My favorite mountain outside of western Maine is Mount Rainer in Washington. I am fortunate enough to have the ability to explore the mountain and surrounding park fairly regularly. The active volcano, capped with glacial ice, peaks at more than 14,000 feet above sea level. The visitor center in Paradise, WA is 5,400 feet above sea level, higher than any mountain top in Maine. Mount Rainer, and the other massive mountains in the Cascade Range, are a spectacular sight to see. Even though the mountains in my neighborhood are some of most prominent peaks in Maine, there is no comparison to those of the Pacific Northwest.

The first time I visited Mount Rainer National Park, I was in awe of the milky blue glacier water that cascaded over waterfalls and flowed through rivers from the wintery summit to the lush temperate rainforest at the base. Dense forests shrouded in dark green moss welcomed us as we entered the park. By the time we reached the visitor center we had to climb over snowbanks for photo opportunities.

An average of 700 inches of snow falls annually at the Mount Rainer visitor center in Paradise, WA. (Photo by Dee Menear/Rangeley Highlander)

Paradise, which is aptly named, is where I first learned of John Muir. Known as “John of the Mountains”, he was a naturalist, author and early advocate for the preservation of wilderness. A set of stairs leading from the visitor center to the head of Mount Rainer’s Skyline Trail are engraved with a John Muir quote, “…the most luxuriant and the most extravagantly beautiful of all the alpine gardens I even beheld in all my mountain-top wanderings.”

A John Muir quote welcomes visitors to the Skyline Trail on Mount Rainer (Photo by Dee Menear/Rangeley Highlander)

Even though it was winter in Paradise and no alpine flowers were in bloom, I realized he had perfectly described the landscape before me. I wanted to learn all I could about this man of the mountains with a gift for words. In my readings and studying, I quickly found a quote that spoke to me deeply. A portion of the quote is now a popular saying shared by many on social media and printed on everything from clothing to keyrings.

“The mountains are calling and I must go and I will work on while I can, studying incessantly,” John wrote in regards to his passion for studying and preserving land.

I think about that quote when I am enjoying the outdoors. I tend to become deeply immersed in learning everything I can about my surroundings. If I am not armed with guidebooks, I take photos or notes to study later. I want to know all I can about the flora and fauna the flourish in the areas I explore.

That quote is also in the forefront of my mind throughout life outside of the woods. It truly has become my mantra.

Earlier this year, I welcomed a grandchild. “We are going to have quite the adventure,” I whispered as I held that beautiful, precious being for the first time. I envisioned future fishing trips, hikes and campouts. I looked forward to getting to know this new life. When the time comes, if there is willingness and interest, I will be eager to share my knowledge and love of the outdoors. I anticipate mutual learning opportunities through our shared adventures. 

Our mountains are calling and we must go.

About the same time that new life was welcomed, I faced the impending loss of a loved one. I knew nothing of death. My losses in life have been few. Each time my friend and I parted ways, I was overwhelmed with sadness. I wondered if each visit would be our last. I worried about the details of their inevitable passing and hoped they wouldn’t be alone when it came their time to leave. However, they were not worried or afraid. They asked if I held the same apprehension when engagements ended with friends who were not in the same situation. When I admitted I did not, they gently reminded me that valuing time with others should be a priority. Each interaction should be cherished and treated as though it would be the last, they said. That fading soul taught me more about life than they did about death.

Even though I was not ready, their mountains were calling and they needed to go.

The mountains of the Rangeley region. (Photo by Dee Menear/Rangeley Highlander)

Recently, I was offered an opportunity that I knew would challenge me. The offer simultaneously suited me and pushed me far outside of my comfort zone. Although it would mean a change in familiar and comfortable surroundings, it presented a perfect chance to learn and develop. I am familiar with my home mountains. Our relationship is personal. I know their peaks, their trails, and their history. Although it is not far from my familiar landscape, this opportunity would place me among mountains I am only casually acquainted with. A vague familiarity is all I know of them. Building the same relationship I have with my home mountains seemed like an insurmountable task. However, I am naturally curious and it was the challenge and desire for knowledge that enticed me to accept the offer.

New mountains were calling and I am glad I answered.