Saturday, October 25, 2008

Theme Week 9

When I climb a mountain, even a small one with thoughtfully marked trails, I prefer to climb in the light of day with clear skies. Not every day of mountain climbing is like that and today is a perfect example. I feel the slope in front of me because the soles of my boots are inclined up towards my toes but at 5:15 A.M. the air is dark. I have to use the feeling in my feet to tell me that it’s alright to place weight there on the ground. I have to use my sense of balance to tell me I am still going upward. As I rise in elevation the air is damp with fog and my clothing gets damp from perspiration within and fog without. I stop on a ledge to rest and fall into a nap wakening with a shiver. I cannot remember which way is up. I should not have stopped to rest. I cup my hands together and breathe foggy breaths into the hollow and shiver again. I have to stop and dance one foot around to tell which way is up. I start upward again and am lucky to find that I am walking along on a ledge bound on my left by a rock face. I pause for a moment and reach a hand as high as I can and still feel lichens clinging to the cliff’s side. To my right outstretched fingers feel air. At least here I can brush along with my left shoulder with a connection to the earth to orient me. Soon the ledge opens and the cliff on my left disappears. Remembering I have a flashlight I take it from one pocket and a map from the other. I study the map for a long time and best I can figure I’m on the right trail and approaching the open, broad accent to the summit. I shut off the light and wait for my eyes to adjust but realize that dawn is coming. I can actually see the trail opening ahead. It’s there just ahead; the pile of rocks marking the summit. What exhilaration finishing just as the fog thins and an orange glow fills the eastern horizon.

2 comments:

johngoldfine said...

With week 9, the writer always walks a knife-edge path--on the one side is the words meaning exactly what they say--no more. On the other is the words being too obscure to mean much of anything. And on the third (yes, 'third'--it's my metaphor and I'll do what I like with it) lies the abyss of obviousness. And then we come to the fourth (!) hand, where the words mean themselves, have a touch of obscurity but somehow convey more than themselves.

I'd say you're on the fourth hand. There's always a danger of obviousness or cliche on the road of life (and writing) with metaphors like climbing mountains but you dodge it and stay on the path by making sure that the mountain seems real and by avoiding equal signs. Y'know, flashlight equals job, fog equals marriage, rocks equal broken sump pump in the cellar, etc.

stevens said...

I confess that week 9 projects have gnawed at me all week. This is something I find very challenging and I seem to lack the mindset for it. At one point the second sentence read something like " Not every day of mountain climbing is like that and the week 9 assignment is a perfect example."