Barry Finlay

CHAPTER ONE – JUST KEEP CLIMBING

January 16, 2009. For most, it was probably a day like any other. Even the internet had little to say that day, which is unusual. People talked about pilot Chesley Sullenberger’s ditching of US Airways Flight 1549 in the Hudson River, but that happened the day before. For me, January 16, 2009 was a day I’ll always remember.

I got up that morning after having spent six days on the side of Africa’s highest mountain, Mount Kilimanjaro. Our son, Chris, and I slept fitfully on the cold mountainside during the night. Pretty much everything ached, and the limited air made tying our shoelaces a struggle. Put your hand over your nose and mouth as you read this, and you’ll have an idea of what I’m talking about. We suffered varying degrees of altitude sickness as we faced a steep incline on loose rock in a whistling cold wind, battling fatigue, and, in Chris’s case, injury, with limited air to breathe.

We could hardly wait to get started.

The word “adversity” comes to mind, but only because it’s so often overused, especially by the sports community. Did we face adversity? I prefer to say we faced a challenge and save the word “adversity” for bigger things you’ll read about later. The day would be the culmination of everything we worked for over a year to achieve. The day would change my life.

It was summit day.

I have spent countless hours reliving the adventure and making presentations about the climb and everything that went into it. I’ve thought long and hard about the changes in my life brought about by the adventure, and it made me reconsider everything leading up to that day on the mountain. With our fatigued legs, we slipped and slid on the shale, scrambled over and around craggy boulders, and wandered through lush rainforests and barren landscapes. As we hiked one day, Chris recalled Dory’s advice in the animated movie Finding Nemo. It seemed so appropriate and spurred us on. He reminded us that the ever-optimistic Dory said to her friend, Marlin, “Just keep swimming.” We chuckled at the time as we peered through the fog and clouds in the seemingly endless distance to glimpse the flag where our next campsite should be. Two to three years later, I realized we did as Chris suggested. We weren’t swimming, of course, but we just kept climbing. Then it occurred to me that climbing that mountain, or any hill, is a metaphor for life. We face all kinds of challenges in our lives that can seem like mountains, whether large or small. Every mountain top is within reach if we just keep climbing became my mantra.

The only way to overcome challenges (reach the top of our mountain) is to keep going. Nobody’s path is a straight line throughout their lives. There are hills and mountains to climb. Our mountains could be any size, but they might seem like Mount Everest to us when we’re going over or, sometimes, through them. They arise from an early age and stand in our way throughout our lives. From the time we start kindergarten, the challenge might be to find and keep friends. We’re expected to decide what to do with our lives when we near graduation. As we get older, the challenges start to pile up: job search, marriage, raising kids, aging parents, medical issues… The challenges never end, but the only way we can overcome them is to put one foot in front of the other and keep climbing.

When we decided to climb the mountain, I resolved to do everything I could to prepare for the climb, and whatever would be would be. Altitude sickness, fatigue, or some kind of injury, like a twisted ankle, might prevent me from making it to the top. My definition of success changed as I prepared for and started the climb, but my overall measure would be that I had given it my best shot. I didn’t want to leave anything on that mountainside. Even if I didn’t complete the climb, with enough training, I would be physically capable. If I still didn’t reach the top, it would be disappointing, but it could be considered a success.

There is no question we were privileged to be on that mountain that day. Nobody forced us to be there. It was a challenge we gave ourselves, and we found the financial means to go. Yes, I’m privileged, but I also believe privilege is gained partly through luck. I consider myself lucky to be born in Canada to parents who raised my three brothers and me with values and a strong work ethic. I consider myself lucky to have been raised on a farm near a small town. Some might argue that the late forties and early fifties turned out to be the right time to be born. But in my mind, privilege also comes from the choices we make, dedication, perseverance, taking chances, making mistakes, and a lot of hard work.

The preparation for the climb and reaching the summit changed my life, and I’ll try to summarize it. It made me realize that with dedication and hard work, we can reach our goals, or at least make our best attempt to do so. My lifestyle changed because of climbing that mountain. I continue to eat well and try to make exercise part of my weekly routine. We used the mountain as a platform to raise money for the children of Tanzania and, over time, raised enough funds to complete four projects in that country and provide donations to the Wounded Warriors Canada service dog program, as well. That experience taught me that a person can not only change their own life, but with a little effort, we can also change the lives of others. The travel to Africa solidified my understanding that people are people everywhere. We all hope and dream. Because of circumstances beyond our control, we may not all have the same opportunities to reach the top of our mountain, but we all have it in us to try.

