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Wednesday, July 2, 2008

The climb

The previous night’s rains skipped down the Quebec mountain by a thousand different paths. Tumbling over rocks, between trees, upon the steps on which we walked, the water laughed as it went down and we struggled up. We met frequently along the way — the water and us five travelers — the water running over the rock steps like a slinky toy, cleansing the hard-earned mud off our feet as it passed through.

Up, up, up. I don’t remember ever climbing so high. Up, up, up through the Parc national du Saguenay, splashing and sweating and joking. Three kilometers felt like seven, but in a good way. We climbed to meet the saint.

It might be a secret that I’ve had a lot on my mind as of late. Family changes, relationship issues (with friendships and otherwise), decisions about grad schools, and complicated work have weighed me down. I don’t always know how to deal with stress or sadness or disappointment, so I file them away, tucking them in crevices of my mind and body and away from view. I used to write about these things, but old age has made me cautious, less willing to reveal my inner mechanisms.

Up, up, up, though. Clarifying! One foot in front of the other, looking for a dry patch to stand firm, pausing only to dip your feet in cold water. Simple! With a known destination in mind and within reach and promising of beauty. Satisfying! As the mud caked on my feet and the altitude climbed, my mind decompressed, became calm.

At the top, she waited: the Notre Dame du Saguenay. We reached her after an hour of climbing, but when we arrived she looked not down upon us, but out upon the water, her hands clasped in calm and leaden permanence. A guide standing at her feet told us the story — in French — of how this saint saved a 19th century man from drowning in the fjord upon which we gazed, and how, in return, he built this statue in her honor.

There, we rested, taking off our muddy flip flops and looking out upon the mix of gray, green and blue. Water, rocks, trees and sky. The sun was warm but the breeze was cool. I looked at my friends, and looked inside. The stresses didn’t seem so overwhelming, the disappointments in better perspective. It was a perfect moment, made more perfect by the realization that soon we would have to descend again, through the mud, the water, the rocky terrain and land once again upon the world which we inhabit.

Posted by Aaron on July 2, 2008 10:58 PM