Climbing with Patience (David O. McKay Essay Final)

Climbing With Patience
“Poley, poley” Abdu our mountain guide calls from behind as we begin our four day ascent up Africa’s highest peak. Before climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro I didn’t know what patience was. Despite continual exhortations, our group of thirty climbers continues quickly, greedy with empty stomachs seeking to be filled. We know the camp is near and we justify our careless approach in our weary state. As the terrain becomes steeper, our mountain guide cries more firmly “Poley! Poley!” I fail to understand the value of these words and carry forward without hearing the literal meaning: “slow down, slow down!”
“Hold your horses,” “Keep your shirt on,” “Slow down,” “Don’t be in such a hurry,” “Follow the rules,” “Be careful” are more than trite expressions. They describe sincere counsel and speak the wisdom of experience. (Thomas S. Monson)
In ignorance we fail to see the value of patience as an essential ingredient to overcoming the obstacles on Mount Kilimanjaro. I justify in my anxious state that patience may be an optional principle that is recommended for the weaker climbers of the group as they slowly progress. As we continue the climb at erratic speeds (fast, then slow…fast, then slower), it becomes more evident that patience manifests itself in a controlled, diligent ascent. Notwithstanding, we climbb without the wisdom of experience. Our eyes cannot see the narrow ridge ahead, hiking blind at a brisk pace. The tropical rainforest which welcomed us with a warm and friendly greeting in the day now lurks over our heads with mysterious fear in the dark, frigid night. Our ears hear the earth moan beneath us, our feet covered in mud begin freezing over. I slip on the trail, my frostbitten hands feeling for the unprotected roots of a nearby tree found with the aid of my headlamp. “Poley, poley!” resonates again in my aching ears, while my feet search for footholds.
------------------------
Let me start at the beginning: Together with a group of thirty adventurers I hope to stand on the roof of Africa climbing on our four day ascent of almost 20,000 feet to reach the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro. After a long, bumpy journey along the dirt roads of Kenya from the capital of Mombassa, we arrive at the base of one of the world’s highest peaks. From the beginning of our voyage each group member is given opportunities to exercise patience through cancelled flights, long lines of disorder at customs, and several stop-and-go uncomfortable bus rides with detours. My enthusiasm for the climb that will begin early the next morning is rivaled by my impatience which brings with it thoughts of frustration, weariness, and exhaustion. I collapse in my tent at the edge of the village.
Patience is essential for both high altitude climbing just as it is for obtaining the summits of life. Climbing life’s mountains brings opportunities for wise counsel to be followed or discarded. Patience enables agency to be directed (developed) with wisdom just as impatience provides (sets) the stage for foolishness. Patience enables other attributes to grow in life just as it helps facilitate our group’s ascent in numerous ways.
Patience may well be thought of as a gateway virtue, contributing to the growth and strength of its fellow virtues of forgiveness, tolerance, and faith.
(Robert C. Oaks)

Roosters crow, disrupting the silence of the dark night, in anticipation of morning. Acacia trees (silhouettes) are illuminated along the horizon as morning awakes. Babies cry, children’s feet shuffle along dirt roads sending stones rolling down the road to school. Thump, thump, thump… snap! … Empty cans bounce on the rear of a donkey traveling for water with the loud crack of a whip coming from a small boy herding livestock. A hustle and bustle along the main road is felt as smiles and greetings exchange on the way to the market.
A street dog yawns and stretches after being awakened by the sound of howling rubber tires and honking horns along the main road. My neck jerks suddenly, my resting eyes now made alert, my heart begins to race at the sound of shrilling brakes, my body forced from the left to the right. “Not again,” I thought. With the tilt of a wrist my watch mocks our tardy state; each second seems as a year while we wait again for livestock to clear the road. Our driver smiles while we watch each tick of the clock with unrest. Impatience is a choice.
Finally at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro Abdu, gives his hand to be greeted differently than most men do. He humbly offers the stub of his right arm ending just before the elbow’s usual formation. I shake, taking little time to act surprised at the feel of a limp, spongy stub. We exchange quick friendly greetings, and Abdu expresses his positive outlook on life as he cheerfully swings my week’s belongings onto his back. “We are go now!” he declares with a grin; for Abdu there is always time for optimism.
