East, sun rises anew,
Spring Equinox dawns.
West, waxing moon sets,
Capping winter’s rest.
Full moon awaits,
To rise in the eve.
Spring emerges complete,
Winter left to grieve.
Featured
Month: March 2019
Featured
Staunton Jaunt
Just before Jamie shuts the car off in the parking lot I see the air temperature. 10 degrees Fahrenheit. The expected high is to be in the 40’s, but that will be after we finish. I’ve dressed for about a mid 20’s start so it seems as though I’d better generate some heat.
We embark on the Mason Creek Trail in Staunton State Park, a park of the Colorado State Parks system that gets better every time I visit. They groom the trails in winter allowing hikers, fat tire mountain bikes and snowshoers alike to enjoy the winter trails.
The trail is snow packed, but not quite icy as we move into the Mason Creek drainage. It’s evident that it had been above freezing yesterday as there are deeper frozen footprints, but not so many as to rut the trail out and make it difficult passage.
On either side of Mason Creek the mountain rises steeply. The temperatures must be in the single digits here. I’m layered properly on my torso, but can feel the cold air on my legs, having opted out of wearing a base layer. My cheeks catch the cold air and I wiggle my finger tips to keep them warm inside my wool mittens. After some time I can feel the cold permeating the soles of my trail runners. The cold affects the tendon in my left knee, causing it to be a little more stiff. It’s all perfectly acceptable, just awareness in my body but little cause for alarm. As we rise out of the drainage the temperature will warm and eventually we will be in the sunshine.
One trail runner passes us, then shortly thereafter we hear voices and another pair moves past. Eventually we ascend into some aspens and the air temperature is much less intense. The trail dips and rises, winds and wends in and out of the aspens.
The sight of the aspens brings longing for summer days, sounds of hummingbirds and overnight backcountry trips. I reign in my anticipation, to not waste the day I have right now, a bluebird day, with clear blue skies contrasted by the bright white landscape.
Back home, even after the Bomb Cyclone a few days ago, I can see spring growth emerging and a neighbor’s crocuses blooming. But here, if one is to step off the packed trail, it’s at least knee deep snow at 9,000′.
At Staunton we’re still in the Front Range but not in the true high country. The big mountains have received an abundance of moisture this year, with every river basin in the state over 100% of average snowpack. This is welcome after the drought of last year and dreadful wildfires that ravaged significant portions of the state’s forest. It will be late June or even July until some of the high mountains are accessible.
Jamie and I pause in the aspens allowing the sun to beat upon our faces as we soak up the warmth. It is a windless day, which is absolutely lovely. Not wanting to posthole over to a log we opt to stand in order to take in a snack. Early on, I blew the line to my hydration bladder clear because it was so cold. I attempt to draw water through the tube and I feel like a kid trying to suck a thick chocolate shake through a straw, unsuccessful to draw any water through the tube. Some banging on my pack by Jamie and blowing back and forth finally breaks the ice dam free that must have formed, and I am able to take a drink.
Exiting the aspens we enter back into the darker timber. Not as many people have ventured here and I begin to remark that the trail is softer when my right leg sinks knee deep into snow. I do my own version of an Irish jig as I quickly step out of the post hole attempting to keep my balance.
I’ve been on this trail just once, I believe, and I was running at the time. So now, moving at a slower pace, and in winter, it all looks different to me. We comment how we’re hoping to intersect another trail versus having to backtrack when we finally arrive at the Old Mill, built here in the 1930’s. The old building stands defiant to the elements high on the mountain, nestled between the rocks that make up much of this park. I marvel at how they got various pieces of large equipment up here nearly 90 years ago. The resourcefulness and perseverance of the people impresses me.
We don’t linger long and venture lower on the Old Mill trail and intersect with a main trail that takes us back to the parking lot. Now there is much more activity with fat tire bikers, hikers and snowshoers. We have timed it right as the trail is now beginning to thaw out and muddy up when we arrive back where we started to a now full parking lot.
Reflecting on the morning warms my heart as we move into spring and the transition of longer days, blooming plants and more time afield. I look forward to many more trips this year, and hope to explore some new places as well.
Bomb Cyclone
I’d never heard of a bomb cyclone. It’s a new weather word to me.
One week into abstaining from social media and Mother Nature assists with a blizzard. We are currently without power so fortunately our gas fireplace is keeping the living room warm at 69 degrees.
I have a few isobutane canisters with a whisper of fuel in them. No good for backpacking, but perfect to heat water for coffee.
A new book arrived in the mail a few days ago. I should finish it today. It’s an account of Heather “Anish” Anderson’s record setting hike of the Pacific Crest Trail. It puts other books that turned into movies about the PCT to shame.
Enjoy your storms wherever you might be!
40 Days
My wife Pam has an iPhone, I have an android. Apple has a built in app that tells you how much time you spend on your phone. I was really glad that my Samsung had no such device, but curiosity got the best of me and I went searching for one.
Of course, it revealed that which I knew to be true. I, like so many of us, spend way too much time on social media. I am especially adept at killing large chunks of time playing Words With Friends. I only really play with two people, my sisters, who reside in Pennsylvania. I enjoy the daily check in, occasional chats and especially the competition with my oldest sister. But the app revealed just how much time I could spend on the game. With a ping that a play was awaiting I would move my attention away from what I was doing and find a word to put on the board.
My spiritual journey at this point of my life is largely a personal one. I have my beliefs, my faith and I try to do my best to live my faith without putting it in people’s faces. I strive for compassion, understanding, trying to keep my mouth shut (which is a huge challenge), listen better and not judge each person that comes in my path. For I feel there is an overabundance of judging in the world these days.
So for the next 40 days I’ve taken social media away. I’ve been doing a lot more reading in the last year and look forward to even more of it in the coming weeks, especially without the distraction of Facebook, etc.
I’ve also been away from writing for much too long. There are no adventures looming immediately in my future but I am eagerly looking forward to this sense of a spiritual retreat, an opportunity to reflect more, to be a better listener, to pick up the phone and actually talk to my sisters and to detach from e-stimulation.
“But”, you say, “now you are posting on your blog, which is linked to your Facebook account and such.”
Yes, there are the links that announce that I may have written something. But it will be good for me to not see if someone “likes” what I have put out into cyberspace. It will be beneficial for me to not respond to a comment or even know if one has been posted. (Of course, I welcome comments and likes on the blog!)
I look forward to rambling on here about life and my thoughts. I intend to take more walks in my neighborhood and in the hills, if spring ever decides to show its face here in Colorado. In a few short weeks it will be one year since a dear friend passed away. I want to honor her by thinking about how she still impacts my life each and every day. I want to be more present for Pam and for Ben, especially before he spreads his wings and moves into his own space in about a month. Life trickles on, like a mountain spring emerging from a hillside. I’ll try to do a better job of following the flow and seeing where it leads me.
