Many years ago, long before I needed forearm crutches, and even before I needed a cane, and even before I used a hiking staff to help me get around, I delighted in hiking. Even now, as I sit here at my computer screen, I can smell the litter on the forest floor, feel the burn in my thighs, and see the tantalizing vista of ridges and valleys which was the sweet reward at the end of a difficult, sometimes torturous, climb to the summit of a mountain.
By far, my favorite hike was to Stratton Bald in the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest… a remote trail in the Appalachian Mountains bordering Tennessee and North Carolina. It’s difficult to imagine more rugged wilderness. (Nearby “Jeffrey’s Hell”, an area known to be the most rugged in the mountains is named for old man Jeffrey who entered the tangle of dense laurel, briers and thorns following the braying of his hunting dogs tracking wild Russian Boar. The story goes that his hunting companion, refused to follow. Jeffrey told him, “If I don’t return, I will be in HELL!” He never returned and was never found.)
The hike up the mountain was always arduous for me. I couldn’t count the number of times I tripped across the entangled laurel roots that criss-crossed the trail, or the number of times I fell and bruised my knees. Laurel thickets grew so dense on either side of the trail, that one’s heart would beat a little faster hoping a wild boar wouldn’t emerge from the dark impenetrable foliage. Signs of their rooting were around every bend. Yet, wild boar weren’t the only threats on the trail. Brown bear are numerous in the Appalachian Mountains, and it was quite certain they were just as enamored of the wild blueberries and blackberries populating the trail as were the humans who feasted as they climbed. I can’t tell you the distance from the trailhead to the summit. It could have been two miles. It felt like twenty. The trail should have been named “Lynna’s Hell”!
The reward, though, oh the reward! Just when I thought the dark, dank laurel thickets would continue endlessly, the steep trail opened up to a breathtaking sight… a sunny mountain meadow chock- full of daisies and every manner of wildflowers and bushes abundant with delicious wild berries. (These mountain meadows are known as balds.)
What exquisite joy to collapse on the ground, and alternate between drinking in the mountain air, delicious water from the canteen, and vistas of distant hazy blue mountains. Nothing is as pleasant as leaning back with a backpack for a pillow and warm sunshine for a blanket to doze on a mountain bald. Utterly delicious.
The last time I hiked this trail, my dad was with me. I can recall leaning heavily on him on the steeper parts. I know he caught me dozens of times when I stumbled. He helped me when I fell and removed countless fallen limbs from my path. All along, he would marvel, “Lynna, you are such a fighter. There are so many people who don’t have your difficulties who wouldn’t even attempt this hike. I am so proud of you.” His words of encouragement were as helpful as his steadying arms. As exhaustion overtook me about halfway, his strength supplied what my depleted muscles lacked and his pride increased my determination to make it to the top.
That hike years ago is not that dissimilar to the journey upon which I am now embarking… only this time the climb is one towards increasing wellness. Like that hike to Stratton Bald, this trail too is full of obstacles to trip me and dangers possibly hidden along the path. At the same time, this trail also has refreshing sustenance and companions who heartily have agreed to let me lean on them during the steeper parts and who will cheer me on when my energy and enthusiasm wanes. That meadow full of wildflowers is my goal, and I’m overjoyed that you have agreed to share this climb with me.
I know I can’t do it without you. I know because I’ve tried and know I don’t get very far before I get discouraged by the difficulty and turn back to the parking lot at the trailhead. When the climb gets steep, I remember that there is a cooler in the trunk of the car full of all manner of delicacies. I forget the reward at the end -that magnificent meadow - and turn back for the easy comforts. Problem is, those easy comforts are slowly robbing me of life and I must stay on the trail if I want to live.
I’ve strapped on my hiking boots, picked up a stout limb for a staff, chosen delightful hiking buddies and have started the ascent. I look forward to lots of laughter and good conversation along the way. Let’s get going!
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