Atop Mt. Magazine

Serious mountaineers, who check 14,000+ foot peaks off their "To Climb" lists, might call a 2753 foot elevation "puny, pipsqueak or even peewee."  Such men and women who scale dizzying heights and don't even get dizzy, might flick such a lowly "incline" off a list of true mountains like a fly off a sandwich.  "Don't waste our time on such trifles," they might exclaim, if asked to don a pair of L.L. Bean hikers, grab a picnic lunch, bottle of water and follow an "ordinary" trail upwards to what they might mockingly refer to as a  summit. But they would be missing the point.

I scaled one of those so-called pipsqueak peaks this week.  The highest point in Arkansas - Signal Hill - atop Mt. Magazine.  Well, granted I drove the gently curving, scenic state highway 309 for all but the last .6 mile, but the climb was not "the thing."  It's what surrounded me, or more accurately, what enveloped me for the 20 hours of my stay.  A cocoon of white clouds caused the Arkansas River Valley below to vanish, intensifying the world of the mountain top, forcing me to pay attention.

My friend, Marian, and I arrived late in the afternoon, checked into The Lodge, and were content to relax for the evening.  But the sun edged over the top of the cocoon at dawn inviting us, hurrying us outside, lest we miss the morning's glory.   

Mist followed us, or perhaps we followed it, as we walked the loop around the base of Signal Hill and Cameron Bluff Overlook Drive, the damp air frizzing our hair and glittering the spiders' webs.  We breathed deeply of damp leaves, cedar branches, pine needles and air cleaner than a morning shower, keeping a steady pace, until we were stopped by the sight of. . . 

retreating clouds revealing vistas of solitude

craggy rock faces yawning, "Good morning"

                                           

 camouflaged pair of deer posing in grayness 

(look closely in the lower, center     

foreground)

                                        show-stopping trees performing the Can-Can

                                               and blinding light bursting the cocoon

Nature led the way to the mountain's top while reminding us that a destination, regardless of its size, is of little consequence. . . if the trail leading to it is ignored in the rush to advance.  

   

                                                     We couldn't agree more.