My Solo 3-Day Trek Up Mount Kenya

This piece is dedicated to Kyle: We’ll be back again to tackle this mountain; to Julian: Thanks for being a consistent friend throughout my time in Kenya and I can’t wait to reach Batian one day; to Jacob: You were an incredible guide with an infectious laugh, thanks for taking me up there; and to Kate and Aaron: I’m so happy to have you two in my life and have two people that talk more about Mount Kenya than anyone I know!

Last June, one of my best friends flew halfway across the world to hike Mount Kenya with me, the place I called home at the time and the second highest point in Africa. Unfortunately, due to circumstances, I ended up embarking on this 3-day hike on my own. And while I was nervous, doubtful, and cold, looking back, these were the most peaceful, eye-opening three days of my life.

In those three days, it was me, my guide, my two porters, and a couple of tattered backpacks. My two porters set off running (what felt like) miles ahead of me, making sure that everything was set up at the next hut by the time I got there. So that left me and my guide, Jacob. A wonderful guide and human, I might add. Allowing me to climb at my own pace, Jacob poured out words of encouragement but at the same time, gave me the silence I needed to convince myself to take another step.

With minimal dialogue exchanged between the two of us, I was left alone with my thoughts. While my voice was silence, my mind was screaming, yelling, and throwing a fit. With song lyrics, laundry lists of things I had to do when I got back down, wonderment of what my loved ones were currently doing, and occasional motivational speeches to take another step running through my head, my mind was working a million times faster than my feet were. With nothing but silence floating around me, I still felt I was drowning in a crowd at a music festival.

In that moment, I realized my life was on autopilot. Not in the sense that I wasn’t making my own decisions. I made the decision to move to Kenya. And I made the decision to climb Mount Kenya. But in the sense that every day was filled with decisions that were meant to just get me to the next day. I was climbing the second highest point in Africa yet I was thinking about how I needed to buy dog food for my puppy back at the bottom and where I could get the best deal in town! I found myself planning three steps ahead. I wasn’t present. I was on autopilot, just getting myself through the current moments to set myself up for the next three moments.

I grew anxious on the mountain, not because I had fears of altitude sickness or of not making it to the top, but because of the laundry list of to-do items that had yet to be checked off. How is it that while I was surrounded by silence, gazing up at endless stars, and trekking through some of the most picturesque scenery, I was thinking about things I hadn’t completed before the trek or things that had to be done when I returned? Why was I incapable of being present? Why was my mind on complete autopilot? Why was I viewing every activity, every decision, and every moment as a stepping stone to what was coming next?

7 months later, I’d like to say my life has changed 180. I’d like to say this experience has made me totally present in each fleeting moment. I’d like to say I don’t still wake up with chest pains, fueling by anxiety. But alas, that isn’t the case. But what I can tell you is that the sole moment in which I recognized my life was on autopilot was when I veered slightly off the trail. The transformation wasn’t overnight. The battle isn’t even half over yet. But with baby steps, I’m making my way to the top on an off-beat path.

My mind is still flooded with a million thoughts. I’m still making endless spreadsheets and mapping out how I can get from Point A to Point B. And I’m still making decisions that I believe will get me to where I want to be, personally and professionally.

But I’m also carving out time in my day to mediate, to be utterly alone with my thoughts and replicate the sifting and cataloging of thoughts I did on Mount Kenya. I’m consciously thinking about how my breathing affects different parts of my body. I’m consciously, or at least trying to consciously, stop myself when my thoughts take me three steps ahead of where I currently am. I’m working on compartmentalizing my thoughts, not allowing the stresses of work to spill over into quality time with my loved ones.

Admitting to myself that my life was on autopilot was a huge step in what I believe to be the right direction. What autopilot Elodie would be doing is creating a laundry list of things to do to turn off the autopilot. But that’s problematic in itself. It’s a vicious cycle, trying to plan to turn off autopiloting puts me right back into autopilot. So, it isn’t stopping cold turkey. It isn’t planning out what I’m going to be doing in the next weeks and months to get to where I want to be. But taking it one day at a time. It’s being conscious. It’s consciously stopping and deciding to be more intentional, to be more deliberate, and to be more present.

Mount Kenya, you kicked my ass, but thank you for getting me to where I am today. Thank you for your beauty and inescapable silence. You were some of the most challenging, both physically and mentally, three days of my life but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Adventure is out there!