Peaks

Day 8: Sunday, April 19, 2020

“No, it is not at all difficult. We will take the ski lift up two-thirds of the way, so there’s very little climbing involved. You just must see this most beautiful of our mountains, “ exclaimed Jarko as we began our journey from Kosice to Poprad. We had just arrived in Slovakia after having been on an overnight flight from Chicago to Budapest, a breathless bus trip across the city, each of us dragging a heavy roller bag and a carry-on bag in order to catch the express train that was leaving just an hour after our arrival, and a three-hour train  trip across the border to Slovakia. Tired and gritty-dirty from travel, we had no desire to do much of anything, let alone climb a mountain. But Jarko was suggesting, indeed insisting, that we do just that. And not just any mountain, but the highest mountain in the High Tatras range located in Slovakia, Predne Solisko.

What could we do but acquiesce. He was, after all, not only our chauffeur for the day, but also an extremely charming young man.  He was right that the surroundings in the village of Strbske Pleso were beautiful. The lake of the same name was a deep blue mirror reflecting the tall green pines, the red geraniums, and the picturesque lodges. We walked around the edge of the lake till we arrived at the ski lift that would save us all those steps two-thirds up the mile-high mountain.

The very words “ski lift” was enough to take my breath for the second time that morning (the first being that bus trip across Budapest with three changes of buses). I am afraid of heights. When I had visited the Pyramids of the Sun and the Moon outside Mexico City at the end of a college mission trip, I had chickened out of the climb on the second large stone block. I was more willing to be labeled a coward than I was to complete the climb and see the view (I have since finished that climb and the view was incredible, along with the feeling of exhilaration that I gained from achieving the goal).

But that day in Strbske Pleso, I had not yet completed the climb to the pyramids and could think of nothing but my fear. Obviously, I did not fall from the ski lift, successfully gripping the sides till we reached the cable’s end. And I was pleasantly surprised at the beginning of our climb. My idea of mountain climbing was ropes and spikes and huge hiking boots. This mountain had a well-marked path with steps carved into large slabs of rock. It reminded me of trails I had been on in the Smokies. I began to think that this little excursion of Jarko’s wouldn’t be so bad after all.

We continued working our way upward, following the path and the markers. Every once in a while we would stop to take pictures of the vista of valleys and purple-tinted peaks. When I would comment on the height of the “peak” we were on, Jarko would just say, “On, no, this is not the top. This is just a false peak.”

At some point, I said I was fine with the “false peak” we were on; I really didn’t need to go any higher than the path I was on. Every time I stated my intention to stop where I was, Jarko protested that the real peak was just a little further on and that I must not stop before I got to the top of his beautiful Predne Solisko.

And so I climbed and climbed and finally reached his “real” peak. To tell you the truth, It didn’t look much different up on the real peak than it had on some of the false peaks. But, I must say, that I would never have had the sense of accomplishment without having completing the course.

I hadn’t thought of my little junket to the “real” peak in the High Tatras for a long time. I was reminded of it today when I heard New York Governor Cuomo speak of the peak of the coronavirus outbreak in his state. He described the terrible anxiety of having no idea whether social distancing would flatten the curve, breaking that peak of the outbreak. He confessed not knowing when they had reached the peak: there was a plateau that could lead to a higher peak or a beginning of a decline. And even with the current assurance that there is a decline in hospitalizations and deaths, he is not certain that another peak won’t occur when the state begins to re-open.

My experience with a “false” peak and a “real” peak were of no real significance in my life, except for the fact that I was glad that I had achieved the top for Jarko’s sake. But the peak that all of us have to experience now with this virus raging into every nook and cranny of this country, is of terrible significance. We not only want to make sure we have reached the real peak and are on the decline, but we don’t ever want to have to get to that real peak again. It won’t give us a sense of satisfaction; it will give us a sense of relief, a sense that the danger is over, a sense that we have escaped death.

But we won’t all escape—the peak on the chart, so innocuous looking, is a pile of human beings, some of whom have already died. We cannot do anything about the deaths that have occurred, but we can do our part to have a lower peak by the precautions we take each day—remaining at home, keeping our distance from one another, sanitizing everything, washing our hands, and being patient to keep doing these actions until the virus subsides or we have an effective vaccine.

See you on the other side of the peak!