I've been hiking mountains as long as I can remember. I grew up at the base of Mount Cabot, the northern-most of New Hampshire's 46 4,000 foot mountains. On the map below, you can see the 90 degree turn where my house was, right where Cummings Brook intersects with Lost Nation Road.
As such, I grew up with an understanding that, once you got above tree line on some of the bigger of New Hampshire's presidential mountains, you were no longer following the blazes that adorned the trailside trees. Instead, you were at the mercy of cairns. Cairns are the piles of rocks that show hikers where to go in order to follow the path. In theory, some once-upon-a-hiker had to have had the foresight to pile the rocks there for future hikers to follow.
Or perhaps the first cairns were left by adventurous souls who simply wanted to leave a trail to follow back down the mountain--a relative breadcrumb trail like that of Hansel and Gretel. Either way, just as I've always loved the trails I grew so familiar with as a young boy, I also have a distinct affinity for cairns and their lasting presence atop some of the most beautiful peaks I've traversed.
I was reminded of cairns last week when I heard two "This I believe" talks, delivered by members of my school's class of 2018. In the first talk, Alex said,
"That view was not the only reward: the journey was...hiking has taught me to...focus on the process, the campaign, the little steps."
Isn't hiking just like life in this way? Yet how often do we simply climb to the summit of a mountain, struggle through the challenges of the journey, ignore the little steps, and remember only the final moment of gratification?
We don't leave cairns for ourselves. We, as a society, don't reflect--in the moment--on the tiny things going right (or wrong) that lead us to the pinnacle.
Georgia delivered her speech after her classmate, and left me with the following:
"I'd never realized how fast something I'd always thought would be there could disappear."
We fail ourselves when we forget to build mental cairns, to highlight and expose ourselves to moments of vulnerability that end up being incredibly fleeting. We put too much stake in our big falls and epic summits while neglecting, as Alex so eloquently noted, "the process, the campaign, the little steps."
Here's to the campaign. To building cairns along the way so others may follow our lead, and so we may find our own way back home.
And, as always, to learning from the wisdom of our students.
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