My injured knee iced with snow

June 18: “I just completed the first 201 miles from South Pass City to highway 70 near Encampment, Wyoming. Now have a two-day drive to Glacier. Will start from there as soon as I can get a much-coveted permit. Then, knee willing, I have 1,350 miles back to South Pass City. Thanks for your support.”

By Mary Anderson

Knowing how to stop myself if I go sliding out of control down an icy slope is a critical skill for me to have before setting out across the snowy passes in Glacier National Park. It’s been twenty years since I’ve done one though I practiced before I left hme. I hope I remember well enough. I have to know how to do this whether I fall head or feet downhill, landing on my stomach or on my back.

As with everything for me these days, I can’t help making the correlation between hiking and life and hiking and writing.

Sometimes I find myself spiraling out of control in my daily life. “Oh, my God, I am such an idiot” or “I can never get this done. I might as well give up now” are some examples of one kind of fall. Another is falling into obsession, not wanting to stop writing to even eat.

I am working to self-arrest my emotional falls by first recognizing the danger of being in certain situations, my metaphorical icy slopes. Then I hyperfocus my attention on the task ahead, taking small steps, one at a time, to avoid a major fall. I cut new steps into the landscape when there are no old ones to follow. Just as I use my ice ax as a tool to help me stop falling, I will rely on my friends for support when my emotional slide warrants it.

Practice makes perfect. I will keep practicing staying in connection with those who care about me, the ones who will catch me when I fall. And I will set off to find a snowy slope to throw myself down, practicing the skills of ice-ax self-arrest I learned so many years ago.