This past weekend I took a group of 4 on a backpacking trip through part of Yosemite. I was aware the bridge to our campsite in Glen Aulin was “gone” and that a water crossing was required. We were told by the permit station ranger there may or may not be a log to cross, or we could go through the creek. When we arrived at the campground we saw the Pillar pathway to the “bridge” with NOTHING spanning the water from one platform to the other. 
Nearby was a pile of lumber which was intended to someday be the “safe” crossing. 
Somehow, I guess, I had hoped this would have been miraculously repaired before our arrival. The river was running swiftly from snowmelt which made it unrefreshingly frigid and given the power seen in the prior waterfalls, crossing through it, although somewhat shallow, seemed perhaps not so smart.
Upstream a bit, we found the log. Not a small log, by any means, but it did have some “branch” obstacles along the way with the camp side end split into two “branches” of smaller dimensions at different levels. While the others in the group gave no consideration to the water crossing, I seriously pondered my options. You see…. Despite my no longer being afraid of heights, and my desire to always be on the “edge” of things…. I still, it seems, have an incredible fear of falling. Combine that with a historically poor sense of balance and well, the thought of crossing the log seemed terrifying to me. Yes, it was plenty wide for my feet, until the split that is, and yes, it was maybe 2-3 feet above the water. But, the water underneath was moving very swiftly and the sound of the water racing over the rocky creek bed was mentally distracting.
When we arrived, there was a group of 4 coming back across towards us. Like our group; two men, two women. I noticed one of the women had dropped her pack so one of the men could carry it across for her. Thankfully for me, yet sadly for her, she looked as terrified as I felt. She chose to take a seat on the log and “scoot” across. Looked impossibly difficult to me and I again considered taking the water crossing route. When all but one of their group was across, my son Michael stepped onto the log and crossed with not a care in the world. Just like that… Done. Ted also stepped onto the log and made his way with seemingly little effort. Admittedly, I was not watching him as he made his way or Crystal who chose the “scoot” method, as I was pacing the creek banks desperately trying to find an “easier” option. With no time left, I opted to step up onto the log. With an unstable 37-pound pack, two hiking poles, and an increasingly elevated anxiety level I began to feel my vision tunnel. I could hear the others, but the noise became almost surreal. Focused on nothing more than the log beneath my feet, I began to make forward movement. After just a few feet, I realized the man from the other group was at the first “obstacle” and I heard him say “hand me your poles.” The funny thing is, I remember hearing him saying that, and I remember turning my poles over to him, but my focus never left that damn log. As I got to the midway point, panic began to set in. With water to my left, water to my right, and solid ground impossibly far from me in either direction, my feet felt unstable, and my legs began the “quiver”. “Shit….. This is it,” I thought, “I am going in the water whether I want to or not”. While falling in the water most likely would have resulted in nothing more than my getting soaking wet, the idea of that fall felt simply catastrophic. At that point, on the verge of panic, I began to hear Ted giving some direction. I heard him, I trusted him, and I knew he was steering me in the right direction, but I could not get my feet to do what he was suggesting. Between grounding breaths, I managed to inch my way closer to the other side. Then the log split, no longer wide enough for both feet. There was a “fork in the road” so to speak, and somehow, I had to get my left foot down to a slightly lower level. Despite Ted’s assurances that it could be done and that just one step closer there was a tree to the left I could touch for stability, I could not move. One step….. One step!….. On the verge of tears, with legs impossibly shaking, I looked up from the log just long enough to see Ted standing there with his hand outstretched as far as he could. He was there to help, I just had to trust and take that one step to get close enough. One step….. I have no recollection of how I made that “one step,” I only recall the remaining few steps happening quickly. Somehow my feet moved, my left hand hit the tree and then Ted had ahold of me for the remaining few steps. I didn’t die, I wasn’t wet, and I had just crossed what felt like the impossible. With feet now firmly planted on the ground, I looked to my left and saw the 4th member of the party who was crossing the other direction. She was pacing in a circle, full backpack on, and looked at me with complete understanding and empathy. “I cried when I came across yesterday,” she said and I understood completely her current dilemma. She now had to conquer the log in the other direction.
