The Mountain Top

When it comes to mountain scenes, I am my father’s daughter. As a young girl, I lived in a city that, literally translated, means “I see a mountain.” My dad enjoyed telling me that. When we moved to Canada, he chose the West Coast, for no other reason, really, than the mountains. So, it just came naturally that I loved the mountains. And it just so happens that it was on a hike as a teen-ager that my, then future husband, first showed signs of being interested in me. He was eating on orange and stuck the peel in my back pocket. Interesting way to show that he had his eye on me, but it started something.

This past Saturday we got in the truck and headed east to try a new mountain. He showed me the peak from the highway, “The one on the very left . . . that’s Mt. Cheam.” he said.

It wasn’t long before we took the Exit, drove through the farming community and up, toward the mountains. We turned onto a forest service road and four wheeled for almost an hour on a rough road with many cross ditches and pot holes, passing kids who were having the greatest time on their dirt bikes and ATVs. This already felt like a workout!

By now the mountain top was looming quite close, I thought.

We began our walk with ease.

The wildflowers, the meadows, the clear blue sky …

. . . it was breathtaking! This is when I say, “I love hiking! There’s nothing I’d rather be doing!”

But the trail got steeper and the realization that the reward of seeing the top would not come easily, hit me in much the same way as the start of labor pain reminds you what it was like the last time. “Maybe the view is good enough already. If I take one more step, I’m going to die!” is sort of what went through my mind. Besides, it was very hot! My Gr 11 Geography teacher was wrong, the temperature was going up! We found a shady spot and had our lunch.

Somewhat revived, we continued . . . and then I saw it! The actual tip that we were headed toward. I don’t think I took a picture at this point, but can I just say it was not unlike the looming disappointment I felt with the realization that I may never make it!

The trail got very steep and finally I just sat down on the slippery shale, and told him he should go ahead - wave at the top – I’d take a picture!
I sat there for maybe five minutes, taking pictures of the mountain ranges and trying to convince myself that there really could not be much more to see than what I was seeing right where I was! Then I looked up and he wasn’t too far away . . . waving, no, beckoning for me to come! Suddenly I was strong, even with the backpack!

It was only a few minutes . . . and I would have missed this!! Who could have known what was on the other side of where I was sitting?

7,000 feet above sea level . . . it’s a speechless feeling!

We had dessert. (of course!) He ventured just a bit higher to the final peak, while I soaked in all I could of the mountaintop experience . . . the one I almost missed by four minutes!