Tawnee - 2018-05-01 17:13:33
Hello! I just started a blogging community myself! If you would like to check it out you can find it here: www.lampinthewilderness.com
However, I am looking in to writing a guest post. Here is my latest post. Let me know what you think and if this sounds like a post you would have.
This past July I embarked on one of the most amazing and terrifying experiences of my life. With a few of my friends, I backpacked the Tour du Mont Blanc (TMB) - an 11 day, 100+ mile hike around the Mont Blanc mountain range that passes through France, Italy, and Switzerland with total elevations reaching 10,000 meters. For the longest time, I had secretly dreamt of embarking on an adventure such as this. Why I decided to wait until I was 29 years old, weighing 180 pounds, with a thyroid disorder, a hip issue and foot pain is beyond me! I knew that the extra 30 pounds I had gained over just the past two years due to the absence of a working thyroid, in addition to hip and foot pain, could be a deal breaker for me. Regardless, I was determined! While I regularly went to the gym, six months out from the hike I really started to hammer down on my training to gain some core strength needed to support my extra weight and to hopefully decrease some of my hip and foot pain. Altogether, I was in the gym or running at least five days or more a week, plus hiking on the weekends.
In addition to preparing myself physically, I was sought to prepare myself spiritually. In the years prior, my faith had not been what it once was. In fact, at one point you could have said I had turned my back on God completely. But over the past few years I had slowly been attempting to make my way back to Him. When I reflect on people who have shared similar experiences I tend to recall their way back to God happening in one, glorifying moment. For me, however, it took years, and several key events, to find my way back. The year leading up to the TMB was probably the most defining time for me to finally find my way home. So after months of training and preparation, both physically and spiritually, the day finally arrived for our adventure to begin. As soon we arrived in Les Houches, France, where we would begin our hike the next day, we were met by our first bout of rain. The steady streams did not faze us too much as we were just excited to get started the next day. After we set up our tents in the rain we decided to have one final, warm meal at a nice restaurant, knowing we would be spending the next 11 days dining on dehydrated meals and cold-cut sandwiches. The next morning, after some last-minute supply purchases, we made our way to the trail. Immediately we were met with a steep incline up what is used as a ski path in the winter months, if that gives you any indication of just how steep it was! We soon discovered that we would need to double the times we had originally planned for hiking each day. What was supposed to take us only four hours that first day ended up taking us eight! On a personal level, I discovered that I would be the one bringing up the rear of the pack for the entirety of our journey!
When we finally reached our campsite we immediately started hearing from other hikers that the next day was supposed to be the most difficult of the entire tour. And to round out our first day perfectly - a forecast of rain for all of that day as well. As a result of this new information, two of the women from our group eventually decided they would take a taxi to the next stop in the morning to avoid this part of the trail all together. While we were encouraged to do the same, we were determined to complete as much of the tour on foot as possible. Girl power, am I right? That night I prayed to God, asking for the strength to get through the next day with as much ease as possible. In case you didn’t know this, God has a cruel sense of humor sometimes! The next morning, through our exhausted, groggy state, we woke to the sound of heavy rain on our tents. Not wanting to pack up in such heavy rain, we all hunkered down in our tents until it let off a bit. Once the rain had dissipated into a bearable mist, we quickly packed up and attempted to shake off as much water from our tent as possible. Unfortunately, our packs 30+ pound packs now had an additional five pounds or more just from water. As we were heading out and bidding our friends farewell until the next stop, the rain began to pick up once again. Reluctantly, we made our way back to the trail and set out, not knowing of the “adventure” that awaited us.
For most of the morning we experienced mostly light rain and a fairly doable incline. Then, about an hour before we stopped for lunch, we encountered yet another steep incline while simultaneously being met by ice cold, pelting rain with no hope of shelter in sight. Finally, we came upon a refuge (a.k.a. a mountain hut) with a small eatery in the front. While we had bought sandwiches for our lunch, we decided a nice hot bowl of soup would be a perfect addition to our cold cuts. I don’t think any of us have ever enjoyed such a lukewarm bowl of what appeared to be potato puree in our lives! After filling our bellies, changing our wet clothes, dumping the water out of our boots, attempting to warm up and waiting for the rain to settle, more than an hour had passed. We finally decided we should probably be on our way. Not long after we left the comforts of the quaint little refuge did we finally realize the real adventure still lie ahead.
