The Weekender

We ditched children at the grandparents this past weekend for a little impromptu road trip.

We drove 6 hrs from Western, NY to Western, MA.  After a quick stop to visit friends Chris, Becky and Abby Mancuso, we headed out Saturday morning to climb Mt. Greylock in Adams, MA.  Mt. Greylock (or Warlock as Becky mistakenly referred to it, making it sound much tougher than it is) is Massachusetts highest peak at 3,487 ft.  Dave and I fancy ourselves high-pointers and have summited  about a dozen state high peaks together since we have been married.  It is not an obsessive passion or anything but we hike them when we can, so a weekend sans kids was a great time to get one in.

Mt Greylock is not a very imposing peak in terms of mountain climbing.  In fact there is no need to climb at all as there is a road right up to the summit with wheelchair access right to the summit monument, and a restaurant on the top.  Dave calls it ‘cheating’ and you can’t technically claim you have ‘climbed’ a highpoint if there was no hiking involved, so we choose a hiking route to the summit instead.  We picked what would have been a butt-kicking trail in most circumstances, a 2,000 elevation change in 2 miles.  Thunderbolt trail is an old ski slope, the home of the 1940 Olympic Eastern Downhill Champions, and is exactly like hiking up an old ski slope.  There are parts of the trail named, The Steps, Big Bend, The Bumps.

On our way out the door I threw a bunch of tee shirts, sneakers, Carharts and cords, in a backpack, figuring we would be fine for a few hours hike on a Saturday afternoon.  And we would have, except for the torrential downpour. By torrential downpour I mean soaked through each layer in minutes, couldn’t see each other twenty feet away on the trail, the other hikers on the trail, hardcore ones with boots and rain coats, turned around.   We kind of knew there was the possibility that it would rain, but as evidenced by my backpack full of cotton, we hadn’t expected a monsoon.

We made our wet and soggy way to the restaurant at the top and filled ourselves full of hot coffee and soup and attempted to warm up/dry off the best we could.  “I’m only 40% mad at you for not packing raincoats” was Dave’s response as he dripped on the restaurant floor and tried to warm his face with coffee steam.  “Score” I thought.  I’d take what I kindness I could get from him, as I was the other 60% mad at myself for not packing raincoats.

I am not exactly a ‘planning’ person.  Sure I’m not a procrastinator and I do think ahead about things but I am not exactly detail orientated.   There was something in my mind while packing for the trip that did not connect ‘it might rain’ and ‘pack raincoats’. It occurred to me as I squeezed the water out of my ponytail, that not being a planner might be God’s defense mechanism for me against worry, fear and anxiety.  Jesus has a whole spheel about this in Matthew 6:25-34 that our heavenly Father knows we need food, drink, and clothing and he has it taken care it. We are specifically instructed not to stress out about those things.  Not having the full picture is scary, not having some of the big details is scary too.

As I think about moving to Nepal the answer I have to most questions people ask, such as, Where will you live?, How will you pay your loans?, What will you do for school?,  is ‘I don’t know’.  These are big questions and I eventually will need to know the answers to them.  Jesus tackles this in Matthew 10:29 when he is sending the disciples out and trying to calm their fears of the unknown. “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny, yet not one of them can fall to the ground without knowledge of the Father.  But for you, even the hairs on your head are numbered. Fear not therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”  God has got the details covered and He reserves the right to change them apart from my plan and without my knowledge.  He only asks that I not worry or fear and trust Him. Done and done.  I’m not saying my trust is perfect, but it is a freedom to relax in the knowledge that God has things taken care of and He knows the whole plan even if I forget one teensy little detail like rain coats.

Once we had sufficiently warmed up to avoid hypothermia we headed back down the mountain to no rain and gorgeous view emerging from fog and clouds.  It was still slick as snot and easier at times to booty-boggen down the hill than walk, but we made it back to the warm car and dry clothes in great time.  Monsoon not withstanding, it was a great hike and I’m really glad we did it.  If I had been a planner perhaps I would have looked at the weather report and decided it wasn’t a good idea to hike at all or maybe I would have convinced Dave to ‘cheat’ and drive up, entirely missing the great hike and the joy of watching God provide.  Granted, I also could have packed hiking boots, trekking poles, and water resistant layers but then where would be the fun in that.