Climb Every Mountain

Well not every mountain, but I climbed a mountain. If you are from a place where there actually are mountains you might argue with me about that, but for a woman from a sea level town, I climbed a mountain! I wasn’t planning to climb a mountain at all.  I am staying on the Isle of Iona, one of the Hebrides, which has hills but no mountains. I went on an excursion to the island of Staffa – another of the many islands flecking the Atlantic Ocean off Scotland’s west coast. I went on the excursion mainly for the ocean scenery and because I heard you could see Puffins there and that there was a cave where the sounds were so beautiful it inspired Mendelssohn. 

I didn’t know that Staffa was actually just a big mountain in the ocean. The geology is spectacular, it is made of volcanic rock actually of the exact formation as the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland – that formation extends from N. Ireland to Staffa.  So, when you arrive at the island you have two choices, you can hang out at the boat dock or you can scale the mountain to its grassy green top where you can wait patiently for the Puffins to appear. 

Full disclosure – when I was age 8 or 9 I followed my big brother up a mountainside in Arkansas.  He was much faster than me and I got lost in the trees and couldn’t find my way back down.  I stumbled and rolled a long way, ripped open the whole back of my thigh and was eventually stopped by a big tree.  I had to be rescued by some first responders of some sort.

Having rescued a panicked me more than once themselves, had my husband or daughter been with me on Staffa they would have recommended that I stay at the boat dock.  But I was alone, no traveling companion.  I looked up at the straight mountainside and pondered.  This was probably my only chance to see a Puffin in the wild.  I looked at the crazy stone steps and rickety aluminum ladder stairs that take one the first leg up.  I decided I should at least try.  I mustered up all my courage.  Not looking down or even around, I successfully maneuvered the steps that dropped me onto a grassy path.  I could see that the path went a long way to the tip of the island and that it went up and down through the hilly mountaintop.  I thought about just hanging out there in the grassy spot.  But the Puffins seemed so appealing, so I thought I would see how far I could go.  At times, the path gave out and I had to decide on a way.  That was scary.  Often the only way I could see was through muddy rocky streams and my boots weren’t exactly all terrain boots.  I planned every step carefully and kept my arms free to balance me when I hit slick spots.  Three times I stopped, looked around and thought I should not go any further, I am alone, I could panic or fall. 

But a beautiful thing happened on that mountain path, my late friend Rose Ann, the bird lover, joined me in spirit.  I could hear her coaxing me on, “you can do this Pat.”  And with her characteristic enthusiasm “You are not coming this far and missing out on seeing the Puffins!  Come on Pat, Puffins are important, you will be fine.”  And I remembered my mantra for this week, Do not worry about what you will eat or drink or wear or whether or not you will freeze to death, if God takes such care with the flowers and the bugs, God is surely looking after me.    

 Ya’ll I made it to the top and I laid down on my stomach on the edge of a cliff and took photos of the Puffins who had gathered just for me, I am sure.  

Apparently I am more able than I think I am.  Maybe I don’t have to panic with heights and cliff sides.  I have certainly pushed myself beyond all sorts of limits.  And, friends who knew her, it was precious, precious to spend some time with our friend Rose Ann.

I made it back down to the boat dock without a fall!  WooHoo – now go climb a mountain ya’ll, pursue a Puffin, see something you’ve never before seen.  Be brave.

And, if you are not already, join me in singing.....

Climb Every Mountain