A New Adventure, A new Memory – and a Bonus

I’m all about going on adventures and Matt is so easy to please when it comes to taking part in one. As a photographer, Matt is thrilled to see new things and record it all in photographs and video. On our last trip to Grayson Highlands State Park we were sitting on the giant outcrop of rocks in Massie Gap and looking toward the mountain ridges of North Carolina and the large peak within the park where the Visitor’s Center and Gift Shop are located, when Matt and I saw a person standing on the tallest peak of rock – we both pointed at the same time.

“Oh my gosh, Matt! Someone is standing up there! Does that mean there’s a path?” I asked. Matt replied, “Yes! Twin Pinnacles!” We decided right there and then that we must do that hike, and made plans to hit it before the fall was over.

Yesterday was that day.

I picked Matt up around 2pm. He was wearing what I asked – tennis shoes. Matt wears sandals almost all year and for every hike he is in those sandals, but we had researched a bit about the Pinnacles and it was designated as a hard trail – rocks… lots and lots of rocks. Matt needed footwear that gripped the ground and I talked to him about this. He would allow that change because he was determined to complete the trail – hard or not – and he trusted my judgement on the need for good footwear.

Our drive was a happy one – for a while. Matt was so excited he was actually dancing in the passenger seat to the music on the radio. Then we hit a snag – road construction. We slowed to a crawl… and time was ticking by. Matt was restless. I had him google-map our destination so he could keep track of our progress and get his mind off our slow progress. We finally made our exit 45 minutes later and Matt sighed audibly, shifted in his seat and sat up straight, eager to be once again on our way to our new adventure. The rest of the trip Matt was counting down miles and telling me where to turn, and with each exclamation of our progress his excitement increased.

We made it! We parked close to the Visitor’s Center and went in to grab a water for each of us and a map of the trail. As we headed out to the Twin Pinnacles trail, Matt’s outer monologue was in full force – “We made it, OK, now we walk this way and head left… it’s going to be hard, but I have my shoes…”

The first part of the trail was flat and wonderfully level ground, the path was covered in Aspen leaves. Our footfalls were soft and light. As we came to the first sign I knew Matt would need a picture and stepped back so he could frame it just so…. And then as we walked on he talked about the information he had just read, and I was enjoying his outer monologue about the birds and plants and possible bears that we could come across… “Be bear aware, right, be aware . . .”

The trail split – it’s a loop and we could choose to go either right of left. To the left was a sign pointing to Little Pinnacle – so we went left. The trail became a series of stepping rocks going uphill and I was glad I had my walking stick as my knees hate doing steps. My knees are those of someone my age – stage 3 is what my orthopedist had called them while reminding me that stage 4 was knee replacement time. For the most part I baby my knees, wanting to put that inevitable surgery off as long as I can, but I have to hike too – as long as I possibly can. Matt knows this about my knees, and my back. He took the lead straight off and walked purposefully slower, knowing his mom was slow and old. “I’m not that old, Matt, walk faster please…” I would say and he would speed up for a while. He’s very protective and couldn’t help but worry about me. This concern was really apparent each time a large set of stones were ahead in the path. Once he spotted the rocks he would instinctively reach back his hand to lead me through the dangers. This protective behavior is a left-over from when I had back surgery and needed help moving during that first year of recovery. Matt has since been very concerned about just how much I can do and how far I can go. He does this concerned behavior subtly, never making a scene or pushing me to careful. He just stretches back his hand just in case I feel the need to be steadied . . .

“I’m good, Matt – no problems yet!” I said happily, and Matt dropped his arm back to his side and resumed taking photos every 10 feet to record his journey and talking to himself about what he saw and where he was going. I listened to him chat away and was in doing so, knew just how important this particular adventure was for him.

After walking a while – and by the way, it was a beautiful walk under the swaying Aspens, with leaves falling gently around us in the cool crisp air – we came upon a spur to the left – the Little Pinnacle. “Look! Little Pinnacle, Matt!” I exclaimed and we headed up the boulders slowly toward a clearing. The clearing was caused by the outcrop of giant stone, and immediately we felt the full force of the wind. This was not a gentle breeze. This was one of those winds that could knock you off your feet if you’re not careful – and I could see it on Matt’s face that he was worried about the wind . . it was a long way down. I put down my walking stick and grabbed the rock with both hands, keeping low and going slowly and purposefully upward to a flattened area where I could sit and take in the breath-taking view. I knew Matt was watching me…

Matt put down his walking stick, and talked himself into the climb. “Ok, use both hands, stay low, be careful, and hold on to your butt!” Matt moved slowly upward and made it to the flat area of rock. I chose that spot because a large rock lay behind us like the back of a car seat, and enough to protect him from the wind and any possibility of falling. I leaned against the back rock and showed Matt that the wind couldn’t blow me away . . . he steadied himself and then leaned back releasing a sigh of relief. We both marveled at the 360 degree view from the top – absolutely breathtaking. Matt relaxed . . . we were safe. I knew exactly the moment he felt safe as he declared “Time to take even more photos!”

I took several photos myself – such an amazing view - then put my phone away and watched my son. He was ecstatic to be in this place, at this moment in time, on this beautiful blue sky, fall day, and he was recording the entire 360 view. Watching him, I knew this would be a wonderful memory for him. I knew by the smile on his face, the intermittent “Wow” every few seconds as he gazed upon the world beneath us. I knew, because I could see the confidence and courage on his face building, standing on this outcrop of rock – the Little Pinnacle - in the fierce wind . . . oh yes, this would be a day to remember.

