February 26, 2025 • 21 mins
In this deeply personal episode of Green Tea Party Radio, host Katie Zakrzewski takes listeners on a journey through the mountains—both literal and metaphorical. She shares a powerful story from her college years about a near-disastrous hike in the Pyrenees that transformed her perspective on nature, faith, and the power of perseverance. Through humor, struggle, and unexpected moments of grace (including an encounter with a very unexpected guide—a donkey), Katie reflects on how our connection to the natural world can deepen our purpose and drive for conservation.
Key Topics Discussed: ✅ How a study abroad trip to Spain led to an unexpected environmental awakening ✅ The power of nature in shaping faith and personal growth ✅ Finding humor and resilience in challenging situations ✅ The importance of community and friendship in navigating hardship ✅ Lessons from nature that inspire conservative approaches to conservation
Action Steps: 🔹 Reflect on a personal experience where nature changed your perspective 🔹 Contact your member of Congress and share why you care about conservation 🔹 Share your environmental story with Green Tea Party Radio on social media or email 🔹 Find ways to connect with nature in your daily life, whether through hiking, gardening, or conservation efforts
Join the Conversation! 📧 Email us: info@greenteapartyradio.com 📲 Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter (X), and TikTok 🎧 Want early access to episodes & exclusive merch? Visit: greenteapartyradio.com 📡 Want to bring Green Tea Party Radio to your college station? Let us know!
Disclaimer: Green Tea Party Radio is an independent project and does not represent the views of the Diocese of Little Rock, Catholic Climate Covenant, or any of our employer
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
>> Katie (00:00):
Hello and welcome to the Green Tea Party, where we discuss
conservative solutions to environmental problems.
I'm Katie Zachreski, and today I'll guide you through
complex issues and provide strategies to address them,
all while remaining faithful to my conservative values.
It'll be a good time, so grab your mugs and
we'll pour the tea. I've had a lot of people ask me over the
(00:20):
years about some of the events that led
to me being an environmentalist, or, you know,
a self proclaimed environmentalist. And there's only
been a handful of moments in my life where I think that I was
really on a grand level
at awe, uh, in
creation, in complete wonder
(00:41):
of creation. And I might not have known it at
the time, but I did after the fact. In
fact, I recently, uh, had the opportunity
to write a guest piece for a Sonomia
Quarterly, IQ, as it's called. They're a pretty
cool publication and I had the
opportunity to tell them about one of those times that I ended
up being in awe of God's creation and eventually
(01:03):
an environmentalist. So I figured I would read that
piece for you all today. Something a little different than what we normally
do.
Um, but I figure, you know, it's cold outside, it's snowing here,
which is a rarity in Arkansas, and I'm, I'm feeling something
a little different today. So with the snow
trickling outside my window,
gently falling onto the ground around
(01:24):
me, enjoy this article that I
wrote for iq. That time I
almost died in the Pyrenees mountains. The Lord
said to Moses, come up to me on the
mountain. Exodus
24:12. Some of my co workers were
recently discussing a pilgrimage hike that they planned on taking
in Spain and Portugal. One of my co workers mentioned
(01:46):
that there was something about working strenuously out in nature
that brings people closer to God. This was something that
I had unintentionally experienced
firsthand. Several years ago in college
when I was in significantly better, albeit still out of
shape, I was given a unique opportunity. My
scholarship program paid for me to study abroad in the country of my
(02:06):
choosing. Within reason, of course. I'd never
left the country before, been on a plane or owned a passport, and
never would have were it not for the generosity of my scholarship
program. So all of this seemed daunting.
But my therapist had told me to try something new and this
seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity.
My good friend and classmate Ethan, um, was also in the program
(02:27):
with me and was trying to figure out where to go.
We decided that it would be easier if we studied abroad
Together, I was a decent student who did well in
my Spanish courses, and Ethan was an experienced
traveler. We would help each other survive the
summer. We selected San Sebastian, Spain,
as our study abroad destination, enamored by pictures of rock
faces, sandy beaches and lush greenery in the
(02:49):
peninsula city. Soon we enlisted the help of
Ethan's mother and a family travel agent, got our
passports, packed our bags, and we were well on our way to
Spain with a couple hundred dollars left over.
The first week there was challenging in many ways. I
found out the hard way that I was terrifying of flying.
I found out the hard way that I was terrified of flying.
(03:09):
Although in my defense, how else would I have, uh, found out?
And the anxiety nearly killed me. After landing
in the tiny airport terminal on a propeller plane that we were
convinced was going to crash, the only other American
on the plane asked us what we were studying there.
We're in the Spanish language immersion program, Ethan said,
pleased for the delay in needing to use another language.
(03:29):
A, uh, look of confusion flickered across the woman's
face. You must be mistaken, she said.
