Joseph Rector's Blog

Doug’s Journey

Near the summit of Whiteface Mountain there is a tiny section where the Whiteface memorial highway meets the hikers trail. On a perfectly still October morning while I stumbled over rocks and roots making my way up the hikers trail, someone else, 5 miles down the highway was also making their way up the 5th highest peak in New York State. He was not in a car or on a motorcycle or even a bicycle. His legs didn’t work but his arms and spirit did. When I came to the highway/trail junction, all was quiet except for an unfamiliar sound. I peered over the shoulder-high rock wall and what I saw amazed me.  I immediately jumped the wall and yelled, “Good morning!!” A red-coated man in a wheelchair halted his upward progress and looked surprised. His gloved, duck taped hands held the wheels tightly. A red head lamp secured his red hood, and below that, as I bounded toward him, I witnessed a growing smile that lit up the foggy, gray morning. I immediately yelled out, “Have you been coming all the way up the highway!?” He nodded and smiled even wider. Excitedly, I bombarded him with question after question and then asked if I could take his picture. I asked for his phone or camera so he would have a picture of himself. He shyly and humbly said, “I didn’t bring either. I actually didn’t tell anyone I was doing this. Two years ago I only made it halfway. I started at four this morning.” I took a few photos and got his email address and then asked to shake his hand. He looked at his hands and twisted in his seat and said, “I don’t think I can let go of the wheels.” I put my foot behind a wheel and we shook hands and talked until he politely said, “Well, I should keep moving—don’t want to get too cold.” He continued on and I jumped back on the trail. My strides were quicker and longer and my smile matched Doug’s as I realized I just met someone I’d never forget. Doug sent me an email a few days later: “I ended up making it to the castle in four hours and forty five minutes. Today I feel like I was run over by a tank or something. What a perfect day to climb Whiteface, the high peaks looked like islands rising out of a sea of fog.”

Doug’s view from Whiteface Mountain

The shadow of time

10-2-13

I think everyone has one favorite photo of themselves and this self portrait taken on the summit of Algonquin Mountain is mine. It reminds me of the message I hopefully conveyed in my story The Ruby Seat. “We are only a shadow of our true selves. Leave the past with your shadow. Do not look for it in the future. All we have is now, and NOW is eternal.“

 

 

Our German friend

10-10-13

 

Laura arrived at our house from Germany in late September. Her smile and genuine warmth was immediate the minute she stepped off the train. Her month-long stay is part of my daughter Alyssa’s school exchange program. Alyssa will be going to Germany for the month of March. The two of them have been very busy trying to get in as much “America” as possible in one month. All the German students seem to love it here and Laura gets visibly sad as the return home date gets closer. I happened to be reading, The Book Thief while Laura was here and she was a big help with the German words, except the bad words where she would giggle and turn away. One never knows what a distant visitor will be like but we got very lucky and I will be sad to see Laura go. I told her the downstairs bedroom will always be hers. Alyssa on left, Laura right.

 

A week in the woods

September 9-16, 2013

 

My brother Mike and my father and I spent a week at our camp on Union Falls Pond. No phone. No computers. No wives. No responsibility. One ice cold beer after trekking through the mountaintops all day, and a few (dozen) sips of Irish whisky in the guide boat in the evening. Carefree and simple for one week. Since 2010 it’s become an annual autumn gathering at our camp. My father spends most of his time getting ready for the bow hunting season and Mike and I rejuvenate and exhaust ourselves by taking day hikes that often include 3 high peaks and mileage in the upper teens. Though, this year we smartened up—a bit. Instead of hiking every day, like previous years, we hiked every other and spent some quality time relaxing with dad. (Sometimes it’s hard to slow Brother Mike down—he has cannon thighs, doesn’t like too much chair time, and can hike from dawn till dark. He’d make a fine Mountain Guide in the Himalayas). The photo below is Mike near Basin Mountain somewhere deep in the Great Range. Great week! There is a part of me that could easily be a hermit!

 

Back to College

My 19 year old daughter will be heading back to college in a few days for her junior year. Every year, my wife and daughter and I pack the van to the ceiling and drive the one hour trip to her college. She’s getting a suite this year and is very excited to be out of the dorm-life. Over dinner last night I informed my daughter and wife I will not be able to help with the move-in this year (job related). I thought it would be a big problem. My wife said nothing and my daughter looked relieved. I said, “Hey, I thought you wanted my help, I can make 3 trips every time you two make one.” My daughter grimaced a little and looked shyly at her mother. I said, “What!” with my hands held out. My daughter said, “Dad, that’s the problem. You go too fast. It seems like a race to you and you’re not gentle with my stuff.” Ouch! My wife’s eyebrows went up and all got quiet. I tried to defend myself, explaining men move differently than women, but in the end I lost yet another small battle. Oh well, I won’t be there for the move, but the good thing is, my daughter is only one hour away.

A Gift From The Sky

I spent the weekend at my camp on Union Falls Pond. I was mostly shoring up the camp for the annual week in September that my father and brother and I get together. I got everything done on Saturday, so Sunday I rewarded myself with a trip over to climb Whiteface Mountain for a little walk in the woods. I left very early and on the trip over I noticed a building sunrise that made me pull over on the narrow back road. When I closed the car door a large deer bounded silently across the field with purple mist swirling behind each jump. The deer stopped at the edge of the field, gave me one last look, flicked its snow-white tail and walked into the dim woods. After that, not a sound could be heard except the soft clicking of my phone camera.

Hit the Trail

The publishing trail has been quite a trip—full of ups and downs but ultimately very exciting. It’s fair to say (just ask my family) that my nerves have been wound tightly since I first set out to find an agent or publisher. I never imagined the task would be so daunting and time consuming. My saving grace through it all has been my once a week escape to a very different trail—the kind that follows the tumbling music of crystal clear brooks and rivers; the kind that takes me through long, green corridors of aromatic balsam and spruce; the kind that sends me to the highest points in New York State.

Whether I’m wearing hiking boots or snowshoes, the Adirondack Mountains never fail to transform my entire being into a tranquil state. On many hikes, difficult parts of my story that I struggled with at home came easily as my mind melted into the sights, sounds and smells of the healing forest. I think the natural environment is only a door or two away from Heaven, and as Dorothy said, “There’s no place like home”.

Saying Goodbye

My parents buried their best friend today—a 9 year old beagle named Katie. I’m 51 and for the first time in my life I saw my father cry. I think dogs are here for one reason—to teach us how to love unconditionally.

Sand and Snow

I spent a week in the Canyonlands Nation Park with my brother and his wife. It was an all new experience for me. I’ve never been a desert, full-sun kind of person. I’m a shade seeker who loves trees—the greener and taller the better, but I have to admit the scenery and rock formations of the desert were breathtaking. In southern Utah, in early spring, you can be in full summer mode—hot and humid, but 5 hours north, back at my brother’s house in Salt Lake City, winter was hanging on tight in the high places.

On my last day there my brother and I climbed 9000 foot Mount Olympus accompanied by his most excellent hiking dog, Maggie who outdid us by climbing the mountain twice—she would repeatedly run ahead and then trot back to see us for 2 seconds of petting and acknowledgment, and off she’d go, up the trail and around the bend.