As we continued to camp, I recall telling everyone I would never do it again. I would be getting wet, intentionally, by walking across the river. That log was an obstacle I had no desire to tackle again. The following morning, Ted and I walked Crystal to the log as she was departing camp a day early. Despite knowing I didn’t have to consider crossing yet, I felt my anxiety level rising. Ted and I helped her get onto the log, and she quickly decided she would not be attempting it standing. She took a seat, straddling the log and painstakingly scooted her way to the middle of the log where she could step off to another log which allowed her then to step back onto the largest part of the tree to make her way safely to the other side. When she landed, we waved her off and I saw a hint of relief and an abundance of pride in her smile. We returned to camp, and along the way Ted again asked, “well….. What do you think? What are you going to do?” At that point….. I had no idea. Depending on which moment in time you asked me, my answer could have been either….. I’m crossing the creek, or I’m attempting the log. Inside though, not visible to those around me…. Panic, fear, anxiety, confusion, and ambivalence swirled inside me much like the whirlpool of water going down a drain
As we set off for our day hike, Ted asked what I was going to do. “I’m crossing the creek,” I told him. Simple as that. I don’t recall the exact conversation but it consisted of his reminding me that I had conquered the log once, that I wouldn’t have a full back pack on, that he and Michael would do whatever they could to help me, and that the water in the creek was EXTREMELY cold. “I’m going in the water!” When we got to the crossing, I watched as a group of ladies made their way through the river, painstakingly slow because they clearly were having troubles getting their footing on the uneven rocks, and the river flow was swift enough to require the use of their poles for stabilization. I flashed back to the weekend prior when I fell on a river crossing because I had chosen not to use a different log that day as well. While not catastrophic, the water was extremely cold, I had to finish the hike wet, and I cut my knee and foot with a resulting infection. The water, then and now, was equally deep and equally swift. However, if I had to compare the two, I would say the prior week’s crossing was easier because the bottom was smooth where this one was rocky. While relaying the story in this format, it might seem like this all took place over the span of some time. It did not. This reflection and thought process took place over a matter of seconds, was unknown by those around me, and took me to a place far away from the specific point in time I was experiencing. Returning to the moment…. While the water was not particularly deep, I wasn’t certain (at that moment) that their method was any better than the damn log. Although I have always been fascinated by trees, and their ability to provide so much to so many varying species, I was cursing this tree that even in its death was providing for those who dared to clamber across it. Much like me, it through its sacrifice was taking care of others. My gaze vacillated between the women struggling in the water and my son Michael who effortlessly walked across the log. Effortlessly….. I’m sure you’ve all had that moment when a million thoughts passed through your psyche as you quickly evaluated your next decision. One decision. Ted’s words flashed through my mind and ultimately, I landed on this…. I had a choice. I could let a seemingly irrational fear make the decision for me, or I could meet the fear head on and get this thing done. Across the log I’ll go. Like Crystal, I initially set off to cross standing. “Not gonna happen”, I thought, so I took a seat and proceeded to scoot my way across the log just as I had seen Crystal do it. Ted was right behind me and this time I was much more aware of his encouraging words. Firmly landing on the other side, I felt a tremendous amount of relief as the anxiety was quickly replaced by pride. “2 for 2” Ted said with a high five and a smile. Returning the high five, I mumbled, “Next time, I’m crossing via the water.”
Meeting the log for the third time, on our return trip, I again contemplated the water. “2 for 2”, Ted said, “Be positive”. By now, it seemed as though Michael was running across that damn thing and yet I was still filled with that uneasy sickening feeling. With much less thought, this time, I stepped upon the log and walked to the middle where I then chose to take a seat. With a little less anxiety, I made my way to the other side. “3 for 3” Ted said, with a high-five and a smile. “Ugh…,” I seemed to have grunted, “tomorrow, I’m crossing the water.”
