I had a trip in the Wind River Range coming up and was pretty excited to head down to Jackson to visit friends and of course soak in the views of Tetons. It had been awhile since I had trekked through the Wind River Range, actually it had been since 2011 when I first worked for the National Outdoor Leadership School. I was pretty excited to get back in those mountains and feel the essence of wildness that saturates the valleys and peaks of the Winds.
Communication between my partner and I seemed rocky even though we had just spent a couple of weeks together. With an uneasy feeling I headed into the backcountry with a few awesome clients and a fun-loving easy-going co-guide. By the second day on the trail the clients were so genuine that I felt comfortable right away sharing my story about my relationship and how things were difficult. One of the clients listened with an open heart and wanted to give me a title after listening to my saga. He said, “Pete, I’m going to give you a title and you can do whatever you want with it…” Then the namesake of this blog and my program rolled off his lips, “False Summits.”
It hit me in the chest where a lot of our grief is stored and it stuck with me to this day influencing how I move forward with my own healing and helping others heal. After waking up near the headwaters of the Green River and taking in the moment of silence as I filled up water vessels on the last day of our trip I had a feeling of not wanting to leave the amazing wilderness. But all good things must come to an end. Hiking out we were all excited for a shower and cold beverages. My co-guide and I cleaned all of the gear and I finally had that shower that one yearns for after sweating and eating dust for a few days on the trail. I would always call my partner after a trip to connect and tell her how awesome or not awesome a trip was.
This phone call was different. As the enthusiasm spewed out of my mouth about how awesome the trip was I could feel the silence on the other side of the line. I could feel that the ear on the other end wasn’t fully listening and my enthusiasm was starting to fade. Then came the news after I quieted my voice. The news wasn’t what I hoped for. She was breaking up with me. She was moving on and I wasn’t beside her, we weren’t holding hands and walking together into the sunset and no we were not going to be living together any longer. I thought what do you mean as I stumbled through my thoughts, questions and the mentality of “Say it isn’t so.” Then she reiterated it in a different way and made it clear that we were not going to be in partnership any longer.
I was shocked, stunned, and there was a part of me that thought that we could continue to work on the things that weren’t working, you know keep the conversation going about how to make things better. I didn’t feel like this decision was complete yet. When one hears something tragic or experiences/witnesses something traumatic it is normal to experience shock as it is a part of the first stage of grief, which is denial according to Kubler-Ross. Because of this denial and thinking things weren’t concrete yet along with the post trip euphoria, I was able to compose myself and go out to celebrate with our clients that night.
The next day I woke up in bit of a haze from the festivities the night before and unsettled feelings about how my future was going to look. I had to drop off a group of clients with their guide at the same trailhead where I had started a week earlier. After saying a quick goodbye I headed to Pinedale to catch up with an old friend that I met while working in Alaska. The feeling of aloneness started to settle in while driving the bumpy mountain road back into town. I was still in denial and attempted to not let the “potential” reality settle in. Speaking with my friend I mentioned what had just happened and it gave her the opening to speak of her past relationship and how it ended. Grief is like the collective unconscious or the common denominator that connects all beings.
After any trip and after a few (or many) days in the wilderness I struggle to transition back into everyday society with cars, people and distractions everywhere. This one was especially difficult because my last week consisted of meaningful client interactions and walking among granite towers. Now I found my self coming around to the realization that I was no longer in a relationship with a partner that I spent the last two and half years with while being in a fatherly role, helping influence and raise her kids.
It was time for a descent, a descent to my Soul, to the underworld where one is met with darkness. I headed north back to Bozeman, driving through Yellowstone National Park. I cried most of the way. Crying is an amazing release that helps move the emotions and flush out what no longer wants to reside within. In our society we have been taught at an early age to not cry, or that crying is an unacceptable emotion to express in front of others. In other cultures they hold grief ceremonies all the time where the elders come together to lead the whole village through some kind of loss. Along with the lack of elders in our society we also lack rights of passage. Grief is a common emotion that is drowned out by substances and other distractions. In order to heal oneself, one must sit in and face their grief. That is what I eventually decided to do.
I cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore. I only had a day or two before guiding my next trip. Back in Bozeman I spoke at length with a few close confidants as well as making calls to other mentors and friends. I needed support so that I could keep a professional composure in front of the next group of clients.
So there I was on day two of our backpacking trip through the Gallatin Range in Montana. I had a group of 5 clients and one was worried about not being able to make it. I didn’t have too much sympathy for this guy because of his unwillingness to step up to the challenge. He finally agreed to move forward with his backpack packed. After breaking camp in a drizzle, the drizzle eventually turned to snow. I thought, “Not now…” We forged ahead as the snow came down harder. After making a creek crossing I said that we needed to take a rest and hydrate, but really I had to powder my nose and go and find a sufficient place to dig a hole away from the group. As I was wrapping up business an Owl flew across the meadow and landed in a tree nearby. I walked over to acknowledge Owl and beneath it’s beauty to connect in order to receive some sympathy or a message for how I was feeling and for the worsening weather. This was a reminder that Owl was showing up as one of my spirit guides and was looking out for me. We eventually made it to camp and we were able to set up tents before the hail started along with the thunder and lightning. As I lay in my tent I reflected on how crazy the weather was and how I had to bite my lip while a client was criticizing me for my hasty tarp set up during the rainstorm. Despite those incidents I had a smile on my face and felt warm about the opportunity to reconnect with Owl. A few days later all of the clients made it out safe and sound, one of them mentioned that they saw an owl the day after the big storm while we were traversing the ridge.
