Words from Along the Road

The trip was to Mount Longonot, in the Great Rift Valley in Kenya. The day started with a crisp morning. It was close to the rainy season. Heavy fog surrounded the road, the headlights shone out in to the morning grayness, lighting the path into the white-gray fog. We drove down into the Valley and the fog completely obscured the famous, breathtaking view. Beyond the guardrails that curved with the road, there was only fog, there was nothing you could see through it. If I didn’t know, as I already did, that a valley was beneath the fog, anything could have hidden in its depths. The entire world could drop off and end just there, and I wouldn’t know. It felt as if it was indeed the edge of the world, covered totally by fog, and marked as the edge of the known. After the hour or so drive, the hike itself was another hour or more. It was one that I had done twice before for school field trips and a third time with family. The fourth and final time was the most memorable for me. I was the first to the top that time (I only had four other people for competition that time instead of a whole class). And I remember lying on my back a while at the top, catching my breath and feeling miniature twitching over my body from the exertion of climbing the dormant volcano, Mount Longonot. I felt like I was alone for a while at the top, while my family still climbed. The view from the top of the mountain was a large portion of the Great Rift Valley. Directly in front of me but far below me, was a dusty plain, low trees and sparse savannah flora. But solidly growing in the center of this dusty terrain was a tree that drew my gaze. It was much greener than the land around it, which was how it stood out and claimed my attention. It also seemed much taller than the other trees and brush spread out around it. Because it appeared so different from those around it, it seemed like it was alone or it was somehow a guardian. A solitary giant, a lone sentinel. It was beautiful, though simple, and seemed a little sad – loneliness that emanated from the tree, guarding the plain. The lone tree on its dusty kingdom struck some kind of cord in me. It stirred me, made me want to remember it. And I have: this simple but noble tree from my last climb up that mountain. Its memory evokes marvel at the sadness but also beauty that is held in this world. How mystery exists just beyond the fog if you’re willing to venture out in to it and into valleys of beauty on the other side.