I'm not the type of person that ever thinks about giving up or being defeated, but I know I will be defeated - many times in my life. I also know I should accept these trials with pure joy all the while trying to discern God's lesson for me through them.
I went into this expedition knowing I have suffered from altitude sickness in the past. Anytime I've approached 13,000ft and higher I got sick. I prayed that it would not affect me this time or that I would be able to take medicine to mitigate any affects even though I dislike any medicine dependencies.
We moved onto the mountain on Monday to live and acclimatize at 13,000ft in our base camp hut. The valley we had been staying was at 7,000ft. Upon arriving to the hut I instantly starting feeling the affects of the 6,000ft ascent we just made. The symptoms were all too common as I've had them before...nausea, headache, loss of appetite, general malaise. It seemed that every minute I was feeling worse and worse. I began to worry if I would even be able to summit in just a day and a half. Our guide, Tap Richards, had already gained my respect and trust given his experience and interaction with our group. I decided not to take the altitude meds and go naturally. He confidently explained that what I was feeling was normal for some and he wasn't concerned yet. I felt completely miserable though. Through the night and for the next 12 or so hours I was suffering from being at this altitude. At times, some symptoms would let up and I would feel encouraged only to have them reappear later.
When you lie awake at night sick, on the side of a mountain, in a foreign country listening to 20 knot winds batter your cage - your faith is forced to a test. I was finally out of my comfort zone. My earthly strength was zapped, and I was as far away from home as I've ever been participating in what some would say isn't the safest sport. I had to give my safety and the entire outcome of this trip to God and come to terms with the fact I may not summit. I actually convinced myself that night that I wouldn't be able to make it to the 18,510ft peak. I prayed that God would be clear to me as to which point to turn back if that was His will but I was still going to attempt to summit Elbrus.
Our summit day came in the early hours of Wednesday morning. We all woke and prepared for this momentous day. I still felt sick but slowly was improving - I was at a solid 85%. We started our ascent at 3:00am. I know the adrenaline and anxiety masked some of my symptoms that morning. Just two hours into the ascent I found myself on all fours throwing up on the side of the mountain at about 14,500ft. I was scared, worried, disappointed... I called for Tap, our guide, and his response was "I've seen plenty of guys throw up and still summit. Try to make it through at least one more leg."
Was God telling me to stop here or reminding me to rely on him?
I continued on.
The next few hours can only be described as an answer to prayer and God pouring out his infinite grace on a submissive heart...yet again. While I was still tired and becoming more exhausted the effects of the altitude were lessening the higher I went. I didn't understand. Several of us just barely made it into the saddle of Mt. Elbrus due to the altitude and fatigue our bodies were feeling. At our rest stop in the saddle I saw and felt strength come over our team that could only be described as supernatural. What a humbling time. We all decided here that we go to the top as a team and celebrate the summit together or not at all.
An hour and half later we celebrated. The Last Well Team sat on top of the highest peak in the European continent 18,510ft into the sky. This meant 40,000 Liberians would soon have access to clean water!
All Glory to God.
Zach Casper