It had been an unusually cold day for Easter in New Zealand. I sat now, perched on a thick fallen branch.

I found this branch when I went scavenging through the forest looking for anything that would burn so we could warm our frozen feet and our frozen bodies that uncontrollably shook from a bone-rattling chill. The sun had disappeared behind one of the mountain peaks leaving an eerie twilight-lit mountain valley before us. I sat with my feet nearly in the fire, my gaze frozen on the mountain side that faced our meager camp spotwe were lucky to have found a spot large enough for our tent that was not riddled with rocks or boulders or trees I was an adventure seeker, constantly wanting to test (more likely, prove) my strength and endurance. And anything that pitted my fortitude against the elements of nature was fair game in my eyes. I lovedno, neededto be out in the excitement of nature, subject to its will and awesome power. So, for our latest challenge, my New Zealand boyfriend and I had decided to do something completely different and spend Easter hiking up a mountain and over its peak without using an established traileven though the unusually inclement weather made hiking in the mountains a questionable endeavor. But Ben lived theregrew up therehe knew those mountains, and he was willing to go This brought me great comfort. Our plan was to use the national parks hiking trail for two days until we met up with a mountain stream that led up and into a mountainous valley. At this point we would leave the established trail and use the stream as our guide. After a day of hiking beside the stream, we would then break away, scaling the remainder of the mountain side, mounting the peak. Once having crossed over the peak, we would come down the other side using our topographical map to navigate our way back down. I had felt larger than life! When hiking in the day before Easter, I had silently chantedYou are bigger than this moun-tain. You are bigger than this moun-tainto the beat of my heart. What a different world this was. My Easters had always been symbols of springs approach, not impending winter. They were filled with Easter bunnies and Easter baskets, not mountain peaks and hiking boots. If we were lucky, the Wisconsin hills would have begun to show signs of new life with buds hanging on the tips of tree branches and green shoots pushing

their way out of the freshly thawed ground, not encroaching snow covered mountain peaks and the corresponding opening of the ski season. But this brisk Easter morning, after only one hour of hiking, we came to the stream that was to lead us up the mountain. Side-by-side we stood in sobered silence as we surveyed what was supposed to be our magnificent nature-made path: our trusty water guide into the valley. We had not anticipated the double-sided landslides that had sandwiched the stream between massive boulders (some taller and wider than me), which sat at the base of steep sand and gravel covered slopes. It wasnt like this Ben breathed in disbelief. It wasnt even that long ago I was here. These landslides are fresh. I had never seen a mountain more alive and powerful than at that moment. This is a stream? I breathed out loud. What was supposed to be a stream, according to the map, clearly was not. Determined, our backpacks heavy on our backs, we stepped away from the national parks established hiking path and toward the chaos of the stream. Feeling brave and strong, we heaved ourselves up each and every rock, gingerly bracing ourselves with every step, jump, and climb for the probability of their instability. And when they proved insurmountable, we were forced to cross the deep and rapid waters now squeezed and under pressure from the dual landslides that threatened to suffocate its race to the bottom of the valley. Corey, follow me and go very slow. Keep your knees bent and braced against the force of the water. If you lose your footing, this water will take you. Do just as I do. I remembered a few years ago when the power of water had threated to take control away from me: the riptide and undertow that tried to pick me up and pull me away from the shore while I played in the waves of the 16-mile beach on Stewart Island. Bens level-headed sensibilities had guided me safely through the water. I was never going to let go of you, he had told me. As we slowly and carefully lowered ourselves from the boulder into the water, our thicksoled chunky boots searching for some kind of secure footing beneath us, the cold mountain water pushed with all its might to dismantle our balance, threatening to swallow us up. The bulky packs on our backs complicated our every effort to maintain our footing on the slippery rocks and against the incredible force of the water. Step-by-painstaking-step, I slowly navigated the stream while the water soaked me to my knees, numbing my skin in seconds, and weighing down my wool leggings, wool socks, and heavy hiking boots. Just like a toddler who is learning to walk reaches for their parent, I nearly dove at the boulder in front of me where Ben waited, arm stretched out toward me. I nearly leaped onto the boulder to escape the angry clutches of the water. I was so grateful to have made it to the other side. But, now, every time we lifted our legs to take a step, to jump from boulder to boulder, or to climb up and down these massive rocks, the effort left us instantly breathless.

