Orizaba
Festina Lente
Mountain: Pico de OrizabaAltitude: 18,491ft | 5,636 mLocation: Veracruz, Mexico, 19.0304° N, 97.2681° WIf you are an average adult, your heart beats at about 60 beats per minute, which allows you to perform sedentary and relaxing tasks. At 90 beats per minute, you are probably on a brisk, sweat-inducing walk. Your heart rate can reach up to 120 beats per minute when you see your beloved, thanks to the adrenaline rush. At around 170 beats per minute, your heart is beating heavily, you are short of breath and you are probably experiencing something life-threatening. It is 5 am in the morning, I am climbing in crampons on the glacier of Pico de Orizaba glacier, and my heart rate is 62 beats per minute.
The glamour of adventure sports has planted deep in us the image of sweaty, out-of-breath athletes gloriously rushing toward "something". Yet, some of the best climbers who I had the fortune to climb with, climb "lazy". Their feet move languidly, barely skimming the ground, pausing only to cut steps with a precision that seems almost casual. It is as if they are strolling towards a well-earned nap after a grueling day of labor, rather than scaling a mountain peak. Their movements are not haphazard, but rather, they are strategic, almost miserly, in their use of energy. Their movements are slothful, yet not sloppy. They are not in a rush. So upon this climb, I have decided to slow down. My rules: my heart rate must remain under 85 beats per minute, I will breathe only through my nose, and I will conserve my body's resources, allowing only the minimal amount of blood to pump through my veins.
Pico de Orizaba is one of the most frequently painted volcanoes, along with Ixta and Popo. It is said to be the first thing one sees when arriving in Mexico from the Atlantic Ocean. Although I have not made the journey by sea, I can imagine its grandeur and significance. We approach it from the land, where the surrounding forests and other volcanoes are rarely mentioned or painted, yet they are magical. It feels exclusive to know that only those who choose to climb Pico can see these hidden wonders. With little in our stomachs but coffee and a torta from the night before, we begin our ascent of Orizaba. The night is windless, the stars are sparkly, and the darkness is inviting. We quietly enter the slopes of the volcano, feeling the curious discomfort of warming up muscles and listening to the sound of rocks under our footsteps. In spite of the excitement, my pulse is 62 beats per minute.
How often do we truly remain alone with ourselves? The fast pace of modern life forces our minds to constantly optimize schedules, make decisions, and come up with new desires. Not long ago, waiting for a bus or train would force us to reflect, but smartphones have taken away these moments of boredom and replaced them with perpetual on-demand entertainment. For me, climbing mountains is the time to meet myself. As my body endures the hardships of the climb, a curious discomfort forces my mind into a meditative state of reflective synthesis. In the darkness, far from civilization's comforts, I confront the challenge of keeping warm by clenching my fists and toes. It is in these moments of struggle that I can truly see what is important. My guide Antonio's lack of English and my insufficient Spanish prevent us from having lengthy philosophical discussions. And so we proceed in silence at a monotonous pace in the dark. I check my pulse - 65 beats per minute.
As we ascend, a couple of groups hastily pass us around 3 am, eager to reach the summit. I resist the urge to rush, reminding myself of the ancient axiom, "Festina lente," or make haste slowly. I strive to find the balance between urgency and patience, moving with purpose at a deliberate and measured pace. This steady tempo allows me to appreciate the majesty that surrounds me, and I am filled with wonder at the serene beauty of the glacier beneath my feet. In just a few hours, we will pass those who rushed ahead, looking tired and out of breath. Meanwhile, we cut stable steps into the ice, our movements absorbed and focused. I check my pulse - 61 beats per minute. At this heart rate, I don't even have meetings at the office.
We found ourselves among the first ones to descend the mountain, a few hours ahead of the anticipated average. Yet, the time we took held little significance. Was it truly important whether I conquered the peak in 10 hours or 11? On Pico de Orizaba, I realized that the climb was not a race to the summit, but a journey of exploration and discovery. Filled with moments of quiet contemplation, I savored every step, despite the hardships. This journey was like a metaphor for life itself, an adventure that must be taken slow and steady, yet it is grand and adventurous in spite of speed. For true delights are not found in the destination but in the journey itself.