They don't speak Spanish in San Sebastian. They speak
Basque. I hadn't even heard of Basque until a
month before when I was flipping through the college travel
catalog. And now I was being told that I would be
communicating predominantly in it. In a complete
panic and faced with the temptation of going into cardiac
(03:52):
arrest, Ethan and I decided to wing it. Not that there was
really any other choice. Miraculously, we found
our rendezvous point, went through orientation, toured our
campus, and passed out in our summer apartment.
We spent that first week going to class and making friends.
The rest of our cohort was from Nevada, Arizona,
Idaho and Minnesota. We were the only two
(04:13):
Southerners, and our accents were often made fun of. Our
friends would laugh at the way we said oil ol, and
we'd laugh at them for the way they said bag. Bag.
We were also several years older than the rest of our
cohort. When Ethan and I heard that several of our
classmates were planning a hike, we were eager to elevate
our status in their eyes. Never mind that the three flights
(04:33):
of steps to our apartment nearly killed us every morning and
afternoon. We couldn't be the old non binge drinking
Southerners who were about to graduate. We had to be the
cool, otherworldly students who would bravely
lead the pack and mentor the others with our overflowing
wisdom. We had to go. Plus,
I was eager to be a good noodle and obey my therapist wishes. It
is worth. It is worth mentioning that
(04:56):
while some of God's Creatures were built for speed and endurance.
I, without a doubt, am, um, not one of those creatures. I
was built for sedentary luxury and I look every bit
of it too. I hated working out. Still do. But I
love nature. I'd never been on a hike and was thinking
of backing out when one of the girls in our cohort explained that
the trail that they were taking was an easy one. It would be
(05:17):
a nice slow and steady outing and we'd
leisurely be done by lunch.
Spain had been full of unexpected and panic
inducing surprises and alas, the hike would be no
different. I was generally stressed,
homesick, still jet lagged, and had horrible
blisters on my feet caused by the several mile walk
(05:38):
from my apartment to school when a group of 10 or so
of us got off the bus just across the border in
France. The plan was to do a little shopping
in the French market district, then hike through the lower base
of the Pyrenees mountains across the border from France back into
Spain, eat lunch and take a bus home to
enjoy the rest of our Friday. I later found out that the
(05:59):
path that we were hiking was part of the El, uh, Camino de Santiago
pilgrimage trail that my co workers in the present were
preparing to hike as we made our way
into the forest along the mountainside. Things were
great. We'd enjoyed some snacks and bought some water
bottles from the hiker's cantina. The weather was cool and
the skies were clear. As we hiked deeper into the
forest, we all soon began to wonder aloud why this trail
(06:21):
seemed so different from the map. The terrain gradually
became more difficult. A heavy storm the night before
had reduced the trails to slick mud. Our group
was slipping and sliding, sometimes climbing on our hands and
knees up a slope. Soon we were four
hours into our, uh, one hour light hike. When we all sat down to
eat some of our breakfast leftovers and passed around a couple of
water bottles. One of our classmates picked up the
(06:44):
map and realized with growing horror that we weren't on an
actual trail. Our actual trail was miles
away and the one we'd started on had been washed out during
the storm the night before. To make matters
worse, the Spanish countryside that had stayed nice and cool
for us throughout the week was now hovering in the upper 90s
with high humidity. Immediately, I
(07:04):
felt a sense of dread creep across the makeshift
camp. I saw in my head aerial news footage
of Spanish rescuers struggling to cram my overweight
body onto a narrow gurney and praying as it was
hoisted up into the rescue helicopter with the Spanish headline
Fat American Student dies in the Pyrenees mountains,
men in suits with sunglasses and earpieces would mumble three to four
(07:24):
different languages into their microphones to signal that the
poster child for American obesity was laboriously
making her way from one medical checkpoint to another. David
Buer would inform viewers at home of my condition, while
teenagers who had only known about me for a week would reveal
details about me to the whole world. She had a penchant for
Cheez its and always ate her homework, they would say. Then
she came on that hike with us and died. I
(07:47):
audibly groaned at the thought of being the laughingstock of
not only my class, but my country and
the world. As we stood to continue our
trek, I mumbled, God, please
don't let me get med flighted out of these mountains.
Please do not let this become an international
incident.
It's worth noting that while I'd grown up a devout Polish
(08:09):
Catholic, this was at a time in my young adult life when I was
skeptical of all things omnipotent. I
had my own Let me re Let me. Let me redo
that one, Peterson. It's worth
noting that while I'd grown up a devout Polish Catholic,
this was at a time in my young adult life when I was skeptical of
all things omnipotent. I had my own apartment and
(08:30):
my own hobbies and my own things going on in life, and mom and dad
couldn't make me go to Mass anymore. I
began to wonder if this was some sort of divine
retribution. I'm not sure what we were
hoping for as we continued along in our hike. A
sign? A fellow hiker, or some form of civilization.