Regardless of our inner fears, which we never shared with each other (talking about our feelings was never Bens strong suit), our outward attitudes remained positive. What a challenge this was! What a mountain-sized challenge to overcome! But nothing an honorary Kiwi Bloke couldnt handle! The day pressed on as we climbed higher and higher toward the ever-expanding mountainous valley that now encircled us. However, the higher we got, the thinner the air became. My head began to pound with the rhythm of the rapids as they hit, flipped, and slammed against the rocks. Every beat of my heart pulsed throbbing into my head. It became hard to focus on the mosaic terrain and judge its structure, stability, and feasible passageways. The climb had eroded away my strength and energy. Without having to say a word, we both knew we desperately needed to find a place to camp. Although with Ben there was never a lot of talking, the longer we climbed without finding a spot to pitch our tent, the quieter we became. The air had rapidly grown colder with the increased elevation and the receding sun. Even though we had started our day without any snow, around the lunch hour we had begun seeing random patches of snow. And now, the snow covered the ground and the rounded tops of the boulders and sat heavy on the branches of the mountain pines. For a moment I grew hopeful when Ben shouted out that he had spotted a place for us to put up camp; but, just as quickly my heart sank as I looked upon the gravel laden sloped perch that sat just elevated off the other side of the spitting and churning, frozen torrent of a mountain stream. This meant that with our strength depleted we would yet again be pitted against the sheer awesome power of the blistering cold waters that dad threatened to take us so many times already that day. We pushed forward because we had no other choice. Finally, successful but colder and emptier than Ive felt in a long while, Ben and I quickly got to work making camp. Ben pitched the tent and I went exploring the forest for wood so we could start a fire. As I wandered through the trees, kicking away snow with my wet boot, looking for anything that might actually burn, my heart came back to me. There has always been a magic held by the forest that miraculously manages to reinvigorate my heart when circumstances have worn it down: the life cycles of the trees, whose roots burrow deep into the land, a land that knows the stories of each and every generation that has passed upon it. Now, here in this high mountain forest, I felt the ancient pull of time and the life of generations run through my veins and open my eyes and rekindle the flame inside me. I returned back to the camp site with my small bundle of wet wood and we worked to get a fire going. And now, as the cold light of twilight sunk into the deep expanses of our star speckled sky, the snow covered mountain valley reflected the moon and stars, igniting the night air with a fusion of light. Sitting in front of our barely adequate fire, I lazily gazed out and across the valley at a mountain slope that seemed to be whispering:

Your life is bigger than you are. Life is bigger than you are. Life is bigger than you. My long heavy grey wool socks hung precariously over the fire in a ridiculous effort to dry before the fire dwindled out. My toes burned from the heat of the fire while the rest of my foot remained frozen. As the waters continued their dance with the boulders below us, Ben and I sat in a peaceful silence, observing the echoing messages in the valleys lonesome call to the nights endless sky, carried on the edge of the crisp wind that blew into my face, stinging my cheeks, and making my eyes water. For just a moment, time seemed to be standing still. At once, a rumble from deep within the earth brought my eyes back into focus just in time to see the face of the mountain across from us sliding downward at an incredible speed. I couldnt believe what I was seeing. It was as if a blanket was simply sliding off the side of the mountain except this smooth movement was accompanied by a seemingly disconnected growling that reverberated from the earth, entering through the bottoms of my feet, driving its way through my body and out my figure tips, leaving my hair standing on end. And in a few mere seconds it was done. All that power had vibrated through my body, quickening my heart. I stared out in disbelief as there was nothing but a smooth surface to give evidence to what we had just seen. As Ben and I tried to speak, coherent language got lost and twisted in utterings of fragmented words. Just then Bens emergency radio (the kind that all New Zealanders own) started a piercing alarm that cut through the natural mountain air with a harsh emergency signal. Ben jumped up to get it as a static voice in monotone announced impending storms that were barreling down on Arthurs Pass out of the East. The broadcast announcer was anticipating their approach to our location sometime tomorrow in the late morning to early afternoon. Ben shot me a lookthe look I always see when he is about to say something that he knows I wont like. Corey, we cant go on. Never! I thought. I wont back down! Sensing my thoughts, he repeated, Corey, we cant go on. You understand it would be suicide. Well be fine, Ben. Do you think every climber ran down their mountain as soon as they heard the weather might not be pleasant? NO! And neither will we! Corey Please, Ben, I beggedas if he controlled the weather Please? Can we at least wait till morning and see? If it is not bad maybe it will miss us we could go on

