Fisher Cat
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- Joined
- Jul 27, 2007
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There is just something about Garfield. Maybe it is the bond it shares with similiar peaks with such an open vista. For some reason, summits with a 360 sweep enchant us with the gifts of reflection, appreciation, even perspective. We find ourselves cramped within the confines of our own personal adventure as we move upward, step by laborious step. When we arrive at the top, we then realize that we are the most insignificant aspect of the surrounding terrain possible. Compound this with the fact that this is another return trip for me as my wife, Klutzy Kat, finishes her 48. Whatever it is, here I am, thinking and reflecting again atop a peak most appropriate to do so. Peaks like this cause an explosion of thought upon the usual monochromatic mental matte. To those of you not interested in riding the Meditation Train, it may be best that you disembark now while you can.
To a mountain, time and change are a matter of perspective. Time might as well stand still, and change is a seasonal process. As a child, hiking was all about speed and power. Racing my older brother to the final destination was all that mattered. Limbs, muscles, legs, and lungs were limitless, unencumbered by pain, soreness, and age. I could never understand why my parents took so many breaks, or why they fell asleep so fast when we got home and the end of the day. As the clueless days of adolescence gave way to the more intentional ignorance of the teen years, little had seemingly changed. The physical attributes seemed to grow stronger when seasoned with bravado and a better understanding of the physical gifts coupled with coordination and balance. Breaking book time, beating records, bragging rights of pack weight, these were the hallmarks of success. In the waning years of these unbridled days - due to the realization that school would end and "life" would begin -there was a bit of transformation. The goal was now that of hiking more with my friends, not knowing which one would be our last. Miles, peaks, elevation, the former milestones of achievement, now meant nothing. Lingering over a fire, telling stories, sharing thoughts, hopes, and memories, those blessed aspirations of an unblemished future, that is what mattered. Then came my 20's. Having to walk the tightrope of needing to work, and needing to hike. Then came my now referenced "Dark Days", when I moved away from my home state of NH, foolishly thinking that leaving my beloved Whites was "no big deal". Then I kept coming back. Hiking became my way to reaffirm and stay connected to my NH roots, to stay healthy, to enjoy time with my wife and family, and friends, both old and new. Of course I had brief stints of hiking to enjoy photography (saw Hawai'i 3x mostly through a lens) and of falling back into the delusion of hiking to test my speed and strength, which I finally realized I had done 20 years prior. That is pretty much a synopsis of my hiking life.
And Garfield? Well it certainly has its place in all this. Though this area of home had been a part of my youthful playground, it was in 2008 that it took on a special place in my life. My brother and I returned here together, both of us older and wiser (debatable), and happy to be together. There was of course, a measure of the same sibling competition, thank goodness, and subsequent name calling, which isn't as much fun when you have the same mother in common. But when we summited that day, we picked opposite sides of the peak to relax, I went off to take pictures, and he went to sleep. When I had finished, I moved in his direction, pulled up my pack and slipped over the foundation, landing quite close to him, but managing not to arose him. I looked out towards Owl's Head, back again to my brother, and leaned my back against the support of the foundation. It was then I thought "why am I not writing about this? why am I not writing about this place, this unique spot in the world with its beauty and people?". It turned out to be the springboard of my hiking journal. I spent a good amount of my early years following others, mostly cause I had to. As the youngest sibling, its a rite of passage trying to catch up with your older brother, and you follow the footsteps of your parents for both guidance and safety. The most blessed footsteps I followed were those of my great uncle. Once I had grown up, I was on my own, following no one, setting my own path. Once married, my wife wanted me in front of her as we hiked (mostly to break cobwebs I suppose). Today is different. Today is Klutzy Kat's last of the 48. She has the honor of lead. A small town MA girl, who never did, or desired to hike growing up. But once the two of us became one, her hiking exposure only steeled her purposiveness, as if she were predestined. She will be the first of her family to do such a thing. She is in front today, and I have the privilege of following her. I cannot think of a better place to be.
Today I am in another stage of my hiking life as I come here on a Historical Trek. (see TR ""Hiking In the Face of History") What kind of hiker will I be next time I come to Garfield? Who knows, but I cannot wait to find out. If someone tells you they are the same person they were 20 years ago, that's too bad. Being outdoors, putting one foot in front of the other, well, it changes you, and your perspective, and quite often for the better.
Garfield, you have done it again, I have come to you in a variety of seasons, of differing months and years. Today I feel that you have helped solved a problem that has perplexed us mortals for millenia, and made it no more than a trivial matter, one of but temporary, simplistic bewilderment. Our lives are in a constant state of fluidity, sometimes due to circumstance, other times due to our decisions. Yet for as much as we change, you remain the same. We can perceive ourselves when we come to you, and compare ourselves to your great touchstone of existence, something so consistent. Maybe that is why we come back so devotedly, because we know exactly what we are going to get. Through life's ups and downs, even the darkest midnight of our own personal failings, these mountains have never, ever failed me. Life is indeed fluid, and I have changed with it. But I have come here to make sure I am on the right trail. Come, test onself against this northern vanguard of the Pemi, measure yourself against its unfaltering perseity.
