Finding their salt on Barometer Mountain, Greg & Alex Stephens sitting in front of a monument for a young climber who lost his life after falling from the summit.
Ever looked up at a mountain and wondered what was on top? Ever wondered why in the world anyone would ever want to climb such a formidable behemoth? I mean, there is real danger in climbing a true mountain, from weather concerns and falling rocks to physical exhaustion and falling yourself; the hazards are lurking with every step. As a child, I remember numerous sprints out of deep Ozark river valleys straight up steep ridges on Dad’s heels during spring turkey seasons past. Of course the turkeys were never at the bottom of the hollow, rather, they were always at the top of the steepest ridge and we had to climb it. As I looked on with a doubtful expression, Dad, with a half taunting voice would say, “You worth your salt or what? Let’s go.”
Was I worth my salt? What in the world did that have to do with the physical pounding we were about to endure? It turns out there was more to it, both physically and mentally, than a child could ever understand. You see, salt has been the subject of many expressions with which we are all familiar, such as ‘salt of the earth’ and “he isn’t worth his salt”, which comes from ancient Greece where slaves were traded for salt. It wasn’t enough that I was packing an old Stevens pump shotgun that was heavier than a boat anchor; no, I also had to run face-first into every low hanging branch Dad would slingshot back at me. As my leg muscles screamed, the sweat rolled down my forehead and the branches smacked me in the face and I remember wondering if this effort was worth the potential reward. When we finally reached the top there was a very real possibility the turkey would be gone. And I would have lost a lot of salt from sweating all for nothing!
Thirty five years later I think I more fully understand. As it turns out, to be a bona-fide ‘salt of the earth’ outdoorsman or mountain man, it’s more than being able to shoot straight, its more than wilderness and wildlife knowledge, its more than telling stories. It’s all of these ingredients mixed in with heaping helping of salty character. Anything worth doing in this life is worth working hard for. And getting up that ridge, year after year, instilled in me a certain sense of adventure and a life lesson about character. An old mountain man will always run that trap line, or climb that ridge during hunting season, or scale that mountain during the off season, just to prove to himself he is still worth his salt. And that trait isn’t passed on in front of a TV or video game. You won’t find your salt sitting at the house - you’ve got to be out there.
And out there we were, in 2009 on Kodiak Island, looking from the highway up the 4 mile trail leading to the summit of the 2,500 foot Barometer Mountain. Not a monster mountain but considerably larger and steeper than what I had been up against in the Ozarks. I doubted there was a turkey up there but I was determined to get to the summit. My son, Alex, on the other hand, was giving me that same doubtful expression that I had given my dad thirty-five years ago. Along with my former Missourian, now Alaskan friend Steve Neff and his son, Trevor, we were going to find out if we were worth our salt.
The trail started out on a gently increasing slope running for the first two miles through dense brush and foliage heading up the northwest ridge. On the way up Steve introduced us to salmon berries which are a beautiful and very tasty berry resembling an unripe red-phase blackberry. It was a great adventure going from side to side searching the trail for the candy-like berry. Then it hit me – we were on one the most densely Kodiak bear populated islands in the world, in brush so thick you couldn’t see more than twenty feet, and foraging the same fruit the bears were after. Kind of gives you a new perspective about the wilderness when you can round a corner at any moment and be face to face with a Kodiak Brown Bear. There is an eerie, keen sense and mental edge you develop that is, for the most part, unfamiliar in the Ozarks, while in the natural environment of a predator like the Kodiak brown bear. It makes you understand the pang of anxiety and nervousness animals living lower on the food chain must feel while simply living day to day in Mother Nature.
After breaking from the brush line at roughly 1.75 miles into the hike the trial turned markedly steeper. There were spots that required both hands and feet to continue up the trail. Most of the trail from the brush line up was such that if you ever fell you would at the very least fall several hundred feet and in places you shuddered to think what might happen if you lost your grasp. Alex, like me thirty years previously, had to be coaxed up the trail several times. We managed to summit Barometer Mountain in a few hours. The incredible view of the mountains against the Kodiak shoreline and the north Pacific was a memory that will forever be burned into our souls. It’s hard to put into words what you take away from such an experience. The best way that I can describe it is that there are treasures the Creator has reserved for the wanderlust filled mountain man who will challenge himself. And besides the soul moving scenery, what did we find on Barometer Mountain? We found our salt. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.
Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.
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