It was the summer of ‘69 - I was 11 years old and it was then that I met my brother-in-law - Ken Bartlett. My sister, Brenda, had moved to Kingston and shortly after moving there - met Ken. They enjoyed a whirlwind romance - got engaged and a wedding was planned for the next summer. I was a bridesmaid for Ken and Brenda and if I remember correctly, our dresses were blue.

Those first few summers that Ken and Bren were married were magical for me too. I spent many a Saturday and Sunday afternoons on their boat (that Ken built) - touring the St. Lawrence River and Lake Ontario. Ken built that boat himself. He did things like that. Built their family business. Built their houses. Built decks. For himself and for others. Clever! Handy! Smart! Figured things out (before google existed!)

From the get go - I’ve loved and admired my b-i-l. For over 50 years I have recognized that he is a good man. He is funny. He doesn’t take things too seriously. He makes people laugh. He makes everyone around him feel good about themselves. He’s loved his wife faithfully for 56 years. He’s a dad to three great kids and eight grandchildren. He loves his siblings well. He continues to go visit his brother’s widow years and years after his brother passed away. Ken is one of the good guys in this world.

Early in 1971 - Ken and Brenda bought a lot at Devil Lake - and the summer vacations and weekends continued. They warmly welcomed all of us to “the lake” and it’s where I spent so many idyllic - sunny days - through the 70’s.

Devil Lake is about 15 minutes from the village of Westport, just up the hill from Bedford Mills. Ken built a small cabin for their family to sleep in - while he was building the big cottage. On the walls of that small cabin were recordings of - fish caught - euchre scores - heights of the kids - drawings of the new cottage - messages and notes! If that cabin could talk - it would regale stories of laughter and some tears - secrets shared - and maybe even the night coke was thrown across the table!!!

In the late 70’s my parents bought the cottage next to Ken and Bren’s. That purchase meant my own family (Randy, Zac, Ben, Pete and I) would spend the next twenty summers vacationing at Devil Lake. Randy and I would spend 6 magical weeks at Devil Lake after graduating from seminary in 1980. No plumbing. No heat. No running water.

We snuggled in that bare bones cottage for those weeks and it was some of the finest weeks I’ve ever spent. We woke when the sun came up and went to bed went it got dark. Don’t judge us but we jumped into the freezing cold May waters of Devil lake to bathe. At that time of the year there was not a soul around. We canoed that lake every morning. Hours and hours. We watched the loons building their nest. We heard their haunting cries in the night if a predator happened to come near. We tried to get close to the turtles sunning on a log. One day we counted twenty or more of them warming themselves in the sunshine. In the afternoons we sat in the warm spring sunshine on the deck but if the rains came, we hunkered down in the cottage - under warm quilts. We drank cowboy coffee. We bbq’d. We got our water from the pump at the bottom of the hill near the little white Anglican church. We made quick trips to the outhouse. During black fly week, we hardly went outside.

All of a sudden it was June. The loon parents had two eggs in their nest. One of them was constantly on that nest while the other fished and offered warning calls. The whip-poor-wills came back and the whipped each evening. One night we counted 111 calls. Please stop. We built fires and sat for hours under the stars - looking up to the heavens and talking about what it will be like to be there one day. Randy played his guitar and sang John Denver songs to me - night after night. We didn’t have a transistor radio so we had no clue who was winning the Stanley Cup playoffs. Maybe once a week we went into town for groceries and got some news. There were no cell phones in those days so a few times my parents drove out from Kingston to check on us to be sure we were “still alive”!

All too soon those magical 6 weeks came to an end and off we were to the big world of full time jobs - leaving behind our college days. It was because of Ken and Brenda and their generosity to us years earlier that led to that magical time in my life.

Fast forward to now. My brother-in-law, Ken, is 85 years old and last week - he climbed Mount Christoffel - right here in Curacao. Ken is fit. He is determined. Did I mention funny? He is a spiritual man. He is wise. When I told him that I had climbed Christoffel last year (with my friend Julie Brown) - he said “let’s do it - I’m in!”

We got up early last Friday morning - at 5 am - in order to be at the site and at the base of the mountain at 6:30. We chatted during the 45 minute drive to the mountain about life, marriage, family, kids, spouses, wills…..and shared more than one laugh. After all these years - Ken continues to “crack me up.” We paid our $15. - “signed our life away” and drove to the base.

Ken set the pace. I climbed when he climbed. I stopped to rest when he stopped to rest. We drank water. We clamoured over boulders. We moved to the side of the path to allow faster climbers to go by. I started telling people we met that Ken was 85 and each one answered with only one word! RESPECT

Mount Christoffel is approximately 1200 feet high. We reach about 1150 and came to the very steepest part of the climb. All rock. Not much to hang onto. I scouted things out and came back down to the area where Ken was resting and said “we’ve reached our summit!” We so enjoyed the view before we started our trek down.

The way down was tough for Ken. Different muscles. Legs tiring. We took our time to eliminate the possibility of falling. We took frequent rests. Probably not easy for an older man to take the hand of his younger sister-in-law and lean on her but take my hand he did. We called ourselves the “dream team”. And as always - Ken was upbeat.

We made it to the bottom in one piece. Hot. Fatigued. But still smiling. We shared a morning that I will remember the rest of my life. My 85 year old b-i-l is remarkable. He is my hero. I had the chance to tell him what he has meant to me - ever since I was 11 years old. I will remember his incredible strength and drive to conquer this mountain.

Way to go - Ken.

“Give me this mountain!” is a request that Caleb of the Old Testament made in Joshua 14:12 - where at the age of 85, asks God for the area inhabited by the scary Anakim. Caleb’s request shows his faith, strength and recognition of God’s promises regardless of the challenges ahead. Just like you - Ken!