Our nicely marked, smooth trail eventually turned into a rocky, bolder filled path with haphazard markers painted on the scattered rocks. It became more and more difficult to distinguish where the trail was and to spot the markers. At one point, the water had turned what was supposed to be our trail into a small, rushing river. To continue our journey, we had no choice but to cross to the other side. It took us a good 15 minutes to map out the best path across we could find. Jumping from rock to rock with a 30+ pound pack on my back was no small feat! And of course, as I made my last big jump to the other side, my small stubby legs just barely grazed the bank and into the water I went. Luckily, I only sank to about waste deep and was able to hoist myself out with the help of some kind passerby’s. Honestly, I wasn’t much more wet than I had been the rest of the day, so it wasn’t quite as bad as it seemed. And just like that, after a quick re-composure, we headed off, all of us ready to get this day over with, hoping our next stop wasn’t far ahead. But, as we kept climbing up, the trail kept getting crazier, and I kept getting slower. My friends were doing their best to wait on me as I kept having to break as we climbed the rocky slope. They would trek ahead, wait for me to catch up, then I would meet them for a break a break of my own. They would trek ahead, wait for me to catch up, I’d meet them for a break. They’d trek ahead, I’d catch up, I’d need another break. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I felt horrible for slowing them down but I just could not keep up with them.
As the day drudged on, the fog began to creep in, and with the increase in fog came a decrease in visibility. After not seeing my friends for a while I figured they had just pushed on to the top of that never-ending hill and would wait for me there. However, by the time I made it myself, there was no one there. In fact, it had been quite awhile since I had seen anyone else even pass me. My nerves and energy were wearing thin as my anxiety was swelling. All I wanted was for that day to be over! I finally started praying to God, “Lord, please just help me get to the nearest refuge before dark.” I scanned the rocks for the rest of the trail through the fog. I spotted the small, faint, TMB sign painted on a small boulder and headed that way. Then I spotted the next and headed that way. Then the next. Then the next. I was sure my destination would be in sight soon. All the while there was a song that started to creep into my head. It was just the small part of a chorus that kept repeating itself. A song by Tauren Wells. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It goes something like this: “Your’re the God of the hi-hi-hills and valleys, hi-hi-hills and valleys, and I am not alone. God of the hills. The God of the Valleys. God of the hi-hi-hills and valleys. And I am not alone.”
That’s all. That’s what kept playing in my head. Over and over. No other song. Not even a prayer, really. Just that. At first it was comforting. Then the fog became thicker and daylight started running out. It became harder and harder to recognize the TMB signs among the rocks. And then I realized I had just went in a full circle and was now back to the point where I first realized my friends had not waited for me. At that moment, I lost it! I was scared, I was cold, I was exhausted, and honestly, I was angry – angry at God! If He truly was the God of the hills and valleys, why was he not here with me then? Why hadn’t He shown me the way to my friends? Why was I right back at this spot, with darkness creeping in and the fog still ever present? And WHY WAS THAT SONG STILL PLAYING IN MY HEAD!
After I had myself a little pity party, shed a few tears, and finished having my little temper tantrum with God, I gathered myself together, still angry, and tried to figure out what in the world I was going to do. I couldn’t stay in that spot for the night because it was too open, too windy, and too rocky. I remembered seeing a sign earlier that veered off of the TMB route which I assumed was for another town or refuge. It had different names with different lengths of time on it. 5 minutes, 30 minutes, 60 minutes. The direction it was pointing toward had an actual path to it and went towards the grassy side of the mountain. I figured I could make it to at least one of these places. At the very least, I would be done with those dang rocks and I would have an actual path to follow! The first destination at five minutes ended up being an abandoned hut with a sign that read “closed, no loitering”. Frustrated, but still determined, I pulled out my headlamp to help me see in the growing darkness, and continued on my way, hoping to find the destination at 30 minutes. The trail quickly turned into a very narrow, very muddy path with steep hills and tall grass on either side. I could hear water rushing in the valley below but I could not see past the light of my headlamp. The path became so narrow and muddy that I was clinging onto the tall grass beside me to keep from slipping or falling into the valley below. Having come too far and afraid of attempting to turn around, I pushed forward. Eventually the path widened and the earth began to flatten. By then I thought for sure I was going to make it to the 30-minute point. But then I came upon a waterfall. A waterfall that, in the dark and in my terrified state, sounded like that of Niagara Falls. I could only see the very edge of the waterfall, so I couldn’t really make out how wide it was. Since I didn’t want to cross this monster in the dark, I decided to finally make camp for the night. The area I chose was still slightly downhill but still right next to the trail, just in case a chance passerby came to my rescue. I had to clear the area of the thick, leafy plants that covered the slope prior to setting up my tent. As I was setting it up, I looked off into the distance from the direction I had come. Behind me I saw a distant light. I had somehow missed the refuge I was looking for! Not wanting to risk getting lost again, I decided to just stay where I was until morning. I finally settled into my tent at around 9:00pm, still in my wet clothes, with no dry options left anyways, and attempted to get some sort of sleep. Since I was still on a slight hill I kept sliding to the bottom of my tent. I was terrified I was going to slide so much that my tent hooks would come out of the ground and I would topple off the side of the mountain, into the valley river below, to my death! Let’s just say, sleep didn’t come easy for me that night!
