Climbing life’s mountain

A hike up Mt. Washington last weekend taught me a few lessons. Lessons I should have learned long ago. Stuff like bring a rain jacket when the skies are cloudy, and do a little exercise before setting out on a five-mile uphill hike, as well as watching for those seemingly innocuous events that cumulatively define your life.

As I age, I forget to listen to the advice of my youth, flowing freely, but not cheaply, from that sagest of gurus, my mom. “Do you have a hat? Don’t forget your hat. I know you don’t have your hat on. Get that hat on right now, young man!” would be my mother’s mantra every winter morning before I set off to school. I’d always answer, “I don’t need a hat! It’s not cold out! I don’t want to mess up my hair!” “Silly boy,” she’d reply, while forcefully covering my head with a scratchy yellow hat, down around my ears almost covering my eyes.

But last Saturday, a hat, with a wide brim, would have come in handy seeing that by the time my brother and nephew and I reached the summit cone of Washington – a sacred peak to us because of its ruggedness and all of our good memories there – a huge and frightening thunderstorm had enveloped the mountain and we found ourselves walking in the midst of torrential rains, lightning flashes and claps of thunder. But we were all right, soaked mind you, and getting cold, but all right. We kept trudging up the path, trying to stay low so as not to become a toasted shell of our former selves hiking ever higher, into the sky where those bolts and claps were making their temporary home. For sure, it was the day the Balentine boys, the only ones to ensure the Balentine name survives, almost died.

All three of us were making the trek because it was my brother’s birthday, his 40th birthday. A big mountain for a big day. His wife and our mother were to meet us at the top with the family mini-van for a chauffeured ride back down the mountain via the infamous auto road. But two accidents that afternoon barred traffic from reaching the top, and, for a second, I thought we’d have to venture back into the thunderstorm and down the side of the mountain cold and wet and miserable as we were. Luckily, two guys from South Boston were on their way down the road in a Jeep and were gracious enough to give us, and our nasty selves, a lift.

But Washington, with its unpredictable and violent weather, and a summit that looks like God’s rock pile, is always a treat and we try to climb it together every few years. What made last weekend’s hike extra special was that my nephew, Daniel, hiked with us and did a great job. He never complained. He never refused to hike. He never cried or made a fuss, even when we could barely see the trail ahead because of the downpour. He showed himself worthy to follow in his father’s footsteps.

The thought never occurred to him that thunder and lightning on top of the tallest peak in the Northeast was anything but normal. He had no reference with which to compare this experience. What a beautiful frame of mind! There’s nothing like the first time, they say, and it was definitely true last weekend.

But Daniel’s accompanying us, while a rite of passage for this young boy, was also a realization for me. Here we were, my brother and I, who just yesterday it seems were playing pass out front of the house, were passing the adventuring torch to a new generation now responsible for keeping the family fires burning. Daniel will surely grow into an excellent young man, perhaps going off to a stellar university somewhere or succeeding in a purposeful career. His demeanor Saturday proves he has the right stuff to make it up the toughest mountain, as well as in life.

But it was also a funny feeling watching him hike up a mountain that most people fear in such nasty conditions. This kid, at age 6, has no fear of lightning, rugged terrain, or heights. He is immune to these fears perhaps because life has yet to deal him any blows, but mostly because he’s young and just doesn’t know any better. How sad it is to grow older, and more fearful. It is a constant battle each of us fights: overcoming our fears, whatever they may be, and trudging along the path of life.

How beautiful it was to see this kid, truly with “no fear” – as the bumper sticker alleges – living as if he didn’t know any better, immune to any of life’s possible pitfalls and simply enjoying the day and all it had to offer. It was surely a great adventure and one we will remember years from now. Each Balentine man achieved a rite of passage that day – and lived to tell about it.

John Balentine

editor

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