Sometimes, we need to look around for a little inspiration to give us the boost to dig a little deeper. Throughout this book, I’ll reflect on the lessons learned through my experiences and those of eight others. I was sixty when I climbed the mountain in 2009. Now, I’m on the downward slope of life, but I’ve enjoyed every minute. I’ve never stopped learning, and to learn, we must watch, listen, take risks, make our mistakes, and try again. Aging brings with it many positives, and one of the greatest is the benefit of looking in the rearview mirror.

Life is backwards in a way. Later in the book, you will meet Edwin, who brought an African proverb to my attention, “What an elder sees while sitting, a younger man cannot see even if he climbs a tree.” We gain the wisdom we could have used in our youth as we progress through life. But the young have the option of listening to and learning from their elders while making their own mistakes. I hope this book will help with that process. I also hope, in a way, it will give our youth something to look forward to as we examine how age isn’t a barrier to fulfilling our hopes and dreams.

Two people gave me the same advice when I was considering climbing a mountain at sixty years of age. One was my brother, Keith, who was seriously ill in a hospital bed when Chris and I left for Tanzania. The other was my wife, Evelyn, who was going to stay home to write the blog while we tested ourselves on Mount Kilimanjaro. Both said, “If it’s something you want to do, do it.”

I’m not a philosopher or a psychologist. I’m an accountant who turned to writing in my retirement years. I’ve had a great life with a wonderful family who supported me each time I took on a new challenge. Whatever the challenge is, big or small, I see inspiration to just keep climbing everywhere. It might be someone who has successfully taken on a life-changing journey, like our climb, or someone who has taken a risk to pursue their passion. It could be someone working their butt off to prepare for a challenge, who hasn’t quite reached their goal yet. Maybe it’s someone who has been to a personal hell and fought their way back. It could be the indomitable spirit of someone who is still in hell but putting one foot in front of the other just to keep going. They are all inspirational, and you’ll read examples of each one.

Eight people shared their stories with me for this book, and I’ll be forever grateful. They all had their reasons for facing their challenge, and their stories inspired me. I suspect not one of them realizes how inspiring their stories are. Some took a risk to chase a dream and caught it. Others overcame tremendous odds to defeat personal demons. Their challenges all came about by choice. They all had offramps to take, should things go wrong. One is courageously battling cancer, while another is in the middle of a conflict in his country. The latter two have no offramps; no choice but to face their challenges, and they’re doing it heroically. Each of these people is putting one foot in front of the other to meet their respective challenges. The stories are personal, emotional, raw, and uplifting.

Common themes are central to each of the stories. They are stories about ordinary people doing extraordinary things. We can’t compare ourselves to any of them, but we can use their stores for inspiration and apply them to our own challenges. Each defines success differently, and you’ll read how each satisfies themselves that they either reached their peak or are doing everything they can under difficult circumstances to make it to the top.

They all just keep climbing.

CHAPTER TWO - WHY THIS BOOK AND WHY NOW?

I think we can all agree, there’s a lot going on right now. The worldwide pandemic took a piece out of all of us. When it feels like we’re through, another variant raises its ugly head. Our kids and grandkids put their social activities and in-class learning on hold for two years. The solitary activity of sitting in front of a computer can never replace the interaction of learning from a teacher with friends in class.

Evelyn and I feel like the pandemic cheated us out of two years of our grandkids’ lives. We all did our best under the circumstances. We would sit on the doorstep when our son and his family dropped by to visit at a distance. One day, as they were leaving, Evelyn held her arms out and said, “I’m giving you a virtual hug.” Our grandson, six at the time, had heard about elderly people being at greater risk from the pandemic and said, “We can’t hug you. You’re too old.” I guess we can consider ourselves elderly now.

We all lost at least two years of our lives.

Now that we are surfacing again, we’re buffeted by rising costs, a shortage of products we took for granted before the pandemic, and anxiety over the insane war in Ukraine and other conflicts around the world. Misinformation is forcing us to question everything or go to dark places. Even as social gatherings reopened, it seemed people didn’t know how to interact anymore. We’re mad at all levels of government for doing too much or not enough, the health care system for the lack of treatment, available medicine, and hospital beds, the travel industry for losing our suitcase or messing up our vacation plans, our local grocery store clerk just because he or she is there…. The list goes on and on. People are angry. And that’s only in the developed nations.

