Standing on the precipice

Almost to the top of Church Mountain

I don't know if I will ever again be able to climb to this summit, as many of us did a decade ago, but I know how fortunate I have been to get to this spot, to look out at an almost 360-degree view, high in the wilderness. I've actually gone on this hike at least a dozen times over the years, and the last time we attempted it (with me along) was a year ago. One of our hikers grew short of breath and we ended up turning around before the summit attempt.

I was fine with that, since these hard climbs of more than two thousand feet of elevation are no longer easy for me. Well, they were never exactly easy, but I felt in my element and kept up with the group. There was always one person stronger than the rest, and usually one that was slower, and I just wanted to be in the middle and not stand out in any way. All those years of climbing and standing on the precipice of one summit or another will always be with me, but we all need to acknowledge the passage of time and how it affects our abilities. I still walk the half-mile distance to the bus stop most weekday mornings, but the weekends are different, even when we don't have a long holiday weekend. The bus schedule is different, and the first one headed to town doesn't start until around 6:45am. I usually catch the 7:20 and enjoy the walk, even if it's raining. Which is often is, but not today, with abundant sunshine and mild temperatures. While much of the country is experiencing a heat wave, we have been spared, and we haven't had our usual days-long late spring warmup. No, it's been cool and (to me) delightfully brisk. I know how to layer my clothing to make it easier to stay warm at the beginning and gradually remove stuff as I (and the weather) get warmer.

Looking in my pictures for something to remind me of the days when I would go on long and strenuous hikes, I remember a few standout precipices that remain in my memory banks. One was in Colorado, when I would hike the fourteeners (14,000 foot peaks), usually with at least one other person. We started out early, usually before the sun came up, to get to the trailhead and begin the journey early enough to be back off the mountain before the inevitable summertime storms would move in. I don't remember which mountain it was when I somehow got lost and needed to find my way back to my hiking partner. The only thing I could think to do is hike upwards until I found my way back. I reached what looked like a faint trail and followed it, and I will never ever forget the shock of looking over the edge and seeing a thousand-foot drop, straight down. I backed away from that and started to descend, eventually finding my way back to the trail and my companion. The danger was real and I could easily have been injured, or worse. It stands out in my mind when I think of mistakes I have made and predicaments that turned out fine but will never recede from my memory.

Today, I stand on another precipice, one of watching my aging body growing more and more unwilling to take risks like I have done my entire life. From that first scary moment of learning to ride a bike to standing on the edge of an airplane and getting ready to jump, I have been addicted to the idea of adventure. I found this quote from Helen Keller:

Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing. —Helen Keller

I find it interesting to ponder what it must have been like for someone like Helen Keller, who couldn't see or hear, but who made a life of adventure and discovery like no other. She lived to be 87, she graduated from Radcliffe, and knew several languages in Braille. Wrote books and gave lectures (I wonder how she did that, since she couldn't speak well, not being able to emulate speech) and was sought after by many who admired her spirit of adventure.

A beautiful world

Although I might not be able to reach a summit like this one again, which I believe is taken on Hannegan Pass once long ago, I can still remember what it feels like to stand on a precipice and look over the edge. That is something that will never be lost, as I move towards the next great adventure that I can find in life. It becomes harder to find the same adventures I enjoyed in my youth, but new ones, smaller perhaps, still emerge from my days, when I look out at the wonderful, beautiful world that I inhabit.

I do hope you will have a wonderful, memorable Memorial Day, and I am so grateful to all who gave their lives in battle. If I had one wish, it would be that war would no longer exist on our sacred planet. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.