Ever wonder what a rare first glimpse looks like?
Mountaineering or even hiking at higher elevations requires a different approach. The alarm buzzes at 2am. The air in the tent is crisp with your nose's chill. Tucking your head out of your sleeping bag is like getting hit with a blast of cold water.
Your climbing partner smiles and states, “Rise and shine, time to roll.”
You gently laugh. How life has changed. Once upon a time, this was the hour you rolled out of the bar, not out of a sleeping bag on the side of the mountain, sleeping on snow.
Today is the day. Summit day, that is.
With only headlamps reflecting off the glacier, the mountain remains dark. Yet, the stars shine brightly.
As we rope up, the air remains thin. Our body is alert as we climb into the crevasse section. Every move is deliberate. Visibility is low. Energy is precious and has to sustain us for twelve plus hours. And, the route is only seen by other teams creeping up the mountainside with tiny lights moving like ants.
One false move and we can be dangling 30 feet down a hole, putting our partner's life in jeopardy, too.
As we ascend the steep snow and patches of rock, first light turns the sky a gentle pink. The nearby ridges give way to the magnificent alpine glow. The tip of the mountain is hit by sunlight. We were climbing above the cloud deck with the valley below in shadows. Seemed mysterious below and sunny above.
More crevasses appear, changing our route. With heightened perception, we set a clear direction. Our mind sharpens, the body steadies. We trust the snow bridge we see.
The alpine glow is not the finish. it’s the first sign the summit is real, the path is forming, and the climbing is getting steeper and steeper, requiring disciplined attention with each step.
This is where endurance meets elevation head-on. Where are you being asked to rise without abandoning your footing?
This week, ask yourself:
What signal changes when you trust the cleanest signal instead of your loudest thought?
© 2026. Lora Lapiz. All Rights Reserved.