Today I have visited the past, and have ever more reason to look foward to the future. But for the remaining hours, I will be equally content to live in the present day.
Greetings from Garfield!
To a mountain, time and change are a matter of perspective. Time might as well stand still, and change is a seasonal process. As a child, hiking was all about speed and power. Racing my older brother to the final destination was all that mattered. Limbs, muscles, legs, and lungs were limitless, unencumbered by pain, soreness, and age. I could never understand why my parents took so many breaks, or why they fell asleep so fast when we got home and the end of the day. As the clueless days of adolescence gave way to the more intentional ignorance of the teen years, little had seemingly changed. The physical attributes seemed to grow stronger when seasoned with bravado and a better understanding of the physical gifts coupled with coordination and balance. Breaking book time, beating records, bragging rights of pack weight, these were the hallmarks of success. In the waning years of these unbridled days - due to the realization that school would end and "life" would begin -there was a bit of transformation. The goal was now that of hiking more with my friends, not knowing which one would be our last. Miles, peaks, elevation, the former milestones of achievement, now meant nothing. Lingering over a fire, telling stories, sharing thoughts, hopes, and memories, those blessed aspirations of an unblemished future, that is what mattered. Then came my 20's. Having to walk the tightrope of needing to work, and needing to hike. Then came my now referenced "Dark Days", when I moved away from my home state of NH, foolishly thinking that leaving my beloved Whites was "no big deal". Then I kept coming back. Hiking became my way to reaffirm and stay connected to my NH roots, to stay healthy, to enjoy time with my wife and family, and friends, both old and new. Of course I had brief stints of hiking to enjoy photography (saw Hawai'i 3x mostly through a lens) and of falling back into the delusion of hiking to test my speed and strength, which I finally realized I had done 20 years prior. That is pretty much a synopsis of my hiking life.
And Garfield? Well it certainly has its place in all this. Though this area of home had been a part of my youthful playground, it was in 2008 that it took on a special place in my life. My brother and I returned here together, both of us older and wiser (debatable), and happy to be together. There was of course, a measure of the same sibling competition, thank goodness, and subsequent name calling, which isn't as much fun when you have the same mother in common. But when we summited that day, we picked opposite sides of the peak to relax, I went off to take pictures, and he went to sleep. When I had finished, I moved in his direction, pulled up my pack and slipped over the foundation, landing quite close to him, but managing not to arose him. I looked out towards Owl's Head, back again to my brother, and leaned my back against the support of the foundation. It was then I thought "why am I not writing about this? why am I not writing about this place, this unique spot in the world with its beauty and people?". It turned out to be the springboard of my hiking journal. I spent a good amount of my early years following others, mostly cause I had to. As the youngest sibling, its a rite of passage trying to catch up with your older brother, and you follow the footsteps of your parents for both guidance and safety. The most blessed footsteps I followed were those of my great uncle. Once I had grown up, I was on my own, following no one, setting my own path. Once married, my wife wanted me in front of her as we hiked (mostly to break cobwebs I suppose). Today is different. Today is Klutzy Kat's last of the 48. She has the honor of lead. A small town MA girl, who never did, or desired to hike growing up. But once the two of us became one, her hiking exposure only steeled her purposiveness, as if she were predestined. She will be the first of her family to do such a thing. She is in front today, and I have the privilege of following her. I cannot think of a better place to be.
Today I am in another stage of my hiking life as I come here on a Historical Trek. (see TR ""Hiking In the Face of History") What kind of hiker will I be next time I come to Garfield? Who knows, but I cannot wait to find out. If someone tells you they are the same person they were 20 years ago, that's too bad. Being outdoors, putting one foot in front of the other, well, it changes you, and your perspective, and quite often for the better.
Garfield, you have done it again, I have come to you in a variety of seasons, of differing months and years. Today I feel that you have helped solved a problem that has perplexed us mortals for millenia, and made it no more than a trivial matter, one of but temporary, simplistic bewilderment. Our lives are in a constant state of fluidity, sometimes due to circumstance, other times due to our decisions. Yet for as much as we change, you remain the same. We can perceive ourselves when we come to you, and compare ourselves to your great touchstone of existence, something so consistent. Maybe that is why we come back so devotedly, because we know exactly what we are going to get. Through life's ups and downs, even the darkest midnight of our own personal failings, these mountains have never, ever failed me. Life is indeed fluid, and I have changed with it. But I have come here to make sure I am on the right trail. Come, test onself against this northern vanguard of the Pemi, measure yourself against its unfaltering perseity.
Today I have visited the past, and have ever more reason to look foward to the future. But for the remaining hours, I will be equally content to live in the present day.
Greetings from Garfield!
