{"id":2796,"date":"2017-04-21T11:40:42","date_gmt":"2017-04-21T17:40:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.mountainouswords.com\/mountain-air\/?p=2796"},"modified":"2020-08-10T11:04:52","modified_gmt":"2020-08-10T17:04:52","slug":"when-the-mountains-are-calling-and-you-cannot-go","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mountainouswords.com\/mountain-air\/when-the-mountains-are-calling-and-you-cannot-go\/","title":{"rendered":"When the Mountains are Calling and You Cannot Go"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cGo back?&#8221; he thought. &#8220;No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!&#8221; \u00a0<\/span><\/i><b>\u2015 J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit<\/b><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">We all have reserved tickets for the pain train. Death, illness, injury, and loss are inevitable and rarely do we have the slightest control over their timing. This is what being human is\u2014deep love, deeper loss. No way around it, we have to go through it.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I have missed the mountains. Like many of you, wilderness\u00a0time is not optional, it is essential and my piety towards that belief is hardwired. Being away from the\u00a0wilderness\u00a0and addressing grave life challenges is the proper and right thing to do\u2014we help friends, family, pets, or endure our own difficulties as best we can. By the time the pain train has reached its destination and returned, there is a pronounced disconnect. Our bodies and minds wear the weight of emotional battles, bad sleep, and comfort food.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Back in the mountains, my body feels slow, weak, clumsy, unsure in an environment where acumen, confidence, and strength were once second nature. I\u2019m not so much humbled as I am discouraged, no different than a musician who strays from his instrument and returns to find sloppy skills and unexpected difficulty where there was once effortless precision. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This collateral damage needs to be reframed. Step one: face the inevitability of sorrow and graciously accept things that simply cannot be understood. For six months, I\u2019ve been deaf to the call of the mountains and they\u2019ve been screaming. I have no regrets nor resentment for the choices I\u2019ve made to attend to loved ones rather than indulge in that sacred wilderness. However, nature is merciless in reminding me that all those nights of lost sleep, the bad eating, the lack of exercise, and the omnipresent stress don\u2019t matter in the wilderness\u2014you get out of shape and the mountains will quickly remind you that fitness is a privilege, not a right. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">After a few weeks of self-pity and poor performances across the board\u2014climbing, hiking, mountain biking\u2014my frustration grew to a head when I finally mustered up the motivation to go for a mountain bike on one of my go-to trails, Heil Ranch in north Boulder. I needed that ride. I needed lungs to burn, legs to scream, and to win back some of my former power\u2014both my body and my ego demanded it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">But it didn\u2019t go well. It didn\u2019t go at all. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Upon reaching the trailhead, every single parking spot was taken. There were two cops angrily telling incoming traffic that if they can\u2019t find an open spot, they can go pound sand. I\u2019d never seen the lot full, but should know better\u2014Boulder on a Saturday is like that. I circled around waiting for a place to open. With each pass, the bull-dog-like officers glared at me, as if preventing rogue parking was a matter of national importance. For 45 minutes I lapped the parking lot. When a spot did open, it was quickly snatched up by some newcomer. I had come for wilderness therapy and now I was more stressed, angrier, and boiling with frustration. I gave up. <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Something like hatred electrified my body, rage with a core of self-pity. That emotion compiled of sorrow and sadness should have been purged by a good ride. Instead, it was amplified and transformed into white-hot frustration. As I sped out of the trailhead, I had a last stubborn flicker of purpose. A few weeks earlier, a friend had posted an inviting, non-competitive challenge that involved hiking all of the established trails in Boulder within a calendar year. I knew there was a small, very short trail\u20140.2 miles\u2014just up the road from where I was. Buckingham Park was more of a parking lot than an actual park, but I figured I might salvage a small degree of my outdoors dignity and knock off this stupid little trail. <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Parking my truck, I wandered down the shabby path, a dusty trail that is never more than 50 or so feet from the paved road. I recorded my tracks on my GPS app on my phone, just to prove I did something, even if it was as banal as this dumb little trek. On top of being angry, sad, and pissed off that I couldn\u2019t even get a parking space, my accomplishment for the day was going to be checking off a useless, flat trail that is never more than a beer can\u2019s throw from the road. Just call me Mr. Mountain. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I scrambled down a 5-foot high gash that scarred the creek bank where the 2013 floods ravaged the stream. The flow had regained its quiet innocence, carving out a shallow, makeshift matrix of mini-streams coursing through the stones in the river bed. I sat down on the hard sand between two patches of exposed, haunting tree roots jutting out from the clay. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Without prompting, without intention, my nature-brain began to take over. <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I watched the random but persistent splash of water coat the surface of an otherwise bland, ordinary stone. When dry, the stone was chalky brown, dull and common. But as the water flashed over its surface, it became glossy and smooth, the dormant reds, yellows, and oranges illuminated in dusty sunbeams. I began to notice colorful rocks under the water, distorted by the shimmering current. I saw the twisted skin of bark on trees and the jagged twists in the displaced roots along the river bed. I felt the thin, beige dust atop the hard sand on my hands. I was again under nature\u2019s spell.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-2799 lazyload\" data-src=\"https:\/\/www.mountainouswords.com\/mountain-air\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/04\/Riverbed.jpg\" alt=\"riverbed\" width=\"852\" height=\"480\" data-srcset=\"https:\/\/www.mountainouswords.com\/mountain-air\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/04\/Riverbed.jpg 852w, https:\/\/www.mountainouswords.com\/mountain-air\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/04\/Riverbed-300x169.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.mountainouswords.com\/mountain-air\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/04\/Riverbed-768x433.jpg 768w\" data-sizes=\"(max-width: 852px) 100vw, 852px\" src=\"data:image\/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB3aWR0aD0iMSIgaGVpZ2h0PSIxIiB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciPjwvc3ZnPg==\" style=\"--smush-placeholder-width: 852px; --smush-placeholder-aspect-ratio: 852\/480;\" \/><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The longer I sat, the deeper I felt the losses that had transformed my life. Simultaneously, I felt the irrefutable reminder that whatever nature is, whatever we are, our world remains in motion. It had been a long time since I took pleasure in the details, in something as simple as a stone. And being that I am reacquainting myself with trails and crags, I\u2019m reminded that there are details only evident when you slow down. Harsh as nature can be, it is also a relentless therapist. <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cWe are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars,\u201d goes the Oscar Wilde quote. And that\u2019s it. That\u2019s what we do. We look at the stars and the stones and the bewildering world, cruel and unjust as it may seem, and we look up. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">That momentary reprieve from grief opened my heart a little. I\u2019m making time for sleep, modifying my expectations as I rebuild my mountain mojo, and perhaps taking a cue from my dogs to stop and smell the flowers\u2026 and the garbage, and the grass, and the dead rabbit\u2026 and be ok with it all. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">As it turns out, it was not the mountains calling\u2014it was the stones in the stream.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>\u201cGo back?&#8221; he thought. &#8220;No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!&#8221; \u00a0\u2015 J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2797,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_lmt_disableupdate":"","_lmt_disable":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-2796","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-philosophy"},"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.6 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>When the Mountains are Calling and You Cannot Go - Mountain Air<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Life sometimes makes it impossible to be in the wilderness we love. How do we find our way back? 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