Somewhere between the Summit and an Unplanned Descent

Written by Tyler Head

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to go mountaineering.

It all started about four months ago when a friend of mine, one of three brothers, invited me to join him and his other two brothers on an epic adventure of Alpine camping, hiking, and ice trekking.

There’s a picture of this scene, where my friend is a speck in a white field of snow – slightly bent forward with three points of contact, trekking onwards. He’s the middle brother of the three – a brilliant outdoorsman, climber, craftsman, father, husband, and trail runner—among a few. This trip was in honor and celebration of him, and it was an adventure I won’t soon forget.

So, we set out around midnight, aiming to reach 11,000 feet by sunrise.

Upon reaching our “bivy”—a term for both a place to sleep in the Alpine and a shell that goes over your sleeping bag to protect against the elements—we set our gear down under a large rock outcropping, pulled out our mini stoves, and started boiling water for coffee and oats.

After fueling up, we surveyed the landscape for a route up the mountain. We found one and gathered our gear—ropes, helmets, crampons, ice axes, and pitons. But as we approached the 800-foot rock face, we noticed it was wetter than expected, with literal running water in the cracks. It didn’t look to be a smart move for rope climbing.

So, we looked around and spotted another route that wouldn’t require rope. It was higher up, covered in snow, and required us to scramble over some boulders to cross a small ravine. Heights scare me, but with plenty of level ground around, I was willing to head toward the other face.

As we crossed the ravine to continue ascending the mountain, my mind began to ask the infamous what-if questions:

• What if the snow starts to break off and causes an avalanche?
• What if I reach a point in the trek where I can’t take another step?
• What if I drop my trekking poles?
• What if my crampons don’t grip the snow properly?
• What if I slip and fall? 

It’s wild what can take shape in our minds as fear creeps in. Even trickier is when we let it crawl from the front to back and take up more space. 

Halfway up, as the terrain required three points of contact, my buddy yelled back to me: plunge, toe-kick, toe-kick, plant, toe-kick, toe-kick, plant.
“Plunge” meant driving my trekking pole deep into the snow.
“Toe-kick” (x2) meant kicking my foot deeply into the snow to get a solid footing.
“Plant” meant planting my foot firmly before repeating the process.

So, I drove my trekking pole into the snow and ice, kicked my right foot into the snow twice for good measure, planted my foot firmly, repeated with the left, and avoided looking up or down.

Just repeat:
Plunge, toe-kick, toe-kick, plant, toe-kick, toe-kick, plant.
Plunge, toe-kick, toe-kick, plant, toe-kick, toe-kick, plant.

By this point in the trek, I couldn’t bear to look up, fearing how much steeper it would get. I couldn’t bear to look down, fearing the fall.

So there I was, paralyzed somewhere between the summit and an unplanned descent.

The scary part wasn’t where I was standing—it was all the what-ifs swirling around in my mind.

As a business leader and the main character of this story, I wonder how many of us are stuck with the what-ifs swirling around in our heads between the summit and an unplanned descent. How do I grow? Who do I hire? Who do I fire? How do I spend more time with my family? How do I spend less time running my business? How will my decision affect my team?

Who’s reminding you to take a step? Who’s coaching you from a different perspective: “plunge, toe-kick, toe-kick, plant, toe-kick, toe-kick, plant”?

Who’s walking alongside you?