Some of us were doing better than others, and I was definitely doing the
worst, taking extra long breaks on level ground,
(08:52):
panting and soaking in sweat, my mouth so dry
that my tongue clung to the roof of my mouth
as if someone had flipped a switch. I was 10 years
old in a white altar server robe. Candles stand
in my small hands, praying the stationers of the cross
during Lent. I heard the other parishioner say in
unison, my strength is dried up and my tongue
(09:14):
clings to my jaws. You lay me in the dust
of death, Katie. I
looked up at the shadow cast over me. Ethan held
out a water bottle.
Are you all right? You slipped. He snapped
off a large staff like walking stick made out of oak and
handed it to me. He helped me up and I peeled chunks
of mud off, thanking him. Looks like there's
(09:35):
a clearing ahead, he said. We made our
way up the path and emerged into the clearing. On the
hill were the remnants of a Rock wall and a stone slab on the
ground indicated that we had crossed the border back into
Spain. With the sun in the afternoon sky,
sandwiched between the forest and the mountains, our group
peered down at civilization below and began charting out a path to
(09:55):
reach the little farming communities that we saw a couple of miles
away. We were renewed with hope.
Civilization was in sight, but
the path would be a treacherous one.
As we made our way back into the forest, opting for the cool of
the shade, we made our way across the most difficult terrain
yet. Our talking had largely stopped. We just wanted
to go home. I
(10:18):
wondered if Moses had struggled climbing Mount Sinai to
receive the Ten Commandments at God's behest. If God
told me to climb a mountain to meet with him, there's a good chance I'd have
declined the invite. I thought to myself. They
say that God often qualifies the called, but
qualifying me would have included a gym membership. At least.
Sinai had probably been dry. One of
us slipped, and a, uh, domino effect followed. We all
(10:40):
came toppling down the ravine, slipping and bouncing and rolling and
flopping, several of us strewn yards away from each other
like falling acorns. I tumbled further from
everyone else. The bigger they are, the farther they fall, I suppose,
and landed with an oof in the leaves. Jesus
wept. The shortest scripture
verse describes a son of God overcome with grief at
(11:01):
the loss of his friend Lazarus, at the sight of seeing him in
his tomb. How moved did the Lamb of God
have to be to weep? Even more so?
How close had he been to his friend to be so moved by his death
that he was saddened at his loss?
I thought of my family and friends an ocean away, going
about their everyday lives in their native language and familiar
(11:21):
spaces. My head went through the usual
roll call of people that I asked about whenever I called my parents
over. Wi fi. Standing in the green tiled kitchen of our
apartment because it was the only room that had enough signal to connect
the fuzzy call, I thought of
my mom and dad and younger brother and the family dog, Bosco,
and the stray cat that I took care of, Gato, who would
disappear not long after my return.
(11:44):
I thought about my great uncles who were like grandfathers to
me, my old church friends, my enemies, my
exes, my love interests, my co workers, my
classmates, my roommate and her pets, and all of the
friends back home, none of whom were about to die
stranded in the Pyrenees mountains of all
places. I hated myself for deciding to be
adventurous. I hated the plane. I hated the
(12:06):
homesickness, the blisters on my Feet, the
overabundance of coursework. The one time I
decided to try something new and stop burying my nose in my
textbooks, I felt. I thought I was going to
die. My books and my couch and
my bed and my desk and an assortment of fuzzy friends
were all that I knew. I branched out and I defied the
cosmos. I was being punished for stepping out of line.
(12:28):
I felt like Bilbo Baggins in the Hobbit. Now you're in
for it at last, Katie Zachreski. I wish I was at home
in my nice hole by the fire with the kettle just beginning to
sing. Surrounded by
the overgrown darkness of the forest floor. I
wept hot, fat tears dripping
down my face as I made pathetic little sobbing and
(12:48):
shuddering noises. I wasn't well versed in the
Bible and I could have stood to pay more attention at Mass
growing up, but I thought of that other place
where Jesus wept while he experienced
agony. In the Garden of Gethsemane
on the night before his death, the lamb
wept, overcome by anguish,
worry and fear. His friends,
(13:11):
who had accompanied him from town to town and broken bread with him just
hours before had betrayed him and
disappeared. His enemies,
physical, mental and spiritual, were
closing in. The hour of
reckoning was at hand.
Knelt in the darkness, eyes cast to heaven,
Jesus had prayed, lord,
(13:33):
if it is possible, let this cup, um,
pass me by. Nevertheless, let
it be as you will. Your will be
done. What bravery
it must have taken to look suffering in the eye and to
challenge that, uh, suffering to do its worst. Any
evil forces must have been shaken to their core. At that moment,
(13:53):
the fight was on. I wiped my eyes
and I spoke softly. God,
please give me a sign. If you help
me out of these mountains, I'll do whatever you will.
