I remember going on hikes as a kid. Only for them to be completely changed when done again years later. The experience was all new. The paths winding in different directions then they did before, breaking off and turning in unexpected places. Leading to a new ending. Did the land change or did my memory of it change? Have I changed since the last time I was here? I remember one hike in particular that my dad would take me on. It was my favorite. It was also the one I complained about the most. 

I was young, doing this hike many times before I was even 8 years old. It never seemed to get easier though. The paths weren’t cleared out like on other hikes. They were covered in unavoidable, giant rocks. I was so small then. Each rock was like its own mountain I had to climb over. My hands searching for crevices to hold in the rough, unyielding surface. Fighting and clawing my way to the top of each, sliding down the other side only to be faced with yet another steep incline towering over me. I used to complain so much. “I’m tired”, “This is so hard”. My dad would just push me to keep going. He knew I could do it even if I didn’t believe in myself. And I would do it. I’d reach the top where my reward was waiting for me.

At the top of the mountain was a store with gems and candy. One of my favorite types of candy at the time was rock candy. I only got it after doing this hike. I always thought that was fitting. Getting rock candy after facing and beating the largest rock of all time. I was willing to do this hike over and over again if reaching the top meant getting my candy. My brother, sister and I would all run to pick out what we wanted as an award for our hard work. Oh right, my siblings were there too.

It’s so funny how I hardly remember that. In fact, I don’t remember them being there at all for the hiking part, only for the store at the end. I know they were though, they wouldn’t have been anywhere else. I wonder why I don’t remember. Maybe it’s because they were so far ahead of me, leaving me behind. My brother and sister were both much taller than me at the time. They walked down the path with ease, like nothing could be more simple. Maybe it was because these mountains I faced in front of me were so great that they blocked out everything. Even the sun itself hardly made an appearance in their presence. Caught in the problems of my own world I didn’t see anything else. I couldn’t, my world was so small then. Maybe that’s why the hike seemed so much different when I was older. My view had expanded.

I wouldn’t do this hike again for another twelve years, when I was 20 years old. Before I left, my friend would ask me if I’ve done this hike before. “Not that I remember”. How funny. Funny that I wouldn’t even start to get a sense of familiarity until I was on my way back down the mountain.

The way up was terrifying. Somewhere over the years I developed a bit of a fear of heights. The hike was steep. I’m talking about a straight up type of steep. There were ropes and ladders secured to the mountainside in order to be able to continue down certain paths. Other paths required you to trust in yourself and climb cliffs barehanded. I had no problem with the latter. Where I could, I’d even skip the ropes and use my own strength to scramble up and down. Had I always had this sense of trust in myself? When I was young I don’t think the thought of falling even crossed my mind. I’m aware now, and in awe of my strength and trust in myself.

The rocks were slick and the dirt damp. Cold water dripped from the canopy above onto my skin. I could still smell the rain that fell the night before. Lush green trees cast their shade down. Their shadows follow me with every step we take. Their leaves keep me company, singing as the wind passes through them, branches dancing. The sun only breaks through at their discretion, allowing for brief moments of warmth and glimpses of green mountains turning blue as they continue infinitely into the distance. These sensations and views make it all worth it even before reaching the top.

In the final stretch to reach the summit there is one last ladder attached to a giant boulder that rises above the surrounding trees. Climbing the ladder will reveal a 360 view of all the land. Every way I turn there are endless mountains. The greens and blues swaying in the wind like waves. It is like being in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by nothing and everything all at once. This high up the wind is stronger than before. Even without the trees blocking out the sun, the cold is harsh. I don’t stay long before making my way back down.

This hiking trail can be done as a loop so I don’t need to return to paths I’ve already walked upon. The way down is quicker hills instead of ladders and ropes. Eventually the path becomes overtaken by unavoidable, giant rocks. Many rocks are around my height, some even taller. I climbed over one, jumped down and began to climb again, over and over. With each one I get a sense of nostalgia. “I’ve been here, I know it”. I recognize these rocks; my hands recognize their touch, how my palm fits into their coarse sides. I’ve climbed them before. 

I remember being a kid. My dad encouraging me, my siblings leaving me behind as they continue ahead. Except now I know I can do this. I know that my brother and sister were facing their own obstacles too, just trying to get to the top to reach the candy. The candy? There was no candy at the top. How funny that must’ve been another memory. Maybe another hike or just a store we stopped at after the hike. It didn’t matter now the hike was worth it without candy. The path was worth it. Looking back and seeing my growth was worth it. The reward has changed and I appreciate the path that leads to it.