Tag: mountain

• November 18, 2014

  Base Camp

  I hit a milestone today. This morning, while pounding out the novel I’m writing for National Novel Writing Month, my word count surpassed 15,700 words. In terms of writing 50,000 words in 30 days, I’m tracking way behind where I should be. But this point is an auspicious one for me. In four years of writing novels in November, the most I’ve ever written is 15,621. Passing that point, I felt a little like Sam standing at the edge of the Shire, realizing that this is the farthest from home that I have ever been.

  High up in the mountains of Nepal stands South Everest Base Camp, a stopping off point for climbers attempting to reach the summit of the tallest mountain in the world. At over 17,000 feet above sea level, getting to the base camp takes six days from the Nepalese town of Lukla and an incredible amount of physical stamina. Climbers must train for years just to be able to climb to the Base Camp.

  Yet, once they reach it, the mountain still remains before them, waiting to be conquered. There is still a long, arduous journey ahead.

  I’m at the base camp of my novel. So far in, but with the greatest challenge still to come. 15,700 words is a huge accomplishment for me, but it’s a far cry from 50,000. This is where I leave the familiarity of the Shire behind. This is where I begin the climb.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer and climber of metaphors. You can find him on Twitter.
• May 28, 2014

  Sleeping Giant

  

  Today, the ridge overlooking the snow-covered northern face of Mount St. Helens is dotted with small brush, lichen and wild grass. Chipmunks dart between the rocks. Tourists take photos to post later on their Facebook profiles. But 34 years ago, the place where I stand was buried by a boiling mudslide, smothered by pumice and superheated rock and cloaked in a cloud of choking ash. As striking as the barren foothills of the mountain are, I’m more surprised by the recovery here — by the small trees and bushes that have a foothold in the wasteland.

  I feel small as I peer up into the clouds that hide the jagged mouth of the crater. The top third of the volcano was blasted off by the force of the explosion. Boulders flew miles. An entire forest was leveled in a matter of seconds, their strong trunks snapped like balsa wood. If I was standing here when the bomb went off, I would be vaporized. The giant is sleeping now, but I know that deep in the heart of the mountain, ancient forces are building up. Magma is rising from the depths of the Earth, building a dome in the caldera. Someday, it will rain fire here again.

  The devastation is difficult to put into words. And yet there is something beautiful about the destruction that stretches for miles around. There is more to be seen here than the Northwest’s youngest and most famous volcano. The landscape reminds us that humanity is not the most powerful force in the world. We only exist at the mercy of a planet that could bury us in lava with little warning. However, Mount St. Helens is not only a place of death. It is a cradle for new life. Hardy saplings are taking root in the blast zone. The volcano that burned and sterilized a centuries old forest provides nutrient-rich soil to feed the new forest.

  Mount St. Helens impresses on me the cyclical nature of time and events. Long before we descended from the trees, geologic forces of creation and destruction were in motion. Long after we’re gone, it will continue. Volcanoes, fires and earthquakes will erase old life to make way for new life. Mount St. Helens will awaken and when it does, I hope that I’m far, far away.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA. He has spent much of his life tempting fate by living in close proximity to volcanoes, from the San Francisco Peaks to Mount Rainier. You can comment below or follow him on Twitter.