Your will be done. Please don't let me die
here. Please let me make it out of here alive.
Please show me a sign. It doesn't matter
what, but please, please,
(14:16):
please give me a
sign. I must commend our Lord. He has
a wonderful sense of humor. I felt something
tugging on my hair and I looked up. There I
was, face to face with the wet nose and
hairy muzzle of an old gray
donkey. He was lazily chopping
away. He was lazily chomping away at my frizzy
(14:38):
hair, seemingly pleased at the rare follicle
delicacy his face relatively relaxed at having found
a whole troop of exhausted, muddy college kids in his
neighborhood. How a whole donkey managed to sneak up on
me and begin devouring my hair in the midst of my anguish I will never
know. But the predicament was so bizarre that I found myself
laughing for the first time since the plane landed a week ago. And
I couldn't deny the importance of this sign.
(15:01):
As my classmates dusted themselves off and made their way over to
me. I'm certain they thought that I was having a mental breakdown.
But I realized in a moment of humor induced
clarity that the donkey had reins around
its shoulders. Civilization was closer than
we thought. I scrambled to my feet and I pet the
donkey. Please take us home. I don't care where that is.
Just take us back to wherever you came from.
(15:24):
With a flick of his ears, the donkey turned and led
us. With a flick of his ears, the donkey
turned and led us around the corner into a set of
steep stairs carved into the rat face.
He moseyed up the grassy hill beside it, disappearing
over the hill's crest, my, uh, guardian angel flicking his tail
behind him. Now
(15:44):
all of us, filled with determination, clambered and
climbed up the steps, often on hands and knees,
using my walking stick to hoist each other up when our
palms became too slick with sweat. Heaving, hoeing,
grunting. When we stepped off the
top step, we felt that familiar feeling
of freshly paved asphalt beneath our muddy
(16:04):
shoes. We all looked down,
panting, and then looked at one another. We all grinned and
began to laugh and cheer in celebration, likely looking completely
unhinged to the unsuspecting Basque farmers who saw
us emerge from the forest just moments ago. The sign
along the road read Zagora Mordi.
The village had a single street leading through it, with a
(16:26):
row of old villa style buildings on each
side. Behind those buildings were scenes
out of a painting. Lush
green, rolling hills and valleys rolled
in earthy waves under the piercing blue sky.
Even the fat white clouds couldn't compare to the
fluffy white sheep that dotted the green
hillside, grazing.
(16:47):
As if we didn't just spend the entire day fighting for our lives and
sanity in the forest below. I'm certain
that if I play my cards right and make it to heaven, it will
look just like that Basque village.
We made our way inside a small restaurant that late
afternoon, and I left my walking stick outside the door
for the next traveler who may have needed it. We all
(17:07):
sat inside, and miraculously, the restaurant owner
spoke English, knew our Basque teacher, and began to make
phone calls to the university, which was by now frantically searching
for us and calling our families and home universities back in
America. Together at the table,
we feasted no longer as classmates, but
as good friends. I began to
(17:28):
reflect over the next few years on my experience in the
mountains on my humanity, suffering
and the importance of friends to help us through our trials
as well as the beauty of nature. While I
grappled with my faith for years, and to some extent I
still do, my faith has improved with
time. Now I try to share my personal experiences
with others who often feel lost in the sea of life too.
(17:51):
Things will get better, and when they do,
remember all the things in your life worth being thankful
for. Since
Zagrumurti and the Pyrenees, there have
been plenty of metaphorical mountains in my life,
seemingly herculean tasks and challenges that
would have been impossible by myself. But with
help from friends and family and the lamb himself,
(18:14):
I've been fortunate to find my way through the
mountains and into greener
pastures. A little something different for you today. I hope you
enjoyed that. That was not just to flex my writing and
storytelling skills, but to let you know that you can find hope in even
the strangest places if you survive the encounter. Of course I'm
very thank thankful to have survived my encounter and to
have been given a chance to better appreciate nature and the
(18:35):
world around us. I realize now that my co workers were
right. It's under these strenuous circumstances out in nature
that we better come to appreciate the things that God has given
us. Just some action steps for you today. As
always, contact your member of Congress and let them know that
you're a young conservative who's concerned about climate
change. And if you're tired of doing that, I encourage you
(18:56):
to share your environmentalist story with us either on
social media or over email and share with us,
you know, what was your eureka moment. Have you had an experience
like this before where you know, you were able to find pain
and. Or let me try that again where, where you were able
to find beauty and great pain, or maybe, you know, just
through a difficult circumstance you were able to better appreciate
(19:16):
the world around you? Um, and deepen your appreciation
for the environment. Feel free to send us that story.
