Mountain Metaphor

Later it will have been hilarious that I begin the day by asking Ken if he’d wear a different shirt.

I’m really not that kind of wife who tries to dress their husband. But today’s destination – Doi Inthanon, Thailand’s highest mountain, and surrounding gardens - has plenty of ‘anniversary photo-shoot’ potential, and I want us to match for the pictures.

It’s overcast when we leave, but it’s been mostly that way the whole time we’ve been here. The weather ap is pretty much stuck on the ‘rain with chance of a thunderstorm’ icon because, well, every day there’s rain and a chance of a thunderstorm. The thing is, anything does come has been very isolated, and passes quickly. And around here we don’t really let that stop our plans too much, else we’d never go anywhere.

But today, later, we will say that maybe we shouldn’t have gone anywhere. At least not to Doi Inthanon.

The car ride is three hours with a stop in the middle at a very modern gas plaza with an Amazon coffee shop and the Southeast Asian classic 7-11. Before the stop we’ve been driving pretty much through Chiang Mai and some surrounding smaller municipalities. But after the stop, that’s when the road begins to take us higher.

My first premonition that perhaps this won’t be the best picture day is how the weather gets worse the higher up and more winding around we go. All the guards at the check points are wearing rain gear. Many times we have to slow down to navigate the poor visibility. Ken is glad he’s not driving. So am I. But mountain-man Suradet takes it in stride and we do eventually reach our destination.

As well as wanting us to match, my dressing instructions had included that it could get a bit cooler up on the mountain. So he’s wearing long pants with the very light cotton shirt I asked him to wear. I have brought a light, sleeved cotton shawl thing that I hoped wouldn’t end up being too warm if I needed to cover up my bare shoulders. Also, on a whim, I brought a rain covering.

However.

It’s storming. A rain storm with gusts of wind that wash sheets of wet across the entire parking lot. The kind of weather we would never go out in the boat in. The kind of weather that makes you wait before you run for your car. The kind of weather that seems to be lasting longer than just an outburst, and therefore most certainly would close down any tourist attraction in Canada.

I wait for Suradet and Yupa to discuss a new plan. They don’t. Suradet gets out of the car. Yes. We’re going to get out of the car. I give Ken my rain cover, since I have more layers and have been given an umbrella. And he might be coming down with the small cold I’ve been coping with the past few days. And actually it’s rather cold outside in the rain.

We scoot our way into the first sheltered area where there are bathrooms and a few things for sale. We ask about rain coverings, but are told they are sold out. We stand around a few moments to see if things will die down. They don’t. We go out there.

Up to a lookout point which is pointless because we are high enough into the storm that I am convinced that we are inside the clouds of it. Either way, we can’t see a thing. My flip flops are slippery against my feet more than against the stone stairs. It’s slow going. The wind fights with me for my umbrella, but I refuse to relinquish it. Along another path we find some rain coverings and buy them. And now I can’t recognize anyone because there are enough other crazy people like us, visiting Doi Inthanon in a rainstorm who have all also purchased rain coverings, and everyone looks exactly the same in the driving rain.

And all the while we are laughing. We remember a similar trip to Niagara Falls when Suradet, Yupa and Bell were last in Canada, and a pouring rainy day for that too. What are the chances?

And then for some reason unknown to common sense, we decide to climb the steep stairway to visit not one but two shrines that adorn the higher levels of the garden. I don’t know. Because we came this far anyways? Because we’re all soaking wet by now anyways? Because, despite the one or two good photos, there’s no use trying to look at the flowers and gardens today anyways. Who knows. We just go.

It was inside the second shrine that the wind began to get serious. As if it wasn’t wild enough on the way up, by the time we step back out, I have to hold on for dear life to the railings in fear of being blown off my feet. Not kidding. We aren’t laughing now. We are concentrating. Step by step, down we go, holding on in a ridiculous storm that held no photo-shoot potential whatsoever, as if that even crosses my mind at this point.

Because this is a religious site and many people would have been there for their own spiritual reasons, Doi Inthanon never closes. Doesn’t matter. (Not sure what happened during COVID, I’ll have to look that up.) I am surprised by how many folks are there, actually. We aren’t the only crazy ones.

And then in the midst of it, in the quite of one of the shrines (where pictures were certainly permitted), it happens. The perfect anniversary shot to mark not just the day, but the story of our lives. And the plastered hair of no pretense, and completely not matching rain coverings, and the laughter, and the tenacity of it, and the storm trying to stop us from climbing to stronger, safer, spiritual places, and the holding hands for dear life of it all, makes for a picture perfect description of the 45 years of our lives together.

Yup. That’s us.

And then, much later in the day, we’ll say going was exactly what we should have done. Go anyways. Make the memory. Share the moment the family God’s extended to us, who have also valiantly climbed highest mountains in terrible storms together.

Later after that we’ll peel off our soaked matching outfits and put on comfy pjs and laugh and be glad for our ridiculously wonderful day at Doi Inthanon and God’s good grace to keep us together all this time.