There are no leaders in this group, at least none I can discern. Women have that quality, I believe. They are blessed with neural networks that adapt to relationship building, communication and camaraderie seemingly out of thin air. They can all move in the same direction without divergences to disrupt their forward momentum.
There is no competition in this impromptu convention of connections spanning from life-long friendships to some newly emerging acquaintances.
I made an inquiry and discovered Tracy Sullivan on Facebook after her posts on leading women-only hikes streamed across my screen. After exchanging a few messages and providing personal contact information, I mustered up the courage to ask for a photo of the group, as well as consent to incorporate it into a poem I recently developed for publication. The topic is about women bonding in nature. I was elated when initial warming occurred and I would not be written off as a stalker.
At any rate, I won permission to secure the photo I felt sure was the perfect complement to my nascent poem. I continued with some inquiries to learn more about what Tracy and her charges are doing.
I was intrigued. Tracy was “paying it forward” by taking a small measure of hiking instruction offered to her by others and, in turn, encouraging women to experience the plethora of benefits in encountering nature directly. She did not, however, fit the strict definition of “paying it forward.” This is because to do so technically means one transfers the goodwill from which they benefitted to someone else as a transferable currency of gratitude. This currency can then be further and perpetually exchanged in an expanding circle of recipients.
I am sure it would take many hours of conversation, and eventually friendship, before I could ever learn the truth about Tracy’s benevolent motivations. But if I was a betting man, I’d wager that she is an originator of goodwill, not a transferor of it. Yes, surely she has benefited from the guidance of others, but her energies are directed to people who are blessed by her commitment to their welfare to a degree well beyond what she has received.
I am pleased that this perception, which I reached after initially and casually viewing some photos with comments from social media strangers, bore the fruit of truth.
What I confronted was unadulterated humility.
Herein, that’s the problem with humility. It suppresses acknowledgement of those who are selfless. I learned also that Tracy is new to engaging mountain trails and conditions, schooled by more experienced hikers just in the last two years.
Hiking in cold weather with swirling snow, on frozen ledges, negotiating slippery rocks and traversing icy streams is outright dangerous even for the heartiest hiker. Yet Tracy and her hiking mates trust each other enough to confront such barriers and end up having fun, too. No one can be left behind. There isn’t enough skill level vested in any one hiker to ensure a successful outcome if there is separation. Suffice it to say, some behind-the-scenes effort must be coordinated to ensure everyone is geared properly, whether the gear is borrowed or purchased anew. But after that at the trailhead the group forms like a single organism.
I accepted an offer to hike with Tracy and her group on a cold, frozen predawn hour for a winter sunrise hike to the summit of Mt. Watatic — the Monadnock of Massachusetts — in the Ashburnham state forest. The dark was illuminated by headlamps, white snow made opaque by moonlight, and a sky crystalized by stars was the perfect environment for our first hike together.
By sharing time and space with the group while climbing a mountain, I couldn’t determine if anyone was more fit than anyone else. There was a quiet discipline to the group. No one seemed to rush forward and no participant seemed to struggle far behind. It was choreography on display. Tracy characterizes her position on the spectrum of experience to be stuck somewhere between a novice and an expert.
In conversations while working through a meandering trail and during relaxing breaks Tracy, told me her story in remarkable detail.
She launched her journey by explaining she had a brain condition known as idiopathic intracranial hypertension. (She is in remission now, thankfully.) She endured a near life-ending surgery to help improve her situation. She lives today with a complete lack of peripheral vision. She also lives with frightening symptoms of a brain tumor, with sporadic and intense pressure headaches. This can be brought on by physical exertion – like mountain climbing.
Tracy explained that she has to plan her gear and hikes carefully, assessing weather, conditions and a route that will not cause her to suffer symptoms to the degree that they are debilitating.
Therein I learned why she appeared to me to be a highly experienced hike leader. That’s what they do – plan, assess and execute a thoughtful plan for engaging a mountain or difficult terrain. In my book, Tracy was a reliable guide for me and anyone else willing to test themselves outdoors. From the topical Facebook postings to this incredible discovery of what Tracy’s demons and barriers are, I began to inventory my weaknesses. I know I can overcome them now.
Tracy was hiking for her life and I bore witness to it.
The experience for me was unique. I tend to be quiet and contemplative on a hike, but the women enjoyed each other’s company and conversation was voluminous. As an observer and through invitation to openly transact in shared aspirations, mine included, I learned that there was a lot more than the natural attributes to be enjoyed, and difficult conditions to be endured.
On a wind-swept, snowy slope of a mountain a bunch of humans shared snippets of their lives in a dramatically unconventional way. There was sorrow, heartache, renewed happiness, physical healing, desire for redemption, burgeoning confidence, and barely hidden fear. In this soup of human emotions there was no negativity at all. No recrimination, anger, vengeance. There was a pleasing default to happiness.
When we completed the hike there was an eruption of hugs and congratulations liberally enjoyed by all. There were also tears of joy and faint indications of relief. Since I was a welcomed guest I was touched by it, quite frankly.
We crossed an invisible boundary, and it must have had something to do with a transformation occurring internally within each hiker.
During the hike I missed this crossing, but then it came into full view at its conclusion.
It became evident to me that each of the women exercises sovereignty of the trajectory of her life. The difficult conditions we shared were coupled with likely interior barriers that were being breached with every step on the trail.
On a mountain slope in freezing conditions the space between external threats and internal struggles collapses. These women demonstrated outwardly that often in life, coping with adversity is more important than overcoming it.
I grew up in an age where alpha male responses to crash through barriers are the best method to meet challenges.
It occurred to me that I can also do what Tracy does:
Pay it forward – in coordination with the like-minded – with an intensity and dynamic well beyond the degree received, and revel in the power of its transformative effects, especially when directed toward total strangers.
I sense that doing this repeatedly will increase its effect. It could become an emerging pattern in life that will bring a level of fulfillment I have yet to know.
In the beautiful afterglow of the memory I wish Tracy and her friends Godspeed.
One day, maybe after an amount of time transpires, I may gather the courage to ask Tracy and her friends If I can join them again on the side of a mountain. I may even muster the courage to ask for a bit of a break and schedule a warm spring day.
I am eager to continue my development in directing goodwill to others within the embrace of the wilderness.
We all need this.
Joe D’Amore writes from Groveland. Email him at: damorecos@gmail.com.