Climbing

I’m staying in Tepotzlán, a Mexican town nestled between mountains at 5700 feet above sea level.

Nestled at 7579 feet above sea level, above the Barrancas de Tepotzlán, is an ancient temple. El Tepozteco was erected for Ometochtli-Tepoxtécatl, an Aztec god whose lore includes drunken rabbits and reminds me of Bacchus.

We can’t see the temple itself from our terrace at the posada—it’s just around that barranca—but we know it’s there.

Last Saturday, we joined throngs of weekenders to climb the 1.5 miles at a 1310-foot incline through barrancas and up to the temple and surrounding grounds.

Thousands of years ago—before steps were carved and stones were set, before there was a hint of a camino—someone made the trek without firm Nikes or rugged Salomons, without first responders leaning against the boulders next to collapsible gurneys, without knowing what they’d find at the peak of these unforgiving barrancas.

Between 1300 and 1500 A.D., someone deemed the climb worth the risk, and then, at the top, worth the effort to move stone and flex muscle to build a temple.

It’s a modest temple in the family of Aztec temples. But its position above the valley is grand.

We climb.

The ascent begins along a street that becomes increasingly colorful and crowded with tianguis and ambulatory vendors. The street morphs into stone stairways, and those soon devolve into stone rubble that has been packed down by thousands of feet. Much of the camino is treacherous and ankle challenging. The yellow-jacketed first responders are stationed along the trail for a reason.

Between twists and harrumphs up two- to three-foot steps, we gasp ¿Cuánto más? (the adult equivalent of Are we there yet?). The vendors perched on rocks selling bottled water, tissue, Snickers, and paletas de fruta nod and smile. For forty-five minutes, their answer is media hora: thirty minutes.

The stones are indifferent to our drops of sweat and screaming thighs.

Finally, we see the gate and the metal stairway. Apparently, the last bit of the climb is too challenging for modern-day temple pilgrims, so these grated steps were installed.

The View at the Top

I push against my knees to straighten my body and take a good look at this sacred temple we came to see.

As I study the structure, my first thought is my physiotherapist (you’re welcome, Rachel).

My knee.

I’m less than six-months post-surgery. My knee is not 100%, not even close.

Consider, however, that two years ago, when I hiked with my children in Shenandoah National Forest along a much less treacherous trail, my knee couldn’t. I had to turn around and go back.

But I climbed to the sacred top this year.

I’m still healing, but I’m significantly better than I was two years ago.

I’m still climbing. There are more challenges.

Even here, over 1200 miles away from home, family, work, and creative wildfires lap at my peace of mind. I’ll face these challenges, one step up a boulder, another up a stone, then a flight of stairs at a time. There are vendors with hydration and sugar relief along the way. First responders on the ready.

Harrumph. One more boulder.

I don’t know what I’ll find at the top of some of the challenges I’m facing. But my bones, my new knee, my lungs, my heart are ready to meet the winding path that leads to clarity, to something sacred, worthy, holy at the top.

We’re all climbing. Even when we don’t know what’s at the top, we climb. With each new day, we climb up a steepness in our lives to face some challenge.

Sometimes we discover that the thing we’re climbing toward isn’t nearly as important as discovering that we can climb.

And the view from that point is grand.

What steepness are you climbing today?

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2026