These days I like to concentrate on the here and the now and not to live in the memories of the past. Sometimes though when the weather is bad like it has been for the past month or more. I don't mind if I indulge myself in to a little past history. Living in Colorado has primarily assured us of good weather. The days are generally sunny and blue skies. Very rarely do you get many rainy days strung in a row. That is until this spring, it has been the darkest and wettest and snowiest I have ever seen. Nation wide we are far better off than other places the inclement weather appears to be running amok.
The longest stretch of good weather in my memory is the late 80's. I am not sure of the year, but it was the year of the fires in Yellowstone. The year 1988 strikes a chord for me. I had recently moved back to Colorado after a string of bad luck in New York State. (Self-Inflicted.) I was more than just a struggling writer then. I was struggling with other issues and had yet gotten the upper hand. "All is well that ends well," so they say. Today I am happy joyous and free of those former addictions and even the rainy day blues can't bring me back down. Anyway, back to the stretch of good weather. I had gotten back into outdoor activities such as hiking, biking, climbing, and extremely long spring, summer adventures. Fortunately, I was working as a waiter in Vail, and did not have to be into work until 5 pm. This gave me a tremendous amount of time to explore the local wilderness. Long bike rides up Vail Pass and over Shrine Pass and down into Redstone and through Minturn back to Vail. It was always a great trek with my partner Christian. We also liked to head up to Benchmark at the Top of East Vail on our bikes, sometimes we would climb down into the Back bowls of Vail with our bikes and ride down into West Vail. There are some extremely challenging terrain into West Vail. The days went on forever. I believe the record was 40 or 45 days of no rain. The afternoon thunder storms never appeared. Arising at 5 am you can get out climbing and summit the Gore Range at 13,000 ft. plus by noon and be back down into town for work by 5. I remember one particular day climbing on Gore Pass and looking out West toward Yellowstone and seeing the large white plumes of smoke rising from the fires. It was incredible to see. Several days later the entire Upper Eagle Valley was socked in with smoke and eventually cleared out. Many days were spent hiking up into Piney Lake and the wilderness there. I believe those hikes and bike trips served to put Christian and I into good enough shape to Climb Mount of the Holy Cross that year.
The Holy Cross Wilderness is particularly beautiful but extremely rugged. I unfortunately, as a climber was endowed with very large quads. Probably from all the years of skiing that I did. Anyway coming down Holy Cross there are very large scree fields filled with giant boulders. You find yourself hopping from boulder to boulder for thousands of yards. If you have large muscles in your legs like I, you burn up large amounts of energy. The thing about Holy Cross is that on the initial trek in you descend into a very large ravine before you begin the actual climb up Holy Cross itself. All well and good you might think, but after Summiting Holy Cross, you have to boulder down for hours and then trek out and climb back up the ravine to get out of the wilderness area. I distinctively remember saying to Christian after I was totally spent and felt like I was walking on wooden stumps, because my quads had filled with lactic acid, "I think I'll sit here for a few minutes and catch up shortly." Wrong, the problem is when you sit down and relax your legs tend to cramp up. I was siting and writhing in pain, alone in the wilderness and I came to the realization that no one was going to help me to walk out. If I did not pull it together, rub out the cramps and struggle out on my numb stumps, I was going to spend the night in the Holy Cross Wilderness. What a great motivator spending the evening alone in the wilderness is. I did get up and did force myself to finish my walk out.
I guess sometimes memories are the cure for the rainy day blues. Kathy and I are closing on our new house this Thursday and we can't wait to move in this weekend. A second move in one year. Not uncommon for living in s Ski Resort. Except now, I live in the City, and don't plan on many more moves. Often during orientation at a ski resort, during the smile school the resorts would have you attend, they would often ask, "How many times have you moved in the past several years?" Sometimes the answers would be astounding. People would say, "I have move six times in the last two years." I would often think how odd that would seem to most sedentary American Workers. I don't think the average American is flexible enough in that way. Too Bad that people are so rigid.
I fear rigidity in my old age and hope that my current move will allow me stability and yet not make me rigid. I have the desire to grow in my writing and hope that a new writing office set up properly will be an impetus for longer structured writing sessions. I could use a little rigidity in that area. Here is to attacking the long lazy dog day afternoon summertime blues with constructive writing. I am growing fond of the City and all the things at my beckon call.
An Incredible Blue Song.
"Superman's Song," The Crash Test Dummies