Gorham Mountain Fog - Acadia

We were near the summit or so I kept telling J. All day it had rained. I thought it was going to rain on us but it didn’t. instead we hiked in immense fog. At most we could see 50 feet away. Sometimes we missed the cairn trail markers and had to backtrack. With the fog, I had no idea where the Gorham Mountain summit was. Dark silhouettes of trees kept emerging in the distance. I kept telling J we were close to the top to encourage him. A couple misadventures off the trail, and a mile hike seemed longer than a mile. J would sit on a rock and protest, “Why are we here? Can we just go back home? Why are we hiking in the fog?”

Wandering into the unknown. Without the sense of sight, the other senses were heightened. The smell of the pine needle moss floors. the sound of lobster buoys and dinghies chiming in the distance. The rocks were slippery. Fog, chimes, wet pink granite, pine trees - that was the palette of the hike. It was close to sunset, so it was getting dark as well. I told J. we’re going to the summit, because it’s good to set a goal and achieve it. “Forget staying at home and watching movies and playing video games all day… challenge yourself. Go outside. Get to the top!” he told me to shutup, “I have a headache and I’m dehydrated.” “how could you be dehydrated, it’s so humid and the hike is only a mile up!” At 11, J thinks he knows everything. At 46, i think I have much to learn, and I want to impart my knowledge to him, to give him an appreciation and understanding of the place and the world… to show him how to strive for something.

When I asked how he would describe me, he said “you’re always getting sidetracked.” It’s true, when we read Unbroken, he finished the book in a couple days, whereas I stopped at page 5 to research the large zeppelin balloons mentioned in the book. Whereas he read through all the harry potter books, I couldn’t get past the first chapter, thank you very much.

Somehow in hiking, he doesn’t get the same satisfaction as I do. When we summitted, it was anti-climactic. A waste of time for J. On a sunny day, there should’ve been a 360 degree view of sand beach, beehive and mountain ponds. for us, just fog, rocks and pine trees and disgruntled selfie. When he asked how I would describe him, I said “compared to your brother, you don’t have the killer instinct. When you lose at chess, you don’t cry, you shrug it off. If you lose a game in baseball, you’re ok and happy hanging out with teammates and eating snacks at the end. You don’t have to be perfect, so you make mistakes and learn from them. You know, your strength is your understanding. When you really want to understand something, you go in depth… if I ask you about cold war history, basketball matchups, Chinese history, or harry potter, you can talk about it for hours and hours. I wish you find something you’re passionate in and dive into it.” I told him about Malala, a girl who started a blog, risked her life to push for girls’ access to education, wrote a book about her experiences and won the nobel prize.

When we returned to the base of the mountain, I asked him to cross the road to the rocky beach. He asked “why are we doing this?” I had to chase him down in the forest to come with me. I explained to him the underlying geology of the place. He rolled his eyes. I hope one day, J remembers and appreciates the hikes we made and all the sidetracks his dad made.