My husband and I are so thankful that we had the opportunity to bring our oldest child on a backpacking trip in Colorado for the first time in three years. For months we planned to attempt a peak called Kit Carson, one of Colorado’s 14ers. Hubby had summited it a number of years back and we looked forward to the challenge together. The guide book and topo map were studied, and the bags were packed.

But we couldn’t make it. No biggie, right? For a few minutes up there when we realized we had to turn back, I was pretty upset. I was frustrated that some of us couldn’t take turns summitting since only one of us was majorly feeling the altitude. Meanwhile, other hikers coming down told us that only the folks with ice gear were able to make it to the peak. The last time hubby was up there, it was a couple weeks later in the summer with no ice issues, so we hadn’t anticipated packing ice gear. Of course, I was frustrated that we hadn’t packed the ice gear anyway.

As I hiked down in a huffy mood, I realized a few things:

• In Ben Rector’s song “I Like You,” he sings

Life is not the mountain tops

It’s the walking in between

And I like you walking next to me.

Ultimately, would it be as rewarding to summit the peak if part of my team was waiting for me a couple thousand feet below? Nope. *I believe there can be a time for this, but not with a group of 3.* We chose to stick together, and I’m glad we did. Because there’s a ton more walking between the mountaintops than there are moments spent on the mountaintop, and the time in between is golden. The time in between is when most of the corny jokes and poorly-rhymed songs are shared. The time in between is when we really grow together. And the time in between is when all the marmots, mountain sheep, and hardy wildflowers are spotted. The time in between is arguably more important than the moment at the peak.

Worse yet, would it have been worth it to push on alone and risk the “gnarly ice field” (as it was described to us by others) without the right gear? Absolutely not. Which leads me to the next lesson learned.

• The whole hike, I noticed that every backpacker we spoke to about the trek (maybe 6 or so guys) had a wisely humble attitude about the mountain. When telling some energetic, fit guys who were stopped and eating lunch that they’d likely pass us before too long, the response was, “Maybe. Maybe not.” They did, and they were optimistic that they could make it, but they sure weren’t jumping the gun. On our way down, another 2-person team told us what a big accomplishment our 11-year-old had made, and that we sure saw some great views and to not be discouraged by not summitting. They’re right. Another guy told me that he’d made it through the first snow field but when he got to the ice field, he realized his microspikes were still in his tent. He was pretty bummed to have to turn back, but he said to me, “The mountain will be here another day. I know I made the safe decision. I know I made the right decision.”

• It’s easy to lose sight of right priorities. For a few minutes up there at 12,600′ when I was mad that we were turning around, I was too focused on the peak. This was a good reminder for me that the enemy lures us with distractions. The whole goal of the trip was to build character and strengthen family bonds, but suddenly I was greedy to check off a peak – an elevation, a tangible goal. That is definitely not what matters most.

As it turned out, we were able to hike a shorter mountain the next day, and everybody felt well and we fully enjoyed the day. Don’t you love happy endings? Me too. And even though it isn’t the ending I had in mind, I think it’s better, because by then, I understood what mattered more.

Here’s a 6 minute video with pictures and some short clips showing the trip. I hope you enjoy the views!

What have you learned from either making it up the peak of your dreams, or from not making it? How do the lessons apply to other areas of life? Post your positive comments below 🙂