I grew up on a mountain. Okay, more like a hill. Actually, we lived in the foothills beneath the San Gabriel mountains. Whatever you want to call it, it was a wonderful place to grow up. Exploring the nature that surrounded us, hiking the foothills, going up the creek at Cucamonga canyon, and of course, dirt bike riding. It was a good mountain to live on, okay, maybe it was more like a hill.
I was 10 years old when we moved to the hill. I can remember walking back and forth to the bus stop. About 1/2 miles away. Actually, I can’t remember walking there, I was probably dropped off in the morning. But I can remember walking back. Up a dirt road to the dike, and then the driveway, with a 20% grade, maybe ⅛ mile long. It was dusty, hot, and all uphill. I remember walking up the hill in stages, stopping and resting along the way. I’m sure some of you remember the driveway. It was my first encounter with climbing hills. What am I saying, a hill, it felt more like a mountain.
I always like to hike. I can remember one time a couple of us decided to conquer the hill by climbing it–but a novel idea, climbing it. So, we started hiking up the hogback where our house was. The foothills we lived on had a peak, Frankish peak. And all of the foothills basically starting there, at the top. And then they forked as they came down, like veins, ending with a dozen hills, all connected together with hogbacks. So, we started up the hogback. After a while the hill next to ours came together, and two veins converged to one, and that one eventually converged with another, and another, and we ended up at the top.
It was a hike, but we bushwhacked our way through. A couple places the hogback narrowed down to a few feet wide with some pretty severe drops both ways. But we made it, Frankish peak, 4085 feet above sea level, 2000 feet above where we started.
I always took for granted living beneath those mountains. Now I realize how beautiful they are. I think it is partly because there’s nothing blocking the view. Nothing but the 20 miles of basically level ground. That is rare. Usually, mountains live on mountainous ground. Gradually rising up to the summit. Any case, they are truly beautiful, and I am blessed to live beneath them.
On the top of the range is Mount San Antonio, or Mount Baldy. It is the highest peak in the San Gabriel mountains at 10,069’ above sea level. And it is a good place for mountain climbing. The easiest way to the top is to ride the ski lift, which takes a couple miles and 2000’ of elevation off of the hike. From there it is four miles each way with a gain of 2200’ in elevation. I think it is considered a moderate hike. I have climbed it several times. And the ski lift is pretty cool too.
There are two other peaks above our home. Ontario peak and Cucamonga peak. Both of these are harder to climb. Both hikes are considered strenuous. Six miles each way and 4300’ feet of vertical gain ending with 8859’ above sea level for Cucamonga, and 8696’ for Ontario. For some reason I never climbed either of them. I wish I had.
Boy, I am reminiscing. Living in the foothills beneath the San Gabriel mountains. Good times.
So, this is what I was writing to practice writing. But here is what I wanted to say. I guess it’s two posts, one about climbing mountains for fun, the other, not so much. It is about a decision I have been struggling with. And I am working on my answer.
There is a mountain before me. It is more real to me than the massive granite mountains that rise up from the valley I live in. Mountains there can exist outside of my day-to-day existence. Usually, I don’t even think about them. But the one rising before me is always there. Right there. Every day.
It is hard to describe what it is. Fatigue for sure, never feeling well is part of it as well, the discouragement of the setbacks, all of that wrapped up with a bow waiting for me every day. There it is, and it is a mountain.
I started to think about the mountains one day while I was walking in the botanical garden. Actually, I wasn’t walking, I was sitting on a bench and soaking in the beauty around me. And there, framed with trees, I saw Cucamonga Peak. And this thought popped into my head, I want to climb it.
That this thought showed up at all, is profound to me, “I want to climb the mountain.” It wasn’t something I was thinking about, in fact, I couldn’t even imagine doing it. I don’t want to climb the mountain; I just want to be able to get through this day. But the thought remained, and it became bolder, how about adding it to my bucket list? I laughed to myself, like that’s going to happen. How about if we add instead, “riding up the ski lift for lunch at the Top of the Notch restaurant, and then down the ski lift back to the car.” That is doable. But there it remains – I want to climb it.
It’s actually more profound to me than that. And it had to do with that post that I turned a page on. The one I didn’t post. The post was titled “Is it enough”. And what I was doing was contemplating how my rehab was doing – which is slow, very slow. And I was thinking about how much more time I want to spend on rehab, versus living my life as it stands. And I was sort of thinking about giving up. Not on life, not on God, but thinking about giving up on my recovery, on giving up on that mountain, and saying it’s good enough. I can live here. I can live here in its shadow.
Last year my focus was on rehab and therapy. That was what I was doing. The last couple months I didn’t do much therapy. Choosing instead to spend time doing other things, living life. And I have been thinking about that a lot. Do I go gentle into that good night, or do I rage against the dying of the light, to quote Dylan Thomas?
I feel that God was telling me something with that thought. Or maybe it was my subconscious. Either way, I have decided I need to continue climbing that mountain. I am not talking about hiking to Cucamonga peak, but journeying toward the peak of that mountain that looms before me. I need to try and climb it. I’m choosing to rage against the dying of night. And if I can somehow climb it, on the other side, Cucamonga peak will be there. We will see. But it’s going on the bucket list.
There are some things to think about, things like finding balance between working on my life and living it. I need to set priorities, and figure out how to track my progress. Maybe a post about that. Or how about a post about this: mountains in the Bible. There is a story about this man, who wanted to give up, and he sat down in the desert and wanted to die. And he said to God, “It is enough.” Wow, the very words I was thinking about, it was like he read my unpublished post. Anyways, God sent him to a mountain. There’s that. And for writing practice, how about this, dirt bike riding on the mountain. That would fall under “living my life”. You know, for balance.
