On a glacier is a bad place to quit

I’m back!

You haven't heard from me because I was out of the country with my wife. I'll spare you a diary of our trip because that’s lame - who gives a crap what I did on vacation?

However, there is one story worth telling.

Towards the end of our trip, we were in a little town called Franz Josef. It was winter there, so the sun didn’t rise until 8:30am, and it set by 5pm. We wanted to do a hike to the glacier, and as previously mentioned, there is limited daylight. My wife went on AllTrails and found that the best hike for viewing the Franz Josef Glacier was Roberts Point Track, approximately 7 miles over multiple sway bridges, streams, and a lot of rock face carved by glaciers. Estimated time out and back: 5.5 to 6 hours.

Specifically, the description states not to hike when it's raining. Of course, it's a rainforest and it's almost always raining.

At any rate, we start at 9:15 am, it’s grey, and there is no one around. In fact, we hiked for over 2 hours before we saw anyone. The first people we see...pass us. They came up right behind me and scared the shit out of me, because after two hours of not seeing anyone, I certainly didn’t expect to see someone coming from behind.

We’re from Colorado! We hike much higher mountains at twice the altitude! Who the heck is passing us?

People half our age, that’s who! This couple was from Australia, and they were “flying up” behind us. It was my first indication that, well, I am not as young and as fit as I think I am.

We make it to the summit in a little over 2 1/2 hours, and it is absolutely breathtaking. Everyone knows what it is like to see something spectacular, and that there is no way to describe this view (really, most of the hike). Pictures don’t do it. Videos don’t do it. You simply have to be there to get the magnificence of what’s being witnessed. This was one of those times.

As we approached the top, it began to drizzle, and at the summit viewing deck, there was a light rain. By this time another couple had joined us at the summit (also outpacing my wife and I). Now there were three couples at the summit platform, and we were still the oldest by at least 20 years.

The light rain continued on our descent. Right as we headed down, a 24-year-old German went past us on his way to the top. How do I know he was German and 24? Because not more than 20-30 minutes later, he was lapping us on the way down, and I asked him.

As we headed into the next section, we were moving even slower because: a) we were descending on rocks and large boulders; b) it was now wet. I fell twice, but fortunately not too hard. My wife was ahead of me, but out of view. Next thing I hear is the clanking of her hiking poles as she ate it. I called out to her, and she said she was fine - just some bruising.

Then I slipped again on something. At this point, I am pretty frustrated, like WTF? I have never had such a hard time on a hike.

Not more than 10 minutes later, we are on a large piece of rock - maybe 100 yards in length - but it isn’t flat, we are descending down this piece of rock with a few small divots to occasionally try and secure our footing. Then there are also big potmarks, maybe big enough to hold a few basketballs, that are filled with glacier and rainwater. The couple from Australia has passed me at this point. They were moving pretty quickly - slower than their ascent, but still at a good pace. I think it's a good idea to follow their line (they are now out of sight, but I watched where they walked down). I move a little too quickly, divert my attention, and I fall again - this time I tumble multiple times and end up in one of the bigger pools of glacier water.

My wife happened to turn around as I fell and said that I had no expression on my face during the tumble. She almost thought I was joking and doing it on purpose. She was also terrified I was going to keep sliding and break something, with no way to get me out and down the mountain. (Of course, zero cell phone service)

When I finally came to rest with half my body in the pool of glacier water, I didn’t move (which also freaked my wife out). I was simply...mad. I was beyond upset and frustrated. The pain in my hands and hip was almost secondary. I was more focused on quitting - how the hell was I going to get off this damn mountain? We were only 25% of the way down, and the thought of the next 75% being like the first 25% was simply unbearable. Oh, and now half of my body is soaking wet with ice-cold water.

Now, this was not Killiminjaro, which my wife trekked 1 1/2 years ago while fighting a bacteria-resistant E. coli infection. (When she finally got home, it took her almost a month to recover.) This was not Everest, or thousands of other more difficult and technical climbs. But it was the mountain I was currently on, and the one I needed to deal with right then and there, and so far, the descent was not going well at all.

All I wanted to do was quit. Like really, for a long moment I sat there in the pool of water, not moving at all.  And I was mad.

Hmmmm...what a familiar feeling!

How many times as a real estate agent, speaker, author...have I felt like quitting? Too many to count.

I have been saying for almost two years that the market is going to get harder. It’s still hard, and likely to still get harder! Some of you are in markets that have long since slowed, some of you are in markets that are still seller markets.

In general, nothing is going to happen anytime soon that will make business easier. One could say, like me on that hike down from the Franz Josef Glacier, we are only 25% of the way through.

Quitting on the mountain is a terrible idea. You will freeze and die. The only place you can quit is after you finish. In real estate, quitting in the middle of a tough market is the same as giving up on the mountain.

What needs to happen to get you down the mountain?
(metaphorically speaking, of course :-)