The Mountain

Trestle View by Paul Gould

I married in my teens, had four children, moved from Chicago to Houston to the Hudson Valley in upstate New York, and finally, in my forties went to college. Full time. While also working full time and wrangling four teenagers. It was a turbulent time in our household. On weekends, I climbed the mountain in the painting. 

There was a series of marked hiking trails that criss-crossed the mountain top. The route I used was about eight miles long. Up one end, across, down about mid-way, and then back along a rough track to the tiny parking lot where I left my car. I had a backpack of supplies--first aid kit, food bars, water, a book, and a rain poncho--and carried a sturdy five foot long walking stick.

The trail wasn't really a trail, but rather a rough directional aid that was partly stone covered stream paths, vertical climbing, flat granite slabs, and wild laurel. Overall, it was quite a bit more challenging than walking a loop around the neighborhood where I lived. Every week I arrived home at the end of the day with aching knees and sore muscles.

You might wonder why on earth I would do it then...week after week? Because it was the one place I was guaranteed solitude. The first time I climbed this mountain, when I reached the summit I looked out over the glorious Hudson Valley and felt this tremendous sense of accomplishment because against all expectations I'd beat my doctor's predictions. I wasn't in a wheelchair. I climbed that damn mountain on my own two feet.

But there were other benefits to my hikes. I desperately needed some alone time. There on the mountain top with only the birds and shy animals for company, I had the space and peace to deal with all sorts of issues that beset me on every side. I had time to pray or meditate or read a book or just look out over the valley. Each week I went back home fortified for another stretch of chaos and pressure from my job, my family, my school work.

To tell the truth, I'm not sure I would have survived without my weekly climbs. 

A few weeks before my graduation, on a whim, the hunk and I stopped at the Bethlehem Art Gallery not to far from where we lived. And this print was hanging on a wall. I fell in love with it, but it was far out of our price range--even unframed. 

Graduation day arrived. All of my children came home, even the one in the Navy. My parents drove up from Texas. My brother and his family came from Chicago. And in the midst of family and friends, the hunk hauled out this huge flat graduation gift. 

I ripped off the wrapping, wondering what it could be. And there it was, a beautifully framed and matted print of Trestle View by Paul Gould. It hangs over our bed now. We live far away from the mountain and I'm way past the capability of such a hike. But each time I look at it, I'm reminded of the summer I spent on the mountain top. 

Peace and temporary tranquility.