Anyone who lives in the Northeast region will tell you that the weather can change on a dime. We can have gasping heat as summer says goodbye one day and near frost temperatures by the end of the same week. Tonight as I write this, a cool drizzle has begun with promises of a rainy day tomorrow.
But yesterday, oh yesterday was indeed a brilliant Sunday! Perfectly warm with no forecast of precipitation. A day planned for one final ascent before our October challenge in 13 days (weather permitting!). Mt. Osceola-considered to be one of the 4,000 footers in the region-awaited our arrival.
For me, the trip up is one of jittery anticipation. While I do extensive reading about and preparation for each hike, I am aware that one can never fully know a mountain until the boots start walking. The road to the trailhead lies seven miles off the highway on a barely paved then gravel road that is closed in the winter. Wilderness camping spots sporadically dot the roadside. No luxuries here. Seven miles feel like seventy when we finally locate the parking area. Full already with eager hikers like ourselves, we park the car roadside along with others and check in. I eschew the porta-potties for the privacy and cleanliness of the woods, risking only a mosquito bite or two.
The mountain will be busy today but not overly crowded. Merely populated by others like us who are seizing this day, for we know old man winter will visit soon enough making treks like this a little less possible. We lose daylight in just over a month and the climate in the higher elevations (even as low as this one) changes rapidly.
The ascent is one of large rocky switchbacks surprisingly easy on the legs and lungs. The cooler air in the woods helps to keep the heat at bay just a bit but I am soon down to a mere singlet. I lead and my son chats away about work and other things. Conversation comes easy to him here as opposed to other venues. We are in a natural rhythm as the trail climbs higher with slanted rock and delicious muddy puddles that my boy delights in tramping through-still so much a playful child but this time with waterproof steel toed size 14s!
When you work hard and sweat, it is easy not to feel hunger but hard to ignore thirst. We drink a lot of water but I begin to feel low on fuel. I am hopeful the summit is just minutes away, judging by the changing skyline. More blue than green tells me the top is close and I can’t wait to eat!
Sure enough, it appears in all its glorious beauty. We are smiling at not just having arrived, but at the vastness before us. The granite turf is filled with many others cheerfully chatting and feasting on their well deserved nourishment and drinking in the view that is like no other we have seen this season.We take a big break and move closer to the ledge-a front row vista in real 3D!
(Me in shadow, thankfully!)
(The boy’s gunboats and the infinite expanse are a good match!)
Reluctantly, we take our leave of Nirvana. Admittedly, I dislike descents. Unlike my son, whose large feet propel him with seeming ease over slabs both large and small, my lower center of gravity has me twisting and turning and landing on my ass (always at least once every time!). But it is a social event as well. Dogs, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, groups of friends older than me, clearly glad to be anywhere but mostly here. We stop to let others come up past us and I recognize a woman who is climbing with her friend. “Excuse me, but do you go to South Church?” I inquire. She does and quickly confesses that she is not in church today (neither am I!). I always find it humorous when this happens-as if one has to feel guilty for some reason. The party behind assures us that we are a congregation and we laugh. I am sure our pastor would not mind at all. My son once again is amazed at the fact that I ran into someone I know somewhere far from home (It is true; it happens quite often). He says that even if we went to Europe, I would see someone I know!
While each step down brings me more fatigue, I am filled with joy for this day. There’s an energy to this place that inspires one to keep on going. I’ll have to hold onto that feeling and bring it to my everyday life and harness it for the next big climb.
Building A Life Of Hope 