Our Twitter is GTP radio
show. You can also email us at
infoeenteapartyradio for you, our
listener. Email us with your thoughts. Our email is
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(19:39):
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(20:00):
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(20:20):
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for listening and I look forward to seeing you in greener
pastures. Thanks.
Peterson.
Hello and welcome to the Green Tea Party, where we discuss
conservative solutions to environmental problems.
I'm Katie Zachreski, and today I'll guide you through
complex issues and provide strategies to address them,
all while remaining faithful to my conservative values.
It'll be a good time, so grab your mugs and
we'll pour the tea. I've had a lot of people ask me over the
(00:20):
years about some of the events that led
to me being an environmentalist, or, you know,
a self proclaimed environmentalist. And there's only
been a handful of moments in my life where I think that I was
really on a grand level
at awe, uh, in
creation, in complete wonder
(00:41):
of creation. And I might not have known it at
the time, but I did after the fact. In
fact, I recently, uh, had the opportunity
to write a guest piece for a Sonomia
Quarterly, IQ, as it's called. They're a pretty
cool publication and I had the
opportunity to tell them about one of those times that I ended
up being in awe of God's creation and eventually
(01:03):
an environmentalist. So I figured I would read that
piece for you all today. Something a little different than what we normally
do.
Um, but I figure, you know, it's cold outside, it's snowing here,
which is a rarity in Arkansas, and I'm, I'm feeling something
a little different today. So with the snow
trickling outside my window,
gently falling onto the ground around
(01:24):
me, enjoy this article that I
wrote for iq. That time I
almost died in the Pyrenees mountains. The Lord
said to Moses, come up to me on the
mountain. Exodus
24:12. Some of my co workers were
recently discussing a pilgrimage hike that they planned on taking
in Spain and Portugal. One of my co workers mentioned
(01:46):
that there was something about working strenuously out in nature
that brings people closer to God. This was something that
I had unintentionally experienced
firsthand. Several years ago in college
when I was in significantly better, albeit still out of
shape, I was given a unique opportunity. My
scholarship program paid for me to study abroad in the country of my
(02:06):
choosing. Within reason, of course. I'd never
left the country before, been on a plane or owned a passport, and
never would have were it not for the generosity of my scholarship
program. So all of this seemed daunting.
But my therapist had told me to try something new and this
seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity.
My good friend and classmate Ethan, um, was also in the program
(02:27):
with me and was trying to figure out where to go.
We decided that it would be easier if we studied abroad
Together, I was a decent student who did well in
my Spanish courses, and Ethan was an experienced
traveler. We would help each other survive the
summer. We selected San Sebastian, Spain,
as our study abroad destination, enamored by pictures of rock
faces, sandy beaches and lush greenery in the
(02:49):
peninsula city. Soon we enlisted the help of
Ethan's mother and a family travel agent, got our
passports, packed our bags, and we were well on our way to
Spain with a couple hundred dollars left over.
The first week there was challenging in many ways. I
found out the hard way that I was terrifying of flying.
I found out the hard way that I was terrified of flying.
(03:09):
Although in my defense, how else would I have, uh, found out?
And the anxiety nearly killed me. After landing
in the tiny airport terminal on a propeller plane that we were
convinced was going to crash, the only other American
on the plane asked us what we were studying there.
We're in the Spanish language immersion program, Ethan said,
pleased for the delay in needing to use another language.
(03:29):
A, uh, look of confusion flickered across the woman's
face. You must be mistaken, she said.
They don't speak Spanish in San Sebastian. They speak
Basque. I hadn't even heard of Basque until a
month before when I was flipping through the college travel
catalog. And now I was being told that I would be
communicating predominantly in it. In a complete
panic and faced with the temptation of going into cardiac
(03:52):
arrest, Ethan and I decided to wing it. Not that there was
really any other choice. Miraculously, we found
our rendezvous point, went through orientation, toured our
campus, and passed out in our summer apartment.
We spent that first week going to class and making friends.
The rest of our cohort was from Nevada, Arizona,
Idaho and Minnesota. We were the only two
(04:13):
Southerners, and our accents were often made fun of. Our
friends would laugh at the way we said oil ol, and
we'd laugh at them for the way they said bag. Bag.
We were also several years older than the rest of our
cohort. When Ethan and I heard that several of our
classmates were planning a hike, we were eager to elevate
our status in their eyes. Never mind that the three flights
(04:33):
of steps to our apartment nearly killed us every morning and
afternoon. We couldn't be the old non binge drinking
Southerners who were about to graduate. We had to be the
cool, otherworldly students who would bravely
lead the pack and mentor the others with our overflowing
wisdom. We had to go. Plus,
I was eager to be a good noodle and obey my therapist wishes. It
is worth. It is worth mentioning that
(04:56):
while some of God's Creatures were built for speed and endurance.
