ON TOP OF
LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN, CHATTANOOGA, TENNESSEE
By G.W.S. Ware
Aug. 1, 1935
At 81 years.
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I started from Alton, Park, walked to St. Elmo, then on up the old Highway, going up
the mountain side, South West. When I came to the first paved road going North,
horzontally, walked on till a left fork, unpaved, ran parallel, but led higher up. Walked
on quite a distance. When I noticed a trail, which led up the mountain, zigzaging in a
S.W. cource. Soon it gave signs, of an old time wagon road of ante bellum days. If it
could have talked, I would have been a good listener. Ere long, all signs of it failed,
nothing but a path, dug from the steep mountain side. I did not like this path, it was
scary, but if other feet had walked it, I could. Away up the mountain, I could hear the
roar of running Automobiles, going North and South, I thought came from road on top of the
mountain. I knew I was Going back the direction I had but higher up. If the trail turned
North, I would have liked it, but I had to follow it, or turn back, which I had no desire
to skin back over. So kept on till it finally it ran slanting under the road bed of an
other horizonal Highway, but far below the mountain top. I used my hands and feet, knees
and other parts of my body, till I crawled out, on and up on to a wide paved road, where I
could walk along and not be scared. I had two looks up there, one was away up, and the
other away down. Of to the N.E., I could see Chattanooga, but a mountain side was all I
could see, up on my left hand side. All I could do was to walk that road, dug out of the
mountain’s ribs, looking for a place to crawl out on to its back bone. So I walked on
North, with a big job ahead of me. So I walked on, with more mountain, than I could see
over, and more below me, that I cared to slided down; hence, I kept on. Finally, I came to
a house, sitting on a flat place, below the road. I was glad to see another flat place up
there with the road. I walked down the stone steps to where a young bare footed woman was
busy with her household work. I asked for, and she gave me a glass of cold mountain water,
I hope in Jesus Name. On inquiry, she said to go on till I came to the highway, which
circled on and up to mountain top.
Now by this time I had quite a bait of walking for one day. It was the biggest scratch
and walk I had on hand in a number of years. In fact, it was the biggest thing of its kind
I ever undertaken. I had 81 years in, and around me, a mountain under and running down far
below, and running far on up, with an August Sun, pouring down its heat. But I started out
that morning to put my foot on top of that mountain and my feet had to be my agents to
carry me there, A little of my money could have put me up there in ease and short order;
but I ordered my feet to do it, and found myself ready for more upward climb. Soon, I came
to a man trying to pipe water, from a spring, down that kind barefoot young lady, for
domestic purposes. Now men can give advice as well as women, water. As the water was free,
he gave me some advice at the same price: To take left hand path, upward, which would be a
near cut to mountain top. Now, if you want your advice taken, give it to those ready for
it like I was. So I walked on, found that path, took it, and got it, got more scare out of
it, than the one I first took. Where the mountain was too steep, steps were there, then a
space with none, clinging to the mountain side, ready to slip off. The only thought of
comfort I could think, was, I could grab a bush or tree, if I should slide off, and yell
for help. Those trees and bushes were the most friendly looking things of their kind I
ever saw, each one in the right place to help. I felt, if this mountain had been naked of
timber, I would not be here, but, if these trees could stay up there all the time, I could
walk in a path, among them, one time. I noticed, I leaned toward the dirt and rock on one
side, not toward the air on my other side. Now if you ask me why I did that way, I answer:
I had some sense. You go up there and lean the other way, and will need no sense, after
your first scream of terror. Well, I took careful steps along that path till finally, I
came to the foot of the ledge, or butress of rock which keeps the mountain top up there. I
walked on around the cleft of rock, to the flight of stairs up to the top of Lookout
mountain. I pause here and go back 58 years, when I first stood
there. Then there was an old flight of wooden steps, put there doubtless before the Civil
War, for in one place, I had to climb the stringer for the steps were gone. Then, my 23
years climbed up those rickety stairs, my 81 years would have more sense than to try. Well
my 81 years old feet carried me up those flights of stairs, and I stood on top of Lookout
Mountain once, again. First, in 1877, then in 1906, now, in 1935. First time, the top top
was nearly virgin, from the hand of nature. Now, Chattanooga, and the United States
Goverment, are trying to bloom out together up there. Chattanooga, up there for scenic
beauty, and pure air; our Government, to impress on coming generations, what great men
were the men of my boyhood days, were. As a boy, old enough to have ears and eyes open to
hear and see the glare and blare, sham and shame of the Civil War, it compels me to think,
how silly were the men of my boyhood, and why flare flury to perpetuate the memory of our
National mistake. The inordinate for human praise, builds more monuments, than all other
vain things, put together. If this monument business had been kept nil, until now, the
proper thing would have come to pass.
Now, I would advise all women, who not strong like men, and all men, not strong at 81,
not to try to do what I have done. It won’t pay you to try to do what I have just
completed. While it did not tire me much, but scared me some, it might have a different
effect on an old person like you, at 81. My gold watch, no cheap john, said it took me 3
and 2/3 hours to do the stunt. As I write this, I am sitting over the place where I had
been, in the mountain, 1120 feet, below. Down in this mountain, I saw sights never seen on
sea or land. Down there, eternal darkness reined, unless lit by the light of men.
I am glad of my body, which could scale a mountain like this one, and be normal on top.
I could have walk up the nearest highway to the top but I wanted to find out, if my body
could stand the longer route; and besides, I wanted the kick of it for me, if I could
stand it. I could have walk the highway, but I prefered to spend 10 cts. to get a kick
glideing down on the incline. It took me 220 minutes to walk and sweat up the mountain,
and to cool off, but glideing down the mountain, in 10 minutes.
Mountains, remind me of God, who created them. They make me to rejoice, in our Creator.
They have a voice for those who have ears to hear, their message of faith, strength and
patience, in their part, to make up the creation of God.
Mountains, have beauty of old age, and the honor of staying in one place, and are not
jealous of each other. Again, when compared with them, I feel so little, which is good for
me, yet I prefer being a little man than a big mountain. Mountains, were made for man, and
both for God. I like mountains, for God uses them, to illustrate His relation to men. Sin,
must be an awful shameful thing to man. Hear him pray, that a mountain fall on him, to
hide him and sin from God (Luke 23:30; Rev 6:16). If God should drain the oceans, Cuba,
Japan and all Islands, would find themselves, high on mountain peaks.
Child of God, "As the mountains are roundabout Jerusalem, so Jehovah is roundabout
his people, from this time forth and forevermore (Ps. 125:2).
If our earth was one vast plain of fertile soil, men would cover it so thick, and
monoxide gas generated, till death would carry them off the earth, like a flood.
Therefore, mountains, deserts and oceans, keeps pure air, for the children of men to
breathe, to make health, to scale mountains, cross deserts and skim oceans.