Blaming it all on the pandemic is a simple solution, but it doesn’t make the problem go away. Nor does assigning labels to the angry masses. The world’s leaders need to understand the anger and address it. People need to feel productive, that they are contributing to society, and that someone is listening. There is very little accountability for anything, nor are people willing to take responsibility. While the pandemic exacerbated the problem, the anger goes beyond that, and it needs to be addressed at the grassroots level. I’m not here to suggest solutions to that problem, but I am here to suggest that in the meantime, we all need inspiration from time to time to keep going.

Not to trivialize things, but let me give you a simple example of inspiration. Since I trained to climb Kilimanjaro, I tried to maintain my lifestyle through diet and exercise. I go to a gym because being around other people doing the same thing motivates me. People at the gym rarely talk to each other, although I greet a few regulars and wonder if there is a problem when they don’t show up.

Sometimes, it seems like too much effort to get off the sofa and exercise, especially in the winter in Canada. It would be easier to sip a cup of coffee, check the news, do some writing, or anything other than get dressed, start the cold car, and head out to the gym. We need to keep going somehow.

That’s when the Rolling Stones comes to mind.

Okay, stop laughing and let me finish. Mick Jagger and his bandmates are in their late seventies. At the time of writing, Mick was seventy-nine, and he and the band had completed another exhaustive tour. Anyone who has seen them live will understand that Jagger performs for at least ninety minutes nonstop, dancing and running from one side of the stage to the other, all while singing. The Stones’ guitarist, Keith Richards, who is also seventy-nine, will probably outlive us all despite his alleged over-the-top lifestyle. Whether or not you like them, give them credit for performing at that level of intensity at that age.

It makes getting up and going to the gym on a wintry day feel like something I should be able to do. I’m not drawing any comparisons between what they’re doing and what I’m doing, other than being active at a certain age. Nobody wants to see me sing and dance for two minutes, let alone ninety. At least, I should be able to feel energized throughout the day, and exercise goes a long way toward achieving that goal.

We’re all inspired by different things, and sometimes, we need a reminder about what others are doing or have done to give us the impetus to carry on. Some things that inspire us may seem weird to others, but that’s okay. What works for us is what counts.

After coming up with the motto, “Every mountain top is within reach if you just keep climbing,” many people suggested I should write a book about it. The climb itself has been documented in a book written by Chris and me called Kilimanjaro and Beyond: A Life-Changing Journey. I resisted the suggestions to write about the quote for a long time because I never considered myself qualified. Coming up with the motto was one thing. Writing an entire book about it without sounding self-indulgent or preachy was something completely different. Who am I to tell other people how they should live their lives? However, the suggestions grew louder when more and more people quoted the motto. It shocked me recently to learn that hundreds of people around the world have quoted it on social media and various knickknacks. It’s simple, but it obviously means something to many people.

Visiting Africa twice taught me that we are all in this together. We all dream of a better future and face challenges. We need to do what we can to help ourselves, but we also need to do what we can to help others. Inspiring people shared their stories with me for this book, and if they will share openly and allow me to pass the stories on to you, it is time for me to do that.

CHAPTER THREE - THE DAY MY LIFE CHANGED

At 5,895 meters, or 19,340 feet, Mount Kilimanjaro is the highest mountain on the African continent. I’m extremely proud to have done the climb and as mentioned, it led to several changes in my life, including developing my motto, which I now apply to everything that happens on a day-to-day basis.

There are many people much older than me who have successfully made the climb. According to the Guinness Book of Records, the oldest man to climb is Fred Distelhorst, an American who completed it at eighty-eight years of age. The oldest woman to do it is American Anne Lorimor, who was eighty-nine. They are amazing people for having done the climb at their respective ages. I’m sure they are proud of their accomplishments, just as I am of mine. I should add that Coltan Tanner, from Albuquerque, New Mexico in the United States, received special permission to climb Kilimanjaro and accomplished it at age six! There will always be people who have done things at a younger or older age, climbed higher, dived deeper, had better marks, had more money…. Their accomplishments shouldn’t change the satisfaction we feel from reaching our goals.

I can’t say I dreamt of climbing a mountain. It wasn’t something I always wanted to do or had even considered. I grew up on the flat Canadian prairies and didn’t see a mountain, or even a large hill, until I was twelve years old when my aunt took me on a train through the Canadian Rockies. I remember staring at the gray and blue snow-capped peaks cemented against the cerulean sky with the green forests in the foreground.