I wouldnt get your hopes up, Corey. His words sat in my stomach like a constant alarma panic crawled across my skin. The darkness now spoke in hurried warnings: Life is bigger than you Life is bigger than you I grabbed my still soaking wet socks and made for the tent, annoyed by the never ceasing crackling voice that kept repeating his warning without any care in his tone whatsoever as to what his warning meant to me. Ben, lets get to bed! I spit out, betraying my panic and fears. We need to get to bed so we can rise early and beat the storm. Obviously, I didnt hear my own words, for if I had, I would have clearly heard the foolishness behind them. I desperately needed to cross over this mountain; I knew nothing could get in my path and stop me from completing this mission. I forced my eyes shut as I huddled deep inside my sleeping bag. As I struggled to relax against the painful pokes and prods of the awkwardly sloped rocky ground and the incessant alarm that pulsed through my veins, an image of Xena flashed before me. I began to think of her yearning for redemption and her unwavering willingness to never give up the fight for what she believed was right. Her quest to fight her own past, her crimes and failures, began to swirl in my mind as I danced between consciousness and sleep. Eventually I must have fallen asleep, though, because morning seemed to come quickly. As I became aware of the mornings light, I twisted my body to the side away from a rock that had been wedged into the back of my ribcage. All at once the memory of the thundering ground, the side of the mountain slipping away, and the radios incessant monotone warnings came rushing back into my mind and instantly awakened every nerve in my body. In a rush to beat the storm to the peak, and a panic I might be wrong or over-ruled by Ben, I shed my sleeping bag in the same ridiculous manner a picnicker might try to rid herself of an army of ants. Finally free of my sleeping bag, I grabbed my now frozen solid socks from the day before and was struck suddenly by their comical resemblance to hockey sticks. For a moment, I balanced one of the frozen little hockey sticks on my pointer finger, chuckling as it remained completely straight. This temporarily relieved my panic and helped to restore some of my excitement. When I unzipped the tent door, the cool thin morning air rushed into the tent and enveloped my body, squeezing around me with a shocking force, momentarily taking my breath away and causing Ben to stir in his sleeping bag. I instantly looked up at the sky. Though it was completely clouded over, it simply looked overcastnot stormy at all. My next glance was across the valley to the slope where we had witnessed the avalanche. A chill ran through me knowing the mountain was alive. It was like being on the back of a

dragon, a dragon that could shed us off at any moment. I averted my eyes and stuffed down my doubt. Though Ben never voiced his objections, his face remained serious and focused as we set about dismantling our camp. Every so often I noticed him glancing at me with a concerned look in his eyes. We packed up in record speed and headed up alongside the mountain stream for about three hundred feet. All the while, I avoided looking across the stream to the side where the avalanche had been, struggling to put out of my mind the thought that had we not crossed the water last night to set up camp, had we decided to avoid that danger and stay on course looking for a spot on the other side, we would have been consumed by the avalanche. Ben and I stopped to check the map one more time to verify our location; we concluded that our previous nights observations were correct: we had camped nearly at the junction that marked the most grueling part of our journey. We both took a deep meaningful look at the tumultuous raging water before turning to the east. Both our gazes were drawn upward and for a brief moment, we stared in awed silence at the steep snow face that led to the peak. At the sight of my lifes greatest challenge, m y heart beat hard against the thin oxygen as an indescribable joy liquefied in my blood and rushed through me. There in front of me rose a snow covered mountain that the once little insignificant Corey, was going to climb up and over. I was Xena, the Warrior Princess I had always wanted to be. I am unstoppable. I am strong and powerful I am capable I am We were completely ill-prepared. We had no ice picks, no crampon spikes for our boots, nothing but hole-riddled wool leggings, wool socks, and our hiking boots. While the hours passed quickly under our strained muscles as we dug footholds into the 45 snow face, our movement upward was deceptively slow. And all the while the sky had been steadily darkening. Eventually we decided to stop and eat something. I had been so focused on carving out every foothold and handhold so that I wouldnt slip and fall that I hadnt realized how hungry I had become. We carefully pivoted in our foot hold and laid our backs against the mountain. Though I was precariously balanced, I was greatly relieved because my weight now rested on my heels and not my toes and the weight of my pack now leaned into the mountain instead of my hips and back. I reached around to a pocket on my pack and pulled out a round piece of chocolate. I could scarcely wait as I rushed to unwrap it. I wanted to swallow it whole just to get something in my stomach.