Right, left, right, left…step-by-step we ascend. The entire group works together to progress up the mountain, traveling at a pace to accommodate the slowest and least fit member of our group. I feel held back and become frustrated with the many stops along the way. In contrast, Abdu enjoys pausing to point out flowers of purple, blue, yellow, and bright pink clinging to steep cliffs, boulders, and switchbacks. “Zey grow up de mountain togezer zlow and zo do we” he states. He sees what I don’t in the mountains cold morning shadow. He understands what I do not.
Fallen leaves-- frozen during the night --crunch under our feet. We yearn for the light and warmth of the sun. Dawn brings a new perspective to time. The morning mist lifts, revealing the trail more clearly. My legs itch with excitement, pushing me forward despite the wise counsel given the group to patiently ascend together. Butterflies of vibrant colors and irregular flight patterns effortlessly flutter us by, traveling up the mountain ahead, and I long to join them. Fed up with the slow (yet steady) pace, I leap ahead. I don’t see that I must have others to help me ascend -- to wait for Abdu seems foolish. He remains with the group, helping others along and cheerfully educating those he leads in broken English. Exquisite birds soar with their glorious orange, turquoise and deep black plumage, cheering my flight through their long beaks. The euphoria of solitude on Africa’s highest ascent fills my being with selfish ambition as I pass by others without asking who I may be able to help. I have been taught that perfection is not a solitary quest and I know that to be perfected alone is impossible. Nevertheless, I determine to set my own pace, pushing patience aside.
I know, but ignore the fact that “Patience must be our constant companion during the journey which carries us toward that great goal, “Continue in patience until ye are perfected,” [which is] the counsel the Lord gave. (Angel Abrea)
Without the companionship of patience, I feel initially liberated to pursue my own course my own way without having to yield to the tempo of others. The path seems clearly marked with signs the first few miles. After a couple miles of swift solitude the trail splits in two and the empty reality of my solo race sets in. I pause for a drink of water while trying to decide which road will be less traveled, and which turn my followers will take. Uncertainty, concern, and then worry begin to cloud my thoughts.
A drop of dew from the tropical foliage above startles me on my forehead. Unfamiliar animals screech, and their shrill-like commune echoes from all directions. Flowers, trees, and bushes, I perceive to be closing in on my path, hiding unknown dangers. What was beautiful and adventurous with the group has now become spooky and threatening in my lonesome state since I distanced myself from the group. “What should I do? I cannot stop! Not now! This is just the beginning.” My young mind rivets on the summit with still another 17,500 feet to go.
Scurrying up the mountain, I neglect to notice the large grey clouds descending to dampen my adventurous euphoria. The thunderous growl of an angry sky and the fierce winds of the incoming downpour demand attention and compel me to be humble. Golf-ball size rain drops chase butterflies away and the heavy burdens of my poor choice to run ahead of the others slows my course. To obtain patience often requires repentance.
Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us. (Hebrews 12:1)
I swallow hard, pausing to catch my breath. Slipping and falling on several occasions in my attempt to climb through the storm on my own, thick mud covers my feet, my hands, and my arms and legs. I stop…I pray and I feel this great cloud is too great to conquer alone. In this tempestuous moment the words “Peace, be still” speak through the mountain’s squall to my mind and heart. Providing inward harmony amidst an outward uproar, this bit of divine advice directs my thoughts and I quiet my feet to reflect…
As a child, I remember learning lessons of climbing while simultaneously discovering lessons of life while climbing Mt. Timpanogos with my father. He leads at an active pace, but always looks back to make sure I am following. He patiently waits when I fall behind, teaching by example. I stumble, I fall, I cry at times climbing, but he is always there to help me continue. When a storm arrives at Emerald Lake, we take temporary shelter nearby before continuing the rest of the ascent. He smiles without worry and I confide in his path, planting my feet in his steps up the snowfield to the crest. The rigid and narrow trail of the crest to the peak frightens my bulging eyes as I look downward upon all of Utah Valley which seems so small below. My father assures me there is no need to fear as long as I take small steps along the rocky ridge. He taught me that patience is a key for persistence in overcoming obstacles. To Dad, any mountain is invincible.
