The Arrival Fallacy and Other Lessons from Mount Harvard
No Easy Way, Into the Storm, and Not Suffering Twice
I sit at the kitchen table, sipping my second cup of coffee, this one with a psilocybin boost, hoping to clear my altitude-induced brain fog. The rain outside reflects my mood.
Last weekend,
and I climbed five Colorado 14ers—peaks in the state over 14,000 feet—starting our Nolan’s 14 journey. Nolan’s is a 100-mile route that travels from Leadville to Salida, climbing fourteen 14,000-foot mountains in Colorado’s Sawatch Range.After summiting Shavano, Tabeguache, Antero, Princeton, and Yale, and realizing our initial time target was a bit ambitious considering the gnarly, unforgiving terrain with 20 pound packs, we headed home for a few days—to rest, resupply, get some work done, replace Candice’s ripped shoes, and enjoy a few nights on a mattress.
We headed back out on Friday, July 11, this time with more provisions and even heavier packs, carrying enough food for multiple days, not wanting to make the same mistake.
Mount Columbia
Because we climbed Columbia this winter, we had an idea of what to expect, but so much of Nolan’s is off-trail. There is no defined route. Those bold enough to attempt the alpine challenge typically take the shortest, often steepest, lines between the peaks—hard, even with small, 12 liter running vests, never mind with 25 lbs of camping gear.
We bushwhacked through the trees until we reached the southeast ridge, which was familiar from our March ascent. Five miles and three and a half hours later, we stood on the summit of Columbia for the second time, relieved and appreciating how much easier it seemed without snow.
Mount Harvard
Since we bailed on Harvard this winter, we were anxious to take it on. As we descended Columbia, it became obvious why the traverse between the two peaks isn’t straightforward. As we steered clear of the cliffs and down-climbed, snow began to fall.
We stopped for nougat, my first taste of caramel in years, and continued to peek over our shoulders to the valley below, hoping the ominous clouds and thunderous rumbles spared us.
After moving for seven hours and climbing 8,000 feet, we arrived at the “Ask. Seek. Knock.” rock on the top of Harvard and began the sketchy, scree-filled descent, once again testing Candice’s shoes and will.
Now in the valley, we were faced with another unexpected challenge—crossing Pine Creek. We removed our footwear, tied our muddy shoes around our necks, and carefully moved through the shin-deep fresh water until we shimmied into squishy peat bogs.
On the other side, and with darkness looming, it was time to set up for the night. We stumbled into a protected campsite, seemingly perfect with a fire pit and plentiful seating, but with a questionable axe leaning against a tree. While we knew it was likely for chopping wood, we were understandably concerned, especially after exchanging true crime cases.
Never wanting to appear weak or be the one to make a tough call that affects others, Candice timidly mentioned the new shoes were hurting her feet and unfit for continuing Nolan’s.
As a result, we decided to continue down to the Colorado Trail (CT), pitch our tent miles away from a potential axe murderer, and loop back to the car tomorrow.
At the intersection of the CT, we enjoyed freeze-dried coconut curry topped with tuna for extra protein and Candice gifted me with a trail name, Tuna Feet. Thanks, babe….
The next morning, we over-caffeinated ourselves with Death Wish instant coffee sticks, enjoyed a 15-mile “easy day” on flatter terrain, and refueled with chicken shawarma at the Olive food truck in Buena Vista, ready to start bright and early again tomorrow.
Reflections
The mountains have a way of teaching us lessons that are applicable to arenas beyond hiking, climbing, and sport.
On this outing, I was reminded that it, whatever it is—the summit, goal, finish line, breakthrough—is never as close as it seems. When you come to a clearing at 13,000’ and see a clear path in front of you, recognize how far you’ve come, but understand that what you see may very well be a false summit, revealing the work that still lies ahead.
And once you reach the peak, the elation you experience is temporary. This is the thesis of the arrival fallacy.
If/when I accomplish _____, then I’ll be fulfilled or complete [insert other positive feeling here].
This creates a cycle of constantly chasing new goals, believing the next promotion, income level, or relationship will bring lasting happiness, only to find yourself back in the same place.
An Olympian winning a gold medal. An entrepreneur selling her company. It’s no wonder people feel lost and aimless after realizing a dream. But it’s in the pursuit, not the attainment, where we spend the majority of our lives. There is no arriving. There is no idealistic future.
Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you’re no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn’t just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. This leaf has jagged edges. This rock looks loose. From this place the snow is less visible, even though closer. These are things you should notice anyway. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top. Here’s where things grow.
But of course, without the top you can’t have any sides. It’s the top that defines the sides. So on we go—we have a long way—no hurry—just one step after the next…
- Robert M. Pirsig
In a society that praises external achievements and uses social media as highlight reels, you’re not only keeping up with the Joneses, but the other eight billion people on the planet.
But you don’t have to. Not wanting something is as good as having it. Focus on your values, your journey, your climb, not some arbitrary or socially recognized destination.
Keep in mind that there is no easy way—to the summit or next level you’re hoping will finally be the one to change your life. Each path has its own twists, turns, and obstacles. While it may be shorter, it could be steeper, more rocky, or more dangerous.
Always sporting a bison hat in media appearances, Ironman champion and fellow Boulderite, Rudy von Berg, reminds us to go into the storm. By charging through, you minimize the amount of time you’re exposed to the elements. Confronting problems directly, instead of avoiding them, can be a more efficient path when faced with adversity.
Of course, there are times when you should absolutely run away, but we often let FEAR—false evidence appearing real—take over. We create stories, assume worst-case scenarios, and blow things out of proportion. Don’t suffer twice—once in your imagination and once in reality.
If the storm comes or your shoes rip, you’ll deal with it, but don’t stress about them before they even do. Be where your feet are.
I've had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened.
- Mark Twain