What Makes Us Human

The Sunday before last I embarked on what turned out to be the most difficult hike I have done so far in my lifetime (our Austrian friend who was with us and beat us by an hour both ways would probably laugh at me for saying that). I along with my husband, a few of our friends, and a few other hikers that joined in our group climbed Mount Bisoke, an active volcano in the northern part of Rwanda on the Rwanda/Congo border. But even though it was many long minutes of pain and frustration and only a few short ones of pleasure, it was and worth every bit of it.

What a funny concept! That we will put ourselves through a whole lot of pain for a tiny glimpse of beauty or a sense of accomplishment. I'll come back to that later...

I really love to hike. I love being outdoors, and I love getting to the top of mountain and seeing the world below. But unfortunately I don't actually have that much hiking experience. I don't really count the tiny "mountain" near my hometown that is so short and easy to hike, you often see people smoking on the way up. Other than that I have only done just a few longer but pretty easy hikes. Somehow I imagined this would be something similar.

But as it turned out I was quite out of shape and not very prepared for a hike such as this one. First of all, it has been probably over a year since the last time I actually hiked. Second of all, I arrived only in my Chaco sandals and a very light sweatshirt over a tank top and jeans. I was a little concerned when we arrived at the visitor's center to find a bunch of people in heavy duty hiking boots and rain gear. Suddenly I felt that I had no idea what I was getting myself into. So I went ahead and rented some loose-fitting rain boots and a raincoat, still not completely aware of just how necessary they would be.

Just making our way to the entrance of the forest had me winded. I remember thinking "If I have three more hours to go of this, I don't know if I'll make it up there." But that was nothing compared to the rest. Once in the forest, the path was completely mud. Deep, thick, slippery mud. To compliment, there were at least three different varieties of plants that had pokey leaves, one of which caused a stinging sensation that would last several minutes. And on top of that, for the entire way up we were only moving UP! No zig-zag, no flat areas. Just up. However, by our first stopping point I actually wasn't doing too much worse, so my confidence was temporarily restored - until our guide informed us that we had two hours to go after that. And after about another hour up, I started to feel the air thinning. At that point, if I attempted to breath in deeply, my lungs would tighten, and my chest would hurt so badly that I would have to stop and take a bunch of tiny, short breaths. But I was so determined, that I kept pushing. I  would fall back to the end of the group at times. Then I would catch up then fall back again. Two of the longest hours of my life spent, my heart racing, my legs and arm so tired that I think I can't take another step, telling myself with every single one that it's just one more step (yes, out loud, and yes I sounded like a lunatic).

But I made it! I was nearly crawling for the last 20 meters, but I made it. It was gorgeous! There was a lake in the crater at the top, and we were so high up that we were above the clouds, as high as an airplane! Just about 15 to 20 minutes we spent up there, rested our legs, took pictures then began to head back down. Our short moment of beauty.

Moving down was a whole other kind of pain. Every step, you had to be careful because you weren't sure if the ground would slip out from under you. Me and another girl that tagged along with us kept slipping and falling on our bottoms. It wasn't painful, thankfully, but it was very frustrating. My knees kept twisting because every step I would take, the ground would shift under my feet. My boots became filled with mud and my jeans were covered. It wasn't so much brute strength anymore, but balance, concentration and calculation. And at that point all I wanted to do was to go completely limp. But it just kept on going and going and going. Usually, going back down the mountain seems so much faster, but I remember thinking as we kept moving downward that I couldn't believe I had climbed UP all that way!

But at one point during our descent, something amazing happened. We passed by a gorilla! I was totally concentrated on moving forward when I heard my husband say there was a gorilla behind us in the the bushes. I thought he was joking for a minute. Usually people pay hundreds of dollars to go to visit the gorillas in the mountain. There was even a man who joined our group who insisted that we would NEVER see one on this hike. But my husband was actually serious! There really was one sitting just near the path where we had passed by! It wasn't a silverback, and I honestly couldn't tell you whether it was male or female, but simply seeing it there was fascinating. I think we had to have come within a few feet of it before we had seen it. It was so calm. It was just eating leaves. It even looked back at us with a totally unconcerned expression, then continued eating. Another short moment of amazement.

The guides seemed to be nervous that it we might startle it so they urged us on pretty quickly. We made it down after another hour or so, tired to the bone, covered in mud, and hungry. It took a whole day of sunlight to make it up and down that mountain.

So what is it that pushes us to put ourselves through so much pain? Why do women continue to go through childbirth when they know it will be the most pain they will ever endure? Why do people tolerate agonizing relationships? Why do people take days to get to somewhere halfway across the world, go through jetlag, and wrestle with all the cultural barriers? Why do we climb snowy, or rocky, or muddy mountains?

Because there might be the slightest chance that we will experience something amazing and beautiful for just a minute that will make the whole thing worth it. And that's what makes us human.