Above the Clouds
The other day as I was scrolling through quotes about traveling on Pinterest, as I often like to do when I’m in a particularly blissful and carefree mood, I found myself drawn to a quote from Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, a book I have never actually read, and yet for some reason this small piece of writing caught my attention. It read, “See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.”, and despite my utter lack of knowledge regarding the actual meaning of the quote I felt somehow connected to these words and the idea they brought to life for me. They reminded me of a trip I had taken with my family years before, on which I had had a very similar epiphany.
My family and I were staying with my uncle, a legend in our family for his skills in hunting, up in Port Angeles, Washington, for the last week in June. On this day my parents had made up their minds that we would hike Hurricane Ridge, one of the tallest peaks in the Pacific Northwest. We have always been an outdoorsy family. From kayaking, to backpacking, to playing survivor man in the woods behind my house with my four siblings, I had done it all, so it was no big surprise that my parents wanted to go on an “adventure”, as they called it. However, on this particular day, I would much rather have stayed at my uncle’s house and watched Animal Planet, a rarity in our house where we weren’t allowed to watch much TV. Despite my numerous complaints, my parents remained steadfast in their decision. We were going, and we were going to have fun whether I liked it or not!
We packed ourselves into our huge, silver, twelve passenger van along with our dog and a backpack filled with a lunch that would feed an army. Then we started driving up into the Olympic mountains. My siblings and I could all sense the adventure for about the first twenty minutes, but soon the bumps and ruts in the old gravel road began to wear on everybody’s nerves. I was ready to get out of that smelly, old van. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we reached the end of the road. Everyone was pushing and shoving in an effort to get out out of our van, which seemed to have grown considerably smaller in the short time we had been in it.
The minute I stepped out of the van, I was surrounded by an ominous looking fog that made it impossible to see three feet in front you. It seemed to be warning us not to continue, that once we had traveled into the fog it would swallow us, and we would be lost forever. We all looked at Dad, who eased our worries by explaining that we were in the center of a cloud and that, once we had hiked for a while, we would be above it, and then we would be able to see for miles. Now being only seven, this sounded to me like something out of a fairy tale; I didn’t even know there was anything at all above the clouds. So, I began the long, steep trek up the seemingly endless hill with a hint of excitement.
This excitement, however, quickly faded away when my legs started to feel like rubber, and the rapid change in elevation made catching my breath impossible. At last, it seemed that we had reached the top; the fog was thinner yet still seemed to be pressing in on us from every side. My legs felt like they were going to fall off. My lungs were burning. I was ready for a break. I sat down on a rock ready to quit. Surely, my dad had been mistaken; there was no way we could get above these dreadful clouds. It was all a lie just to get us to climb the mountain. I decided that I wasn’t going to move one more step. They could keep going, but I would stay here and wait for them. Soon my dad caught up to us and assured us that the top would be just over the next ridge, and that we were almost there. So, with great reluctance, and not a small amount of pouting, I heaved myself off my rock and started up again. Up, and up, and up.
Finally, after two hours of walking, we crested the hill. We were at the highest point in the whole park, and my dad was right. I could see for miles. I looked down at the beautiful, sparkling water of the of the Dungeness Bay, and beyond it, the sloping hills and cities of Canada. I felt the wind pulling me, rushing, and tangling in my hair as it went, stirring the grass and flowers. They were the most vibrant and sweet smelling flowers, and the grass was the greenest grass I had ever seen. There were glaciers melting into clear, cold, bubbling streams, which hurried down the mountain. It took me a moment to take it all in, the miles of hills scattered here and there with trees, the jagged rocks that covered the slope down to the bay. I spun around trying to take in all the beauty that surrounded me.
I had this feeling I had never gotten before. I felt a certainty that this wonderful new world above the clouds was alive, and it was all so much bigger than me. The whole world was spread out before me as I stood there, a small speck on a huge mountain. Everything I had ever wanted and pursued suddenly seemed to shrink in my mind. It all became so pointless that it seemed foolish to have even thought about it. None of that mattered. In the grand scheme of things, my petty wishes and actions had no effect on this amazing world that had existed, and would exist forever.
And although I may not have fully understood the larger meaning of this experience at the time, now I am able to realize that even having been allowed to witness such magnificent beauty was in itself a small miracle. And no matter how many awful and ugly acts are committed on the earth, this world will always remain serene and untouchable.