Gone Hiking, by Sylvester Lawrence Jackson II

It was 2005. My past had caught up to me again. I was pulled over with a friend and an old warrant came up again. To say I was pissed would be putting it mildly. I thought all those things from my past had been taken care of, but nonetheless I had to play the game again. At least I’d been out of trouble for such a long time, the judge felt bad and only gave me 6 months. Plus he decided not to give me jail time and decided that an in-patient program in lieu of jail time would be better for all concerned. After all, I had multiple years of sobriety by then.

I was off to Daytop Village in Liberty, New York. It wasn’t my first time in an in-patient program. I usually did well in programs like this, and this place was no different. I fit right in. I got a job and moved up the program ladder. 

After a couple of months, I was in charge of the laundry room and the business office. I was a Level 3 Officer and was offered the job of Publishing Editor of the Daytop international paper. The position was offered to me by the Monsignor of Daytop International. How could I say no?

Actually, I did say no. I was told that wasn’t an option. What did I know about being an editor for a newspaper? I took the job and every edition we put out was better than the one before. It came to a point as to where I was told I could have or do almost anything I want, which leads me to today’s story of “Gone Hiking.”

I’d made a few friends by this time, six to be precise, all Level 3 office heads. Department heads is what we were actually called. We had the run of the place. Anyway, we were thinking about getting out of the house more, so we decided an all-day hiking trip would suffice. A counsellor from one of Daytop’s other houses knew all the hiking trails in the area, so we set a date and were ready to go.

The day came. It was about 9am on a Sunday morning. Our guide was late. We waited in anticipation. We couldn’t wait to get out of the house. No one else had tried to do anything like this, to actually leave prison grounds. It wasn’t actually a prison, it just seemed that way because the director of the house ran a tight ship.

And then it happened. The front door of the house opened. All six of us held our breath and in walked our savior. He told us what we needed to bring—sandwiches and water—and we were on our way. We literally ran out of the house, across the lawn, down the hill, and jumped in the van; we were on our way.

It had been quite a number of years since I’d been anywhere in upstate New York, considering none of my prior visits to upstate NY had been of my own accord. But this time was different. Even though I was mandated for this program, I wanted to be here. I’d never been to Liberty, New York. It was a quaint little town—I liked it. We drove through town and hit the highway and made a few stops along the way: breakfast, smokes, and more water.

I think the thing that amazed me the most was when we were crossing over a bridge, I saw a spire of a building underneath the water. There was an entire town down there! This was something we just didn’t have on Long Island.

Anyway, we made it to the mountain. As soon as we got out of the van, and took our first steps, everything was straight up. I was less than ten feet up the mountain, and it was kicking my ass. Yeah, I was ten feet up Kick Ass Mountain (well maybe more) when I decided to sit alone at the side of the trail and weigh my options.

I looked back down at the long, hard, arduous trek I just made at the van waiting patiently in the parking lot. Then I looked ahead of me for my friends. I knew they had to be worried, but they weren’t there! They kept going, not even a look-see to see if I’d fallen behind a little. Some friends!

It came to me how good of friends they were. Well, to be honest only two of them were my friends. Martin, the big white guy (we got to Daytop the same day and climbed the program ladder together). And Ty, the only other brother brave enough to come. I think I actually had to talk him into coming. All the other guys just signed up to get out of the house for the day.

Nevertheless, they left me behind—the nerve of those guys!

And just as my anger started to boil, it happened. A seriously old couple passed me by as I was sitting there. But they didn’t just pass me by. They had the audacity to smile and wave as they continued their journey up Kick Ass Mountain. 

That was it. I jumped to my feet. I wasn’t going to let some old couple show me up! I was gonna catch up to them, and my friends. Yeah, I was gonna kick my friends’ asses for leaving me behind to die.

Ten feet up the mountain, and I decided that if I can make it up this mountain, I can make it through anything life had to throw at me. Besides, I was the one who planned this whole day trip. I’d never be able to live down this day if I quit.

I was on my way. F this mountain!

