Restoring Life Force in the Mountains

 "Now I'm thinkin' about her everyday,

On my mind atypical way

Are you a life force?

Thinking about her everyday

On my mind atypical way

Are you a life force?"

-Lyrics to "By & By" by Caamp

We had a wild few days in the Colorado mountains.. Between Friday and Sunday we camped with five families up at Burning Bear campground, sleeping, hiking and dining at 9600 feet. Lying in our tent in the early morning I could see the pine trees energetically thrusting their way skyward, reaching toward the blue heights remarkably unmarred by clouds. Chipmunks and squirrels chirped and scolded us throughout the day as they plotted to dive into our bread bags and garbage. The warm sunshine baked pine needles and released that irresistible scent which always moves me to go into the woods.

Evenings rendered spectacular starlit skies and low temperatures. Twenty or so people sat around the campfire, tended by one of our Eagle Scouts, and hung their heads back over the edge of camp chairs, looking for shooting stars and marveling at the Milky Way. As the mercury dropped, we lost a little of our social distance, edging our chairs ever-closer to the warmth of the fire and putting out embers that shot high and landed on our fleeces or long pants.  Old camping memories were re-told and new memories shaped in games of twilight corn hole and flashlight tag high up on the dark rocks of the mountain.

On Tuesday, having barely unpacked the car and restocked our hiking gear, Aden, William, Sean and I rose at 3:15am and drove back up past Burning Bear to the Mosquito Range, where we climbed four linked mountain peaks over 14,000 feet. We hit the top of Democrat as the sun rose, casting a bright light on rock surfaces and warming our bones a little in the 40 degree temps. We left that summit before 8am and pushed on to the next three, Cameron, Lincoln and Bross.  Finished with our top of the world roaming, we started descending on the sliding, shifting terrain of Bross by 10:15am. 

Our descent was highlighted by the appearance of two jet fighter planes which swung in a loop over Democrat, higher than the peak but so near to us that I crouched down and held onto the rocks where I stood to watch safely. The boom of the sound barrier's breaking roared immensely large in the open space we occupied, and we cast our eyes for miles in all directions, thrilling to the immensity and beauty of the Colorado mountains. 

Headlines and horror stories were far below us, covered by forest fire haze or just erased by the magic of mountains, the beauty of space mostly untouched by humanity.  I say mostly because Coloradans are a hardy bunch and even at 5:45 am there were many cars parked on the rutted dirt road at the base of the trail, and a steady supply of hikers mounted the rocks behind us as we hiked. William even ran into two former CCHS swim teammates as we all rested in the saddle below Democrat.

When I heard the song "By & By" on the radio yesterday, the line "are you a life force?" resonated with me, especially strong in the aftermath of our Rocky Mountain adventures. There's an aphrodisiac associated with physical effort and open spaces, the removal of technology and the presence of good friends. Being close to the life force present in mountains, trees, running water and social bonds - all so necessary now to fight back against the depression and exhaustion that goes with the ongoing pandemic - has fueled my tanks and buoyed my hope. Now we're ready for whatever new adventure comes our way.

Let Freedom Ring

"My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From every mountainside let freedom ring."
- From "America" by Bebe Winans

"Look how close we are to the top," Aden said to encourage her younger brother. No matter that the mile left to us was straight up through a shifting scree field, followed by a long stretch up treacherous boulders. We all felt optimistic as we gazed at Mt. Sneffels, the fourteener we had come to "bag." Coloradans consider climbing mountains over fourteen thousand feet a bit like a treasure hunt, and many of us carefully count - and recount - the number we've climbed. Only the rare and celebrated few have climbed all 58 of them.

I shared Aden's overly optimistic prediction that we would all soon be at the summit. The hike had been lovely and sun-kissed and the lack of oxygen hadn't hurt anyone thus far.  The worst problem we had faced was a horde of ravenous mosquitoes at the shores of a mountain pond full of snow-melt. Otherwise, we had moved quickly through bright green fields filled with yellow, white, deep purple and hot pink wildflowers. The San Juan mountains rose all around us, calming us with their permanence, their stability.

That stability was deceiving. We started up the scree field, sliding downward as our feet scrambled for purchase on bigger, buried stones. At first I wielded poles, stabbing them into the surface like ineffectual toothpicks trying to hold the sliding layers of a birthday cake. We soon resorted to hands and knees, scrabbling like beetles on the muddy ground. I heard a guide say to his helmeted guest, "Good thing it rained and the ground is wet. If this was dry you wouldn't have a chance to get up it."

