Great-granddaughter Amelia exits “The Subway,” 2020 Assortment of Grandchildren, 1995
Ted Randolph
Rite of Passage H
ow do family traditions begin? As kids, we are shaped by our parents’ ideals and we follow them where they lead us. We soak up their stories and beg them to share memories of their own childhood experiences. If we’re lucky, we glean insight into the origins of our prized customs and develop an appreciation for ancestors who played a role in shaping these customs. Once we grow up, we are called to carry on the traditions that were put into motion long before us and share them with newer generations. My own small family established some wonderful traditions, many of which involved the outdoors. When I met my husband, who came from a much larger, delightfully adventurous family, we bonded instantly. And early in our courtship, I got to experience what is one of the most enduring and awe-inspiring family traditions I have ever known. Up to the Attic During our first summer together, the summer of 2018, an assortment of my husband’s siblings, nieces and nephews gathered in the mountains for two weeks in July, as they had done so many times before. One sunny day, we loaded several cars with nearly 20 members of the Randolph
82 — Summer 2022 CAROLINA MOUNTAIN LIFE
By Tamara S. Randolph
clan and headed through the entrance gate of the Grandfather Mountain nature park. We wended up the curvy road and rendezvoused at the main trailhead near the Mile High Swinging Bridge. From there, we set off on what would be my very first hike to the Attic Window, one of several destinations along the Grandfather Trail in Grandfather Mountain State Park. As we navigated the terrain and chatted with one another, family members shared stories about hiking this familiar trail in years’ past. I began to get to know my husband’s (then boyfriend’s) tightknit family. The conversations were enjoyable, and a pleasant distraction from the anxieties associated with my mild case of acrophobia. Roughly two-and-a-half miles round-trip, it’s not the distance that makes this trail a challenge. It’s the ruggedness and elevation gain—reaching the Attic Window is possible only with the help of primitive wooden ladders, cables affixed to steep and slippery rocks, and the natural handholds sculpted by weather and time. I was nervous that day. But I was also in awe. We were surrounded by a rare spruce-fir forest on a 300-million-year-old mountain. Having worked up a good sweat, we arrived at one of the wooden ladders at the base of McRae Peak for a short break. I
was told that my husband’s late father, Ted Randolph, had just a few years earlier—at the age of 91—hiked to the very spot we were standing. Knowing the challenges of the trail to this point, I was again in awe. Who was this superhero? “The mountains are calling and I must go.” – John Muir When Ted Randolph was a child in the 1920s, he began exploring every nook and cranny of Grandfather Mountain, as well as the surrounding peaks. He free climbed and rappelled rock faces; he rode horses on the balds; and he broke countless footpaths through what was then wilderness. Being among the mountains was in his blood, thanks in part to his adventuresome grandparents who had come to the area in 1906. In the 1950s and ‘60s, Ted began bringing his wife and young children to the High Country and sharing his favorite places with them. As each of Ted and Jane Randolph’s five kids reached the age of 5 or 6, they were permitted, in fact encouraged, to join in the hiking adventures. Indeed, going “up to the Attic” was a rite of passage. They scaled the rocks, clambered up the ladders, and let their excitement build as they neared the peak. With their final des-
