What it’s like to travel with someone who must climb to the top of things – The Boston Globe

I don’t enjoy climbing anything, but taking the stairs, simply to get a good view, has been part of my traveling experience these days.

The Person in My Life (a PIL) sees a staircase leading to a plateau, or narrow architecture of any kind, and has one question: “Think we can climb to the top of it?”

He wants to see the view from the highest point — and is desperate for me to see it, too. On that Portugal trip, PIL and I also climbed the Torre dos Clérigos, a tower with 240 steps that lead to a view of Porto, not to mention almost every city staircase in Lisbon (there are many).

I was complaining to a friend about all of the vacation climbing, how I now travel with someone who wants to ascend everything, especially narrow enclosed buildings. I told her that it wasn’t just churches and towers; we also climbed the Key West Lighthouse, which involved walking 88 steps in extreme Florida heat.

My friend diagnosed my travel problem quickly. Of the PIL, she said, “He’s one of those people who has to get to the top of things” — because this is a type of person, she explained.

For some people, she continued, getting to the top of things is a way of life. They see a crumbling bell tower and want to get to that bell. They see the Statue of Liberty and want to get in her eyeballs.

I realized I’d long known there is a genre of tourism for this kind of sightseeing. It’s different than hiking-a-mountain tourism (that’s a nature thing). This is about the high (pun intended) that comes with defeating a spiral staircase in a church — and maybe, if you’re lucky, getting a sticker that says you did it. Back in the day, I skipped these experiences because I didn’t understand them, especially when the experience involved being in a tight silo-shaped space.

To be clear: I know I am very lucky to be able to climb things. My legs work, and at this point in my 40s, my hips and knees still do as they’re told (mostly), and I am grateful.

I should also say here that no one is forcing me to climb anything. I have done this as a love language — I have wondered whether the specific set of stairs or one unique, perfect view will help me make sense of the practice.

I’m not there yet, but as of this summer, I’m close.

I discovered one climb I enjoyed — one that pleased both my companion, the person who likes to get to the top of things, and me, the person happy to relax at the bottom. It’s at the Pilgrim Monument in Provincetown, the tallest all-granite structure in the country.

The building was completed in 1910 to commemorate where the Pilgrims first landed in 1620. (They spent more than five weeks there, but then moved on, opting to settle in Plymouth). It’s also where the Mayflower Compact was signed.

This climb — and experience — is nice … and fun.

You can start a trip with a ride on an inclined elevator — clear, like Willy Wonka’s — that takes you from Bradford Street to the Monument. The ticket to the monument includes this ride. For those who must opt out of climbing the tower, this is a sweet way to get a good view — and an accessible one.

Once at the top, you can wander around the property, sit on benches, and look out at the water. No stairs at all! You can visit the Provincetown Museum, which features “Our Story — The Complicated Relationship of the Indigenous Wampanoag and the Mayflower Pilgrims,” an exhibition curated by Native American marketing agency SmokeSygnals. Also on display is “An Anecdotal LGBTQ+ History of the Last Century of Provincetown.”

Then the climb:

If you get there at the right time (fall will be good!), it is not 1,000 degrees inside; windows are open along the way. The ascent is roomy and there are ramps every so often that give you the chance to rest. It’s 252 feet tall, 116 stairs, but that stair-to-ramp ratio is key.

Along the way, there’s entertainment in the form of the kaleidoscope-like view up the stairs, as well as the names of New England towns that are chiseled into the granite stones. You can cheer when you see places that are significant to you. (”Yay Attleboro!, etc.”)

Worth mentioning: The experience also comes with a free sticker, which I happen to think is way cooler than the “This Car Climbed Mt. Washington” one. Because what car hasn’t?

When we got to the top, I caught my breath, took in the view of the water, and asked other people why they were up there.

Forrest Evans, 32, a librarian from Atlanta, was visiting with a friend, and said she came for the history. The climb was simply part of the experience. She agreed that it was a nice gradual ascent and ranked it at a 3.5 out of 10 when it comes to difficulty.

Nearby, Daniel Fagala, 33, was visiting P-town from Oklahoma City. I asked him if he liked to climb to the top of things in all of the places he visits, and he said, emphatically, yes.

“It’s a deep instinct,” he said. “You don’t necessarily know the area until you can be on top of it and look down and like, get the lay of the land.”

He is a person who must get to the top of things. I’d found one in the wild! I asked him if this desire has always been part of him.

“Yes,” he said. He confessed that when he was a kid, “I spent a lot of time on top of my refrigerator.”

In Provincetown, for the first time — after many, many climbs — I could see things from his perspective.

Provincetown Monument fall hours: Open 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily.

Meredith Goldstein can be reached at Meredith.Goldstein@Globe.com.