Mills Lake

I remember a hike I took with a few friends to a place called Mills Lake. We started late on the trail and took a very leisurely pace up the path stopping along the way to take in the views of the Glacier Gorge and the surrounding peaks. Two of my companions that day were a pair of young women from Brazil who had never hiked with me before. It was not hard for me to detect their awkwardness in guiding a sightless person on a mountain trail but they were clearly making a concentrated effort to be as helpful as possible. 

One thing that stood out to me while we hiked up in the warm afternoon sun was how these friends from afar mentioned every little bump along the trail so as I could never guess whether I was about to encounter an actual step or merely a small water bar placed to help prevent erosion. I attempted to explain to my fellow hikers that they need not bother mention the little steps but only needed to warn me of bigger steps and rocks along the trail. They merely insisted on letting me know of every step along the way because they feared that I may fall and suffer an injury. 

After traveling for two and a half miles and climbing seven hundred feet we arrived at our destination at last. As we sat there sipping water and admiring the view of Long’s Peak I began to think about my friends’ desire to keep me from harm. While there can be no doubt their honest intentions and deep concern and care for my wellbeing they clearly had not spent any time in the wild with me and had greatly underestimated my abilities. Certainly this was not the first time this had happened to me nor will it be the last but I found myself deep in thought about the whole episode. 

So often we underestimate one another not out of a sense of superiority but instead out of a desire to protect what we perceive to be a weaker person. I have no doubt that I too have been guilty of this noble but seriously misguided notion. We look at a quiet and shy child without realizing they have a natural gift for acting. We see a man in a wheelchair and want to do everything for him because we think he is incapable of doing for himself and yet this man could very well be a Olympic athlete and sole supporter of his family. We even ponder this in nature. The moose is a clumsy looking creature but in fact possesses great strength and can survive the harshest mountain winters. 

Where do we draw the line between concern and overprotection? I know for myself the answer lies within me. I know what I can accomplish and what I need assistance with. What I love about roaming about and living in these mountains is that I must be bold and daring but unafraid to ask for help when I truly need it. The protective cocoon we strive to wrap around others can very well snuff out their potential greatness. I think of my loving grandmother who supports me in all I do but is also there to help me when I stumble on my life path. What I now see with these blind eyes is a world of people with great possibilities and potential. People whom I will no longer try to protect but instead will offer whatever support they choose to accept from me. Just as I occasionally stumble and fall on the trail, we will all stumble and fall on our great journey. But when someone falls we will not stop them or attempt to get them to turn back. We will help them up, brush them off, and ask, “What is your next move?” 

This wild and untamed land has given me much this day. I am learning about myself, I am learning about the power others possess, and I am teaching others to look for the powers possessed by each other. Such a powerful lesson a short hike can teach us. I will no longer look at the obvious weakness; I will look for the hidden strength.