After a crazy night of shivering, tossing and turning, scooting my way back up to the top of the tent, I was able to get maybe a total hour of sleep. I saw the first light of dawn around 5:00am (sunrise comes early in European summers). I made my way out into the sunlight to go check on the status of this behemoth of a waterfall I was supposed to cross. Upon emerging from my tent, the first thing I noticed was that the hill and valley I thought was going to end my life the night before was nothing more than gradual slope that met moderately wide stream below, probably not even knee deep. The second thing I noticed was that the “waterfall” I was so terrified of the night before was merely a gradual, downhill mountain stream that probably wouldn’t even cover my entire boot were I inclined to walk through it. For a moment, a small sigh of relief came over me and I sent up a quick thank you to God. That is, until I remembered I was no longer on the TMB trail and had no idea where I was. I quickly packed up my things and headed down the same path. I considered, for a moment, heading back to the TMB trail, sure that I would be able to find my way without the fog or at least have a better chance of seeing a person again. However, I refused to hike back up that narrow, muddy path to the rocky, horribly marked trail from the night before. I just knew there had to be something along this path in front of me. So, on my way I went, over the “waterfall”, across the valley stream via a footbridge, and on to a path carved into the side of a cliff. At the end of that cliff, as I glanced back, I couldn’t help but laugh a little as I spotted a yellow caution sign with a little man tumbling off the side. Ahead of me lay a nice gradual meadow trail. Able to finally walk without trying to maneuver boulders, streams, gaps in cliffs and so on, I picked up my pace, hoping to soon see civilization once again. About an hour and a half after leaving my makeshift campsite, I saw a farm in the distance. At first it looked abandoned but as I neared it I saw the most peculiar site. There were arms from what looked like four or more people sticking out the window waving at me as I was coming up the valley! I couldn’t help but finish that last mile or so with a grin on my face. It was people! Real people! People who were, for some reason, happy to see me!
Once I finally reached the refuge I found the door that lead inside. I was first greeted by the caretaker who ushered me into the warm, dry building and immediately offered to make me some food or some tea. Silly me, not wanting to be a burden, refused the food but gladly accepted a nice hot cup of tea! As he went to prepare me a cup, I entered the main area that was filled with tables and benches and lots of friendly faces! The faces belonged to mostly women, and a few men, who were all in their sixties or older. They were all French but the few who spoke English immediately came over to where I was sitting to check on me. They were wondering what I was doing out here all on my own and where I had come from. I gave a brief description of my story from the night before: how I had been separated from my friends, how I had lost the TMB trail, how I had spent the night alone in my tent on the mountain. I was comforted by the fact that they seemed to think it was as much a feat as I had led myself to think it was. As I was finishing up my story the caretaker brought me the biggest cup of tea I had ever seen in my life! The “cup” was more the size of a bowl, really, and I was elated just to have a warm beverage. As he left me with my tea, one of the English-speaking French women was translating my story to her friend. Amazed, her friend walked over to me and spoke four simple words. In her soft, gentle voice she said, “It’s okay. Your safe now.” I don’t know what it was about those words, but they hit me right in the feels! I was somehow able to choke out a “thank you” before turning my head out toward the window. I could do nothing more than sit there quietly with tears streaming down my face, unable to stop them from flowing in front of this room full of strangers. In that moment I was finally able to reflect back on the previous night, to the conversations I had with the Lord. In the moment, all I could see was the danger all around me as the fog crept in. Just as the fog had clouded my visibility, so my fear had clouded my spirit. The entire time I thought I was in danger His hand of protection was over me. Even though I couldn’t hear Him or see Him at work in my life in that moment, He was always there. And if I had any doubts after all of that, He wasn’t done showing off yet.
The group at the refuge all headed out for their own hike that day and to their next destination (I know, 60+ year old men and women hiking in the French alps!). Once they had left, the caretaker offered to take me to the other side of the mountain to the owner’s other refuge, which had Wi-Fi, so that I could attempt to contact my friends to let them know I was okay. As we were driving, he informed me that I was lucky I showed up when I did since the refuge we had just left is not always in use and even more seldomly staffed. Apparently, patrons book the refuge and usually let themselves in via a hidden key. The kitchen and other amenities are usually stocked prior to their arrival and they simply take of everything themselves. However, sometimes they will request that someone be present to cook and clean for them, in which case this last group had. If they hadn’t been there, no one would have been there to greet me or let me inside or offer me a bowl of tea. If they hadn’t requested the staff I wouldn’t have been riding in that van to the other side of the mountain at that very moment.
