Today I set out with a simple goal to climb up to the a place called Midnight Dome in Dawson City. We are traveling through the Yukon, and my wife saw this “little” hike listed on the local things to do. I asked at the front desk. The clerk informed me that the hike is on a paved road and not all that bad. She stated it took about four hours to complete. With that information, I decided to get up early and take on the challenge. What I didn’t realize was that I would come back very tired but also having learned a lesson on life. So, where and how did this lesson happen?
My watch vibrated at 4 a.m. I hit snooze and started debating whether the trek would be worth the loss of sleep. Ten minutes later and our daughter tapped me on the head. She had woken up, and was having problems getting back to sleep. I sat with her for a few minutes as she quickly drifted back to sleep. I listened in the quiet of the room to hear the birds already chirping away outside. The sunlight peaked under the blackout curtains. It looked the same as when I looked over at the window around midnight. The sun, having never really set, called for me to get dressed and get going.
I walked down the stairs and pushed the doors open very much like a baby leaving the warmth and darkness only to enter a cold and bright world. The temps were in the mid-40s and the sun was bright and welcoming.
I had the joy of walking by Jack London’s cabin. The story of Call of the Wild bounced in my mind as I turned to start up the path. I plugged in my earbuds to listen to music that I had hoped would bring me closer to nature and God. I found it interesting because as I walked, I came to realize that what I thought was going to be a means of drawing me into nature actually took me out of it. A short distance into the walk and the buds came out and the music went away. Now my ears were filled with the sounds of the birds, the breeze through the trees, and m breathing – very heavy breathing.
Then the life lesson started. As I climbed up the mountain, I realized that with almost every turn in the road, I would find that the incline grew steeper. I swear that at one point I was waiting to go inverted. The road continued with very little respite. By respite I mean that we dropped to less than a 45 degree incline. As I put one foot in front of the other, I started questioning my goal. Why had I chosen this? What exactly was the reward for completing the task? Was it worth my time?
Somewhere along the way, I met three young Australians coming down the road. I mention the fact that they are Australian only because I think they have the coolest accents. I looked at them with possibly the reddest face possible and asked if I was close. They smiled back and the youngest of the group shook his head and stated, “Sorry mate. You have quite a ways to go.”
The young lady in the group must have seen some disappointment in my face since she quickly added, “But hey…you’re closer now than you were when you first started.” Those words stuck with me as I walked.
I turned the corner that they had just come around only to find, yes, a steeper climb. I realized that this mountain was a metaphor for life. I came out of the hotel like that newborn described earlier. As I walked from the hotel to the bottom of the climb, the roads were pretty flat – the walk was not all that bad. There were some inclines, but just little training hills. I was learning. My muscles were getting the feel for what was to come. I even passed the house of one of my idols – just like a child idolizes people who have done something they want to do.
As I walked up the road, the path became more difficult, more tedious. At first, while I could sense what was to come, I handled the path without issue. I could equate this to my time after high school and through my early 20s. A couple of spots went steep, but quickly went flatter. During the 20s I tried new jobs, I tried new experiences, worked through relationships, but in the end, I knew I still had the support and guidance of my family. The woods opened up and I saw my first glimpse down into the valley. The picture of what was to come – the same as young adults get an idea as to what life will bring.
Then the work really started. I knew there was an apex at the end, a peak showing that I had accomplished what I set out to do. However, that final view, the sense of being on top would not come without work. I leaned forward and started working. My pacer counted off the half miles. Some went quicker than others – some went slower. Yet the count continued and did not stop.
All the while I monitored my time for I knew that I had to be back to the hotel so I could shower, have breakfast with the family, and start the day. I knew that sometimes; the needs of a family could stop one from reaching a goal – especially when the goal was solely for my own ego. I set a time limit and kept trudging along. I could start to feel aches in my legs, but I kept moving forward. I thought of the times when I had to sacrifice or give up other things in order to reach a goal. Still that pinnacle seemed to be so far away – it was.
Finally, my watch showed my stopping point. I had no clue how close to the top I had come. I had set a time and that time ran out. I stopped in the middle of the road and stared forward. My goal was not visible. The time to re-evaluate my goal had come. I realized that much like life, we set goals for ourselves and some of those goals are not reachable. This doesn’t mean that the goal can never be reached, but, perhaps, it needs to be done at a different time – or not at all.
I told myself that it was time to turn back and that I did. I started down the mountain. Disappointment set in. I felt like a failure. I gave a self-pity party for a minute. Then I started thinking. I got up (late which affected the time), but I got up. I walked as fast as I could with my Santa belly stuck out in front of me. I never stopped until the time clicked to signal an end. So many others were still asleep in the town, but here I stood far, “Closer than I was than when I started.”
I walked a couple of more minutes wondering how I could have done better. I ran through the process in my mind. It was then that I thought about the fact that I forgot a simple calculation. I split my time in half. Yet, it would not take me the same amount of time to come down as to go up. I turned around and allotted myself an extra fifteen minutes to climb. Once again, I leaned forward and up I went.
This goal could be compared to any goal that we set for ourselves. For me, I kept thinking about people working. I thought about them climbing the mountain of promotion and raises. I thought of how many times, I have worked to get ahead while at the same time worrying about making sure I was back for my family. My strides grew – my pace did not.
Once again, the watch ticked away and I reached the point of no return. I had, with a smile on my face, accepted that it was not to be. Prior to turning, I did see a little clearing ahead so I hoped to at least get a few photos. I approached the clearing and saw the road went a little left and forward. I took it for the right shot. As I turned the corner, I realized that I had reached the top. I made my goal. I conquered my mountain. I took some pictures and knew that I really had to head back. It took me so long to reach my goal, that I had very little time to take it in. I tried to look around and memorize everything so I could remember it forever. I then started down. I wanted to scream for joy, but didn’t want to disturb the silence. I wanted to leave a mark of some sort, but you do not destroy nature. I reached my goal and left it with no mark – no way for others to know what I did.
The path down made me think of life when work is done. I thought I could coast down and not have to work. WRONG! I started letting my feet just walk – hey it was downhill. However, this threw off my pace. I needed to continue to concentrate on what I was doing in order to make it to the end safely. All along the road was loose gravel and fresh tar. I understood that by not paying attention to my path, I was going to end up sliding down a lot faster than wanted. I chose my steps carefully for I didn’t want it to end to quickly nor did I want to suffer along the way. I did realize that there was more to take in. I saw views that I had missed because I had my head down as I worked towards my original goal. I worked so hard to get to the top that I missed so many things. My trip down allowed me to take those things in and enjoy what I was doing. Had I continued to work in the same fashion, I would have missed the two small foxes playing along the road.
As I reached the bottom of the road, I tried to remember the view that I had seen at the top. I could draw it back into my mind, but it was not the same vivid colors as when I first viewed the valleys. Already the memory was fading. I thought of those of the older generation. I could still pull up my pictures and remember the view. The struggle to do it in my head made me sad for those who cannot pull up beautiful memories or the names of loved one. Once down and in a safe place to close my eyes, the memories came back. For those that suffer from dementia, they never come back.
So, there we go. I heard of a nice “easy” hike. I thought I would do it to get some nice views and instead took a look at my life and how it works. I will still have goals. I will still work towards them. Perhaps though, I need to rethink what those goals are and what they bring me. Today – my goal brought me views that I will never see again. Today brought me joy. Today brought me a sense of accomplishment. Not all my goals will bring me that. Not all my goals are worth the time I give them.
Thanks for wandering with me today.