Sunny Side Up! June 6, 2001 �2001 by Kathleen Gibson A Salute to Mountains, and the Parents of a Champion I grew up between the mountains of Canada�s Coastal Range. As a child they intimidated me. When we drove through them I huddled in the back seat of the family car and tried to ignore the signs that paid them homage. Slide Area. Watch for Falling Rock. Delay for Dynamite Procedures. Runaway Truck Lane Ahead. Steep Grade, Gear Down. Their chiseled surfaces, rushing by within a few feet of my car window, made me nauseous, and the sheer drop on the other side made me weak and dizzy. I kept my eyes shut, tried to sleep till we got through them. In my teen years I made friends with the gentle mountains in B.C.�s lower mainland. They became trusted listeners to my pubescent woes. I skiied, hiked, rode horseback and picnicked on them. I boated in the saltwater channels between them, floated on my back for hours in their pristine freshwater lakes. I climbed to their hushed spaces, where the ferns grew as tall as a man�s thigh and huckleberry bushes splashed green and juicy red from the splintering clay-colored ruins of old cedars. I watched for bears and cougars, half hoping, but saw only where they had been, though I�m certain they saw me. Once my horse, spooked by something (I�ll never know what), abandoned the trail and crashed straight up the mountainside through the tangled brush, snorting and shuddering, until whatever spooked her was well behind us. I crouched low to avoid the fate of Absolom, and hung on for dear life. We arrived at the flat top of the little mountain a good deal before my riding partner, my horse sweating and trembling�though not as much as I. I love the mountains, but I�ve never had an urge to master them, or even to venture past their evenly drawn treelines to where the winds slice like a machete and the sun�s rays merely add color to the insentient walls of granite and limestone. Color, but no warmth. It�s cold, on the lonely faces of mountaintops. David Rodney masters mountains�big ones. On May 24, 2001 he became the first Canadian to summit Mount Everest for the second time. His parents, friends of mine, have been scaling their own formidable peaks. It�s one thing to watch a son suffer through no fault of his own. It�s another to know he�s deliberately chosen to pursue a dream that may kill him�and that he�s too old to forbid. I was talking to Rita after she�d seen David the last time before the start of his second climb. �All we can do now is pray,� she said. I�ve watched her and Con. They�ve kept busy. They�ve not let the sharp peaks of worry pierce their peace. They�ve raised a flag of faith and let go, rejoicing with their champion at the fulfillment of his dream. As a younger parent, I salute their bravery. But I�ll stick to my small mountains, thanks. You can respond to this column via email at <[email protected]> or by contacting this paper directly. |