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.

Camping Gratitude

Marry an outdoors woman. Then if you throw her out into the yard on a cold night, she can still survive.
-W. C. Fields

I paused in my run last weekend, exhaling steam in the cool, moonlit morning. Two deer stopped and stared, no doubt wondering at this ungainly, dirty, and ill-dressed creature who dared to run down their road. After short analysis, they turned and bounded in opposite directions into the woods. I just grinned like a fool, having run by two mountain lakes and greeted the morning at a heightened elevation of 8,300 feet. Though sleep had been elusive I felt invigorated and optimistic. I knew the campfire would be lit and the hot water ready for coffee when I returned, and no greater joys could exist that morning, except possibly to share the day with loved ones.

The full moon was just disappearing when I returned to camp. My husband brandished the last two bags of oatmeal like a man possessed. "You're lucky you got any," he claimed as he handed them over, "the kids were HUNGRY this morning." I examined our happy, grubby children as they sat, full-bellied, amidst their friends. The oatmeal was gone but remains of toasted marshmallow outlined their lips and coated the tips of their noses. My late-night wet wiping skills had obviously been inadequate. They bragged to me that they had slept in until 7:30 (!) and then raced off into the woods to defend their fort against the 'stray teenagers' that were imaginary foe and fort-destroyers for the weekend.

The greatest gift of camping, besides the close-up view of moon and stars, mountain sunrise and sunsets, campfire singing, and shared meals, remains the wild play of the children. Disappearing in one grand troop or in two or three smaller pods, they happily moved logs, brandished sticks, invented obstacles (and wild animals) and - most importantly - rarely returned to the adult hangout all day. Their freedom was broken only by meal times, a hike around the lake, and a few bouts of kayaking. These activities were hardly limiting, as the older children ran ahead exuberantly on the hike and could man or partner their own kayaks. The younger children were a different story (especially on the hike) but still amazingly functional and certainly happy to be in the mountains with their peeps.

I keep a gratitude journal beside my bed at home and really missed having it in the tent this weekend as I had so much to add each night. When I got home - tired, dirty, and bent on unpacking - some of the finer details escaped me but I did write down 'camping,' and 'friends.' I scanned the entries for the past few weeks and noted that "friends' enter into my gratitude practice quite frequently, supporting everything I have done this summer. For example, I have "health and good triathlon - support of friends," "great trip to Cape Cod, visit with friends," "Rob's safe trip to Ohio, help of friends with the kids." As summer winds down I will be sad to say good bye to camping, to swimming outdoors, to children's freedom, but I continue to be grateful for the presence of friends in our lives and for their participation in the fun fall adventures to come.