By Jessica Sager, 2020 Fierce Fancies Mentor

I cried when I reached the top of the mountain.

We had started our hike that morning at 3 am, under the huge expanse of a clear, cold, and starry Colorado sky.

Really, though, we had started 6 years before, a thrown-together group of pre-teens and wannabe (I say that lovingly) mentors, in the HOT summer sun of Texas. On that initial Summer Wilderness Trip – notoriously known as the *hardest* one we ever did, for more stories than I’ll share right now – the longest we hiked as a group was 2 (brutal) miles. Now, it was in the heat of the Texas summer sun, and it was with full packs on, but the fact is – it was 2 miles.

On this particular Thursday morning, we were waking up – dark and early – to complete a 6 mile hike that would take us across creeks in the dark, up snow patches with ice axes and gaiters, over countless rock boulders, and to the top of a mountain, to come back around a valley, and back to camp again. And if we were lucky – all before the afternoon storms were to come in.

(I love nighttime walks, and was *really* excited.)

If you know me, it probably won’t come as any surprise that I generally like to take the unofficial place as the “caboose” during most of our activities. This is both practical and meaningful.

First – never have I ever been accused of being a fast walker. And, more importantly, I find the conversations with the girls who also find themselves at the end – the ones who struggle, or doubt themselves or question their choice to even be there – to be the kind of rich and real talk that I learn from and love the most.

“But really,” one of the girls – who was also hiking at the back with me – said, “I don’t even know why we hike mountains. Like, why even do this.”

This girl was one of my favorites. I believe you meet people of your “soul tribe” in so many places throughout your life, and this girl was definitely in mine.

Unlike me, however, she was *NOT* enjoying the journey this morning. She was terrified of heights and was hurting physically. While she was generally one of the most upbeat and positive in the group, when it came to heights, she was at her edge, literally and figuratively. She had even talked to each mentor separately the days leading up to this hike, mentioning that she didn’t think she would be able to do it. However, once you are on a mountain, there isn’t really a place you can easily just get off of it. No elevators, escalators, or teleporters on this one, sadly. And my teenage friend was not particularly pleased with that.

“I kinda didn’t even really want to come this year, but my mom told me I had to.”

She continued on like this, as we continued to hike and climb, despite all her resistance and near insistence she couldn’t keep going.

And, as we climbed up the trail and over the boulders, we discovered another important truth: You can hike any far and seemingly impossible distance in 10 step increments. Every time your right foot hits the ground, you get to count. One, two, three, four…. When you reach 10, you get to stop. For a moment, at least. And, then it’s time to keep going. The count begins, again. I don’t actually know how many times we counted to 10, but it was a lot. Sometimes, when the path evened out, we’d just walk and stop counting, and when it got harder, we’d start again.

Miraculously, and after countless counts of 10, the top of the mountain came to us. Or, us to it. Either way, we got there – our whole group was together again at the top of the summit.

As we reached the top, another girl who had been just a few paces ahead hugged a mentor and started to cry.

It was incredible, to see these girls have these emotional moments because of the physical feats they undertook and the natural beauty around them. 

Then, all of a sudden, I was crying. We had reached the summit of a mountain together, and the summit of 6 years of growing, laughing, hair braiding, adventuring, hurting, challenging, and learning together. And I knew in just a short while, we’d back down the mountain and heading home, again.

“This will be a memory too soon,” I thought.

After a few more hours of hiking down the mountain, I was happy to find myself on the final stretch of trail with my young straggler friend again.

I pointed at the mountain that now seemed far away and so high up. I traced in the air the path we had taken that morning, once again it looked like incredible feat: up a wall of snow, across the ridge, to a peak far away, and back down again.

“Can you believe you did that?” I asked. “You asked me why we climb mountains. We climb mountains to learn about who we are. And who we can become, because of them.”

Not going to lie – I still don’t think she was buying it.

Later, in our closing circle, a new truth finally was ready. An Appreciation game called “Spotlight” had become an important part of our closing circle every year.

It is moving beyond words to see young women share with full hearts about how proud they are of each other.

During her time in the spotlight, in between receiving heartfelt acknowledgment for all that she did for the group, my previously struggling young friend thanked the mentors and trip leaders for all their support, especially when she resisted.

