach for me is to find that flow and to avoid stopping.

When it eased, so did my being. I took some deep breaths, a long pull on my water tube, and realized how good I felt. That first real push is hard, but by embracing it, I put myself into an invigorated place.

The hike was about a good 10 km up. We climbed about 1200 m. There was a windy gravel section with some easier stretches, exposed and hot. When we reached the middle station, a gondola point, we took a little breather and strolled around a beautiful lake.

We soon reentered the forest. The fresh coolness was welcome. The trail alternates between steep sections and flatter ones. I got into a flow of pushing on the steep parts and recovering on the flatter ones. Recovery didn’t mean slowing down. It meant upping the pace to flush out my legs while breathing to calm my wild heart and drinking some much needed water.

The final stretch was crazy. Straight up, for what seemed like it would go on forever. One step at a time, I made it.

I was surprised by the calm I felt the entire time. I was thrilled by how well my body and my mind performed. I believed in my ability to complete the hike gracefully. It felt good. When days like this happen, my entire being is grateful for what I am able to do.

I was so elated that I decided we needed to do just a little bit more. We climbed to the next gondola stop, not far, but extremely steep. I wasn’t fast, but I wanted a few more meters under my belt for the day. I didn’t want to say good enough.

The reward was amazing. The view was the best part of it all, and I had earned it, one step at a time. We had a lovey charcuterie and beer at AlteSchmiede. Sitting on the patio, basking in the sun on the top of a mountain, I felt happier than ever.

After some rest, we descended on foot. We covered about 25 km and just over 1400 meters of ascent. This included the addition of the walk around the lake and the extra climb. A good day. The rest of the evening, I was in bliss, the mountain high clinging strong.

The map from my Strava is below. If you use Strava, you can follow me for the click able version. If not, don’t fret. I will be compiling a list of maps and details later.

This map shows both the way up and down.

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North Sea Hike

I love the beach as much as I love the mountains. There is something so calming about the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The fresh sea air is rather cleansing.

A walk along the shore is meditative and clears the mind and the soul.

Of course, the first images that come to mind when I think of the beach are the sun and the blue sky seeming to go on forever over the ocean horizon.

The day we embarked on the 20 km hike along the North Sea, a rather different image unfolded before us. One of rain and wind.

But, this was the second day of the two day hike to and along the North Sea. It all started in Brugges. After a delightful several day stay in the quaint Belgium city, we left our big packs at the train station, and embarked on a two day journey. We were to hike from Brugges to Zeeburgges for a stop, then to Blankenberge for the night. The second day, we would hike to Ostende, all along the sand dunes and the ocean.

Things don’t always go exactly how you plan them, especially when travelling and hiking. That is why, as experienced hikers, we attempt to apply all that we’ve learned. This doesn’t guarantee that things won’t become difficult.

The route was supposed to be 15 km along the canal to Zeebrugges for a lunch stop. Very doable given the pace we usually keep and there wasn’t any climbing.

The route turned out to be along a fairly major road through an undustrial area. We abandoned the industrial road for a pathway along the canal, thinking we finally had the scenic route we’d planned. However, the connections that we thought existed to get us over the water did not exist. The execution simply became difficult as we made several failed attempts to find our way across.

I have leaned to always have water and some sort of snack. You never know when things will get off track.

As we attempted several connections to get where we desperately wanted to be, the kilometers piled up and the hours went on. It was getting long. We were becoming depleted.

It is easy to slip into a negative space. Of course, I don’t want that to happen, but sometimes my mind focuses on the discomfort and the things that are going wrong.

This is when I allow myself some silent time to focus on the road ahead. This is when I concentrate on the flow I can achieve with my legs and the feeling of life pumping through my body.

I ate the remnants of my snack. I held off on the water as we were literally in the niddle of some industrial areas with no amenities. I knew I needed to hold on and focus on getting there, the place I knew we would get to if we just stayed focused.

It can be hard to stay positive. It’s natural for our minds to worry, to criticize, to take on a negative space. We can always choose to clear the bad energy and to release the useless thoughts. We can always decide to be positive, no matter how hard it is.

It was a longer than expected hike. It was about 25 km before we got to our lunch stop. But we made it. We had a beautiful meal of local smoked salmon and beer.

We took a deep breath and continued the last 5 km to the next town where we would stay. The last bit of the walk wasn’t easy. I was depleted from waiting too long to replenish. However, it was a beautiful trek through the sand dunes and along the ocean. That is what I focused on.

At the end, there was a beach and beer waiting. We enjoyed the sunset and I found the replenishing power of the Duvel.

The next day we awoke to a cloudy sky. It took us a bit to find our way, but we made it to the next town where we found a quick bite. Something to sustain us till lunch.

As we started the hike to the next town, the rain and the wind came down. It was fairly strong, but not the worst we’ve faced.

The wind was pushing us, which was much better than a head wind, especially with the rain. We made it to the next town, about 10 km into out 20 km day.

Our plan had been to stop at one of the many beach bars after the half way point. We suspected these may be closed due to the weather. Erring on the side of caution, we stopped in the town for lunch as there weren’t any more towns between this one and our final destination.

We weren’t totally dry. We weren’t totally wet. I found the warm pasta lunch comforting. I was finding it much easier to be positive and excited than the day before. It’s funny how our minds and bodies work, and we simply have to be prepared to guide ourselves accordingly.

The second half of the hike was great. The rain and wind continued for the first but, but then eased up. I found the fresh sea air invigorating and the sound of the crashing waves soothing. It felt special to hike along a section of the world we had never seen before.

This wasn’t to usual tourist activity. But, we aren’t usual tourists. I think it is worth it to be able to challenge ourselves and experiment the natural world and all its beauty.

I will always cherish this gem of a hike.

The maps below are from Strava and you can follow me there if you want to see the details.

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Doing What’s Important

Life. It gets busy sometimes. It gets overwhelming sometimes. We all experience moments when there doesn’t seem to be a way to wade through the clutter and do what we know we need.

I suggest a simple approach. 1. Take a deep breath. 2. Identify what you need. 3. Do it.

Even one hour. Just take it and do it.

Today, I stole a good hour and a half and had the most amazing little jaunt with my beloved bike. Together we climbed some good hills, coasted through some forest, and even stopped to chat with a deer.

Don’t forget to breathe and give yourself the gift of time to do what you love. You deserve it.

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