Once we arrived at the other refuge I immediately headed to the bathroom and started peeling off all my wet clothes to hang them to dry. Once I connected to the Wi-Fi I started attempting to reach my friends to let them know I was okay. After about an hour I still hadn’t reached them, so I figured they didn’t have service. Finally, I decided to see how far our stop for that previous night was in reference to my current location. Apparently, it was a 2-hour trek by foot and only a 15-minute drive by car! Unfortunately, none of the staff were able to leave to drive me again, but they assured me that hitch-hiking in these parts was very safe and they had all done it multiple times before. Honestly, I didn’t even give it a second thought after my night on the mountain. If I had made it through the night safely then hitching a ride would be no problem! I packed up my gear, thanked them for their amazing hospitality, and headed down to the main road. I figured I would just start walking and if someone happened to stop for my “hikers-thumb” then I would graciously accept. I was about 30-mintues in and a number of cars had passed me. I eventually happened upon a little pull-off spot where many cars had parked to take pictures. I wandered up to the first car I saw, tapped on the window, and I asked the gentleman if he knew where Les Chapieux was and if he could give me a ride there. In his broken French accent, he replied, “yes, of course! It’s only 5 minutes from here and I’m heading that direction anyways.” So, in 5 minutes, what would have taken me another hour and half or more, we pulled in to Les Chapieux. I unloaded my pack from his trunk and headed toward the refuge.
I had no where my friends would be or if they were even there at all. Having only eaten bars since the potato puree for lunch the day before, I decided to grab a sandwich before looking for them. But before I could even get inside I heard a familiar voice from behind me yell, "Are. You. Freaking. SERIOUS?! I am never letting you out of my sight again!!" I turned around and there was my friend Keely. She rushed up to me and, before I could even react, gave me the biggest hug ever! Actually, I’m pretty sure that is the only time she and I have ever hugged, since neither of us are big on hugging. But in some moments, hugging is just necessary! This was one of those moments! She eventually went on to tell me that our other friend, Michelle, was calling a taxi at that very moment to take them two stops ahead so they would have service to try to contact me. As we made our way over to the sandwich stand together Michelle spotted me and I received an equally enthusiastic welcome right before she exclaimed that the taxi was going to be there in less than 25 minutes! So, if I hadn’t hitchhiked I would have missed them altogether and then been stuck with no way of contacting them yet again!
We considered for a moment just canceling the taxi and continuing our hike like we had planned, but we all agreed that we could probably use the break. So, while waiting for the taxi to arrive, I told them about my story, and they told me about there’s. Apparently, they had waited for me at the top of the mountain for as long as they could until the fog got bad enough that they were afraid they wouldn’t be able to make it themselves. And honestly, we all thought the campsite couldn’t be much further anyways. Oh, how wrong we all were! They didn’t even end up making it there themselves! Michelle, the fastest of the three of us, had made it to a refuge half way down to the valley, and decided to stop there for the night. Keely, not knowing Michelle had already stopped, passed the refuge and attempted to descend the rest of the way to the valley. About half way she stopped someone coming from the opposite direction to ask how much further she had. Discovering she still had about an hour left she decided to turn and sprint back to the refuge to stay for the night as well. Her and Michelle had spent the whole night terrified that something horrible had happened to me. When they finally made their way to the valley the next morning they discovered they had no service. They had heard that there was no service at the next area either and the only way to get there was by foot, so no vehicle traffic in or out. Not wanting to head to yet another destination with no way of reaching me, they decided to head to the campsite after that via taxi. And that brought us to where we were then, waiting on said Taxi.
Up to this point, I have only told you about days one through four of our hike on the TMB and there were still seven days left after that. While those seven days were still an adventure in themselves, still exhausting, both mentally and physically, nothing will ever compare to those first few. On the mountain range surrounding Mont Blanc, in the French Alps, between the towns of Les Contamines and Les Chapieux, I discovered a valuable lesson. I learned that, even in those moments in your life when you can’t see God, and you can’t hear God, maybe it is in those moments when He is with you most. Maybe it is in those moments of fear and desperation that He is calling you back to Him, back to safety.
Sometime after I had returned from my hike I finally had time to reflect back on that lesson and I was able see where it paralleled to my life in the years leading up to it. So many times, I had been angry with God for abandoning me, for not revealing Himself to me when I needed Him most. I even started to doubt His existence all together. But now that I am on the other side of that mountain I can see. I can see where He was calling me, leading me, back into the safety of His loving embrace. The place that I now reside, forever. I pray I never forget these lessons learned. And I pray that in your moments of anger, fear, or doubt, that you will remember, also. Remember those moments when you were so sure of God’s love for you, for His love for you never fails and is never ending. AUTHOR: Tawnee AUTHOR EMAIL: AUTHOR URL: SUBJECT: [The Mudroom] Write for Us IP: 156.67.138.210 Array ( [1_Name] => Tawnee [2_Comment] => Hello! I just started a blogging community myself! If you would like to check it out you can find it here: www.lampinthewilderness.com
However, I am looking in to writing a guest post. Here is my latest post. Let me know what you think and if this sounds like a post you would have.