“The top of the mountain was the most beautiful thing I’ve seen,” she said.

And later still, as our van pulled up to the airport and we were about to begin the last leg of our last trip home, I heard her say to herself and no one, in particular, a new truth that was just waiting to be seen:

“I’d rather climb another mountain, then have it all be over and be going home.”

~

I am so thankful for the way these past 6 years held me, grew me and changed me. All the mountains – both real and relational – taught me who I was, and who I could become.

By: Danielle Krey, 2019 Girls Mentor

Going on my fifth year as a mentor for the 2019 Explore Austin girls team, it’s crazy to think that graduation is around the corner. I am constantly telling my close friends about memories shared with “my girls”, I can’t help but reminisce on our time spent together. As I think about their transition to their new stage of life, I stand in complete awe at how fast it has gone. The adventures have been plentiful, the laughs abundant, and the friendships true. In celebration of their amazing accomplishments, I wish to share a story to illustrate just a glimpse of what it was like to be a mentor for the 2019 girls team.

The story begins at three in the morning in the middle of the Colorado mountains. The group was going to summit Mt. Baldy at almost 14,000 feet. The days prior, we had been practicing our mountaineering skills nonstop. For those of you who don’t know, mountaineering is a mix between hiking and climbing with an additional friend – snow. Such trekking involves the use of ice axes, crampons, rope teams, and terms like “self-arrest.” This was the day we would be able to show off what we have learned from our beloved trip leaders.

The journey started out smooth with a few hours of night hiking prior to the sunrise. We hiked over a stream and through the woods until we reached our first, steep snow-field. We broke into our rope teams, secured our equipment, and were ready to climb. With one last glance up the daunting mountain, we began the hike up. I was in the middle of the rope team with two girls on either side, one of them being Nayeli. Everyone was inching -and I mean inching- their way up. It seemed way steeper when climbing than it had from the ground. Just as the sun rose over the mountains to hit us in the face, Nayeli looked at me and said, “I don’t think I can do this…”

To be completely honest, I was scared too and my first thought was, “Just don’t look down.” Knowing that this comment wouldn’t be much comfort to her, I opted for, “You can do this. There is no going back” and we pressed on together. It was a slow ascent, to say the least, but we trusted our trip leaders, we trusted our ropes, and we trusted each other. We finally made it to the top, and later summited the mountain. When all was said and done, the day had turned into an 18-hour escapade. The victories were just as frequent as the obstacles, though it would take hindsight to reveal this truth.

I truly can’t find another memory that represents my group of girls more. First, there was a will for adventure, second there was a moment of wondering what we got ourselves into, and finally, there was the inevitable push to reach the goal. This process, in all its hardship and glory, was a repeating cycle; each component cultivating a team environment. Our experience was as real as I have ever experienced: one grand adventure.

Let’s face it though, adventure doesn’t only exist in the outdoors. My girls have shown me their will for adventure in everything they do, including in their plans for the fast-approaching future. They want to be doctors and lawyers and writers and politicians. Their will power to face challenges is inspirational.

Just as I have seen them face challenges, I have seen them question themselves. This is where it gets real. You see, there was one part of the story that I left out: summiting the mountain that day was optional. Nayeli and every other girl in the group made the decision to go. I can’t help but think that in that moment on the snowfield, Nayeli questioned her decision. She is not alone in this experience for it happens to everyone. There were times as a mentor when I wondered what exactly I got myself into, and only half the story would stand if I pretended those moments didn’t happen. I saw hesitation. I saw the self-doubt. I saw questioning. One could even argue that there is no adventure without some level of these setbacks. What truly captured my heart was watching each and every one of them carry on anyway.

All 14 girls in my group are graduating the Explore Austin program because each and every one of them was serious about their role as an Explorer. They tried their best even on the days when it was hard. Sometimes, there wasn’t an option to go back, and other times, they made a deliberate decision to press on, to decide that this is what they wanted.

Their graduation is truly an occasion to celebrate. I am their mentor, but often I feel I have learned more from them. Our group was teamwork in its truest form.

To my girls, I will still call you my girls. I don’t know what the future holds for you, but I know that the number of obstacles you face will only be an indication of your countless victories. In my future moments of hesitation and doubt, I’ll remember these treasured memories of pressing on, and press on we shall to another grand adventure.