A High Mountain, An Emotional Low

Clingmans Dome may be the third highest mountain east of the Mississippi River, but it's also where we had the lowest moment of our family vacation.

After a week at the Outer Banks, we said goodbye to my sister’s family and parted ways. They returned home to Virginia while we made our way back to Highland Park, with a stopover at the Great Smoky Mountains National Park bordering North Carolina and Tennessee.

I had not been to the Smokies since I was a child about my son’s age.  I did not remember much about the place, and was captured by its beauty when we arrived.

My wife and I looked forward to seeing some of the National Park, and stopped at the visitor center to plan out the parts we would visit.

Kai saw a picture of an observation tower and said he wanted to go there. The tower was at the summit of Clingmans Dome, the highest mountain in the park. From the picture we saw, we could tell the view would be spectacular.

But we could also tell that it would be not be easy getting to the top of the tower. Though the trail is only a half-mile long, it would be a steep climb.

I pointed out to him that he would have to walk uphill and not complain about being too tired like he had at so many places we had gone to at the Outer Banks. I told him that I would not carry him and he would have to walk all by himself. Kai agreed, and insisted that he would walk nicely. 

Walking to the top

We drove to the trail and began our walk, but we had gone only a few feet when Kai started complaining.

“I’m tired.”

It would have been easy to turn around from there, but I wanted to see the view from the top. I encouraged him to keep walking. 

He kept whining, but we found large rocks every 30 feet or so to sit on and take a break. We would take it nice and slow and I was determined that we would make it all the way. 

At a distance that I guessed was about halfway, Kai’s complaints intensified. 

“I want to go back!” he said, repeatedly and loudly.

Our patience was wearing thin, but I didn’t want to give up. I wanted Kai to accomplish the goal, and I really wanted to see that view.

We prodded him to continue.

It didn’t help our temperament that many kids younger than our son passed us up on the trail while we tried to get Kai to go on. They seemed to have boundless energy and had no problems with the walk. Why was Kai being so difficult?

My wife and I were worn out when we reached the base of the tower, not from the walk itself, but from our battles with Kai to keep walking. 

We told Kai that he could stay there at the base where we could keep an eye on him while we finished the climb up to the observation area.  Of course, then Kai insisted on coming with us, though he yelled and screamed the whole way, making quite a scene. I tried to quiet him down to keep from disturbing the other visitors. My wife broke down in tears of frustration.

The view from the top was okay, though there were so many clouds that you could not see too far away. We had endured all that for some fog.

My mind was also in a haze as I pondered why the climb to Clingmans Dome was so hard for my son when it seemed so easy for other kids.  Why was he being so difficult? 

Reflecting

We are home now. 

And being out of the heat of the moment provides some clarity that we did not see on that foggy mountaintop. 

Kai can seem so “normal” at times that I sometimes momentarily forget that he is not like other kids. 

Like most kids with autism, he does not handle change very well.  Going on vacation was a huge change in his routine. He is very sensitive to his surroundings. And the surroundings at Clingmans Dome that have almost everyone in awe may have just been too much for him.

For most people, returning from vacation is a downer. The fun is over.  Unpacking is a grind. You are exhausted from all that you have done.

But my son seems happier than he has since we left. He is back to his routine. He is back in his place of comfort, home.

It’s nice to see his smile.