This past July I embarked on one of the most amazing and terrifying experiences of my life. With a few of my friends, I backpacked the Tour du Mont Blanc (TMB) - an 11 day, 100+ mile hike around the Mont Blanc mountain range that passes through France, Italy, and Switzerland with total elevations reaching 10,000 meters. For the longest time, I had secretly dreamt of embarking on an adventure such as this. Why I decided to wait until I was 29 years old, weighing 180 pounds, with a thyroid disorder, a hip issue and foot pain is beyond me! I knew that the extra 30 pounds I had gained over just the past two years due to the absence of a working thyroid, in addition to hip and foot pain, could be a deal breaker for me. Regardless, I was determined! While I regularly went to the gym, six months out from the hike I really started to hammer down on my training to gain some core strength needed to support my extra weight and to hopefully decrease some of my hip and foot pain. Altogether, I was in the gym or running at least five days or more a week, plus hiking on the weekends.
In addition to preparing myself physically, I was sought to prepare myself spiritually. In the years prior, my faith had not been what it once was. In fact, at one point you could have said I had turned my back on God completely. But over the past few years I had slowly been attempting to make my way back to Him. When I reflect on people who have shared similar experiences I tend to recall their way back to God happening in one, glorifying moment. For me, however, it took years, and several key events, to find my way back. The year leading up to the TMB was probably the most defining time for me to finally find my way home. So after months of training and preparation, both physically and spiritually, the day finally arrived for our adventure to begin. As soon we arrived in Les Houches, France, where we would begin our hike the next day, we were met by our first bout of rain. The steady streams did not faze us too much as we were just excited to get started the next day. After we set up our tents in the rain we decided to have one final, warm meal at a nice restaurant, knowing we would be spending the next 11 days dining on dehydrated meals and cold-cut sandwiches. The next morning, after some last-minute supply purchases, we made our way to the trail. Immediately we were met with a steep incline up what is used as a ski path in the winter months, if that gives you any indication of just how steep it was! We soon discovered that we would need to double the times we had originally planned for hiking each day. What was supposed to take us only four hours that first day ended up taking us eight! On a personal level, I discovered that I would be the one bringing up the rear of the pack for the entirety of our journey!
When we finally reached our campsite we immediately started hearing from other hikers that the next day was supposed to be the most difficult of the entire tour. And to round out our first day perfectly - a forecast of rain for all of that day as well. As a result of this new information, two of the women from our group eventually decided they would take a taxi to the next stop in the morning to avoid this part of the trail all together. While we were encouraged to do the same, we were determined to complete as much of the tour on foot as possible. Girl power, am I right? That night I prayed to God, asking for the strength to get through the next day with as much ease as possible. In case you didn’t know this, God has a cruel sense of humor sometimes! The next morning, through our exhausted, groggy state, we woke to the sound of heavy rain on our tents. Not wanting to pack up in such heavy rain, we all hunkered down in our tents until it let off a bit. Once the rain had dissipated into a bearable mist, we quickly packed up and attempted to shake off as much water from our tent as possible. Unfortunately, our packs 30+ pound packs now had an additional five pounds or more just from water. As we were heading out and bidding our friends farewell until the next stop, the rain began to pick up once again. Reluctantly, we made our way back to the trail and set out, not knowing of the “adventure” that awaited us.
For most of the morning we experienced mostly light rain and a fairly doable incline. Then, about an hour before we stopped for lunch, we encountered yet another steep incline while simultaneously being met by ice cold, pelting rain with no hope of shelter in sight. Finally, we came upon a refuge (a.k.a. a mountain hut) with a small eatery in the front. While we had bought sandwiches for our lunch, we decided a nice hot bowl of soup would be a perfect addition to our cold cuts. I don’t think any of us have ever enjoyed such a lukewarm bowl of what appeared to be potato puree in our lives! After filling our bellies, changing our wet clothes, dumping the water out of our boots, attempting to warm up and waiting for the rain to settle, more than an hour had passed. We finally decided we should probably be on our way. Not long after we left the comforts of the quaint little refuge did we finally realize the real adventure still lie ahead.
