Blogging with Summer Institute 2008

9:00 A.M. Meet at Starbucks, New Paltz
Steve, Lilah, Sarah and Cathy W(me) ready for a day of adventure, bonding and writing.
Steve suggested The Mohonk House for our Hudson Valley Scramble and I was very happy about this! I have never seen this place and I heard it was beautiful.
NOTE TO SELF: We make a good group! Diverse, supportive, honest.

9:30 Off we go in my Hamstermobile, aptly named by my kids for its determined but lame ability to accelerate 0-60 in 8 minutes. The winding road to Mohonk is pretty. The morning air is in the mid 80s but feels cooler, with a gentle breeze and clear blue sky.

10:00 Into the grounds of Mohonk. The lodges are spectacular, an assortment of majestic additions each more detailed and interesting than the other. And the lake! Blue/ green reflecting the sky and the mountains. We go out to the large porch and watch the guests lounging in rocking chairs and see children anticipating the day ahead. There are mountains all around us, and tumbled off the sides of these mountains are boulders. Big angular chunks of rock, some perfect squares and as large as a house, a bus, others more like a car or a refrigerator or a shoebox. It looks like the playground of some incredibly huge giant child who got angry and knocked his block tower down.

10:15 We discuss the pattern of the day and decide on an early “hike”, since it will get hot fast, then a leisurely lunch and then some writing on the porch. Steve points out a rock structure across the lake. It looks like the cliff split perfectly in a 200 foot vertical break. He says that we will go up between that split, but don’t worry, there are stairs. It seems pretty far away, but I can do stairs. Sounds great! Off we go.

10:20 NOTE TO SELF: I am the only one of us without a backpack. I have a silly little fanny pack. Well, we are only going to “hike”. I can hike. I can do 3 full mall loops without even getting winded. Don’t I walk at least a mile a day, stretch, use free weights (5 lbs. thank you), and make my co-workers run to keep up with me in the halls at school. Yes I do. O.K. The fanny pack is both appropriate and sensible.

10:30 The path incline is comfortable. We stop at various little sightseeing gazebos to admire the view. It is truly beautiful up here. We sit for a few minutes to jot down some thoughts. A turkey buzzard glides and floats without ever flapping his long wings. It is almost silent except for the breeze.

10:40 The incline gets steeper and I am a tiny bit winded.
NOTE TO SELF: Next time, eat a good breakfast before going on a “hike”. The Yoplait Light I had at about 6AM is long gone.

10:45 Abrupt change in the terrain. We are headed into a heavily wooded area and there are rocks for our footpath about the size of a text book, to the size of a desktop printer, to a college refrigerator. We go down low to the forest floor on these rocks and then progress up quickly. If this is as intense as it gets I will be O.K.

10:55 Bigger rocks, boulders to be exact. Stacked on top of each other at odd angles, with smaller rocks lodged between them. We climb. Steve in front, Sara next, then me, and then Lilah. Steve and Sarah run over these boulders with ease, they don’t even use their hands to steady themselves. I am starting to feel muscles that have not been activated since the 3rd grade. Everyone senses my hesitation, and gives lots of words of encouragement. Lilah tells me she can boost me when I struggle to pull myself up. NOTE TO SELF: If I fall back on Lilah, I will squish her.

10:58 Now on top of a big rock platform. We pause and I look back on where we just came from! HOLY SHIT! How did we get so high up so quickly? I suddenly realize that even if I want to, which I really, really, really want to, I can’t turn around now and go back the way we came. It was one thing fighting gravity going up, but gravity would fully accommodate me on the way down and I would hurl myself on these giant boulders and break every bone in my body. CRAP, CRAP, CRAP…….I am secretly feeling very scared. This is probably not the time to tell my group that I am deathly afraid of heights, or that those jerks at AARP sent me a membership card, or that I need to be alive to pay for my two mortgages and my kids’ astronomical college tuitions.

11:00 Steve reports to me, probably sensing my vibe, that we only have about 20 more minutes of this type of climbing. At which point we will be at the top.
NOTE TO SELF: Kick Steve’s ass
The group assures me that they will help me and I try to laugh off my obvious apprehension. I realize I have to do this. Short of a helicopter evacuation (how much would that cost?), I am in this until the end, what ever that looks like.

11:02 Climbing. The boulders are getting bigger and bigger. I strain to lift my leg to a ledge and then realize I have nothing to hold on to to hoist myself up. Lilah is behind me giving words of much needed encouragement. At one point I feel her give me a boost, and I make it on top of the rock with a groan. There are these crevasses, deep, narrow spaces between boulders that if one slipped or lost balance she would fall and be wedged there, broken, sweating and possibly dead until some mountain crew came to pry her out. They might even have to cut her arms and legs off to get her torso out.
NOTE TO SELF :This is not a f*#@* “hike”.

