A Monumental Trip

All birthdays are significant, I know that, but this year there were several reasons mine seemed monumental.  As I told my daughter while opening my gifts, “Honestly, I still feel nineteen despite the reality.”  Last week’s celebration was far from a centennial, but it was also a very long, long way from the year I was nineteen.

Then for some reason I remembered the year we climbed Mount Pisgah in Vermont.  Our family had traveled to the cabin in the Northeast Kingdom for close to 20 years, most of our children’s lives.  In the beginning before the completion of I-95, it was a slow complicated drive.  The red station wagon was always packed to capacity; six of us, assorted golf clubs, fishing poles, library books and sometimes a collapsible raft or two.  Still the journey was always worth it, or so we agreed as we eventually pulled into the circular driveway on the edge of Lake Willoughby.

Traditionally, we spent the first three weeks of August in Vermont.,  By today’s standards, it was a simplistic holiday.  There were no casinos or heated swimming pools, but church suppers, antique shops, a tennis court, and wonderfully welcoming Vermonters.  For the six of us, it was a perfect retreat enjoyed before the advent of a new school year, and while the weather was still ideal for golf, tennis, and of course, the joy of the magnificent Glacier Lake.

The year I remember, however, was different.  While I didn’t want to face reality, my husband, always far wiser than I, did.  And so he insisted that this was the year that as a family, we would climb Mount Pisgah.  We had discussed it, often watching the travelers from near and far start up the trailhead marked by a sign on the opposite side of the road.  Each warm August I had protested, “Let’s wait until next year.”

This had to be the time, however, since our daughter had already started college, and her brother would be leaving for a Military Academy within a few weeks.  The last opportunity for this adventure as a family intact.

I knew it made sense, but athletic prowess has never been one of my main attributes, and I was intimidated.  The rest of the clan insisted I could do it, promising they would help me conquer the elements, and so we set out early one morning with water, sandwiches and a camera.

After roughly one mile, the main trail passes Pulpit Rock, and this offers an expansive view of Lake Willoughby.  By the time I had reached this known nesting area for the peregrine falcon, I felt as if I needed a helicopter to continue climbing the remaining 1.5 miles.  My patient family members, however, were insistent that I could do it, and with their combined efforts, to my total amazement I reached the peak with its spectacular view of the magnificent Lake and the surrounding countryside.

Oddly enough, and I don’t remember why, there were no pictures taken.  We settled down, devoured the sandwiches and drank the water, and then to my dismay I realized I had to climb down.  I was paralyzed with fear.  Heights are not one of my strongest points.  Obviously,  I made it or I wouldn’t be telling this story, but it was not easy.  As we descended slowly and painfully, I encountered every insect living in the Northeast Kingdom, and each had a quick taste of my body.  The next morning every inch of  my physique was covered with a souvenir o the climb up Mount Pisgah.  The local GP suggested the best remedy would be soaking in the Lake with its miraculous healing power, and that I did for the remainder of our stay.

My husband was prophetic.  It was the last holiday we spent as a family together.  Later that year, safely home in suburbia, I reluctantly admitted, “You were right. It wasn’t easy, but I am so glad I did it.”

I believe I should say the same thing about this year’s birthday, and the many, many summers that have passed since I was 19. There have been joys, similar to the view from the top of Mount Pisgah, and the sorrows, like the pain from the insect bites, but truly it has been an adventure above and beyond any expectation I could have conjured. And I am so grateful that I was able to make this trip.