I finally caught up to those dirty rotten scoundrels. Yeah, they’d stopped to rest—well, they were old. I passed them by. It was my turn to smile.

Then I caught up to my friends. They thought I was with them the whole time. We kept going–up, up, up.

There was a crowd up ahead. It wasn’t the top of the mountain, it was some kind of cave. Our guide told us in order to get to the top of the mountain, we had to go into this cave, climb a skinny-ass ladder, and belly-crawl across the slate rock to the other side. He also said one wrong slide on the slate rock and that would be bad.

For some reason, we jumped on it. I went first. The blood was flowing. What a challenge! I dropped the backpack and started climbing the skinny-ass ladder. 

I made it to the top. The view was incredible. What was even more incredible was the fact that the slate rock was on a 45-degree slant. Belly crawl? Holy shit, I was gonna die. Was I scared? Hell yeah, I was scared to death! I don’t think I’d ever prayed more in my life!

But ha, I made it to the top sucker! And so did my boys. But there was no way I was gonna go back down belly crawl slate rock or skinny-ladder cave. There was no other way other than up. So we brushed ourselves off and continued our journey.

The next thing we came across was these bleach-white boulders with pine trees growing in between them. It was beautiful. Then we decided to stop for lunch. We’d reached the portion of the mountain where we could look out and see New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. What a view!

We sat there eating our sandwiches and drinking water. And the guys had brought those 5 hour energy drinks—I’d never drank them before, so I figured I’d try one. Worst decision I ever made. Those drinks did absolutely nothing and tasted like shit. 

I looked over and saw an amazing sight. A large bird. I’m not a bird person, I can’t tell you what kind of bird it was, only it was huge and beautiful. I told my friends, “No one move.” We just sat there taking in this creature. God’s creature.

And then, this bird leaped off the mountain. We jumped to our feet and went to the edge of the mountain just in time to see not one, but two of these beautiful birds take to the sky. It took my breath away. Now that was categorically one of the coolest things I still have ever seen in my life.

The top of the mountain was near.

We finished our lunch and kept going. We came upon a ridge, maybe three or four feet across. I looked over the edge and saw huge boulders on the bottom. I knew then that if one of us slipped, that was it. We all knew there was no way we were going back down the way we came. And there was no way I was going first this time.

By the grace of God we made it across. We didn’t even have to check our pants—no water stains, no shit stains. We were all alive. After two of my friends had made it across, they held out their hands for me to grab, so I could make it across safely. 

I would later write my article and call that moment Man Helping Man. We were brothers forever now. The top of the mountain wasn’t far away. We made it there in less than half an hour. We stood atop of Kick Ass Mountain—all of us. We made it. We were elated.

Our guide asked if we wanted to see something really cool. After everything we’d already seen, how could we say No?

The top of the mountain was a huge boulder. We walked around to the other side of this boulder and it was engraved. On the back of the boulder was a metal plate with the name of a writer from the 18th century who’d taken this same hike every year to write. I’m sad I don’t remember his name. We decided we’d go back down the backside of Kick Ass Mountain. Our guide said he’d never been down this side. We were on our way toward a new frontier. Explorers finding a new path. Like Lewis & Clark, Wild Bill Hickok, and Daniel Boone.

Well, we didn’t become famous, but we did see a bear cave—no bears or cubs. A little further down the mountain we came across an ice cave. Actually, it was just a huge-ass hole in the side of the mountain that was forcibly blowing out freezing air. Yeah, there was no way in hell we were climbing down there. 

The end of the trip wasn’t that exciting. We got a little lost, and found our way. The van was where we’d left it. The guys went back to the house and told everyone about the incredible trip we had, and I started planning trips for every weekend after. Yet my friends and I kicked the crap out of Kick Ass Mountain.

My life since that day has been lessons of conquering one of life’s mountains after another, and the true lesson is none of that is possible without the help of others.

The author (bottom row, left) at the top of the mountain in 2005

Sylvester “Sonny” Jackson is a writer and retired Marine. As many of you know, Sonny is one of the most important members of our writing workshop for people returning from incarceration.