I, without a doubt, am, um, not one of those creatures. I
was built for sedentary luxury and I look every bit
of it too. I hated working out. Still do. But I
love nature. I'd never been on a hike and was thinking
of backing out when one of the girls in our cohort explained that
the trail that they were taking was an easy one. It would be
(05:17):
a nice slow and steady outing and we'd
leisurely be done by lunch.
Spain had been full of unexpected and panic
inducing surprises and alas, the hike would be no
different. I was generally stressed,
homesick, still jet lagged, and had horrible
blisters on my feet caused by the several mile walk
(05:38):
from my apartment to school when a group of 10 or so
of us got off the bus just across the border in
France. The plan was to do a little shopping
in the French market district, then hike through the lower base
of the Pyrenees mountains across the border from France back into
Spain, eat lunch and take a bus home to
enjoy the rest of our Friday. I later found out that the
(05:59):
path that we were hiking was part of the El, uh, Camino de Santiago
pilgrimage trail that my co workers in the present were
preparing to hike as we made our way
into the forest along the mountainside. Things were
great. We'd enjoyed some snacks and bought some water
bottles from the hiker's cantina. The weather was cool and
the skies were clear. As we hiked deeper into the
forest, we all soon began to wonder aloud why this trail
(06:21):
seemed so different from the map. The terrain gradually
became more difficult. A heavy storm the night before
had reduced the trails to slick mud. Our group
was slipping and sliding, sometimes climbing on our hands and
knees up a slope. Soon we were four
hours into our, uh, one hour light hike. When we all sat down to
eat some of our breakfast leftovers and passed around a couple of
water bottles. One of our classmates picked up the
(06:44):
map and realized with growing horror that we weren't on an
actual trail. Our actual trail was miles
away and the one we'd started on had been washed out during
the storm the night before. To make matters
worse, the Spanish countryside that had stayed nice and cool
for us throughout the week was now hovering in the upper 90s
with high humidity. Immediately, I
(07:04):
felt a sense of dread creep across the makeshift
camp. I saw in my head aerial news footage
of Spanish rescuers struggling to cram my overweight
body onto a narrow gurney and praying as it was
hoisted up into the rescue helicopter with the Spanish headline
Fat American Student dies in the Pyrenees mountains,
men in suits with sunglasses and earpieces would mumble three to four
(07:24):
different languages into their microphones to signal that the
poster child for American obesity was laboriously
making her way from one medical checkpoint to another. David
Buer would inform viewers at home of my condition, while
teenagers who had only known about me for a week would reveal
details about me to the whole world. She had a penchant for
Cheez its and always ate her homework, they would say. Then
she came on that hike with us and died. I
(07:47):
audibly groaned at the thought of being the laughingstock of
not only my class, but my country and
the world. As we stood to continue our
trek, I mumbled, God, please
don't let me get med flighted out of these mountains.
Please do not let this become an international
incident.
It's worth noting that while I'd grown up a devout Polish
(08:09):
Catholic, this was at a time in my young adult life when I was
skeptical of all things omnipotent. I
had my own Let me re Let me. Let me redo
that one, Peterson. It's worth
noting that while I'd grown up a devout Polish Catholic,
this was at a time in my young adult life when I was skeptical of
all things omnipotent. I had my own apartment and
(08:30):
my own hobbies and my own things going on in life, and mom and dad
couldn't make me go to Mass anymore. I
began to wonder if this was some sort of divine
retribution. I'm not sure what we were
hoping for as we continued along in our hike. A
sign? A fellow hiker, or some form of civilization.
Some of us were doing better than others, and I was definitely doing the
worst, taking extra long breaks on level ground,
(08:52):
panting and soaking in sweat, my mouth so dry
that my tongue clung to the roof of my mouth
as if someone had flipped a switch. I was 10 years
old in a white altar server robe. Candles stand
in my small hands, praying the stationers of the cross
during Lent. I heard the other parishioner say in
unison, my strength is dried up and my tongue
(09:14):
clings to my jaws. You lay me in the dust
of death, Katie. I
looked up at the shadow cast over me. Ethan held
out a water bottle.
Are you all right? You slipped. He snapped
off a large staff like walking stick made out of oak and
handed it to me. He helped me up and I peeled chunks
of mud off, thanking him. Looks like there's
(09:35):
a clearing ahead, he said. We made our
way up the path and emerged into the clearing. On the
hill were the remnants of a Rock wall and a stone slab on the
ground indicated that we had crossed the border back into
Spain. With the sun in the afternoon sky,
sandwiched between the forest and the mountains, our group
peered down at civilization below and began charting out a path to
(09:55):
reach the little farming communities that we saw a couple of miles
away. We were renewed with hope.