On our final day, we donned our full packs, and made our way to the water. On a small-scale, I felt somewhat like those being walked to their doom. “You got this,” Ted said…. “Make it 4 for 4”. I stowed my poles, and took a seat straddling the log. The pack added a whole new dynamic, and made the scooting much more difficult. Grasping the log with my legs much like a rider clings to a horse, I began to move. Seemed to be no problem, until I came to a branch nob which was just high enough that I couldn’t “scoot” over it. Somehow, I had to raise myself enough to clear it before I could move on. The tunnel vision started again as I watched, and then fixated on, the water tumbling below me. I felt tears behind my eyelids and my inside voice was screaming “I can’t.” I’ve no idea if that scream was audible to others or simply inside my head. I quickly flashed to a previous moment in time when I was experiencing SCUBA for the first time. I, then, had a regulator in my mouth and was tasked with going under for the very first time. Not trusting the regulator to provide me oxygen while immersed, I was bobbing in the ocean amid a full-blown panic attack. “Power through your panic,” I recall the dive instructor tell me…. “Power through your panic!” At this moment, I couldn’t see Ted, but I knew he was right behind me. Although using different words he had essentially been encouraging me, all weekend, to “power through my panic.” With a few grounding breaths, I managed to lean forward, put my toes on the log behind me, and lift just enough to get over the hurdle. Although not literally a step, with that one “step,” I had cleared that momentary hurdle. With renewed forward movement, I continued until finally my feet were firmly planted on solid ground. I heard Ted say “4 for 4” and as I turned I was greeted with a high-five and a smile. With a sigh of relief and an unexpressed sense of accomplishment, I sank into him for a momentary hug.
Life is full of defining moments, terrifying moments, and opportunities for us to either face our fears or let them control us. No matter the “log” you face, it only takes one step…. One step!…. To get you moving through the tunnel to accomplishment on the other side. “Power through your panic,” trust those around you who provide a safety net, and one step at a time, make it “4 for 4”.
Nearby was a pile of lumber which was intended to someday be the “safe” crossing. Somehow, I guess, I had hoped this would have been miraculously repaired before our arrival. The river was running swiftly from snowmelt which made it unrefreshingly frigid and given the power seen in the prior waterfalls, crossing through it, although somewhat shallow, seemed perhaps not so smart.
Upstream a bit, we found the log. Not a small log, by any means, but it did have some “branch” obstacles along the way with the camp side end split into two “branches” of smaller dimensions at different levels. While the others in the group gave no consideration to the water crossing, I seriously pondered my options. You see…. Despite my no longer being afraid of heights, and my desire to always be on the “edge” of things…. I still, it seems, have an incredible fear of falling. Combine that with a historically poor sense of balance and well, the thought of crossing the log seemed terrifying to me. Yes, it was plenty wide for my feet, until the split that is, and yes, it was maybe 2-3 feet above the water. But, the water underneath was moving very swiftly and the sound of the water racing over the rocky creek bed was mentally distracting.
