Summit

She was standing on the side of the road with a handwritten, paper sign that said, “HELP.”

We pulled over.

It was the northbound lane of the one lane “Cascade Pass” south of Lake Placid, and there were four young people, three of whom were crouched around the right, rear tire of the car.  A flat.  No, a flat of the spare tire to replace the flat tire.

Four Canadians from a university near Montreal on their way to a hike on Colden, the mountain that earlier this summer had a catastrophic landslide that had wiped out most of a long section of trail.  Even from a multi-mile distance, one can see the grey lines of rocks that wiped out swaths of evergreen and pine otherwise covering the mountain face.  It could be renamed “Bear Swipe Mountain.”

Of course, our air compressor was home with our air mattress.

Of course, the NYS Trooper who came by didn’t have one in his car.

A plan was hatched that we would drive the young man to the local Stewart’s gas station to pump up the spare and get pumpkin donuts.  We swapped around all our contact information, sharing it also with the Trooper, and we were off.

Success!

But, no, because when the little jack was ratcheted upwards to put on the now-inflated spare tire, it snapped the rust spot under which the young man had placed it. (The car frame had no hole to hook into, and the jack was a mismatch from some other, little car.)

Kevin got out our Ford truck jack and a wedge of cedar we had in the cab (it helps to be a carpenter), and: voila!  Now: Success!  The spare was on. The lugs were evenly tightened.

But — what? Now, the lid on the not-a-Thule brand turtle on the car roof wouldn’t close.  The young lady driver was on the phone to her mother in Canada, trying to figure that out.  Three of them had their hands on the lid.  The latch would not hook, so the key would not come out.  Even if we gave them a strap, it wouldn’t solve the key problem that could then wiggle loose and fall out somewhere along the road.

Of course it was grey skies overhead.  Of course, not one, but two, tow trucks with flatbeds with other cars on them went by.  Of course, there was a chilly wind that sent me twice back to our truck cab for more layers.  (It had snowed on Whiteface during the night, by the way…)

But when that cargo lid key yielded and the lid was secured?  We all erupted into cheers, and laughter, and hugs and handshakes.

And off we all went in our two separate vehicles. The four Canadians to discuss whether it was too late to start the climb. Kevin and I to hot coffee and fresh bagels at Soul Shine, where we shared stories of the young adventurers, tinged with prayers for their success.

That was Saturday morning, and a couple hours of comforting others into our day. I speak for Kevin and I both that we wished some combination of wanting to have joined the climb and wishing they would let us know how they got on.

Then, last night, a text about 11 pm a text! With photos shared to us of four faces beaming with pride and joy from atop the snow-brushed summit at Sunday sunrise.  Not only had they made the climb, they had achieved their goal of camping out overnight, and they had made it down safely. Kevin and I rejoiced.

#TrueStory

There’s a variety of reasons why a person looks at a High Peak in the 6 million acres of the Adirondack Park and admires it from the ground level, or maybe climbs part of it, or perhaps tries to summit but doesn’t.  There are 152,000 full-time residents, who share a camaraderie of our chosen lives in this vast wilderness, and not less than several stories about tourists per ADK resident. We are about to join those numbers of full-time residents, and this is our first story of knowing enough to help hikers on the way to fulfilling their dreams.

In this time we shared with our Canadian amis (friends), there were no international borders, no tariffs, no language barriers as we floated between English, French, and universal sign language of four worried faces of travelers in a foreign country who did not know that “911” could lead to help and safety. Looks of worry, were turned into smiles and renewed optimism.

Flat tire days are universal.  I was there once because I caught a strap with metal hook end into my tire and a stranger stopped to help.  Another flat, another day, and the kindness of my ex-husband.  I still don’t know how to change a tire, but I did learn to keep my phone charged, my AAA roadside assistance up-to-date, and to find a gas station pronto if a tire pressure light comes. You’ve been there, too. And to us all, how does it manage to happen on days our cars are packed full of stuff atop the tire and the tire iron?

On this occasion, we were blessed with the reward of seeing, first hand, through four young Canadians’ eyes, the grandeur of a summit at sunrise.  It was as thrilling as if we had climbed it with them.  “Bon courage!” I had called out as we pulled out.  Indeed, how we admire their courage and take our inspiration from it.