Tears Atop Half Dome
48 hours after accepting an invitation to backpack in Yosemite National Park and summit Half Dome, I met the women I would spend four days with in the wilderness. I expected a physical challenge, but little else. I discovered we all shared two formidable interests - exploring the outdoors, and motherhood. Four moms with mostly teenage children, some still married, some now single. One on the brink of starting a family after near divorce led to a year of hard work on her relationship. And one who bawled her eyes out at the top of Half Dome after remembering that this iconic rock she’s been looking at for 30 years was first introduced to her by her late mother.
That last one was me.
Most stories speak to the conflicts of being a mother and while also spending time adventuring outdoors. These women showed me that being a mother trains you to be a strong outdoorswoman. Regardless of the amount of miles spent with a 30 pound pack on our backs, I witnessed that the same traits necessary to be a “good mom” are also the qualities that make a powerful backpacker - ability to withstand pain, caring for one another, long exhausting days on your feet with little sleep, and always having water, snacks and layers of clothing.
When I heard how our guide, Katie, instructed one of my trail mates to roll over on her back and cling to the poles of the Half Dome cables, while she massaged her inner thighs during a double leg cramp, I became certain she was going to make a fantastic mom. When Maria shared how she traveled to China with an emergency visa to say goodbye to her mom before her passing, only to be blocked from seeing her when an hour and a half away, I understood how no challenge on the trail would ever phase her. When Heather pushed through the miles on a surprise knee pain flare up, for three days, I knew her daughters had a role model of resilience. When Michelle cheered us on from the top of the cables, I knew her kids had been supported to go after their dreams, no matter what they looked like. When I began crying tears of joy while standing near the top of the cables, alone, I knew my mom was with me in spirit, proud of the life I had chosen – the life that I would never have found without her supporting all the wild adventures I sought.
Climbing the cables of Half Dome to stand tall above the majestic Yosemite Valley is not a unique experience. We’ve all seen the exhausted smiles perched on the diving board with the sunrise or sunset lighting a square on our phones. It’s a bucket list tick mark. An all day ill-prepared trek ending in dehydration. Maybe it’s a mission unaccomplished, until next time. But my story is one of deep connection with badass mothers. The moms who bathed beside me under the moonlight in the chilly Merced River. The future mom who laid out a smorgasbord of pita, hummus, cucumber, peppers and salami on a large round of a tree stump - a lunch fit for woodland queens. And the mom who was the first to giggle in a sleeping bag next to me, and smiled at each bloody knee I came home with. The mom who I could not call on my phone once we reached the apex of our adventure, like most of my trailmates did, but who encourages me, everyday, to appreciate each journey with a different perspective.