 I am most fortunate in that I work a mere six months out of the year. On occasion, I work an extra week here and there. But too, I am afforded a bit of flexibility to take extra time. Such is my situation these last four weeks. Over the course of this time, I’ve awakened most of my mornings here - to the quiet retreat of the sounds of the house. I rise from my warm cocoon, make coffee in my French press and then sit with mug in hand sipping a rich, yummy mocha as I look out this wall of windows onto a sea of trees and this mountainous view. And, I find I smile out at the day with gratitude, no matter what it may issue: rain or snow or shine. My lil nest is not only a place of warmth and protection but, too, here - I feel at one with nature; I watch sandhill cranes and eagles and flocks of birds, I cannot always identify, as they fly past. Moose River gleams up through the trees reflecting the sun’s light. The sky is either a vast open blue or a dynamic motion of cloud formations. And fog periodically rolls in obscuring the vista and then in turn dissipates from sight. As I ready to fly back to the Arctic for my two week work rotation, I already anticipate my return to another glorious two weeks at home in this cozy, creative haven. It is easy to remain grateful when I’m free to write and paint and socialize and run and play and dance and imagine new ideas for projects I eagerly anticipate constructing. But too gratitude sustains my peace of mind whether or not I rise to the day looking out at such a sight or I rise to look out onto a flat, white desert land far from life at home. Today, though, this is my view.
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“Like other Mountaineers, I am often asked, “Why do you climb?” The question is posed as if going out into the mountains is one of the most bizarre and inexplicable things men or women might do. I think there are mountains in all of our lives. Whether we climb the earth’s highest peaks, hike in gentle hills, or explore the metaphorical ranges of the psyche, most of us are drawn by the archetypal power, beauty, and exquisite wildness of mountains. In the mountains of the world, we can venture into the wilderness, connect with nature, seek ultimate challenges or simply have a good time with friends in the outdoors.” Foreword by Art Davidson for the book To The Top Of Denali by Bill Sherwonit Though mountaineering is not my sport of choice nor do I possess the skill sets to attain such heights, I do love to climb. Winter, spring, summer or autumn, in adverse conditions or salubrious - the mountains call to me to explore their beauty. After working twenty-one 12 hour days straight in Prudhoe Bay and contending with Arctic Phase conditions and dormitory style living that makes uninterrupted sleep virtually impossible, I leave the Ted Stevens International Airport with one thought on my mind; Sleep, blessed sleep. I reach my daughters home, crawl into bed and aside from my granddaughter’s Yorkiepoos alerting, on a few occasions, of potential danger, I clock in fourteen hours of blissful slumber. So on the morning of February 12th, I rise ready to venture as I poo poo my daughter’s concern I’ll not have the energy for a climb. With coffee in hand and our backpacks stuffed with layers of cold weather gear and a lunch we plan to enjoy when we reach the summit at 3,293 feet, my daughter and I drive to Upper Huffman Trailhead where we meet with our fellow climber. I start strong as we meander our way along the Upper Huffman Trail, at 11:00 am, chatting as we catch up on one another’s happenings. We connect into the Gasline Trail which spills out onto Powerline Pass. From here, we begin our ascent up Little O’Malley Peak. On an average day, my daughter out hikes me. Today, she seems a powerhouse of strength as she takes the mountain by force. Our companion and I soon fall behind and I in turn fall behind our companion. As I watch from below as my daughter reaches the top, I wonder if I’ll make summit before she begins her descent. Panting to catch my breath and with my heart pounding in my chest, I reach the top around 2:00 pm. My daughter was right, in that though I did have the heart and I did make it to the top and back down, I really did not have the energy for the climb as it took me a couple of days to recover from our ascent. But energized or not, I loved each painstaking step. Life somehow seems to right when I am on top of a mountain. |
AuthorI credit my love of the outdoors to two major influences: Dad and Aunt Jan. Archives
October 2024
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