I jolted awake from the sound of the engine turning off. The time came for my father and me to hike Lassen Peak. I felt like not getting out and staying in a warm car with the sun’s rays beating down on me as it rose over Lassen Peak. The sun made me feel warm even in the cold mountains of California. My dad came to the other side of the car and pulled the door open as the cold air overcame the warm sunlight. I hopped out of the rented Honda Accord, half-awake. I gathered my gloves, beanie, and boots and wondered why it was necessary to bring so much. It was only 20 degrees and the trail looked dry with no snow. As we approached the entrance of the hike, the pinnacle of Mount Lassen shimmered and receded above us. The hike would take most of the day, and just like college life, I had no clue what would be in store for me.

Before we even set foot on the trail, my dad turned and asked, “Do you have your spikes and gloves with you?”

I replied, “Yes, but was that necessarily the point of bringing items that are not needed.”

“You’ll need them, I promise you that,” my dad said.

I asked him again, “Are you sure, because now I have to make sure to not spike myself when I take them off my backpack?”

My dad looked over his shoulder at me and smirked. I was given a choice to continue questioning the usefulness of the spikes with no snow in sight. I could ruin the whole day if I continuously showed my attitude toward them. I put the matter aside in my mind and was excited about the challenge ahead. I looked around to take in the environment. The ground was red-brown dirt mixed with broken-up shards of limestone rocks. Maple and oak trees towered on each side of the path and stones the size of books guided us up. This is how a trail starts. You have instructions and guidelines for every step. Before college, that is how I would describe my life. Staying inside the lines is how a child feels comfortable while learning what life is like, according to the standards around them.

The dirt trail continued upward for another 30 minutes until the trees became few. It seemed a wildfire had spread through the area a couple of years earlier. As my eyes moved up the trees, I noted the ones still standing were all marred with black-and-white ash. With the forest thinning out, the dirt turned into stepping stones as we started a steeper ascent up the mountain.

My water was about half-empty. I still had spikes attached to my backpack. The trail became less clear, as we were not following a direct path, but rather a choice of how to get from point A to B. The trail blended in with the volcanic rock around it. The drop off on each side steadily increased. Our goal was just to get to the next checkpoint of the trail.

The path’s blending with the natural rock is like college life. The stones on each side of the trail were rapidly being stripped away. Continuing toward the peak increasingly depended on my own reasoning. Many feel college contains a direct four-year path to a career. Believing this makes sense for people who know what their career is going to be from the start. But for most, college is a time to explore and do some trial and error to find out who they are. I relate the disappearing path to college life giving a person a taste of self-choice. College gives me guidelines, but not in the sense of a parent or institution rigidly making me do certain things. College states: here is how you get to the next step. It’s your choice whether and how fast you want to get to the next trailhead marker.

Nearing the top of the mountain, the wind started to pick up. My face no longer had feeling, and my hands were buried deep in my pockets. As I looked ahead, we plateaued into a mile-long stretch of flat rock. The pinnacle was in sight when a 45-foot section of snow covered the path ahead. On top of that, there was now a 400-foot drop-off to my right. My father turned his shoulder and smirked saying, “Looks like we need our spikes to cross this section.”

I didn’t reply, and in defeat put on my spikes. The spikes were an item and ability I had disregarded until needed. When the time came I was thankful for the spikes, but in the back of my mind wondered what I would do without them.

Spikes are examples of items being taken for granted. During numerous experiences in college, I have been thankful that I had abilities taught to me before college. For me, these include playing sports, navigating around Arizona, and changing a flat tire. Originally I thought they would have no impact on my life, but when they are called on I’m thankful. The same goes for connections that I make with family and friends — in the future, I know I can rely on their support. The spikes are symbols that everything can be useful as long as you carry it with you.

The spikes were strapped tight to my shoes to the point that my blood flow was cut off. I looked over the edge at the sheer drop-off. My mind rushed with thoughts on how to avoid falling into the sharp rocks below. The edge of snow had about a foot’s width to walk on, meaning I had to shuffle across. I was doubtful when taking my first step, until I felt secure with my spikes digging deep into the icy snow. I dug my hands deep into the snowy bank to my left, giving myself extra stability. The last thought in my mind was how I lost feeling in both my hands which felt buried in a foot in the snow. My body refused to acknowledge any feeling of cold wind around me. I was focused on getting myself across this cliff. Reaching the other side, I felt relieved. The section of the cliff I had shuffled across showed an unexpected hurdle to reach the top of Lassen Peak.

In a shock of events, the spikes did help me cross the snowy edge with ease and reach the top of the mountain. I let my legs collapse under me and took a seat near the edge of the mountain. The sun was directly above my head and winds started to pick up. I pulled my hood up to keep my hair from blowing into my eyes. The pinnacle of the mountain from my point of view showed a lush green forest 100 miles west, intersected by a curvy road. The gorgeous view brought the serenity I lack day-to-day. I felt comfortable sitting at the top for what felt like forever. When I turned south, I beheld larger mountains I hadn’t seen before. My mind switched from feeling accomplished for what I had just hiked to desiring to go further. Once I graduate from college, the knowledge I have gained will be the base upon which I grow. I climb my mountains to reach a personal goal, but when I reach the top, I always find more to life than my initial thoughts. I will have to find my own path after college to continue climbing.