A wall of stairs wound it’s way before me, standing at the base of a monument of East coast tourism, Mount Monadnock. The culmination of my prior year’s desire to get out of the lounge chair in front of my cluttered bedroom desk and experience something, anything, besides that. “Escapism I suppose it may be, but it’s escapism I need,” I thought at the start of this task I had placed before myself. My summer had been that of boredom and monotony born of a self imposed routine of “Sleep. Eat. Work out. Burn time.” and the lie that I had enjoyed just those activities, just to draw away from the blank slate in my schedule that summer vacation had introduced. Naturally, when I told my parents of my grand ambitions to “Climb something” as I had so eloquently put it, they directed me to the towering peaks of Mount Monadnock that they too had scaled in their youth. Ok, maybe not towering peaks, but the 3,200 foot elevation of said peak is a great start for someone looking for an exciting journey in just a single day.
A mere month later, I ended up vacationing in Massachusetts for some college touring, since I’m planning on applying to school there. Despite my parents insistence that “We don’t have nearly enough time to do all of this!”, after a short hour long drive to New Hampshire, found myself waltzing across the rocky gravel outside what looked like a popular tourist attraction, in the middle of uninhabited forest, at the base of the mountain; out of place, in other words. Multiple faux log cabins had large displays of “Hot-dogs and burgers!” and “Souvenirs!” outside, while the dozens of soon-to-be climbers milled about, double checking their purpose made hiking boots and many strapped water packs before embarking on their scant 3 hour hike. I meandered off to the quick trail wearing tennis shoes and a single bottle of water, thinking to myself  “This will be a piece of cake, these people seem over-prepared” and began my walk among the shady maples up the cracked log stairs, which are embedded so firmly in the ground it was as if they had been cemented in place. The cover of the maples becomes an all encompassing umbrella of foliage, and log stairs quickly turn to tangled roots and shards of loose gravel, and I had to work harder to keep my footing at the pace that I held. I thrived on the activity of the roots in this uphill forest, their activity and excitement revive me from the monotony induced stupor I found myself trapped in. Propelled by feeling for the first time in months, I bound up the walls of steep and jagged granite faces that slow the travel of my fellow climbers. Climbing induces a very singular focus in the participant, and the effort of moving forward and up those rock faces consumes one’s mind, driving out any other worries, concerns, and you can simply lose yourself in the moment, moving onward like it’s the only thing in the world that matters, or could ever matter to you.
After a particularly hard scramble to the first false summit over the slippery surface of a water-scoured boulder, I had an urge to check the time. One of my, honestly, negative habits is obsessively checking the time, anywhere I go, with anything I do. It’s something I picked up from school, making sure I always know exactly how much time I have to finish a test, homework, and so on, ad nauseum. Even as I write this, I find myself impulsively glancing downwards at the clock in my computer, balancing a juggling act of tasks at once, with the goal of “Maybe if I finish by nine PM, I’ll have free time”. I didn’t bring a watch or check the time at all prior to the hike, and looking back on that point when I took a seat on a sunny outcropping above the trees, looking out over what looked like the entire state of New Hampshire, I realized that time didn’t have much meaning for me on this trek. I had devoted the entire day to this activity, so I didn’t want to know the time; it didn’t matter to me. And why should it matter to me? Unlike the constricting time limits that dictate my every move in ordinary life, such as one that currently constrains me to finish my writing by a certain time, I was unbound by such limits out in the woods. And so I observed. Rolling hills, seas of green and vast lakes of navy spread out for miles in every direction, limited only by the haze from the atmosphere, and even though it was a clear day, I could not make out any signs of civilization in any direction. The only thought that I could pull together in my mind was “Wow…”, and some feelings of nausea and vertigo. I couldn’t even make out the shapes of the trees below either, they merely morphed into a viridescent carpet in front of me, below me, all around; spinning around in fact… I returned my gaze to the solid footing underneath me, since I was already on the edge of a 40 foot ledge when I stopped, and such a view and open space before me was a recipe for motion sickness. After regaining my bearings and reining in my breakfast, the final climb to the summit beckoned.
It took time, but after clearing the final stretch of bare granite boulders, and down to the last few drops of water in my measly supply, the final obstacle in my route to the summit came within view, and I cleared it with renewed fervor. What lay before me is to this day the most incredible sight I had ever seen in my life. Even more so than the false summits I had previously reached in my ascent, there was an absolutely unobstructed view of miles of wilderness in every direction. A smattering of nearby peaks through the same range that Monadnock was in crested across the horizon to one side, while rolling hills of forests and lakes lay in the other direction. I reached down to my water bottle; it was empty. So I asked for some water from a group of guys eating lunch with a response of “Yeah man, you can snag some water!”. Still the friendliness of the hikers there amazes me. I had somewhere around ten different conversations with absolute strangers on the way up; this would never have happened on the street or down below. When I started up, I was in the same place, and had no desire to make conversation with these people, but after I hit the top I had learned that all of the people I had run in to had the same mindset and goals that I had, and we could all relate.
I sprawled out on the edge of the summit on a flat stone outcropping and recalled my path to the top, just to relive the experience while it was fresh in my mind. Not a single person had taken the same route up the mountain that I had. Each person took their own slight variant of the route that changed for everyone; some choosing to jump over stones, some to go around, and some climbing between a thin water etched crevice in the walls of stone, while others may have decided to take the more stair-like route over the smattering of smaller rocks up boulders. I thought jokingly how cliche it was for me to have some profound life lesson learned while climbing a mountain, but nevertheless, through the simple noticing of people walking different directions, I had picked up on something at a level I hadn’t ever before in my life. As I finished my rest on the summit and slid carefully down the alternate route for descent on the mountain, which was admittedly less intriguing than the ascent to the top, I had close to an hour to contemplate my sudden realization from the summit.
Choosing those different paths proved to me how much each individual’s experiences shape their actions. The more reserved people would take the slow and relaxing routes, and the people who were excited and talking with others would challenge themselves further. In this moment I realized that I had been one of the latter, especially as I had passed by the others descending at a much faster pace, and that the reason for doing so was straight from my experiences over the summer, and how being cooped up inside gave me the drive to challenge myself. Looking back on that insight now, I wonder if I could propel myself beyond that; it’s almost a competition with yourself, trying to climb quicker and more carefully at the same time. The sky was the limit with the rush I had from that climb, and everything to this point seems easily surmountable after such a venture. I can’t help but think what position I would be in mentally if I hadn’t had whatever urge that pressured me to partake in a climb. It was just one of those out of the blue cases of “Hey, I feel like doing this!”. I fear that rather than returning to school and other parts of my life with a refreshed and optimistic outlook on life, my mind would be in a place where I likely wouldn’t care for such sudden feelings.