“Are you scared Dad?” Jadon asked me as he turned around with a grin about 20 yards ahead of me and 25 feet further up the mountain than me. Am I scared? I thought to myself as I pondered my response to his question. I gazed out over the valley floor some 3,300 feet below and the 1,800 feet of elevation we’d gained since we left WSAABE in the parking lot and thought about what scares me. Jadon had asked the question because he’d just heard me give him instructions for the third or fourth time to put his weight towards the mountain and stay in close to the trail that had gradually become a 3-1 grade of loose shale that sheared off to 500 to 1000 foot drops on either side of us. Only the last time I’d shouted up to him I must have had an edge on my voice because he turned around and asked me the question I now pondered as I held his five year old sister’s hand and steadied his older sister just in front of me. His question had the tone of a challenge men use to push each other forward by daring the other to admit that he is afraid while at the same time assuring the other that HE wasn’t afraid. So the question was asked, and had to be answered. But the truth is always more complicated than is often easily stated. Am I afraid for myself? No, Son, I am not. Nor am I afraid of this mountain or the challenge to climb this mountain. The truth is at this point in my life I have known fear and I have faced dangerous situations in which the outcome is doubtful and I am wise enough to admit when I am afraid. However that is not the extent of my answer I thought as another blast of the 30 mph wind caught us in the face. I now no longer worry for myself or my ability to meet the challenge but Indeed I have been watching and worrying over each footstep and hand hold you’ve taken since we’ve passed the “Danger, children not recommended” sign which is now about 800 feet below us. Every slip you’ve made has caused terror to rip though me as I’ve watched you fall down the mountain in my mind’s eye. Every time you’ve made a wrong step or tottered in the wind I’ve considered how I would get to you quickly enough to make a difference… And the truth is, I’ve done that three times over for each of you. So I guess if I’m being honest with you as I look into your half grin that has the light of a challenge written on it, I AM afraid… of my ability to protect you and your sisters on the side of this mountain. So it is my son when the challenge is no longer about getting up the mountain as much as it is knowing the limits of the people you love who you are climbing the mountain with. So even though we did not make the top of the mountain, that I saw through your tears that you wanted desperately to make, I hope that you learn an even more valuable lesson about becoming a man than the top of the mountain would ever teach you… 

Later this evening, as the kids and I were walking back from Taku lake with our fishing poles, I felt a small hand find mine as we silently and softly walked past a Moose that was on the other side of the bike trail behind our house. As we got close to the the big animal the voice that belonged to the hand softly said, “I’m afraid Daddy.” And I thought back to that question from the mountain earlier this afternoon. I smiled to myself as the Moose looked up from it’s supper towards us. And I whispered back, “It’s going to be ok son, I’m right here, between you and the moose…,” and I completed the thought in my head, “just like I stood between you and the mountain today.” As we cleared the moose and continued on towards home and his excitement at seeing such a large animal grew into an excitement to tell his mom how cool it all was I walked along happily content with our adventures for the day…

–Greg