Jun 15 2009
The Passage of Time
Last week I hiked up Bamforth Ridge. Stretching six miles from the Winooski River to the top of Camel’s Hump, this ridge is the longest, hardest base-to-summit climb in Vermont. I figured it would be a good place to train for my upcoming Maine trek – a good place to test my limits, that is. On that count I wasn’t disappointed.
I puffed halfway up the ridge before the hike became difficult. Then I pushed myself another mile uphill, overcoming gravity by sheer force of will until reaching an exposed knob with a nearly 360-degree view. Good enough. I broke for lunch with the summit still looming large in front of me. Then I turned back.
Going uphill was relatively easy – just a matter of will. Going downhill was another matter. Knees don’t lie. With each step they reminded me that my strongest hiking days have passed. A walking stick helped, but there’s no getting around the physical reality of a half century of wear and tear, as much as a forever-young Baby Boomer like me wants to deny it.
Yesterday I finished reading a book by Lester Brown called Eco-Economy. It’s a rehash of his somewhat Malthusian notions concerning the limits of growth – concepts that I first encountered back in college in the 70s. Industrialization and population are outpacing food production and other natural resources. No big news there. But what bothered me is just how little progress we’ve made during the past thirty-odd years. Well into the 21st Century now, we’re still having the same eco-arguments. Meanwhile, the math worsens and collective human misery keeps rising. Being that I belong to the sixth of humanity that’s on top of the heap, I probably shouldn’t worry about it. But I do.
My grandson, Mason, came to me the other day wearing a green bush hat and said with a great big smile: “I’m just like you, Grandpa!” I nodded my head, acknowledging that he is. Mason loves being outdoors. When he was three, he cried when his Mommy made him go back inside. At five, he’s ready to plunge deep into the woods, to take on the world. Soon he’ll be on the trail with me.
I still have work to do. I don’t know how but somehow I have to help break the deadlock that exists in human affairs. Old arguments, polarized stances and antiquated worldviews must be abandoned in favor of something that actually works – something that will make the world a better place for all the Masons out there. The time has come to be pragmatic, meet enemies halfway, and get things done. Thirty years of the same old eco-arguments, for chrissakes. Talk is cheap.
Bamforth Ridge kicked my ass, but I’m ready to do it all over again. I’m ready for another big hike. I’m still moving despite the passage of time. Hard to say whether my kind and I will ever get anywhere, but we’re moving all the same. No sense stopping. And when we’re done, Mason and his generation will carry on. Why shouldn’t they? Time passes, but it’s never too late to take on the world.
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