My daydreams of mountains always bring me back to my sixth birthday. It also happens to be my first memory of adventure. The plan was for my sister (age 8) and me to fly by ourselves from St. Louis to Palm Springs to visit our grandparents. The plane ride itself was an otherworldly experience. The sensation of leaving my parents and putting all my trust in my fearless older sister, surrounded by strangers, with a destination I was so excited for I could hardly wait. Leaving my mother at the gate in STL and seeing my grandparents on the other end a few hours later felt like an eternity. I got off the plane clutching my sister’s hand and anxiously looking for Bubbe and Grandpa, hoping there wasn’t a mix-up, and we had been delivered to the wrong airport. There they were, big smiles and waiting with hugs. Relief.
Having successfully completed the traveling part of the journey and reunited with two of my favorite people on earth, I felt like a million bucks. Is this when my thirst for adventure and search for excitement began to take root? That feeling of anticipation on the journey for something incredible was intoxicating. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for what I felt when we arrived at their house and I stepped outside into the scorching June heat in the desert. I looked around at all the cacti and citrus trees in the garden. I’d never seen plants like these and was fascinated. Just don’t touch the cactus I was warned. I wanted to touch it so badly. Then came the moment. I looked past the walls of the garden and saw in the distance a line of mountain peaks. In every direction, the San Jacinto Mountains spread out silhouetted against the vibrant blue sky. I’d never seen anything so magnificent and impressive. My sensitive eyes wanted to avoid the brightness of the sky, but my young mind couldn’t stop marveling at the seemingly infinite peaks on the horizon. Hook, line, and sinker.
I was trying to figure out so many things all at once. How did they build a city surrounded by these impossibly large obstacles? How did they get all the supplies through? How did I get through? I didn’t remember seeing them on the plane or on the drive from the airport. The complex problems were too much for my young brain and I stopped trying to find answers and instead spent the next week admiring their strength and beauty from every vantage point I could find. Driving around to different activities, the mountains were always there, a constant companion I couldn’t get enough of.
There is always a starting point for the things we love and obsess over in life, I feel so fortunate to be able to identify one of mine. Mountains have become an important part of my life, and when I don’t have any on the horizon, I feel a sense of loss or missing out. My relationship with the mighty mountain has changed over the years, but it is always there. The master of time, immovable, deadly, and glorious. There is so much to learn from mountains, from afar, from on top, at the bottom, and most importantly; on the way up. Get out there and find your mountain.