When we were ready, Matt climbed down a few steps first, then he reached up his hand to assist me in the climb down. “I’m still good, Matt, thanks” I said, and Matt watched me a bit longer to be sure I would be fine, then suddenly turned away – something had caught his eye. Matt saw an eagle gliding high above us on the thermals – he absolutely had to take a photo of that! He no longer worried about mom, and walked away to get a better shot. I smiled. Eagles floating on thermals were one of my favorite things too – I completely understood the attraction.

I did get down from the rocks just fine – I was slow, but fine – but because I took too long to get on flat ground I wasn’t able to get a picture of the eagle. Fortunately, Matt was more than happy to show me the many photos he took, and they were all very beautiful and I told him so…. He smiled. I do believe I know what I’m getting for Xmas from Matt . . . a beautiful eagle photograph.

The next part of our journey was a series of uphill and downhill and uphill again on rock stepping stones and I was wearing down. A big shout-out to the Boy Scouts and those rest shelters they built along the path. I used every one of them. I can only be on my feet for 45 minutes to an hour at a time before my back locks up and I freeze in place – being able to sit was everything to me, and there were no fallen logs or larger rocks to sit on, so those rest spots meant everything to me. They allowed me to continue going after relaxing my back for a while. During my rests, Matt would look at me concerned, and I would assure him I was doing well and would be up and moving again shortly. He would then take those moments to, of course, take even more photos, but also to look around to make sure no bears would join us. Be bear aware.

Back on the trail we soon came across the spur for Big Pinnacle. We started up and then one of my steps came down strangely and I let out a yell. Damn… hurt my ankle. I looked at Matt, the concern building on his face.

“I think that was a sign for me to take it easy for a bit – that means you do this climb on your own . . . “, I said looking at Matt. Matt’s face lit up – I could see his YES!! Just under the smile. He wanted this, oh man, did he want this – a solo hike on the rocks of the hardest peak. “OK!” he replied, and immediately turned away and headed up those steep rocks to Big Pinnacle. I watched as he walked into the glare of the sunlight shining between the tree limbs… I lost sight of him in that glare. As I sat there rubbing my ankle, I had a few moments of the “what if” – normal protective-mom stuff. “What if he falls?”, “what if he gets hurt?”, “what if he meets a bear?” . . . I seriously hate the intrusions of the what-ifs.

I consciously shut that crap down, and focused instead on listening, trying to hear the “Wow!” I knew he would exclaim from the top. Sure enough, I did hear the “Wow!” and I knew this was more than just viewing the world from on high – this was a really big deal for him personally. He hiked the hardest part of the trail alone, without his mom, as an independent man. My heart was about to burst from the simple knowledge that my son was at the top of the world, feeling whole and strong, and worthy as a human being. He was demonstrating to no one but himself his own courage and determination. I couldn’t see it – but I could feel it – the enormity of it - just as strongly as if I had been standing right next to him to witness it.

When he came down he was beaming, and that sunlight behind him enhanced it and made him look as if he had been spiritually blessed. He sat down beside me and showed me his pictures from the top – marvelous, wow-worthy pictures. He had done what he came to do – now it was time to complete the loop and go back to the Visitor’s Center. He had been successful and was now walking on air.

The rest of the hike was more difficult – lots of uphill climbs that were steeper and I decided the next time we did this I would go to the halfway point and then return the way I came – but I did make it, and more importantly, so did Matt. He did exactly what he set out to do – climb both pinnacle peaks and complete the loop of 2 miles of mostly difficult terrain.

As we were driving through the park toward the exit, I asked him if he wanted me to pull over at the park lookout to get any more last minute photos and was met with a resounding, “YES!” I pulled into the parking lot and as Matt jumped out I found I was definitely moving slower… everything hurt. I walked to the front of the Jeep and sat down on the bumper. My legs felt wobbly and my back was screaming at me. My right ankle was sore, as were both my knees. I looked up. There was Matt – pointing his camera directly at me.

Let me say that again . . . Matt was pointing his camera at ME!. Matt was taking photos of ME! OMG! Matt never takes photos of people – unless prodded to do so. This was unexpected and unsolicited. This was new. This was my bonus to the day. I felt like the most special person in the history of the world! My son wanted pictures of ME!!

So that’s my story. It was a new adventure and one that brought wonderful moments that I will never forget. I made memories for myself, and I provided Matt with new memories too. And, to top it all off, I got a bonus – Matt took pictures of another human being – and I feel so privileged that it was me he chose to be his first.

It’s a bonus to this entire year. I have spent this year trying to give my son the new experiences he craves (while staying away from populated areas), and I’m doing what I can on a limited income. I was afraid I would not be able to give him much this year, as I’m stretched pretty tight financially and it’s hard to find activities that we can do without being around others. But, as it turns out, hiking is enough.

Matt continues to blossom and keep me amazed. He continues to remind me that he is a grown man and can do so very much on his own. He also reminds me that he still enjoys his time with me – that he cares about me and that he loves me. This day was another special day for us both. For me, it was also one that reinforced how strong and independent he has become, and what wonderfully caring person he is.

It’s hard sometimes, for me to reconcile what I see before me now to the memory of his doctors advising me to institutionalize him at the age of 2 years old. His diagnosis was so very dire . . . and there were no therapies, no strategies, and no medications to help him. All I had in those early days was hope.

This wonderful adventure we had today? This is what hope does . . . this is what hope looks like. It's the result of all that hope . . . .the result of never giving up.