The importance of being brave

Yesterday, there was no chasing of the sun, not at all. Yesterday, the sun came straight to us. The morning light was so bright that it was verging on celestial. It was almost as if the rays of the sun came knocking on our window to wake us up personally.

Like any other Monday morning, we rose at 7am. But instead of the usual wedge-heeled sandals or brogues and skinny jeans that I often sport, I opted for hiking boots and waterproof, lightweight hiking trousers. I had a rucksack, instead of my usual leather satchel, containing all kinds of essentials – including an extra pair of socks. I was told I might need these if I fell into a creek (but, surely, if I fell into a creek I would have far bigger problems than wet feet?).

We started our journey up the mountain (the “Schiederbirg” – Tirol, Austria) at around 9.30am. I was excited, and terrified, all at the same time. I had no idea what lay ahead, and even less clue how I would cope in tricky situations. Florian, though, was fearless. An experienced mountain hiker, he glided up the mountain with confident, easy strides. Our journey was one that he knew well, having completed it many times during his younger years.

Surprisingly, the ascent – though inevitably more exhausting – was easier than the descent. Going up, my energy levels were bursting, as was my enthusiasm. My confidence grew quickly, and my excitement even quicker. We climbed through dense areas with many trees and little sunlight, as well as brighter, clearer patches of grass dotted with yellow, pink and white flowers. At our peak, we climbed up 500m, and settled for a picnic and a nap at a beautiful spot with awe-inspiring views of the bigger, more dramatic mountains.

Waking up after 45 minutes was unsettling. Opening my eyes and remembering where we were, looking around and – terrifyingly – looking down threw me. During our ascent, I felt that I had found my centre of gravity – and I was braver for it. Taking the occasional look down was scary, no doubt, but I was invincible, because I was centred. I did not internalise this courage during my sleep, and waking up was like restarting. I had lost my centre, and my bravery had gone with it.

It made me wonder why it is that we internalise fear more easily and quickly than courage. And, worse still, what other things I was failing to internalise in my every day life. Was life really just like groundhog day – waking up and starting all over again each day?

No matter how afraid I was, and how unsteady, we had to go down the mountain and back into the valley. It took us a long time, for I was petrified. We had to cross creeks on our way, and this involved taking chances on makeshift bridges that looked far too unsteady to take our weight. With nothing but panic in my eyes and dread in my stomach, I took God’s name and followed Florian. He held my hand the entire way back down, and offered nothing but words of comfort and confidence.

Of course, we made it. We were tired, and sore, but triumphant. I don’t think I had ever felt so proud of myself, of my physical ability – in which I had so very little faith. It made me realise that I was, in fact, quite brave. And it made me realise that the presence of fear does not detract from one’s ability to be brave. Rather, facing fear – head on – with courage, confidence and faith is what it means (for me, at least) to be brave.

Yesterday, I learnt the importance of being brave.

And today? Well, to celebrate our achievement, we took it easy. It was another gloriously sunny, hot day, and we spent it relaxing in the sunshine. I had my sunglasses, a good book (“The Paris Wife” by Paula McLain, which looks at the early years of Ernest Hemingway before he found literary fame) and the feeling of endless opportunity.