I glanced up at him and made a stab at humor, "So you're saying it's my lucky day?"

He looked down at my bare head and ungloved hands; I could tell he was thinking I was unprepared. "Yep. But you might want to get a move on. The clouds are rolling in."

Sure enough, the first wisps of cloud were starting to filter through the saddle at the top of the scree. William had already made it through that saddle and embarked upon the boulders. Aden and I were close enough to make an attempt but Rob and Daniel seemed too far down. Figuring that they had each other, we kept pushing, one painful foot at a time.

In the end, William made it to the true summit. Aden and I stopped at 14,060 feet, declining the chance to rock-climb through a narrow chimney and gain the last fifty feet. We yelled for William to tell him we weren't coming up - that he should come down - and waited a scary few minutes for his voice to return in echoes, "I'm coooooming."

It's a bit lonely, cold and threatening at the top of a tall mountain, despite the gorgeous vistas laid out around you. Sharp peaks, highlighted in snow fields, stand out in every direction and green valleys threaded with waterfalls lay far at your feet. It's hard to deny the beauty of our state and our country out here, far from the virus, far from politics or policing dilemmas.

Yet I couldn't stop thinking about the peril we Americans are in. Our president and attorney general gave the order for Border Patrol SWAT teams and Federal Marshals to invade Portland last week, ostensibly to keep federal property safe but more likely to provide a made-for-TV show of force to bolster 45's sagging poll numbers. Caught in the dynamic are innocent Americans, peaceful protesters who have been tear-gassed, snatched off the street, interrogated without due process, and beaten.

My father, uncle and father-in-law volunteered to fight to protect this nation and it's notion of liberty and justice for all. My father's time in Vietnam was most likely the cause of his death last year, as Agent Orange exposure led to his disease. He volunteered to fight for freedoms and liberties, not so that corrupt leaders could endanger people for ratings.

As I stood near the top of Mt. Sneffels yesterday, holding my slightly inaccurate sign, I kept hearing the lines from "America." That was partially because I had written the line "from every mountainside let freedom ring" on the bottom of the sign in blue marker, but also because I am convinced that we must fight now for our ideals. The next four to six months will be difficult for all of us, caught between the virus, a threatened and dangerous executive branch, and a spineless Congress.

Who will protect us? We will. Like the Wall of Moms, of Fathers, of Veterans that nonviolently protect protesters in Portland, linking arms and standing up to heavily armed federal soldiers, we must be the heroes that we've been looking for. It will be difficult, this last mile, like the climb up a mountain, but we can do it. We must.

Camping Report

In the few moments available before children wake up to demand milk, TV, cereal, etc., I wanted to record our successful camping trip. Camping with good friends and their age-compatible children certainly assisted in making our adventure fun, filling (way too much food!) and enjoyable for all. Despite the altitude issues of camping at nearly 11,0000 feet (none of the adults slept the first night), we adjusted fairly rapidly and were blessed with clear skies and beautiful starshine at night.

Our intrepid band of hikers embarked early Saturday morning - to the distress of fellow campers still holding on to sleep - and tackled Mt. Sherman, which is the 'easiest' 14,000 foot peak to climb, according to Rob's guide book. We drove to 12,000 feet and tackled the trail, which rapidly ascended and turned from dirt to rock. We had five children with us; a 9-year-old, an 8-year-old,and three 7 - year - olds, as well as five adults (for whom age is irrelevant). Everyone in our party climbed as high as the ridge and benefited from amazing views over the surrounding mountain ranges. When the cold wind hit and threatened to blow off the lightest member of our party, half the group called an honorable retreat.

I was surprised and pleased, though a bit worried, when our 7-year-old son took off up the mountain without hesitation, outstripping his father and even leaving us entirely to hike with a good friend when we waited for his sister. She was tormented with anxiety about the steepness and the windiness of the climb, and though I assured her we could call it a day with all virtue intact, she saw her brother and father ahead and decided to persevere. I held her hand, and abandoned all my own anxiety for her sake (this works for me in flying, too; amazing what kids can get you to do). She pushed on up the mountain with tears in her eyes and a quiver in her lip . . .I don't think she enjoyed it much but she accomplished the peak and prevented her brother from holding this achievement over her head.

I am amazed by the children and so pleased that they can accompany us now on almost any adventure. We do have a few more years to get our four-year-old up to speed, but now that I know it can be done, I am confident that he'll be climbing and hiking with us soon. Blessings to all and thanks for a wonderful summer. Now off to school for the kids and back to some focused intellectual activity for mom!