Melancholy Satisfaction

It’s a strange cocktail of reminders that let me know I was just on a lengthy expedition: not enough holes in my belt, empty cupboards, the stench of filthy clothes, extreme jet-lag. Mostly though, it’s the empty feeling where a huge goal used to sit. It’s bittersweet to sit on my comfortable couch, sleep in my warm bed, and take a warm shower.

For eight months, I worked tirelessly to apply for grants, plan logistics, sort equipment, and scour photos for objectives. Every day I was motivated to work a bit harder, anticipating an amazing trip. That eagerness is now gone, replaced with the satisfaction that a lot of hard work has paid off: I climbed three beautiful virgin peaks. To me, first ascents exemplify the highest level of climbing achievement because you are following in nobody’s footsteps. With no prior knowledge of the climb, you must make all the right decisions to succeed.

My sense of melancholy satisfaction is pervasive both physically and mentally. It has lingered since the day I woke up in basecamp after returning from our final climb. Matt and I talked about it that morning, neither of us able to completely capture the feeling in words. It lingered with me as we spent the final days packing up base camp and hauling gear back over the Djangart Pass to our pickup location in the Kaichi valley. It struck deep as I lay awake at 3 a.m. in the warm bed provided to us at Uch-Koshkon when we finally made it out of the mountains. I still get subtle reminders of accomplishment when my achy muscles, still battered from intense toil in an unforgiving environment, twinge as I walk up a flight of stairs.

Soon, these empty feelings will fade, replaced be a renewed desire to seek adventure, to really live. Soon, I’ll be eagerly planning my next expedition; the remnants of 2010 Djangart Expedition – photos, blogs, memories – will sit on the digital shelf, awaiting a rainy day in the future when it’s time to reminisce and perhaps bring back some of that melancholy satisfaction.

Thanks for reading,
Mike