I’m Ascending…

on a good gravel road through a dense grey woodland. I haven’t seen a dwelling or another car for miles. The community that cares for this remote byway is unknown to me. I’m borrowing their road to get myself lost, on purpose.

The GPS display is a solitary blue line, giving no hint of what surrounds me, or what lies ahead – it’s a perfect ally. Curiosity, remoteness, a penchant for the unknown pry my imagination open wide. I want this journey’s outcome to surprise me, and it does. The forest canopy starts to brighten. I am approaching a clearing – perhaps a hilltop pasture, or an abandoned homestead, its ancient orchard being reclaimed by encroaching birches and bittersweet.

I arrive. I’ve climbed higher than I thought. Stunted spruce and laurel grip a wind-scoured ridge top. The sky is low, crowded with clouds as heavy as granite, hewn here and left in place. Exposed in this unforgiving terrain, far from civilization, vulnerability penetrates me to the marrow. I’m edgy about staying. Years later, I can’t recall if it was cold, but the memory chills me now.

Not knowing makes precious space in which to wonder, to discover, and to create. Sometimes I can make a photo, but I couldn’t capture one that afternoon. I still ponder that challenge, though. For now, I have these words to share.

I may find that mountain again. Not knowing makes room for hope, too.