Our nicely marked, smooth trail eventually turned into a rocky, bolder filled path with haphazard markers painted on the scattered rocks. It became more and more difficult to distinguish where the trail was and to spot the markers. At one point, the water had turned what was supposed to be our trail into a small, rushing river. To continue our journey, we had no choice but to cross to the other side. It took us a good 15 minutes to map out the best path across we could find. Jumping from rock to rock with a 30+ pound pack on my back was no small feat! And of course, as I made my last big jump to the other side, my small stubby legs just barely grazed the bank and into the water I went. Luckily, I only sank to about waste deep and was able to hoist myself out with the help of some kind passerby’s. Honestly, I wasn’t much more wet than I had been the rest of the day, so it wasn’t quite as bad as it seemed. And just like that, after a quick re-composure, we headed off, all of us ready to get this day over with, hoping our next stop wasn’t far ahead. But, as we kept climbing up, the trail kept getting crazier, and I kept getting slower. My friends were doing their best to wait on me as I kept having to break as we climbed the rocky slope. They would trek ahead, wait for me to catch up, then I would meet them for a break a break of my own. They would trek ahead, wait for me to catch up, I’d meet them for a break. They’d trek ahead, I’d catch up, I’d need another break. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I felt horrible for slowing them down but I just could not keep up with them.
As the day drudged on, the fog began to creep in, and with the increase in fog came a decrease in visibility. After not seeing my friends for a while I figured they had just pushed on to the top of that never-ending hill and would wait for me there. However, by the time I made it myself, there was no one there. In fact, it had been quite awhile since I had seen anyone else even pass me. My nerves and energy were wearing thin as my anxiety was swelling. All I wanted was for that day to be over! I finally started praying to God, “Lord, please just help me get to the nearest refuge before dark.” I scanned the rocks for the rest of the trail through the fog. I spotted the small, faint, TMB sign painted on a small boulder and headed that way. Then I spotted the next and headed that way. Then the next. Then the next. I was sure my destination would be in sight soon. All the while there was a song that started to creep into my head. It was just the small part of a chorus that kept repeating itself. A song by Tauren Wells. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It goes something like this: “Your’re the God of the hi-hi-hills and valleys, hi-hi-hills and valleys, and I am not alone. God of the hills. The God of the Valleys. God of the hi-hi-hills and valleys. And I am not alone.”
That’s all. That’s what kept playing in my head. Over and over. No other song. Not even a prayer, really. Just that. At first it was comforting. Then the fog became thicker and daylight started running out. It became harder and harder to recognize the TMB signs among the rocks. And then I realized I had just went in a full circle and was now back to the point where I first realized my friends had not waited for me. At that moment, I lost it! I was scared, I was cold, I was exhausted, and honestly, I was angry – angry at God! If He truly was the God of the hills and valleys, why was he not here with me then? Why hadn’t He shown me the way to my friends? Why was I right back at this spot, with darkness creeping in and the fog still ever present? And WHY WAS THAT SONG STILL PLAYING IN MY HEAD!
After I had myself a little pity party, shed a few tears, and finished having my little temper tantrum with God, I gathered myself together, still angry, and tried to figure out what in the world I was going to do. I couldn’t stay in that spot for the night because it was too open, too windy, and too rocky. I remembered seeing a sign earlier that veered off of the TMB route which I assumed was for another town or refuge. It had different names with different lengths of time on it. 5 minutes, 30 minutes, 60 minutes. The direction it was pointing toward had an actual path to it and went towards the grassy side of the mountain. I figured I could make it to at least one of these places. At the very least, I would be done with those dang rocks and I would have an actual path to follow! The first destination at five minutes ended up being an abandoned hut with a sign that read “closed, no loitering”. Frustrated, but still determined, I pulled out my headlamp to help me see in the growing darkness, and continued on my way, hoping to find the destination at 30 minutes. The trail quickly turned into a very narrow, very muddy path with steep hills and tall grass on either side. I could hear water rushing in the valley below but I could not see past the light of my headlamp. The path became so narrow and muddy that I was clinging onto the tall grass beside me to keep from slipping or falling into the valley below. Having come too far and afraid of attempting to turn around, I pushed forward. Eventually the path widened and the earth began to flatten. By then I thought for sure I was going to make it to the 30-minute point. But then I came upon a waterfall. A waterfall that, in the dark and in my terrified state, sounded like that of Niagara Falls. I could only see the very edge of the waterfall, so I couldn’t really make out how wide it was. Since I didn’t want to cross this monster in the dark, I decided to finally make camp for the night. The area I chose was still slightly downhill but still right next to the trail, just in case a chance passerby came to my rescue. I had to clear the area of the thick, leafy plants that covered the slope prior to setting up my tent. As I was setting it up, I looked off into the distance from the direction I had come. Behind me I saw a distant light. I had somehow missed the refuge I was looking for! Not wanting to risk getting lost again, I decided to just stay where I was until morning. I finally settled into my tent at around 9:00pm, still in my wet clothes, with no dry options left anyways, and attempted to get some sort of sleep. Since I was still on a slight hill I kept sliding to the bottom of my tent. I was terrified I was going to slide so much that my tent hooks would come out of the ground and I would topple off the side of the mountain, into the valley river below, to my death! Let’s just say, sleep didn’t come easy for me that night!
