The Summit

I’m really doing it. At the ripe age of 45, I’m taking control of my life. All my life, I have called one place home. But now, with that home behind me, I feel free.

The magazine tucked away in front of me reads “Grand Adventures: Wilderness experiences in Alaska.” It’s the perfect place for me. I heard many people go to Alaska to run away. Convicts, mostly. But I’m no convict. I’ve never so much as jaywalked in all my years.

“Folks, it is 2:45pm and we have begun our descent into Anchorage. The current temperature is 59 degrees and we will be at the gate in about 20 minutes. We’d like to ask the flight attendants to now prepare the cabin for arrival. Thank you everyone for flying with us, we hope you enjoy your time in Anchorage.”

I intend to.

After deplaning, I follow the rest of the herd toward baggage claim. I have no baggage to claim but the backpack already on my back. I’m not the only one detouring past baggage claim looking slightly nomadic. I am the only one with evident wrinkles though.

Walking out the sliding doors, I am met by a slew of welcoming committees- none for me. There are shuttles adorning all the usual hotel brands and taxis in yellow and orange.

“You look lost,” declares a woman who appears to have come from the same herd as me. Dressed in jeans and a Patagonia shirt, she looks to be younger than me. Maybe 10 or so years short of my “over the hill” status.

“I don’t know where to go,” I respond.

“Are you looking for a specific shuttle?”

“No, no shuttle. I’m not sure where I’m staying tonight. Or any night.”

The woman laughs but I’m not finding this predicament funny. The freedom I once felt was quickly replaced with fear. I’m not the kind of person who does this. What did I get myself into?

“Okay, you look panicked now. Calm down. You’re okay.”

I looked at her. If she looked concerned before that was nothing compared to the look in her eyes now. I vocalize the thoughts I was just having.

“I thought I could do this. Go on an adventure on a whim, but I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s just not who I am.”

“Well you’re here now so it’s as good a time as any to make it who you are.”

Fair enough.

“Why are you talking to me right now?” I ask.

“It must be the small-town girl in me. And I happen to be a small-town girl with a spare room, what do you say?”

“Oh, um, are you inviting me into your home?”

“You don’t seem dangerous so I think I’m willing to take the risk, yea.”

I’d be insane to agree. I don’t know her or anything about her other than the fact that she’s from a small town. Allegedly. But then I guess I don’t really have any other options and she seems nice enough.

“I’m in.”

I say it aloud. There’s no turning back now.

A comforting smile spreads across her face and she leads me toward the parking garage.

During the car ride home we share stories and get to know one another. I can’t help but be distracted by my surroundings. We’re in the middle of a city, but the mountains look so close. We brake for a moose crossing the road. The mountains stand so beautifully, guarding this city I will call home. And we’re here.

Her house is amazing. A two story home overlooking the Inlet, right in downtown Anchorage.

“You live here by yourself?”

“Just me and my husband.”

She didn’t mention him on the car ride. But why wouldn’t she ask him before inviting me?

“Will he mind that I’m here? I can go elsewhere…”

“No, of course not! Why would he mind? Plus it’s guys’ night tonight. He’ll go out with his buddies and shouldn’t be back until late.”

She continues, “Anyway, tonight is summer solstice so we won’t even be here when he gets home.”

“Where will we be?”

“We are climbing a mountain!”

It’s my first day here, I haven’t climbed a day in my life and now we’re climbing a mountain?

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“Relax. It’s a groomed trail and children climb it. You’ve got this!”

Okay, that sounds manageable.

I drop off my bag in the spare room, change into something more comfortable, and grab my tennis shoes. I head back to the foyer where she is waiting.

We head to eat first and by the time we finish, it’s around seven at night. Sure, the sun is still out, but…

“Are you sure now is a good time to start a hike? “

“Now is the perfect time to start a hike.”

We get in the car and head toward the Chugach Mountains. After about a 30-minute drive, we arrive at the trailhead and the parking lot is packed!

We step in line with the crowd and head up the first set of stairs. The trail beyond the stairs is steep. I really need to step up my exercise regime.

The atmosphere is festive. Many are lugging small coolers or backpacks or both. The woman just ahead of me has a child on her back and still doesn’t appear to be struggling. Their added weight doesn’t seem to bother them in the slightest.

I’m taking it all in, breathing heavily, when the trail eases up on me. Looking around I try to capture the sights to memory. The next round of stairs are tough but I power through them, with the ocassional break. Gladly, I’m not the only one taking more than a few breathers. I am anxious to make it to the top. Another set of stairs. The closer we get, the rowdier the crowd is. We lose the groomed trail toward the top and begin to climb up some rocks. She didn’t mention this. Should I be worried that we never exchanged names? This is beginning to feel questionable.

She is very well versed in motivational clichés. You can do it! Slow and steady. Believe and achieve! Honestly, it was beginning to get frustrating, until at last I climb over the final boulder and reach the summit!

There is a huge party at the top. Everyone is talking, dancing, eating, and celebrating. A few groups have campsites set up. The sun is still up with no plans of setting anytime soon.

It’s loud, but the noise disappears almost immediately.

It is beautiful. No, the word beautiful doesn’t do it justice. I can’t believe I made it here. All around me I see the peaks of mountains; I’m on top of the world. Despite the party happening around me, everything seems so peaceful. Here, thousands of miles from home, I feel safe, secure, and free. There are limitless possibilities of what I can do, what I can see. Suddenly, I know I can do this. A firework shoots off!

I look at the clock. It’s two in the morning and I had fallen asleep at work.

I should be home. I finished my work here hours ago. Tedious, unfulfilling work. I sit still and remember that feeling at the top of the mountain and realize I can’t do this anymore. Or I won’t do this anymore.

I log on to my computer and book my ticket, one-way.