JMT: The Mountain as a Teacher

Lake Virginia, John Muir Wilderness. September 2015.

Here we are a Lake Virginia, a lake nestled between two passes along the John Muir Trail. After two days and nights of torrential downpour, snow, wind, and unidentifiable falling snow chunks, we have finally reached a point of rest. And by rest, I mean frantically pulling out all our wet supplies and pinning them down to the granite so that, (a) it does not get swept away in the wind blowing over the weathertop and (b)it dries before the next looming storm arrive at our campsite.

In addition to drying our wet clothes, socks, sleeping bags, and tents, we must set up a tarp shelter so that three of our own can sleep soundly outside because there is not enough space in the tents. That is because we didn’t bring enough tents. We also must pump water, prepare the food, boil water for our water bottles, and ensure that the camp is bomb proof for the night. It is only two o’clock in the afternoon, but those storm clouds are getting closer and we are all shivering and exhausted.

This is truly “experiential learning”. The methodology behind experiential learning is that the learner actively attempts to discover a solution to the problem and then reflects upon the process, the solution, and any insights gained along the way. During this process, the teacher is a passive guide, while the student is an active experimentalist, a vicious knowledge seeker. The teacher is essential in order to expose the student to the problem and then reflect on the problem ex post facto, but the source energy comes from the student.

Somewhere along the trail, it became clear that the mountain was the teacher and we were her pupils. She would throw us punches, none of which that we could not handle, but all of which we did not necessarily look forward to dealing with. Then she would tease us with momentary glimpses of sunshine to reward our good behavior. Day after day, we got better. We absolutely got better.

Our supplies were wet because we were careless and arrogant. She humbled us and whittled us into more precise instruments. We didn’t have enough tents because we assumed that someone else would do the job. She showed us that it does not matter who does the job, as long as the job gets done. We were thirsty during the day because we had a moment of fatigue. She taught us that fatigue is appropriate only when it is appropriate. And it is not appropriate when it comes to gathering water. The lessons we learned once by the mountain, we never would have to learn again (I hope). 

Lake of the Lone Indian, John Muir Wilderness. September 2015.