I bit down on my chocolate and yelped in pain as I realized that the chocolate had frozen into solid rock. I struggled to shave the chocolate with my teeth, trying to get as much off the impenetrable piece as possible but I met with little success. What my teeth were able to sheer off seemed to merely tease my aching stomach, never amounting to anything significant. As we ominously perched in our places, each of us attacking our frozen food like a toothless squirrel with a nut, the sky began to coil around itself, tossing and turning one black cloud over another. The air roared with a thundering wind. Corey, we have to turn back and we have to do it now! I hope to God it isnt too late! Ben yelled over to me. Sinking further into the snowy mountainside, I felt myself tearing in half. In my heart the realities that were baring down on us rang with crystal clarity, pronouncing the potential death that awaited us should we have the audacity to continue pursuing the peak. I looked up the face of the mountain and saw the black clouds swallowing my dream. I cant go back, I desperately yelled to Ben who had already begun to descend. What? he shouted back in shock. I lay there as if frozen, I cant. I cant go back downnot that waynot the way I came. I cant do it. Paralyzed in place, I felt my insidesmy spirit, my dreams, my justification for my existencespilling out onto the mountain and being gobbled up by the blackening sky. Ben scurried back up the snow toward me faster than he had moved all day, reaching me quickly. Seeing the desperation in my eyes, he reached out and cupped my face in one of his cold hard hands. Looking me square in the eyes, he calmly said, Corey, you either turn back now or die. You die and not only will you not have mounted this peak, but you will never have another opportunity. Turn back now and you will have your chance at another time. We need to survive, Corey. You need to start climbing down now. The wind continued to increase its force and as it roared in our ears, it pushed on my body and beat at my face. I no longer felt anything at all. I had no choiceI had to climb back down the way I had come. I turned my body so I faced the snowy mountain face once again and began to descend, following Bens path down. Three days after driving away from that mountain, we learned that there had been two avalanches in that valley: one on Easter evening (the one we witnessed across from our camp site) and a second one in the late afternoon of the following dayon the very mountain face we had been scaling. I didnt interpret this as a message about how lucky I was or how I really never could have mounted that peak. No, I saw it as further proof that something inside me was shot down that day up thereonly five hundred feet below the peak of the mountain.

Ben and I didnt make it together. He was too practical and dry and I was too animated and impulsive. He lived by a code of rules and regulations, a limitations-code. I, on the other hand, lived by the heart-code. I knew that my heart beat in my chest roughly seventy times every minute whether I was thinking about it or not. I believed the heart was the center of ones life and therefore should be followedat all costs. Something in my heart needed to climb to the top of a mountain. Something in my heart needed to cross over to the other side. Two and a half years later I made it back to New Zealand. With a great group of people, I headed to the Kepler Track on the South Island. This three to four day hike looped from beechforested shores to the Tussocky Alpine tops. The reward for hiking all the way to the top is a path that sits just at the meeting point of both sides of the mountain. Day one found our party at the first nights hut. As I sat in front of the hut, I carefully took off my boots and then slowly peeled my socks from the open wounds on the backs of each of my heels where the skin was completely missing and liquid was oozing out. Apparently, I hadnt done a very good job of breaking in my new hiking boots. My friends said I should just stay at the hut for another two days and then they would come back for me. Wrapped every which way, I urged my feet to re-enter my stiff boots, terrified I wouldnt be able to keep going. But try as I might, I couldnt get my boots onthe pain was just too much. I did not sleep well that night. I had to sleep on my stomach as I could not let my heels rest on anything, which felt unnatural and uncomfortable. On top of that, I could only drape my sleeping bag over my upper legs and torso in an effort to keep anything and everything from touching my heels. By morning the wounds were weeping worse. As I watched my friends packing up for their trek, a familiar weight was pressing on my heart. I stood there in an inner battle between woman and child. Where was Xena, Warrior Princess, now? Feeling more child than woman or warrior, the dark clouds that had been welling up in my heart began to break apart. This was a different mountain. This moment was not asking me to choose between life and looming death. This was the mountain that I had waited fornot just two and a half yearsbut my whole life! HA! I clapped, suddenly feeling Xena-hearted. HA! I rolled up my sleeping bag, brushed my teeth, and packed my tooth brush away. As I heaved my pack up onto my back, my boots swung around and knocked into my side. I smiled at all the hikers who were watching me in disbelief, bid them a good day, and walked out of the hut and onto the path that led to the peak. At the top, panoramic views revealed the beauty of the Kepler Mountains on one side and the lakes and rivers that lie in the hanging valleys on the other side. The only thing above me was an absolutely endless sky. To this day, one of my favorite photographs is the one of me standing on the peak of that mountain, boots strapped to my pack, my bare feet the only thing between the mountain peak and

me. Ive since lost that photo, but I can still see it whenever I close my eyes and I can still feel the life of the mountain beating in the soles of my feet in the same rhythm as my heart, whispering in my ear: Life is bigger; Life is bigger than you are; but you are enough.