The Whisper Tree

The Lost Book

The Whisper Tree: This one isn't easy to find. The hike up the mountain is strenuous and is for only the most experienced of hikers. Do not attempt if you are not physically fit for an exhausting trek or are weak of spirit.

Once you've climbed the north face for about forty minutes, you'll see what's known as the St. Christoper's Cross, two pines that have grown in such a way that it forms a cross. To the right of the cross is the path to the summit, and it will not lead you to the Whisper Tree.

To the left of the cross, about fifty yards, you'll find a small game trail leading you to Face In Rock. You'll know you are there when you see a pair of eyes staring back at you. Once you get to the rock, you will be confronted with three possible scenarios: there could be a trail to the left of the rock, to the right of the rock, or no trail on either side.

If the trail is open on the left, it will take you around the bend, and you will hook back up with the summit trail. If there is no trail, climb back down the mountain and try again on another day. If the trail is open on the right side of the rock, follow it for fifty yards.

You'll hear the tree before you see it. Snatches of conversation can be heard all around you. You'll arrive at a small clearing encircled by ancient stones. In the middle of the circle is the Whisper Tree. You may approach it and ask a question. You will hear a response whispered into your ears that may or may not be distressing.

We do not advise asking the tree anything.

- Higgins Hiking Guide, published in 1912

The Higgins Hiking Guide has been published every year since 1912. It is the gold standard for guidebooks. However, the 1912 edition is the only version that contains any documentation about the Whisper Tree trail. It's become a myth in the hiking community. Most people believe the story is nothing more than a fraud created to help sell guidebooks. A smaller community believes the legend to be true.

Me, I just wanted a new adventure.

I didn't hike as a kid or a teenager. I didn't see the point in walking up a hill for no reason other than saying I had done it. As with most adolescent thoughts, it was misguided. In my early twenties, I started seeing Joe, an avid outdoorsman who would not shut up about hiking. He dragged me on a bunch of different camping trips. While I found myself warming to the idea of this kind of stuff being fun, I didn't really understand him until we went on a mountain hike.

From the outset, I didn't know what to expect from this journey other than I would be tired during and my legs would be sore after. Both things were true, but something else happened on the side of that mountain: an awakening. It was as if a bolt from the sky came down and struck directly into my cerebral cortex. Suddenly, the universe and mother nature made sense to me in ways I'd never considered. Maybe it was the lower oxygen levels, but it got to me.

I remember being at the summit and staring at the valley floors below me in wonder. At that height, the world was an abstract painting in green, brown, blue, and yellow hues. The more I focused on the whole picture, the more transcendent the art became. To belong to this beauty seemed impossible, yet, I was on the canvas, too.

From the mountain's peak, the winds cut through me like a scorned lover's lies. It helped break the spell and made me realize the reality of the situation: I had done it. I climbed a mountain. But, unlike Joe, I didn't feel like a conqueror seizing a treasure. I felt like a pilgrim making an offering. I'm here. Take me as I am. I remember thinking the only things higher than I was at that moment were birds and gods.

I was moved to tears.

On the descent, Joe tried to talk to me about what I was feeling, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to keep it just for me. I didn't feel the need to share my mountain epiphany with anyone but mother nature. As I stared down at her beauty, we became connected. Just us two. Maybe it sounds a bit granola for some of you, but hopefully, you'll find your missing piece one day. When you do, trust me, it'll make sense. From the summit, I saw everything the outdoors had to offer. But I also saw the boundless potential for love inside my soul.