Pondering the lessons of my childhood, I wait for the rest of the group with damaged pride but feeling my father’s approval. If he were here, he would want me to wait. I realize the climb up Mt. Kilimanjaro is not a race, but a journey that must be paced, as its reward is unachievable in solitude. While waiting for the rest of my fellow hikers, I begin to realize that I can no longer wait for patience to find me; patience is a virtue sought through action.
Brushing a clump of mud from my brow with my right forearm, I smile at my hard-working friend Abdu who shows no signs of fatigue in leading the group. “Jambo!” I declare after using my limited native vocabulary to express my apologies for disregarding his previous counsel. The surrounding porters chuckle at my mud-covered appearance, and we laugh together while continuing the ascent. Their abounding enthusiasm and optimism through the storm helps our group endure the storm with a calm perspective and diligence. Thunder, and then another flash of light, opens the heavens. United, we prevail with patience the giant drops of water amidst the beautiful, lush and green rainforests. Our surroundings seem no longer threatening, but beautiful, mixing culture and harvesting respect and hope through difficulty together.
Tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope. (Romans 5:3-4)
How quickly we return in error to our own devices. As nature regains her composure and turbulent clouds roll past us, we desire to make up for previous lost time as the sun sets. Our stomachs growl and our legs groan. We accelerate our pace partially to keep warm, but mostly due to our impatience. “Poley, poley…poley, poley!” the porters frequently remind. Most of our trekkers accelerate at a quick pace leaving some of the others behind in a smaller group, despite the warnings of our escorts, who were also forced to split up with the two different groups.
The end of day is met unexpectedly with the mysterious fear of a dark, in the frigid night that creeps upon us like a shadow of defeat. Our ears hear the earth moan beneath us, our feet covered in frozen mud. Climbing a steep ascent of the trail, my frostbitten hands feeling for the unprotected roots of a nearby tree found with the aid of my headlamp. “Poley, poley” resonates again in my ears made numb with the cold. Despite continual exhortations, we continue quickly, greedy with empty stomachs seeking to be filled. We know the camp is near. As the terrain becomes steeper, our mountain guide cries more firmly “Poley! Poley!” Our eyes cannot see the narrow ridge ahead.
A sudden panicked voice sounds amidst our group: “Help! Helllllp!” This screeching cry is put to a halt with the strong dark hands of a savior in the night. Abdu dropped everything else he was carrying at the sound of a frantic cry, and now labors to pull a wayward climber back up over the ledge she couldn’t see. With the enormous strength of his only arm, he willingly puts his own life on the line for a careless, disobedient trekker. As bushes are ruffled in the dark night, and grunts of exertion sound from the guide, excitement resonates within our group of still, frightened mountaineers. Success temporarily relieves fear; we know that God’s love accompanies us despite our failure to follow instruction. We have been chastened again for our disobedience and reminded that He will not let us fail if we will heed His guidance.
“Tank God almytee tonight” Abdu says while catching his breath. This near tragedy makes it evident that we are weak and in need of some greater source of guidance in order to progress to the top of Kilimanjaro and to be able to conquer the summits of life. Climbing life’s mountains brings opportunities for wise counsel to be followed or discarded; patience enables agency to be developed with wisdom just as impatience sets the stage for foolishness. We must patiently rely upon our guide!
We continue the night’s adventure once more, now walking on a frozen trail as if it were a path of egg shells, carefully listening to the counsel of our guide with each step. “Poley! Poley!” is all we can think or say or do in hopes that with patience we may avoid another wayward incident. Patience is stillness, carefully listening along the way.
My heartbeat quickens in the freezing conditions as we finally arrive at the first night’s camp. My vision is slightly distorted, and my stomach growls with nausea. My swollen feet carry my shivering body to crawl into the night’s tent with chattering lips. My head pounds with fear. I hope I awake in the morning without icicles on my chin. I am unprepared for the minus 17 degrees Celsius that sleeps by my side. In my shivering slumber I dream of a future adventure…
Climbing a popular peak in Peru a few years after attempting Mt. Kilimanjaro, I have a new appreciation for patience, applying Mt. Kilamanjaro’s lessons. waiting and hoping for the peak’s glorious outlook, while still finding joy in the slow-paced journey. While Wynapichu is a much smaller mountain than Kilimanjaro, it still presents the same challenges that come with a group climb, patiently working together to ascend. With each step I measure my progress, looking down upon the ancient ruins of Machu Pichu below. The thick fog carries an aura of mystery and without resistance I yield my pace to one of caution and safety. I am held captive by the beauty of the peak and its surroundings. My mind wanders, ponders and soars; I take the time to feel the spirit of the mountain commune with my own. Patience enables a spirit to grow, and progress.
