Date: 2007-08-26
From: Pinkham Notch

To: Carter Notch Hut
Miles today: 6.0

Bruce, ¢Golden Waldo,¢ who is the local shuttle service provider, picked me up at 7:30 am sharp for the ride to Pinkham Notch Visitor¢s Center. Ahead, under a high overcast, sky is today¢s planned hike over the five peaks of Wildcat Mountain; the highest of which was 2,600 above my starting point. Fortunately, last night¢s thunderstorms significantly reduced the temperature (if not the relative humidity) making the day far more suitable for hiking than yesterday¢s ¢scorcher.¢Along the way, I enjoyed the peaceful beauty of an old beaver pond as the Trail initially wound alongside it and later on, the company of a couple of local day hikers, Ross and David, whose selection of rest stops coincided with mine. I also chatted with South Bounder, ¢Van Moose,¢ whom I had met under similar circumstances last week while hiking in Maine with Jack - what goes around comes around, I guess. I arrived at Carter Notch Hut around 3 o¢clock in the afternoon, and once I was settled in, I relinquished myself to a deep afternoon nap. My bunkhouse mates are two fifth graders and their mothers. The girls are adorable: energetic, inquisitive, and delightfully self-confident. Dinner of pea soup, salad, stuffed shells, and gingerbread is now over, and the overcast sky that hung barely above the mountain tops all day has broken. The pink sunset holds the promise of a better day tomorrow. The cool, gray, dank atmosphere that was created by today¢s weather mirrored my own demeanor for most of the day. Between my son¢s departure, news of my friend¢s, Bill Drake, passing, and word from my sister that her first nine weeks of chemotherapy have not produced the sought-for results, have all left me feeling sad and in a mood, similar to the ¢gray atmosphere.¢ In anticipation that tomorrow will be a better day for hiking, I just made arrangements with the crew for an early departure in hopes of covering the 15 miles to Gorham in one day instead of two. The trail maps show that I have three, 4,000¢ peaks yet to cover - Carter Dome, Carter Mountain (with its three peaks), and Moriah Mountain. The map elevations show a considerable amount of downhill work, as well, so the trek will not be an easy one. However, I feel ready to give it a go. Do I want to get ¢home¢ after 29 days on the trail, or do I just want to get moving so I don¢t have to feel the feelings that come with being still in my solitude? The reason does not matter much. Today was the first day in a couple of weeks that my left ankle offered up no intention or indication of weakness, and I feel strong and eager for a challenge. Besides, if I run into any ¢glitches¢ along the way (weather, trail conditions, ankle pain, attitude, etc.,) I can always revert to my original plan and hole up at Imp Campground or even at the Rattle River Shelter for the night. While hiking today and over the past several days I have found myself contemplating a variation of the old metaphysical question, ¢When a tree falls in the woods, and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?¢ But the question (or, I should say, questions) I have been pondering have more to do with the falling of the tree than whatever sound it may (or may not) make. My vagabond philosophizing has led me to wonder why does the tree fall in the first place, and when it does, how does that fall occur? What I¢ve found more intriguing, however, has been wondering about the significance of the loss of a tree in the woods to those surrounding trees, many of whom relied on it for shelter from the elements and as a source of excess water from the rains.As my mind wandered down that path (while my feet were wandering down the white-blazed path of the AT) I made it a point to look at a number of fallen trees in the woods and to try to imagine what prompted their fall in the first place. Some were obviously dead before they fell while others were still very much alive. Whether dead or alive when they fell, I have noticed that many of them rarely seem to have toppled directly to the ground in one fell swoop - none of that ¢TIMBER - Look out below!¢ followed by the big ¢Crash ¢ Boom ¢ Kaboom¢ stuff that comes to mind when thinking about trees falling in the woods. From what I can tell, that does not appear to be the way it actually happens. Instead, it appears that many trees simply fall into the boughs of another tree, where it is supported for a period of time - maybe moments, maybe years - before its descent to the forest floor is eventually completed. This seems to be the case regardless of whether the tree is already gone or still alive; regardless of whether it is sick or healthy and irrespective of whatever it was that may have caused it to topple in the first place. For many a tree, its ¢fall¢ is not so much of a fall as it is a "lowering" because the community of trees around the affected one provides support; propping it up and holding the tree until further impetus comes along to take it the rest of the way to the ground. The community of trees that helps buffer the dead or dying one on its journey back to the earth is often that tree¢s own progeny or its siblings. But, regardless of whether the neighbors are related by blood (sap?) or are of a completely different genus, it is the surrounding neighbors who help out at times of passing. Trees can¢t run from their responsibility to ¢be there¢ to help out when needed ¢ they¢re just not built to ¢duck out¢ on their role when a neighbor let¢s go and falls their way. And this is not a risk-less task, either. I have noted that sometimes the passing of the tree leaves scars on those who were close to it. Sometimes the supportive neighboring trees - especially younger ones - can be lost entirely if they try to hold on to bigger, falling trees too long or too tightly. But what has intrigued me the most as I¢ve contemplated the proverbial ¢tree falling in the woods¢ scenario is what happens to those around the fallen tree once it¢s down. Initially there¢s an empty space where the fallen tree used to stand. Its existence is, in some ways, more noticeable by its absence than by its presence. Whereas when it was standing, it was another tree in a forest of trees (and we all know how difficult it is to see the forest for the trees!), when it is gone there is, for a while, a gap in the forest canopy where sun and rain and breezes can more easily enter the woods and penetrate to the forest floor. But soon, the neighboring trees move into the space where the fallen one once stood. New plants and trees sprout and flourish in its place. The forest fills the hole the fallen tree left behind. With all of this going through my head, I came to the conclusion that the falling of a tree, regardless of the amount of noise that it may or may not create in the process, is rarely a solitary event and almost always involves a lot of bracing and support from those around it ¢ an open-armed duty not to be shirked. As the tree continues its journey to its final resting place, those whose arms have helped soften its fall must let go of it for holding on too tightly or for too long can do more than leave scars; it can do actual damage. The lesson here is that ¢letting go¢ is as important a part of grieving as is the ¢holding dear¢ part.But, perhaps the biggest lesson I can learn from the trees falling in the woods comes from the recognition that, as one still standing, the most important thing I can do is to use the gifts the now-fallen tree gave me and grow into a space and in ways that would not be possible if it had not been for my fallen neighbor. Like it or not ¢ ready or not ¢ I must be prepared to grow into the space it once occupied. That space - that opportunity to become different is the gift of my fallen friend. Had it not been for that particular tree standing tall and now gone, I would not be the tree I am and certainly would not now be in a position for further growth. The opportunity for growth is, then, the legacy of one who has departed. And, inevitably, as with any matter of growth, this will involve turning my face toward the Light.