Civilization was in sight, but
the path would be a treacherous one.
As we made our way back into the forest, opting for the cool of
the shade, we made our way across the most difficult terrain
yet. Our talking had largely stopped. We just wanted
to go home. I
(10:18):
wondered if Moses had struggled climbing Mount Sinai to
receive the Ten Commandments at God's behest. If God
told me to climb a mountain to meet with him, there's a good chance I'd have
declined the invite. I thought to myself. They
say that God often qualifies the called, but
qualifying me would have included a gym membership. At least.
Sinai had probably been dry. One of
us slipped, and a, uh, domino effect followed. We all
(10:40):
came toppling down the ravine, slipping and bouncing and rolling and
flopping, several of us strewn yards away from each other
like falling acorns. I tumbled further from
everyone else. The bigger they are, the farther they fall, I suppose,
and landed with an oof in the leaves. Jesus
wept. The shortest scripture
verse describes a son of God overcome with grief at
(11:01):
the loss of his friend Lazarus, at the sight of seeing him in
his tomb. How moved did the Lamb of God
have to be to weep? Even more so?
How close had he been to his friend to be so moved by his death
that he was saddened at his loss?
I thought of my family and friends an ocean away, going
about their everyday lives in their native language and familiar
(11:21):
spaces. My head went through the usual
roll call of people that I asked about whenever I called my parents
over. Wi fi. Standing in the green tiled kitchen of our
apartment because it was the only room that had enough signal to connect
the fuzzy call, I thought of
my mom and dad and younger brother and the family dog, Bosco,
and the stray cat that I took care of, Gato, who would
disappear not long after my return.
(11:44):
I thought about my great uncles who were like grandfathers to
me, my old church friends, my enemies, my
exes, my love interests, my co workers, my
classmates, my roommate and her pets, and all of the
friends back home, none of whom were about to die
stranded in the Pyrenees mountains of all
places. I hated myself for deciding to be
adventurous. I hated the plane. I hated the
(12:06):
homesickness, the blisters on my Feet, the
overabundance of coursework. The one time I
decided to try something new and stop burying my nose in my
textbooks, I felt. I thought I was going to
die. My books and my couch and
my bed and my desk and an assortment of fuzzy friends
were all that I knew. I branched out and I defied the
cosmos. I was being punished for stepping out of line.
(12:28):
I felt like Bilbo Baggins in the Hobbit. Now you're in
for it at last, Katie Zachreski. I wish I was at home
in my nice hole by the fire with the kettle just beginning to
sing. Surrounded by
the overgrown darkness of the forest floor. I
wept hot, fat tears dripping
down my face as I made pathetic little sobbing and
(12:48):
shuddering noises. I wasn't well versed in the
Bible and I could have stood to pay more attention at Mass
growing up, but I thought of that other place
where Jesus wept while he experienced
agony. In the Garden of Gethsemane
on the night before his death, the lamb
wept, overcome by anguish,
worry and fear. His friends,
(13:11):
who had accompanied him from town to town and broken bread with him just
hours before had betrayed him and
disappeared. His enemies,
physical, mental and spiritual, were
closing in. The hour of
reckoning was at hand.
Knelt in the darkness, eyes cast to heaven,
Jesus had prayed, lord,
(13:33):
if it is possible, let this cup, um,
pass me by. Nevertheless, let
it be as you will. Your will be
done. What bravery
it must have taken to look suffering in the eye and to
challenge that, uh, suffering to do its worst. Any
evil forces must have been shaken to their core. At that moment,
(13:53):
the fight was on. I wiped my eyes
and I spoke softly. God,
please give me a sign. If you help
me out of these mountains, I'll do whatever you will.
Your will be done. Please don't let me die
here. Please let me make it out of here alive.
Please show me a sign. It doesn't matter
what, but please, please,
(14:16):
please give me a
sign. I must commend our Lord. He has
a wonderful sense of humor. I felt something
tugging on my hair and I looked up. There I
was, face to face with the wet nose and
hairy muzzle of an old gray
donkey. He was lazily chopping
away. He was lazily chomping away at my frizzy
(14:38):
hair, seemingly pleased at the rare follicle
delicacy his face relatively relaxed at having found
a whole troop of exhausted, muddy college kids in his
neighborhood. How a whole donkey managed to sneak up on
me and begin devouring my hair in the midst of my anguish I will never
know. But the predicament was so bizarre that I found myself
laughing for the first time since the plane landed a week ago. And
I couldn't deny the importance of this sign.
(15:01):
As my classmates dusted themselves off and made their way over to
me. I'm certain they thought that I was having a mental breakdown.