After a crazy night of shivering, tossing and turning, scooting my way back up to the top of the tent, I was able to get maybe a total hour of sleep. I saw the first light of dawn around 5:00am (sunrise comes early in European summers). I made my way out into the sunlight to go check on the status of this behemoth of a waterfall I was supposed to cross. Upon emerging from my tent, the first thing I noticed was that the hill and valley I thought was going to end my life the night before was nothing more than gradual slope that met moderately wide stream below, probably not even knee deep. The second thing I noticed was that the “waterfall” I was so terrified of the night before was merely a gradual, downhill mountain stream that probably wouldn’t even cover my entire boot were I inclined to walk through it. For a moment, a small sigh of relief came over me and I sent up a quick thank you to God. That is, until I remembered I was no longer on the TMB trail and had no idea where I was. I quickly packed up my things and headed down the same path. I considered, for a moment, heading back to the TMB trail, sure that I would be able to find my way without the fog or at least have a better chance of seeing a person again. However, I refused to hike back up that narrow, muddy path to the rocky, horribly marked trail from the night before. I just knew there had to be something along this path in front of me. So, on my way I went, over the “waterfall”, across the valley stream via a footbridge, and on to a path carved into the side of a cliff. At the end of that cliff, as I glanced back, I couldn’t help but laugh a little as I spotted a yellow caution sign with a little man tumbling off the side. Ahead of me lay a nice gradual meadow trail. Able to finally walk without trying to maneuver boulders, streams, gaps in cliffs and so on, I picked up my pace, hoping to soon see civilization once again. About an hour and a half after leaving my makeshift campsite, I saw a farm in the distance. At first it looked abandoned but as I neared it I saw the most peculiar site. There were arms from what looked like four or more people sticking out the window waving at me as I was coming up the valley! I couldn’t help but finish that last mile or so with a grin on my face. It was people! Real people! People who were, for some reason, happy to see me!
Once I finally reached the refuge I found the door that lead inside. I was first greeted by the caretaker who ushered me into the warm, dry building and immediately offered to make me some food or some tea. Silly me, not wanting to be a burden, refused the food but gladly accepted a nice hot cup of tea! As he went to prepare me a cup, I entered the main area that was filled with tables and benches and lots of friendly faces! The faces belonged to mostly women, and a few men, who were all in their sixties or older. They were all French but the few who spoke English immediately came over to where I was sitting to check on me. They were wondering what I was doing out here all on my own and where I had come from. I gave a brief description of my story from the night before: how I had been separated from my friends, how I had lost the TMB trail, how I had spent the night alone in my tent on the mountain. I was comforted by the fact that they seemed to think it was as much a feat as I had led myself to think it was. As I was finishing up my story the caretaker brought me the biggest cup of tea I had ever seen in my life! The “cup” was more the size of a bowl, really, and I was elated just to have a warm beverage. As he left me with my tea, one of the English-speaking French women was translating my story to her friend. Amazed, her friend walked over to me and spoke four simple words. In her soft, gentle voice she said, “It’s okay. Your safe now.” I don’t know what it was about those words, but they hit me right in the feels! I was somehow able to choke out a “thank you” before turning my head out toward the window. I could do nothing more than sit there quietly with tears streaming down my face, unable to stop them from flowing in front of this room full of strangers. In that moment I was finally able to reflect back on the previous night, to the conversations I had with the Lord. In the moment, all I could see was the danger all around me as the fog crept in. Just as the fog had clouded my visibility, so my fear had clouded my spirit. The entire time I thought I was in danger His hand of protection was over me. Even though I couldn’t hear Him or see Him at work in my life in that moment, He was always there. And if I had any doubts after all of that, He wasn’t done showing off yet.
The group at the refuge all headed out for their own hike that day and to their next destination (I know, 60+ year old men and women hiking in the French alps!). Once they had left, the caretaker offered to take me to the other side of the mountain to the owner’s other refuge, which had Wi-Fi, so that I could attempt to contact my friends to let them know I was okay. As we were driving, he informed me that I was lucky I showed up when I did since the refuge we had just left is not always in use and even more seldomly staffed. Apparently, patrons book the refuge and usually let themselves in via a hidden key. The kitchen and other amenities are usually stocked prior to their arrival and they simply take of everything themselves. However, sometimes they will request that someone be present to cook and clean for them, in which case this last group had. If they hadn’t been there, no one would have been there to greet me or let me inside or offer me a bowl of tea. If they hadn’t requested the staff I wouldn’t have been riding in that van to the other side of the mountain at that very moment.
