Hi everyone ~
Here is a little true story I wrote up tonight for my priest that I thought all of you might appreciate also.
Let me know what you think.
Merme
THE TRACK
Once, when I was living in Switzerland, the school I was attending shut down for a week as it did every so often throughout the year. Most everyone was scattering to exotic destinations but this particular week that summer I wanted to stay locally.
Some friends told me about a dairy farm on the other side of the ridge above us that had a vacant barn they rented out to students, as the loft was set up dorm style. For pennies a day, you could go there and simply "get away from it all". The farm was high up; it was isolated;many students preferred a bit more luxury so it wasn't crowded. Sounded ideal to me!
So I dug out my pack and loaded it up. When I walked with my full pack, I always carried 80 pounds... quite a load for a girl but I was very used to it and every single ounce was important or it wasn't in my pack at all.
Loaded up, pack on, a friend set out with me to point out the start of the track to the farm that was sort of insignificant in the woods and easily missed. The main entrance to the farm was of course on the OTHER side of the mountain. We strolled along, happy in the sunshine. Then he pointed out "the track". Track? Where?
"Oh, you mean this straight up in the sky 90 degree angle landslide I'm supposed to walk up? Gotcha. 'bye now."
I'm nothing if not enthusiastic and maybe a bit, um,
idiotic! So off I went, into the woods and up. That's it: UP. I think I went straight up; I'm not sure. But I swear a time or two it seemed as though my eyes were level with the next place I was supposed to be putting my feet.
BIG climb. TOUGH climb. Chubby little me with a full pack. No way to abandon the thing. No way to stop and say "forget it, I'll sleep here." Are you kidding? If I'd opted to try to sleep at the midway point, I'm sure I probably wouldda started a roll that ended up miles below in the city of Lausanne! Even trying to pitch a tent on an incline like that would have been silly.
Nothing for it, but to keep climbing. I remember at one place, at least, when my leg muscles were burning from lack of oxygen and my lungs were bursting for more air, I dropped my pack to the ground and flung myself face down in that awesome alpine meadow.
As the moments passed and I started feeling less and less like a Carp that had been cast ashore, and more like a Girl in a meadow, I noticed the sheer loveliness of the place. The wildflowers! Oh, what a sight to see. The birds, the clouds, the snowy peaks soaring above, the distant sound of bells. Gee, what a moment frozen in time -- hot and sweaty as I was, worn out with still much too far to go and glaring at a big pack I suddenly hated the sight of -- what absolute joy there was in the beauty of that isolated bit of paradise.
Yes, I finished the climb and yes, the Swiss farmer and his wife were very welcoming and kind to the girl who came huffing and puffing up over the ridge and down the back path to them.
Lest you think I exaggerate the magnitude of that daunting climb, let me continue the story....
A few days of idleness among the lofty peaks left me suddenly aware that I needed more supplies AND shocked at my new knowledge that the stores on the other side of the mountain were at too great a distance to go and return on foot in a single day. There was nothing for it, Fr. Sam, but to go back the way I came, shop in the stores on my side of the mountain and then CLIMB THAT TRACK AGAIN!
Unthinkable! But. Necessary.
I had never meant to climb anything like that in my whole entire life even one time. And now I was planning to do it again?
I emptied my pack neatly into my bunk and set out down the track. It was a MUCH better trip down than it had been going up, I assure you. I got to see more of the journey and complained a lot less. And yes, it still had it's frightening moments because after all, it was so steep and grasses can be so slippery, not to mention rocks and boulders galore.
So when my shopping was accomplished and I was about ready to head back UP to the farm, I stopped by the water fountain/cow trough in the center of our village to refill my water jug. It's what we all did. While I was there, prosaically filling the bottle, a new American College Boy walked past. He had arrived unaware that the school was always closed that week and was looking for someone who spoke English to tell him what to do. I quickly explained the options to him and he decided to try the farm with me.
Well, I tried to give him fair warning. But you know how some college boys can be... Real Sporty, Lots Of Muscle, Invincible....AND WORLD TRAVELER, TOO! He glanced at my well-rounded self and chuckled, assuring me that HE would have no problems with The Track.
Yeah, right, a newcomer whose lungs hadn't even adjusted to the high altitude yet would have NO PROBLEMS on the dreaded Track. "Well, it's this way...." said I, cheerfully enough, and led him up through the winding alleys of our village to the back road which continued the climb that would eventually lead to The Track. He was starting to get winded before we ever got out of the village. I politely refrained from comment, and just kept walking.
When we reached the opening in the woods where the track began, I said I needed to take a break first. I took off my pack (although not completely loaded, it was still heavy), sat down, and started drinking my water. The sun was already getting hot and I regretted the too-thick shirt I was wearing. College Guy said he Preferred To Stand and sort of bounded around the clearing without taking his pack off, a real jolly fellow obviously indulging the whims of this out-of-shape-girl-type-who-can't-even-climb-a-hill. He was even quite smart alecky enough to offer to carry my pack, plus his own.
