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| There's me! (On the top of Mt. Olympus, which will be discussed later). |
And there Jenn and I are in Little Cottonwood Canyon.
My plan is to write one experience a week that could be enjoyable for you to read, but we will see how consistent I will be--no promises for once a week, but I will try. For this introductory week, I thought it might be good if I focused on one of my main passions in life, and explained a metaphor that has had deeper meaning for me as time goes on. So this is the story of climbing Mt. Olympus in Salt Lake County, Utah.
Mt. Olympus
Mt. Olympus is a 9,026' peak in Salt Lake County just north of Big Cottonwood Canyon. It is not one of the highest peaks in the Wasatch Mountain range, but it is famous for being a peak close to the valley with incredible views, and for being a peak somewhat easier to climb than some of the other tall peaks in the county. Now when I say "somewhat easier to climb" I do not wish at all to mislead you--this is a very hard hike, starting from 4,880' at the trailhead and gaining over 5000' in 3.75 miles. If you are not familiar with mountain elevation gains, just think that this is a LOT, more than most hikes, even to peaks. It should make you exhausted just thinking about it.
The Beginning
Now I would love to spend many paragraphs talking about the Geology of the mountain, so ask me if you'd like to, but here I will focus on my experience of climbing the peak, and relate it to anyone climbing any sort of mountain. You begin in a land of tan grass and some chaparral shrubs, scrub oak and junipers. The sun is shining, it is kind of hot, the trail is steep but you are excited so you move quickly, sweating heavily in the lack of shade. As you move up, the views of the valley keep getting better, the plants are slowly getting greener and denser, but you are getting more and more tired as you look up and see that there is still a long way yet to go.
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| View south from the Mt. Olympus trail after about 1 mile, the Wasatch front on the left and Point of the Mountain on the right. |
Have you seen yet where I am going with this? Climbing a mountain is like any challenge or goal we have in life. Perhaps we have a goal to exercise more, or to be kinder to our spouse, or to finish an enormous school project. I believe growing closer to Christ should be the central purpose for every goal we set. Sometimes climbing a mountain was not our choice, but we are brought along for this difficult task by someone we know or by God. These involuntary hikes are our trials and challenges. Whatever the case, as we first set out to conquer our challenges or goals we often start at a quick pace. It is our choice always whether to enjoy the mountain, to appreciate the scenery even though the task is hard, but we all will face discouragement at one time or the other. I sat down, exhausted after just a mile and a half, on the side of the trail, looking at my map and wondering how I would make it the rest of the way.
This is when I got an encouraging text from my wife, and that is how it works out often in our lives. When we are discouraged and feel we cannot go on, God gives us strength and motivation, often sending help through other people, angels who are tuned in to the Spirit of God and want to help others.
The Middle
We then get up and start moving again with renewed vigor. The trail does not become any easier, however; in fact, it becomes harder. We stumble and fall and perhaps bang up a knee, but we are not defeated and we keep moving. The underbrush gets more dense and we are constantly being scratched, but we are now more than halfway there and we are determined to make it to the top, having come this far. As the trail gets steeper and steeper and we have to stop every few steps, wondering how on earth we can ever make it all the way, we look around us and note that the trail has gotten even more beautiful.
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| In the middle section of the trail, especially by the stream beds, are dense forests of maple and scrub oak. |
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| The amazing thing is that further up you encounter douglas fir and aspens! These are only found at high elevations, and so it gives you a real sense of accomplishment to have come so far.
Thus it is with life's challenges, and thus it is as we try and get closer and closer to God. As we approach Him, the road gets ever harder and steeper, until it seems we are hardly making progress. But this is because of our limited perspective--we cannot always tell how high up we are or how far we have come. If we really allow ourselves to, however, we can choose to notice how beautiful our surroundings are. The higher we come, the more beautiful the trail is.
The End
Never having traveled this road before, and unable to see the summit from within the forest, I had no idea how far away I was. But suddenly, when I thought I could scarcely go any further, I emerged onto the saddle (a saddle is a low point on a ridgeline between two peaks). From the map, I knew that the saddle was quite close to the top, and now I could even see it. I also had a view, a little sneak peak, of the sights around me. A window through the trees opened up to the east, and I could see immense mountains before me, cliffs arranged in colorful bands, pine trees clinging on to dear life in the scree slopes.
I also knew from the map that the last climb from the saddle to the summit was the steepest--far steeper than anything I had ever yet encountered, although I had a hard time fathoming how that could be possible. As I walked past a magnificent pine forest, however, I found out exactly how it was possible, for this was the sight that confronted me:
You're not looking at a cliff that the trail passes by, you are looking at the trail. This was perhaps the scariest part of the "trail," a hands-and-knees scramble up the rocks. The trail remained incredibly steep, almost this steep, until the summit. Just like life can be, the trail was the very hardest when I was closest to the top. Let me say, though, that the view is worth it.
View from the top of Mt. Olympus to the south, with the flanks of Twin Peaks close by, Lone Peak behind it, and Utah Lake barely visible in the upper middle of the
View from north to east (left to right) from the top of Mt. Olympus, with Grandeur Peak (?) on the left and the peaks of Mt. Raymond towards the middle right. Mountains beyond mountains are visible on the right.
No pictures can come contain all the grandeur, majesty and beauty of what I saw at the top of Mt. Olympus, nor can they capture the joy that I felt upon arriving at the top. If a helicopter had carried me all the way to the top and dropped me off, it would not have looked nearly as good. For once you have truly tried your hardest and then succeeded, your joy is compounded by the pain you went through. That view to me (and this happens about every time I climb a mountain) was the most incredible vista my eyes had seen. The harder the journey, the greater the challenge surmounted, the greater the exhilaration and the greater your happiness. All I can say is that it is worth every bit of effort and pain to make it to the top of your mountain. In fact, God will more than recompense you for your struggles--once you see the view from the top, you will forget your pain ever existed--you will get so much more happiness than you deserve.
Two more footnotes before I close: when I reached the top of the mountain, I saw, nearly to my chagrin, peaks immediately to my east that appeared taller than where I was. Consulting my map, I saw that the peak to the east was Mt. Raymond, at 10,718' elevation, over 1,500' higher than me. I was not on the highest point of all around me! In fact, not even close, there were many peaks around me thousands of feet higher. And thus it is with us: once we reach our hard goals, we find more and higher mountains to climb. And that is no cause for dismay, rather a cause for greater excitement--an opportunity to soar ever higher, to grow closer to God, to go onward and upward.
Mt. Raymond, the taunting mountain to the east of Mt. Olympus, at 10,718'.
I had started my hike at noon, and every single person on the trail that I encountered was going down as I was going up. But I made it up and down just fine, and back before dark. It is never too late to start climbing. "It's too late for me to start" is a false excuse planted in our minds by Satan. It is never too late to improve, to repent, to overcome your challenges instead of ignoring them. To God it does not matter how high up we are--it only matters which direction we are going. So go the right direction, friends! Let us conquer our challenges, throttle our demons, let us be better people! Onwards and upwards always!
See you next week,
Scott
View to the north from Mt. Olympus of a false summit. Mt. Olympus is primarily composed of the Big Cottonwood Formation, a 900-million year old rock interbedded quartzite and shale. The summit from which the picture is taken is composed of the more-resistant quartzite, while the low saddle in the picture is the more easily-weathered shale. Quartzite primarily makes up this false summit. This is a classic example of differential erosion.
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