Hiking in the Clouds

 Plodding along the narrow trail head bent against the cold mist and rain, hands buried deep in my hoodie pocket - I wondered if this was all worth it. I was the one who had suggested we go hiking in the mountains. My sister, Susanna, and Aunt Carmen had been excited to get out in the crisp mountain air to see the foliage. When we started out, the weather was a little chilly and damp but it seemed promising that the sun would break through the clouds. The drive up to the Cherohala Skyway whispered of autumn colors and harvest time. 

As we pulled onto the historic mountain road, I began to notice the darkened pavement and mist on the windshield. Pretty soon, we were driving through swirling clouds round one bend after another. Where had the sun gone and the promising views of fall foliage? Where was the perfect hiking weather I had been picturing in the mountains of Tennessee? 

The trailhead we were looking for was supposed to be between two lookouts. The only thing we saw was a small grassy patch beside the road marked by a boulder. No sign post or anything else welcomed our arrival. To the left, Susanna pointed out what might be a trail disappearing into the woods. She excitedly climbed out into the cold mist to see where it led. To be honest, I initially climbed out of the car thinking surely this was all a terrible mistake and more careful investigation of the trail would convince the other two of this reality so we could get back in the van and go elsewhere. I left the backpack in the van and the water as I didn’t see any need to carry these in the cold rain when we would surely be coming back very shortly. 

Now just to give some context, we knew the trail we were wanting to go on was 5.7 miles, but I wasn’t sure this was the right trail or that we would actually go to the end. Also, we didn’t know if it was a loop or not though we figured it must be. Oh, and I had a headache that morning and hadn’t brought any extra layers. 

Everything inside me as we waded through the wet grass and brushed past the dripping trees wanted to turn around and go back. Not 10 minutes into the trail, water had seeped into my sneakers and the cold was biting at my fingers and ears. I was attempting to keep my sour mood to myself as I plodded at the back of the line down, down the steep mountain trail waiting for Susanna and A. Carmen to finally decide this was a bad idea. Yet, in the middle of my sullen mood and the grey clouds, the brilliant sunset colors of the sassafras trees and the breathtaking pinkish/red of the sourwood leaves spoke of a hope that something was still right in the world. 

It took us almost getting lost for me to realize that they were set on finishing this trail! We had climbed down by this small creek and suddenly lost the trail - it seemed to have vanished in thin air. We climbed around for a while and had just about given up (I was just getting ready to give a big sigh of relief) when Aunt Carmen spotted where the trail had made a sharp turn. Groaning inwardly, I reluctantly followed, giving up my hopes of going back to the warm, dry van. 

The thing is - I love adventure and often pride myself on not being afraid of uncomfortable situations. I’m also pretty athletic and used to being outdoors and in nature, so none of that was new or difficult for me. The thing that was eating me up was that it wasn’t what I had expected or prepared for. I had prepared for a beautiful walk in the woods with fall foliage and crisp air in fellowship with my sister and aunt. What I was getting was a cold, wet walk through dense underbrush and I felt too miserable to talk to anyone. I was wishing for leggings to protect my bare legs against the briars, I was wishing for another jacket to protect me from the rain and cold, I was wishing for a hot drink to warm my freezing hands, and I was wishing that God would do His God-thing breaking through the clouds and mist to warm us and showing us where this trail was leading. If I had given names to the places we were passing they would have been something like - Misty Hollow, Thorny Passage, Briar Boulevard, Shady Pine Alley, Treacherous ByPass and many similar idioms. The last thing I wanted was to have to go all the way back the way we had come.

One of the first locations that distinctly carried an eerie feeling in the foggy world was a slope on the mountain where there had been a forest fire. One the one side you had charred ground with low shrubs coming up, on the other side the mountain dropped off into the fog. All you could see was a few charred pine trees still sticking up through the swirling white. Here again I lamented to the Lord, “If only the fog was lifted, if only I could see the view eclipsed by this bothersome fog!” Yet, I began to realize that the moist air wrapped around us gave a new appreciation for the little things along the way. The autumn colors sang even brighter in contrast to the drab grey. The brave flowers pushing up along the side shouted for attention. Even the acorns caught my gaze with their red and yellow shine.

Finally, after I had surrendered to the cold, foggy trek through the woods - it began to happen. The fog began to lift, the air became a little lighter, the birds started to chirp again and the colors way up in the trees became visible. Still, we trudged on, not knowing how much further or if we must come back. By now the trail had cleared up considerably and we no longer wondered if we were on a path. Finally, we came to the end - and it was not where we had started. Alas! We were going to have to go back through Briar Passage, Treacherous ByPass and so many other places, yet strangely my heart was happy. We had no food or water, our feet were tired, my legs were crisscrossed with scratches from multiple encounters with brambles, my hands were still ice cold in my pockets, but I knew what to expect and the sun was out. 

What had been “Shady Pine Alley” was now bathed in dappled sunlight. The once washed out and hidden trees now glowed with fire and gold. Though we walked back the same path, it seemed to be a new trail freshly cleaned and glistening in the dew. The air smelled sweetly of damp pine and moist leaves. After walking in mostly silence for over an hour we came out onto the charred mountainside where the wall of fog had hidden our view. There before us stretched the auburn glory of the mountains. The sunlight breaking through the clouds highlighted the golden hues and brilliant orange. We stopped to gaze and take in the beauty. Susanna, our fearless leader, commented on the fog that had seemed so empty and hopeless in comparison just hours earlier - “So it is when you live life without dreams.” 

How often do my disappointments and failed expectations keep me from dreaming? How often do I live in tunnel vision because I’m too afraid to dream again? The reality is we cannot live in our dreams anymore than the three of us standing on that mountainside could have flown into the landscape before us. However, dreaming with God positions us with an eternal perspective. It reminds us of the beauty in the moment while at the same time giving us an anticipation for what is yet to come. 

As we hiked the final ascent through the glorious foliage, I plucked a bright sassafras leaf to remember this beautiful moment. And I decided - yes, it was worth it - the cold hands, the scratched ankles, the wet clothes and shoes. It was worth hiking through the clouds to an unknown destination to be reminded once again that God’s ways are so much higher than my ways. Sometimes He breaks through the clouds right when I ask. Other times He waits until I’ve seen the beauty on the path in front of me before He shows me what is next. Either way, I know I can trust that His thoughts are higher than my thoughts and His ways are higher than mine.