When we arrived, there was a group of 4 coming back across towards us. Like our group; two men, two women. I noticed one of the women had dropped her pack so one of the men could carry it across for her. Thankfully for me, yet sadly for her, she looked as terrified as I felt. She chose to take a seat on the log and “scoot” across. Looked impossibly difficult to me and I again considered taking the water crossing route. When all but one of their group was across, my son Michael stepped onto the log and crossed with not a care in the world. Just like that… Done. Ted also stepped onto the log and made his way with seemingly little effort. Admittedly, I was not watching him as he made his way or Crystal who chose the “scoot” method, as I was pacing the creek banks desperately trying to find an “easier” option. With no time left, I opted to step up onto the log. With an unstable 37-pound pack, two hiking poles, and an increasingly elevated anxiety level I began to feel my vision tunnel. I could hear the others, but the noise became almost surreal. Focused on nothing more than the log beneath my feet, I began to make forward movement. After just a few feet, I realized the man from the other group was at the first “obstacle” and I heard him say “hand me your poles.” The funny thing is, I remember hearing him saying that, and I remember turning my poles over to him, but my focus never left that damn log. As I got to the midway point, panic began to set in. With water to my left, water to my right, and solid ground impossibly far from me in either direction, my feet felt unstable, and my legs began the “quiver”. “Shit….. This is it,” I thought, “I am going in the water whether I want to or not”. While falling in the water most likely would have resulted in nothing more than my getting soaking wet, the idea of that fall felt simply catastrophic. At that point, on the verge of panic, I began to hear Ted giving some direction. I heard him, I trusted him, and I knew he was steering me in the right direction, but I could not get my feet to do what he was suggesting. Between grounding breaths, I managed to inch my way closer to the other side. Then the log split, no longer wide enough for both feet. There was a “fork in the road” so to speak, and somehow, I had to get my left foot down to a slightly lower level. Despite Ted’s assurances that it could be done and that just one step closer there was a tree to the left I could touch for stability, I could not move. One step….. One step!….. On the verge of tears, with legs impossibly shaking, I looked up from the log just long enough to see Ted standing there with his hand outstretched as far as he could. He was there to help, I just had to trust and take that one step to get close enough. One step….. I have no recollection of how I made that “one step,” I only recall the remaining few steps happening quickly. Somehow my feet moved, my left hand hit the tree and then Ted had ahold of me for the remaining few steps. I didn’t die, I wasn’t wet, and I had just crossed what felt like the impossible. With feet now firmly planted on the ground, I looked to my left and saw the 4th member of the party who was crossing the other direction. She was pacing in a circle, full backpack on, and looked at me with complete understanding and empathy. “I cried when I came across yesterday,” she said and I understood completely her current dilemma. She now had to conquer the log in the other direction.
As we continued to camp, I recall telling everyone I would never do it again. I would be getting wet, intentionally, by walking across the river. That log was an obstacle I had no desire to tackle again. The following morning, Ted and I walked Crystal to the log as she was departing camp a day early. Despite knowing I didn’t have to consider crossing yet, I felt my anxiety level rising. Ted and I helped her get onto the log, and she quickly decided she would not be attempting it standing. She took a seat, straddling the log and painstakingly scooted her way to the middle of the log where she could step off to another log which allowed her then to step back onto the largest part of the tree to make her way safely to the other side. When she landed, we waved her off and I saw a hint of relief and an abundance of pride in her smile. We returned to camp, and along the way Ted again asked, “well….. What do you think? What are you going to do?” At that point….. I had no idea. Depending on which moment in time you asked me, my answer could have been either….. I’m crossing the creek, or I’m attempting the log. Inside though, not visible to those around me…. Panic, fear, anxiety, confusion, and ambivalence swirled inside me much like the whirlpool of water going down a drain
