Enough — The Summit I Didn't Need
Trevenque, that 2,000-metre spectacular pyramid in the Cumbres Verdes, just above Granada. It's a peak I've climbed more than twenty times in twenty-four years. But last week our hiking group returned to it for the first time in a decade.
It was a beautiful hiking day. As the ground rose steeply towards the final pyramid, though, I noticed how much the trail had eroded: loose stones lying at a steep angle, with exposure on both sides. Not everyone was comfortable with it, and a few of the group wisely chose to stay at the col and eat their sandwiches in the sun while the rest of us pressed on.
Three of us continued, confident in our footwear and our footwork. Memories came flooding back as we reached the small cave formed by huge boulders lining the ridge. Ten years ago, I'd sheltered there with a client as an incoming storm hammered the mountain. I still remember the dark, menacing clouds racing towards us. Today there was nothing but sunshine and silence.
Just beyond the cave, I began to fall behind the other two. My heart rate climbed and would not settle. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my cardiologist's warnings stirred. I stopped and called up to my friends, urging them to carry on to the top. I would follow along slowly, I said. This might be as far as I went.
So I sat there on the gravel track, back comfortably perched against my padded rucksack, took a swig of water and ate my lunch. I debated whether to continue on and summit myself. But it was so peaceful. The strong winds we'd met on the ascent had died away once we'd crossed the last ridge, and the only sound was light breeze threading through the gaps behind me.
Then the right side of my brain started to argue. I was only fifteen minutes from the top. I should go on — I must go on. I needed that summit for my collection. Surely I couldn't fail?
Somewhat reluctantly, I began to rise from my perch. Then a quieter voice cut in.
"Wait a minute. Stop. What are you trying to prove? Isn't this view, this peace, this beauty enough? Especially for someone who has stood on this summit many times before, someone who is knocking on in years with a dodgy ticker. Why not just sit and enjoy the silence?"
So I sat back down.
And I sat. And I watched. And I listened. And I enjoyed.