Once we arrived at the other refuge I immediately headed to the bathroom and started peeling off all my wet clothes to hang them to dry. Once I connected to the Wi-Fi I started attempting to reach my friends to let them know I was okay. After about an hour I still hadn’t reached them, so I figured they didn’t have service. Finally, I decided to see how far our stop for that previous night was in reference to my current location. Apparently, it was a 2-hour trek by foot and only a 15-minute drive by car! Unfortunately, none of the staff were able to leave to drive me again, but they assured me that hitch-hiking in these parts was very safe and they had all done it multiple times before. Honestly, I didn’t even give it a second thought after my night on the mountain. If I had made it through the night safely then hitching a ride would be no problem! I packed up my gear, thanked them for their amazing hospitality, and headed down to the main road. I figured I would just start walking and if someone happened to stop for my “hikers-thumb” then I would graciously accept. I was about 30-mintues in and a number of cars had passed me. I eventually happened upon a little pull-off spot where many cars had parked to take pictures. I wandered up to the first car I saw, tapped on the window, and I asked the gentleman if he knew where Les Chapieux was and if he could give me a ride there. In his broken French accent, he replied, “yes, of course! It’s only 5 minutes from here and I’m heading that direction anyways.” So, in 5 minutes, what would have taken me another hour and half or more, we pulled in to Les Chapieux. I unloaded my pack from his trunk and headed toward the refuge.
I had no where my friends would be or if they were even there at all. Having only eaten bars since the potato puree for lunch the day before, I decided to grab a sandwich before looking for them. But before I could even get inside I heard a familiar voice from behind me yell, "Are. You. Freaking. SERIOUS?! I am never letting you out of my sight again!!" I turned around and there was my friend Keely. She rushed up to me and, before I could even react, gave me the biggest hug ever! Actually, I’m pretty sure that is the only time she and I have ever hugged, since neither of us are big on hugging. But in some moments, hugging is just necessary! This was one of those moments! She eventually went on to tell me that our other friend, Michelle, was calling a taxi at that very moment to take them two stops ahead so they would have service to try to contact me. As we made our way over to the sandwich stand together Michelle spotted me and I received an equally enthusiastic welcome right before she exclaimed that the taxi was going to be there in less than 25 minutes! So, if I hadn’t hitchhiked I would have missed them altogether and then been stuck with no way of contacting them yet again!
We considered for a moment just canceling the taxi and continuing our hike like we had planned, but we all agreed that we could probably use the break. So, while waiting for the taxi to arrive, I told them about my story, and they told me about there’s. Apparently, they had waited for me at the top of the mountain for as long as they could until the fog got bad enough that they were afraid they wouldn’t be able to make it themselves. And honestly, we all thought the campsite couldn’t be much further anyways. Oh, how wrong we all were! They didn’t even end up making it there themselves! Michelle, the fastest of the three of us, had made it to a refuge half way down to the valley, and decided to stop there for the night. Keely, not knowing Michelle had already stopped, passed the refuge and attempted to descend the rest of the way to the valley. About half way she stopped someone coming from the opposite direction to ask how much further she had. Discovering she still had about an hour left she decided to turn and sprint back to the refuge to stay for the night as well. Her and Michelle had spent the whole night terrified that something horrible had happened to me. When they finally made their way to the valley the next morning they discovered they had no service. They had heard that there was no service at the next area either and the only way to get there was by foot, so no vehicle traffic in or out. Not wanting to head to yet another destination with no way of reaching me, they decided to head to the campsite after that via taxi. And that brought us to where we were then, waiting on said Taxi.
Up to this point, I have only told you about days one through four of our hike on the TMB and there were still seven days left after that. While those seven days were still an adventure in themselves, still exhausting, both mentally and physically, nothing will ever compare to those first few. On the mountain range surrounding Mont Blanc, in the French Alps, between the towns of Les Contamines and Les Chapieux, I discovered a valuable lesson. I learned that, even in those moments in your life when you can’t see God, and you can’t hear God, maybe it is in those moments when He is with you most. Maybe it is in those moments of fear and desperation that He is calling you back to Him, back to safety.
Sometime after I had returned from my hike I finally had time to reflect back on that lesson and I was able see where it paralleled to my life in the years leading up to it. So many times, I had been angry with God for abandoning me, for not revealing Himself to me when I needed Him most. I even started to doubt His existence all together. But now that I am on the other side of that mountain I can see. I can see where He was calling me, leading me, back into the safety of His loving embrace. The place that I now reside, forever. I pray I never forget these lessons learned. And I pray that in your moments of anger, fear, or doubt, that you will remember, also. Remember those moments when you were so sure of God’s love for you, for His love for you never fails and is never ending.
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