Climbing with patience is climbing with hope; the two are inseparable. The word “esperar” in the Spanish language contributes to the relationship between hope and patience with its two definitions: “to wait for,” or “to hope for.” Storm clouds roll in, yet I feel no rush. Diligence carries my group to the top of the ancient Incan Empire where we stand in peace. My senses are heightened as I glance over a cliff, nearing the steep peak. Impatience could bring catastrophic consequences in this moment as I carefully climb the last steps to the summit. Victory! Patience, as with all gospel principles, is rewarded without fail…
Upon my early morning rise, scattered among rocks big and small by God’s omnipotent hand, seeds of truth lay unseen on Mt. Kilimanjaro, humbly hidden by the brilliance of something grandiose, picturesque and magnificent. The new day brings new perspective. Patience requires time and time affords patience. My eyes are opened to wonders overlooked the day before. The beauty and warmth of morning’s first light bring optimism and gradually replace the life-endangering dark despair of night. The hours of darkness our group begrudged poorly with complaint and murmur, were endured by the mountain guides, who remained constant, calm and content. I ask Abdu how he does it. “Practeece” he replies. “I climb dis mountain so many timez…and alwayz God, He be zer.” Patience is enduring well without end, and thus, patience takes practice.
Before beginning our ascent with fresh eyes to see and ears to hear, Abdu approaches our group with a heavy head. His usual sanguine and upbeat persona was covered by uncertainty and concern on his face. We wait for his command to rally us up the mountain together….but it never comes. “We don’t go today up” he shares. Silence…. “We go today down” he speaks softly with disappointment. The executive decision that our group was not strong enough to continue with the difficult terrain and weather ahead, brought disillusionment, distress, and discontent. Frustration escalates to become anger amidst the group, targeting Abdu. “You are not fail!” cried Abdu in an attempt to lift our spirits. “We go!” He would not let us feel defeat. Regretting our previous day’s mistakes, we follow Abdu back down the mountain against our own will. We trust Abdu and we feel his loving concern. Anger in our downtrodden hearts melts away with the rising sun.
Anger can be conquered by developing patience and sincerely desiring to love others more than self. Gordon T. Watts)
Abdu stops to point out flowers of purple, blue, yellow, and bright pink winding their way down from steep cliffs, boulders, and switchbacks. “Zey grow down de mountain togezer slow, and we go ze same way.” He sees what we don’t in the cold morning shade with boundless patience as we descend.
The Lord said, “Ye are not able to abide the presence of God now, neither the ministering of angels; wherefore, continue in patience until ye are perfected.” This is good advice for all of us. (Cecil O. Samuelson)
I patiently await the day of return to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, with active hope that the opportunity to summit presents itself. Retrospectively I see that I was not prepared at the time I attempted to face Africa’s tallest peak, but I also know my climb was not a failure. Before climbing Mount Kilimanjaro I didn’t know what patience was.
I now better understand the need for continual “Poley, poley” reminders in my life, and I strive to follow this counsel on my life’s path. I am now less careless in my approach to each day trying not to pass others by without taking time to look for ways to stop and help. I try not to take for granted many of the beauties around me, as I patiently observe the lovely people and places that make my life grandeur. I still fall short in many ways. I am not void of impatience and there are often times I find my feet running ahead of the guidance I’ve been given in my life’s school, work, and church callings. Yet, I have learned to find joy in the journey up life’s mountains, enduring the storms and stopping to help others along the way. If I proceed patiently—even through multiple attempts –I know God’s loving hand will guide me to the summit of Africa’s roof-top Kilimanjaro in His own time. As I patiently rely upon and follow my Eternal Guide up life’s mountains each day, there is no peak too high to climb.
Be still, and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)