Between the Hills

Today’s climb over the Pyrenees was physically grueling. Every time I thought we had crossed the summit, I’d see another upward path ahead. It felt like our ascent would never end.

Despite that, I found myself smiling often, stopping regularly in awe or wonder over something I had observed, or connecting with someone experiencing it all with me, both the pleasing and the painful.

It’s like life, isn’t it? As long as we live, there will always be another hill to climb. The lesson is to take the time to appreciate the joys scattered among the peaks and valleys.

The journey is never really over, and I don’t want it to be. I found that the hard work made me appreciate the simple joys all the more.

The joys that got me through today were simple and free, but they made the exertion worthwhile. And, in turn, the sweat and aching muscles that delivered me to them made those simple joys all the more satisfying: the sound of buckets clinking somewhere unseen in the morning fog as farmers milked their cows; cowbells ringing through the mist below the path; the grassy, herbal smell of the morning air; the sound of dewy condensate dripping from the trees, as if each contained its own localized shower; the sun as it first broke through the morning mist; ephemeral rainbows appearing and disappearing to the west; so many sheep; horses; wild blackberries, baking in the sun, past their prime, sweet and jammy like raisins; standing above the clouds; and meeting like-minded travelers from all over the world.

I’m so thankful for some meaningful connections I made today, and for what we accomplished and experienced together.

Tomorrow is another day. There will certainly be more hills as we continue to Zubiri.

But today was a good reminder that the hills aren’t really the point.