The Flowers and the Marmots and the View

I laughed at a bumper sticker on a beat up old camper going down the road: Not all who wander are lost.

You’ve probably seen it too but were were focused on where you were going: Horse show, rodeo, branding, etc… but no doubt, you had a destination and a specific start time.

Horses loaded, fueled up, rollin’ out – needing to pass the wanderer, who is in your way, on their journey through life.

When I read it, I started asking questions of myself and every now and then I still ask them.

“Are you lost?”

“Do you have a destination?”

“Does it matter if you reach it?”

“What do you hope to discover along the way?”

Like the wanderer, I’m on a journey, and as I began to ask more questions, another old adage surfaced. When I described it to a friend, I had no clue the idea was as old as time: It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.

Around a campfire one night we all laughed and the debate was on!

Journey or Destination?

Here’s what I know: When I’m on a hike, I like to see the wildflowers, watch the marmots play above tree line, and take in the view from places others may never go. And when I was horseback, training for an upcoming show, entering and winning was the destination. But what mattered, what meant the most, was everything that happened along the way.

Over time, I’ve been criticized by others, and by myself, for not being competitive enough. For not wanting to get to the top or not craving the winner’s circle. Somewhere along the way I began to recognize the correlation between destination and winning, and wondered if they were the same.

In 2009, I left our western lifestyle and found different opportunities somewhat unsuitable to our cowboy ways – I decided to walk or ride a bicycle for fun.

Have you ever wondered how many miles you’ve traveled horseback? Not just on a trail or in the pasture, but have you ever calculated how many circles you walk, trot or lope in an arena preparing your horses for their life and competition?

I think you would be astounded. But we are not here to do math. This is just to say that I gave up loping circles and started walking.

Like the time I attempted to climb Mount Princeton in Colorado.

Not from the regular trail that everyone goes up.

No, we chose the backside of the mountain; the trail that was more difficult, unmarked, longer, probably steeper and most likely uphill in both directions – in a blizzard.

Oh wait. Wrong story – but you get the idea!

We started our climb late on a Friday afternoon with the intention of finding a fantastic camping spot to enjoy our rehydrated meal of beef stroganoff prepared over the Jetboil camping stove, while watching the sun set in the Rocky Mountains.

The fantastic camp spot was on a hillside, in the wind with little protection and our bodies held the tent in place throughout the night.

Nevertheless! At 4:00 AM,we packed up and continued our journey to the top.

Our destination was the 14,200 foot summit.

We had slept at tree line and now faced a traverse of an almost non-existent trail up a scree slope.

The dropoff to the east side, steep as a cow’s face, had my full attention.

I moved at turtle speed – low turtle speed – while my mountain goat partner skipped up the rocks.

The mountain and I were coming to an agreement, and it became clear between my partner and me that only one of us was enjoying this experience.

I decided to sit this one out.

Summiting was no longer an option for me.

He was less than impressed, however he could see I was done and to his credit supported my decision.

We found me a safe spot tucked into the rocks, marked it on his GPS, and covered me with a foil blanket because I was sweaty and it was cold.

I watched him bound up the slope until he became a dot far off in the distance.

Wrapped up in my foil blankie, I watched the sun climb into the sky from a vantage point few have had from that very spot.

On a clear Colorado morning, the destination was not where I sat down, nor was it the summit.

It remained undefined, but maybe it’s this journal entry – 13 years later.

It has become the opportunity to share my experience and remember a phenomenal sunrise.

The destination is where we make it and the journey builds our character, filling us with memories along the way.

When I remember my hiking days, I think of the flowers and the marmots and the views.

So, as you lope more circles in preparation for the next event, as you ride across the pasture to gather cattle, or get to a section of fence you have to fix, or even if you walk through the gate as a finalist at a major event this Fall, remember the journey. Treasure the things happening along the way – the lives you touch, the people you connect with, the horses you ride. Don’t forget to take in the view. You might see something you’ve never seen before.

Like this one time, I was hanging out at tree line, again, and I’m pretty sure I saw the ghost of an old miner on Mount Antero.

But that’s a story for another day….

If this kind of wandering and wondering sounds familiar, you’ll find more stories in Jennifer’s Journal and longer conversations on The Trainer’s Wife Podcast.