Nah, that's ok. I always carry my own pack, thanks just the same. We better be going before the afternoon gets away from us... don't want to be climbing this thing in the dark!
So I set the pace. It wasn't exactly pendantic, really, but it was slow. And steady. A sort of
don't-think-about-it-just-put-one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of walk.
Until, that is -- oh who am I kidding?! It got so hard I couldn't even think about not thinking about it! I don't believe there was actually enough air in my body to allow my brain to do any thinking. And forget about the happy "Val-der-ee! Val-der-aaa!" of the singing Swiss Wanderer. No singing out of this mouth. I doubt coherent words could have been spoken out of this mouth. I'm telling ya, that climb was brutal.
Then I slowly noticed -- slowly, through the fog of my air-starved brain that College Guy wasn't with me any more. Taking a moment to pause, I looked up. Had he sprinted gaily up the mountainside ahead of me? Had he found some luxurious glade to the right or to the left?Nope. He was behind me. He was behind me and sprawled on his back, gasping for air.
When he went down, he hadn't even bothered to take his pack off first,so he was laying on top of the thing trying to breathe in a sort of backbend position.
I could tell he was alright. Well, alright in the way that there was nothing wrong that a bit more air and a better body position wouldn't fix. I didn't really want to walk back down to where he had flung himself so heedlessly, 'cause that meant I'd have to turn around and walk back UP to where I already was, AGAIN.
But... I slipped out of my pack and put it on the ground, wedging it behind a rock so IT wouldn't decide to head back to Huemoz without me, and strolled back to where College Kid With The Unadjusted American Lungs was still sprawled. I casually suggested he might do better if he rolled off his pack. Even better if he could manage to get out of it completely. I withheld any commentary that would even distantly resemble a hint of "I Told Ya So!" and got out my water jug. Want some?
So completely used to having twelve stores on every corner (well, you know what I mean) it hadn't even occurred to him to bring water 'cause there wouldn't be any to buy. He drank some water. Looked at me with sort of a glazed expression, stayed silent. After a bit he was ready to continue and so we started UP again.
I was seeing that incline for the THIRD time headed in a direction I had never really meant to go once. Gosh, I was so glad when I got back to my pack and could lower the number again to only TWICE for the rest of the journey.
I don't think the College Kid said another sentence the entire way,but I'm not sure. I know I was concentrating on the climb, but maybe I wasn't even doing that. I do know that after we arrived at the farm, he quickly made arrangements to work for the farmer in exchange for more amenities the rest of us were happy to do without.
I bumped into him again a few months later after the first snows came and he seemed to be much more acclimated to the dizzying heights of alpine life, so that was good.
So -- that's pretty much what I am thinking about in this phase of my life at the moment, Fr. Sam. It surely is resembling climbing The Track, the sort of track I never meant to begin yet find it is the way before me anyhow.
And there are plenty of days I feel air-starved and brain dead; plenty of days my muscles scream at me for putting them through this; plenty of days when the climb is so steep I can't even tip back to look up toward the destination, days when I have just got to keep my eyes fixed on what is immediately before me.
And yet...and yet somehow, Fr. Sam, there are those fleeting moments that more resemble being captivated by the loveliness of that alpine meadow high above the crush and press of ordinary life in the streets.
This journey I didn't want somehow has taken me up where the tiny
flowers with such sweet faces live and die with never anyone to notice, tucked up under the clouds and the mountain peaks that seem to put the whole rest of the globe at an unconcerned distance.
And sometimes, it is in those moments when I forget the difficulty of the climb itself and notice where I actually am, that all the picayune details of where I started from no longer even matter.
High in that exquisite meadow that day alongside The Track, I didn't care in the least about life in my chalet at school. It was much too far distant in time and space and experience. What really mattered right then was the meadow and the mountains and me, out of breath though I was, body sore and feeling a bit punished 'tis true enough. But somehow, just for a moment the larger scene was so much more important.
It is hard to ever imagine when I am walking in heavy boots suitable for a mountainside, when my pack has shifted and is groaning into the small of my back while I am fighting to keep my balance and my posture upright, that anything at all could ever occur to make me
not notice the uncomfortable details. Yet it can happen.
God's grace can be to me as that meadow right alongside my path, whether I am aware of it or not. His grace can be the inspiration to cast my pack aside and throw myself on the ground yelling "enough!" so that I can have my moment of recovery and
growing awareness of where I really am. God's grace can even give me the courage to get back up on my feet to soldier on.
When I was young and doing all that hiking, it is not for nothing that one of my favorite anthems to sing along the way was "Lead, Kindly Light". I've sung that in the most unlikely times and places. How I love the line: "Keep Thou my feet! I do not ask to see the distant scene; one step enough for me!"
Merme