As we set off for our day hike, Ted asked what I was going to do. “I’m crossing the creek,” I told him. Simple as that. I don’t recall the exact conversation but it consisted of his reminding me that I had conquered the log once, that I wouldn’t have a full back pack on, that he and Michael would do whatever they could to help me, and that the water in the creek was EXTREMELY cold. “I’m going in the water!” When we got to the crossing, I watched as a group of ladies made their way through the river, painstakingly slow because they clearly were having troubles getting their footing on the uneven rocks, and the river flow was swift enough to require the use of their poles for stabilization. I flashed back to the weekend prior when I fell on a river crossing because I had chosen not to use a different log that day as well. While not catastrophic, the water was extremely cold, I had to finish the hike wet, and I cut my knee and foot with a resulting infection. The water, then and now, was equally deep and equally swift. However, if I had to compare the two, I would say the prior week’s crossing was easier because the bottom was smooth where this one was rocky. While relaying the story in this format, it might seem like this all took place over the span of some time. It did not. This reflection and thought process took place over a matter of seconds, was unknown by those around me, and took me to a place far away from the specific point in time I was experiencing. Returning to the moment…. While the water was not particularly deep, I wasn’t certain (at that moment) that their method was any better than the damn log. Although I have always been fascinated by trees, and their ability to provide so much to so many varying species, I was cursing this tree that even in its death was providing for those who dared to clamber across it. Much like me, it through its sacrifice was taking care of others. My gaze vacillated between the women struggling in the water and my son Michael who effortlessly walked across the log. Effortlessly….. I’m sure you’ve all had that moment when a million thoughts passed through your psyche as you quickly evaluated your next decision. One decision. Ted’s words flashed through my mind and ultimately, I landed on this…. I had a choice. I could let a seemingly irrational fear make the decision for me, or I could meet the fear head on and get this thing done. Across the log I’ll go. Like Crystal, I initially set off to cross standing. “Not gonna happen”, I thought, so I took a seat and proceeded to scoot my way across the log just as I had seen Crystal do it. Ted was right behind me and this time I was much more aware of his encouraging words. Firmly landing on the other side, I felt a tremendous amount of relief as the anxiety was quickly replaced by pride. “2 for 2” Ted said with a high five and a smile. Returning the high five, I mumbled, “Next time, I’m crossing via the water.”
Meeting the log for the third time, on our return trip, I again contemplated the water. “2 for 2”, Ted said, “Be positive”. By now, it seemed as though Michael was running across that damn thing and yet I was still filled with that uneasy sickening feeling. With much less thought, this time, I stepped upon the log and walked to the middle where I then chose to take a seat. With a little less anxiety, I made my way to the other side. “3 for 3” Ted said, with a high-five and a smile. “Ugh…,” I seemed to have grunted, “tomorrow, I’m crossing the water.”
On our final day, we donned our full packs, and made our way to the water. On a small-scale, I felt somewhat like those being walked to their doom. “You got this,” Ted said…. “Make it 4 for 4”. I stowed my poles, and took a seat straddling the log. The pack added a whole new dynamic, and made the scooting much more difficult. Grasping the log with my legs much like a rider clings to a horse, I began to move. Seemed to be no problem, until I came to a branch nob which was just high enough that I couldn’t “scoot” over it. Somehow, I had to raise myself enough to clear it before I could move on. The tunnel vision started again as I watched, and then fixated on, the water tumbling below me. I felt tears behind my eyelids and my inside voice was screaming “I can’t.” I’ve no idea if that scream was audible to others or simply inside my head. I quickly flashed to a previous moment in time when I was experiencing SCUBA for the first time. I, then, had a regulator in my mouth and was tasked with going under for the very first time. Not trusting the regulator to provide me oxygen while immersed, I was bobbing in the ocean amid a full-blown panic attack. “Power through your panic,” I recall the dive instructor tell me…. “Power through your panic!” At this moment, I couldn’t see Ted, but I knew he was right behind me. Although using different words he had essentially been encouraging me, all weekend, to “power through my panic.” With a few grounding breaths, I managed to lean forward, put my toes on the log behind me, and lift just enough to get over the hurdle. Although not literally a step, with that one “step,” I had cleared that momentary hurdle. With renewed forward movement, I continued until finally my feet were firmly planted on solid ground. I heard Ted say “4 for 4” and as I turned I was greeted with a high-five and a smile. With a sigh of relief and an unexpressed sense of accomplishment, I sank into him for a momentary hug.
Life is full of defining moments, terrifying moments, and opportunities for us to either face our fears or let them control us. No matter the “log” you face, it only takes one step…. One step!…. To get you moving through the tunnel to accomplishment on the other side. “Power through your panic,” trust those around you who provide a safety net, and one step at a time, make it “4 for 4”.