by L.D. Kirklin
It was getting late and we still weren’t out of the woods. We started early that morning, seven of us, on top of the highest mountain in West Virginia, Spruce Knob. Our goal was to hike down the mountain to the vehicle we left at the bottom; a ten-mile trek according to the experienced woodsmen in our group.
When we arrived at the top, we were greeted by three inches of fresh snow on the ground and a deep chill in the air. Of course, if you factor in the wind, we were also greeted by fresh snow in the air and a deep chill on the ground, but I digress. Suffice it to say, the conditions for starting our journey were not at all what we expected for a day in late Spring.
As we made our way down the mountain, I struggled to keep up, but not because of the terrain. Every few minutes seemed to require me to pull out my camera to capture a scene or a flower, a bird or something that grabbed my attention. I mean really, I was a nature photographer on a nature hike, so a bit of pausing and lagging was to be expected, right?
As the day went on, our path took us over sections of a rolling river by way of fallen trees that served as bridges. We came across breaks in the trees that gave wide-open views of the surrounding peaks and valleys. We happened upon a patch of wild ramps where everyone except me thought it was a good idea to sample them. I learned yet again that day that I should listen to myself and not succumb to peer pressure. Wild ramps; six out of seven recommend.
At one point, the path became confusing and those guiding us decided we needed to reroute over a ridge that required everyone to find two sturdy walking sticks for balance and leverage. As we helped each other up the incredibly steep topography, though no one mentioned it, we all knew the hour was growing late and the daylight would soon depart. So far, our journey wasn’t going exactly as we planned.
Shortly after climbing the steep ridge and descending the other side, we heard the distant sound of water rushing. While the other water levels we encountered were up, this sound was different. As we continued, on what we hoped would be our path out of the woods, the sound grew louder. Then finally, we happened upon the river again, 20 feet below us. The sound of water, still different than the regular rapids, was now distinct enough to determine that somewhere below us and likely just out of sight was a waterfall.
It was late, the sunlight was fading, the length of our remaining journey was still unknown, and the leaders said we needed to press on. Neither my aunt nor I agreed, and before I knew it, there we were, sliding down the steep embankment to find the waterfall. It was beautiful and well worth the effort it took to climb back up where the rest of the group was waiting.
It wasn’t long after the waterfall adventure that we made it out of the woods, grateful and exhausted. We piled into the vehicle we’d parked at the bottom of the mountain and headed back to the top where our packed picnic dinner awaited us. When we arrived at the summit, the wind was so intense and the temperature so cold that our planned picnic turned into a grab-and-go meal as we headed toward home.
As I think back to that day on Spruce Knob many years ago, I realize that, while I have a lot of them, most of my memories of that day are not attached to the things that went right. I remember the challenges, struggles, and less than stellar decisions far more than I remember the things that went as planned.
The truth is life is a lot like hiking on a mountain. We’re going to encounter unexpected things (like snow in May). There will be moments when we make choices (like eating wild ramps) that are not the best ones for us. We might take a wrong turn and need to reroute (over steep terrain) to get back on the right path. Our decisions to seek out what is best for us (like searching for a waterfall) will meet both opposition and support from those around us. Still, at the end of the day, it’s the lessons we learn from the experiences along the way that make the hike of life both memorable and worth it.
So, whether you are strolling steady or hiking hard to get back on track, keep looking up and moving forward … and never underestimate the power of perspective!