11:17 I am sweating and panting. Steve, Sarah and Lilah are in great shape,. They don’t even look sweaty. How can that be? Giving birth was easier than this. The group continues to encourage me and praise me for forging ahead when I obviously look spent. Keep going………….. we continue.

11:25 THE SPLIT is ahead, at the end of a canyon-like structure. I can see it there when the” Path” narrows into a dead end. But there is no nice wide stairwell with a secure handrail ascending up between the massive rock, STEVE. It is a ladder that looks like something I made for a treehouse in 1965, that when I started to climb it it gave way and I fell hard on the soft, cool green grass. This ladder is approximately 15 inches wide, 1×4s, that goes absolutely vertical for about 30 feet. NOTE TO SELF: You’ve got to be F*#*#@# kidding me. That is the scariest thing I have ever seen in my whole entire life. There is no way, no way I can climb that. My blood really, honest to God, runs cold in my sweaty, panting body. I AM SO TOTALLY, COMPLETELY SCREWED. I can’t go back, I can’t go forward, I can’t climb that ladder. I am going to die. If the group knew what I was feeling they would be alarmed, they would be upset, they would feel, really, really bad. Sarah volunteers to go first, then Steve, then me, and then Lilah.

NOTE TO SELF: This is a life altering moment. You don’t have a choice, you have to climb.

11:28 I start to climb. I am on automatic pilot. I can’t think about this, don’t look back. Lilah talks to me, she is cheerful, telling me I am doing great. Steve confidently says that when I get to the top he will help me out on to the ledge. If I lose my grip or misstep, Lilah dies. No soft green grass down there, just damp, slimy rocks, big and bigger rocks. I can feel the sides of the split through which I am climbing, because the clearance is negligible. It is wet and cold and smells like an attic in March. I am near the top, Steve is already on the landing, I see his hand reach out to me through the narrow gap at the top. I go for it and with a great heave I am out of the split. Sarah is there praising my effort, Steve gives me a high five, I am panting, I am sweating, for a brief moment I feel a great sense of relief. Strange, primal memory of birth. Silly me.

11:32 Look around. We are now in a narrow space, a deep narrow canyon between two massive rock structures. A mountain has split in two and we are in that space. It is cool and quiet. At the end of this long passageway is another ladder. This one is as tall, but instead of 15 inches wide, it is 5 inches wide, made for one hand, one foot, only. The gap between the rock is maybe 25 inches. I stand there looking at this. My disbelief gives way to total terror. Apparently the first ladder was only part of the ascent between the cracked mountain. So this is what I saw across the lake. I am sweating like I have never sweated before in my life. I feel like someone just threw a bucket of water on my head. Sweat is dripping down in waves. I don’t care. I am breathing like I just finished a marathon, sucking in air like a race horse, and I have that cold blood feeling again, except this time it is worse, much worse. Diagnosis: low blood sugar + panic attack. I feel really, really icky. I inform the group. Suddenly everyone looks worried and I am encouraged to sit down, drink water and eat. Lilah shares her banana and gives me a power bar. Sarah speaks calmly and reassuringly, Steve keeps a nice conversation going. I sit and rest. The group encourages me. I feel better.
That moment of truth comes again. I have to climb the ladder. I have to climb the ladder. I have to climb the ladder. There is no other way out. After 20 minutes and a good rest, I am well enough to start the climb.

I climb.

The view from the top of the mountain is beautiful. There is a leisurely, civilized path down the mountain to the lodge, which we take. Most people take this route up the mountain. We are not most people.

NOTE TO SELF: We make a great group!

12:00 Steve treats us to a fabulous lunch! We talk about our families and find lots of common themes.

1:30 We break to write.

4:00 P.M. I am home. I survived.
How do I reflect on this adventure? There are so many thoughts. I am so grateful for getting out of the experience in one piece, that all of us made the journey safely. It could have turned out very differently, if it had not been for my group’s support. They never made me think that I could not do it. Even if they were skeptical, they never let me know it, they never let me lose sight of my own strength. They gave me unquestionable, unrelenting support. The frequent “high fives” the “you rock!” will forever stay in my memory.

What did the teacher learn? Do I set my students out on a “hike”, challenge them when they would rather take the wide, level path? And if I do set them on this course, will I be there to catch them, boost them when they think they will fall? Do I encourage them with cheerful words and give them my hand when they can’t find their way? And when they feel despair and fear, do I remind them of their own strength and show them how to succeed? Yes.