But I realized in a moment of humor induced
clarity that the donkey had reins around
its shoulders. Civilization was closer than
we thought. I scrambled to my feet and I pet the
donkey. Please take us home. I don't care where that is.
Just take us back to wherever you came from.
(15:24):
With a flick of his ears, the donkey turned and led
us. With a flick of his ears, the donkey
turned and led us around the corner into a set of
steep stairs carved into the rat face.
He moseyed up the grassy hill beside it, disappearing
over the hill's crest, my, uh, guardian angel flicking his tail
behind him. Now
(15:44):
all of us, filled with determination, clambered and
climbed up the steps, often on hands and knees,
using my walking stick to hoist each other up when our
palms became too slick with sweat. Heaving, hoeing,
grunting. When we stepped off the
top step, we felt that familiar feeling
of freshly paved asphalt beneath our muddy
(16:04):
shoes. We all looked down,
panting, and then looked at one another. We all grinned and
began to laugh and cheer in celebration, likely looking completely
unhinged to the unsuspecting Basque farmers who saw
us emerge from the forest just moments ago. The sign
along the road read Zagora Mordi.
The village had a single street leading through it, with a
(16:26):
row of old villa style buildings on each
side. Behind those buildings were scenes
out of a painting. Lush
green, rolling hills and valleys rolled
in earthy waves under the piercing blue sky.
Even the fat white clouds couldn't compare to the
fluffy white sheep that dotted the green
hillside, grazing.
(16:47):
As if we didn't just spend the entire day fighting for our lives and
sanity in the forest below. I'm certain
that if I play my cards right and make it to heaven, it will
look just like that Basque village.
We made our way inside a small restaurant that late
afternoon, and I left my walking stick outside the door
for the next traveler who may have needed it. We all
(17:07):
sat inside, and miraculously, the restaurant owner
spoke English, knew our Basque teacher, and began to make
phone calls to the university, which was by now frantically searching
for us and calling our families and home universities back in
America. Together at the table,
we feasted no longer as classmates, but
as good friends. I began to
(17:28):
reflect over the next few years on my experience in the
mountains on my humanity, suffering
and the importance of friends to help us through our trials
as well as the beauty of nature. While I
grappled with my faith for years, and to some extent I
still do, my faith has improved with
time. Now I try to share my personal experiences
with others who often feel lost in the sea of life too.
(17:51):
Things will get better, and when they do,
remember all the things in your life worth being thankful
for. Since
Zagrumurti and the Pyrenees, there have
been plenty of metaphorical mountains in my life,
seemingly herculean tasks and challenges that
would have been impossible by myself. But with
help from friends and family and the lamb himself,
(18:14):
I've been fortunate to find my way through the
mountains and into greener
pastures. A little something different for you today. I hope you
enjoyed that. That was not just to flex my writing and
storytelling skills, but to let you know that you can find hope in even
the strangest places if you survive the encounter. Of course I'm
very thank thankful to have survived my encounter and to
have been given a chance to better appreciate nature and the
(18:35):
world around us. I realize now that my co workers were
right. It's under these strenuous circumstances out in nature
that we better come to appreciate the things that God has given
us. Just some action steps for you today. As
always, contact your member of Congress and let them know that
you're a young conservative who's concerned about climate
change. And if you're tired of doing that, I encourage you
(18:56):
to share your environmentalist story with us either on
social media or over email and share with us,
you know, what was your eureka moment. Have you had an experience
like this before where you know, you were able to find pain
and. Or let me try that again where, where you were able
to find beauty and great pain, or maybe, you know, just
through a difficult circumstance you were able to better appreciate
(19:16):
the world around you? Um, and deepen your appreciation
for the environment. Feel free to send us that story.
Our Twitter is GTP radio
show. You can also email us at
infoeenteapartyradio for you, our
listener. Email us with your thoughts. Our email is
infoeenteapartyradiouh.com
thank you for listening to Green Tea Party Radio and a very special
(19:39):
thank you to all of our patrons. We couldn't do this without
you. If you're interested in getting early access to
episodes as well as Green Tea Party Radio merch, check
us out@greenteapartyradio.com if you
have feedback. Tell us what's on your mind and follow us on
and follow us on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and
TikTok. And just so you know, this is our passion
(20:00):
project. We don't have any organizational sponsor.
And a reminder that Green Tea Party Radio is not representative
of the Diocese of Little Rock, Catholic Climate Covenant, or any of
our employers. We are building a movement because we want
the world to know that conservatives, particularly young ones,
have important things to say about climate change. And
if you want to hear our show on your college radio station, email
(20:20):
us at info at greentpartyradio.
Com and give us the details about your campus and your
radio station. That email again is info at. Ah,
greenteapartyradio. Com. Thank you again
for listening and I look forward to seeing you in greener
pastures. Thanks.
Peterson.
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