First Church of the Streets A Free E-zine of World Thinking and General Interest. Article 4

     Reaching the summit or the end of the trail is always a goal whenever I embark upon a hike. Even when the prospect of that seems impossible, like I'm on a portion of the Finger Lakes Trail or the Appalachian Trail, the idea of going as far as possible before I have to turn back is always fun. I feel like I am taking steps along with fellow hikers who have come before me, those who have had more gumption to take the trail the whole way.

     I haven't summitted a mountain yet; at least not what would be considered a bona fide peak according to all of the atlases and mountaineer guides. But I have scaled smaller hills, and stood at the top of them. Depending where they are, you get a different perspective of what life is all about. A large, forested hill in a suburban area on the top can give you a full view of a town, probably even clearer than an aerial view, because you are so much closer to the subject. Yet you are far enough away that you can see, but not be seen,. In a business district, they aren't looking for you down there. You can be at the top of the hill and not be noticed at all.

     A hill in a rural or undeveloped area all depends on the region. If it's undeveloped, there might be other hills and small mountains, and all you see when you scale up yours is straight into the forest of another hill, which isn't the type of view you'd expect when you get to the top of something. This was the kind of thing I ran into when I was in the Catskills; I'd get to what I thought was the top of the hill, only to realize I'd climbed the bunny hill and the expert trail was still sloping up in front of me. There were just mountains and mountains and mountains. I'm sure I'm not the only one who experienced this sensation at some point in his/her life. There's a region in Pennsylvania called Endless Mountains. Having driven through the area, I can attest that at some point, the mountains do end. But if you're in the middle of hiking them, it sure can seem like they go on forever, that you're surrounded with no end in sight.

     Of course, hiking in an undeveloped area doesn't always go this way. Not unfrequently, mountain regions have their valleys. Even a small hill can overlook one of those, and then you can see over what seems like endless trees, like man hasn't spoiled a thing in the last few years. The more undeveloped it is, the less likely you'll even see another human being. And if you do this in the wintertime, when most animals are in Florida or hibernating, your vista is that much more solitary. Stand there long enough in cold enough temperatures, and then the whole idea of civilization seems like a hallucination. But then you remember your feet are cold, and start moving back down to level ground.

     One time I tried to reach the lookout of a hill in the Catskills. Thinking I could do it in an hour, I set out with determination to reach the top. I didn't count on the nearly forty-five degree incline going up. I didn't think of trails that dangled precariously over the edge of a cliff, your fall being broken only by fallen trees with their spear-like branches standing straight up. I forgot about trails that covered rocky terrain that could easily make your feet go into a mini avalanche. And I forgot about trails that twisted around and about, that seemed to want to defy your expectations by disguising which direction it wanted to take you. Because of these miscalculations, I didn't make the summit, but I reached a clearing. I was higher up than some hills, lower than others. On one view, I could look far into the future. On the other view, it was like looking into a wall, letting me know that there was further to go.

     That's why I can understand the appeal of climbing Mt. Everest, although you won't find me climbing anything that needs equipment other than a walking stick anytime soon. The idea of being higher than anything in the world is one reason to get to the top. You look down at the rest of the world, and realize how small it all is. You come back to the world, and it no longer looms so large. Perhaps going down the trail is a metaphor for seeking new paths. There's always another place to go in this world.

Home

© 2005 All writing, music or photography presented on this site is the property of their respective and individual creators. No reproduction of them can be made without express permission from them. Web design is the property of the Webmaster. Please contact us for any reproduction questions.