Category: Adventure Sports

Sitting on the Summit– Revisited

A Colorado Mountaintop

On top of the mountain
Looking out,
And thinking about,
What you see.

Clouds float past,
Racing fast,
Where do they go?
Perhaps that fact,
I’ll never know.

Something shining and changing,
A reflection I suppose.
Not moving, just bouncing
The sunshine as it goes.

A road across the valley,
Headed toward the hill,
Passes by a frozen lake,
And I can feel the chill.

Crows passing by,
High in the sky.
Flying is something,
I’d like to try.

Rest, relax, ponder, breathe.
Soak it in.

Sitting still,
A moment longer,
Thinking harder,
Feeling stronger.

And then,
There’s even more to soak in…..

A Marmot scampers,
A warm wind whistles,
A sweet smell fills my nose,
A distant storm erupts,
A Pika chirps,
A lone Columbine catches my eye.

No mystery has been solved,
No thing resolved.
More questions,
Than answers.

But for another moment,
Rest, relax, ponder, breathe,
Soak it all in.

Audio Version: 

Man and girl sitting high up above Copper Canyon looking down at the surrounding area

The Meatgrinder and the Puke Loop, A Few Years Later

One of the Hunt area trails
The Devil’s Staircase on the Meatgrinder

Old trails never die, they just get harder to see.

The names of the two trails do an excellent job of describing them in a few short words- The Puke Loop and The Meatgrinder. Their heydays of being a few open and pleasantly flowing pieces of path connecting extended sections of tight turns, horrendously steep climbs, and complicated descents have long passed. But the unfortunately angled roots, cactus, poorly placed rocks, and riding/hiking/trail running memories endure. More than just a few body scars remain on people to help tell something about what the two were like back in the day. And undoubtedly, some think of mountain biking the Puke Loop whenever they find themselves hugging a commode.

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Mourning Coffee on Huayna Potosi

Descending Huayna Potosi

It was cold and restless sleep at our high camp on Bolivia’s Huayna Potosi. As I think back, it was actually more like quiet time, except for the constant banging of the tent fly out in the frigid, high-altitude night. Sometime in the very early morning, I got up and went outside to relieve myself and, while doing my business, marveled at how clear and full of stars the sky was. But that marvel was tempered by my personal acknowledgment that ultimately the clear skies would just mean even colder temperatures. At least, I reasoned, since there was no threat of snow, I wasn’t going to have to get up and shovel any of it away from the tent in the wee hours of the morning. I quickly got chilled, and so, once back in the tent, pushed myself deeply into my minus 25-degree bag and cinched the hood tightly down around my head. Cinching down and tightening the hood, along with a persistent need to go outside and relieve myself, periodic dozing off, and a mental organization of the rope-up logistics, occupied the bulk of my supposed sleep time.

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I Keep On, Keeping On

Mountain climbers nearing the summit of a mountain
A sawtooth ridge

The sawtooth ridge,
Goes up and down.
And other peaks,
Are all around.

Talus, boulders, and
Rocky slabs.
Slippery scree,
That’s sliding free.

Clumps of ice,
Looming clouds.
Bits of snow,
Cold winds that blow.

It seems to be,
A jumbled mess.
The chaos,
Causes mental stress.

Scary heights,
Gurgling gut,
Hands are cold,
There’s no foothold.

A little voice in my head,
Says it’s time to stop.
But nonetheless I move ahead,
And keep on, keeping on.

And then it happens,
I round a bend.
The summit soars,
With mighty roars.

The clouds depart,
The sun breaks through.
To light the way,
And cheer the day.

A marmot chirps,
A Pika hides,
An Eagle floats,
A small bird chides.

A field of flowers,
Fills the sky.
The reds and yellows,
Make me cry.

The rocks give way,
To grassy slopes.
Now easy going,
No need for ropes.

And then, I’m there,
Flatland’s below.
I’ve reached the top,
Rewards bestow.

I’m glad I listened,
When he said,
Take one more step,
And move ahead.

Mountain climbers on a summit ridge
Headed toward the top

Candy Bars on Mt. Hunter

 

Glacier Camp on the Kahiltna Glacier

Undoubtedly, it was the five candy bars I ate in celebration of successfully getting down and across the avalanche debris field caused the distress. I should’ve known better, but for various reasons, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Once my stomach settled and I was back home, I realized that, even though the situation was painful, it had taught me a valuable lesson.

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Elk in the Mosquito Range

The Colorado Rockies

There must’ve been close to 100 elk filling the valley below me, and I was astounded. I didn’t want to do anything to call attention to myself, so just sat there quietly, peering at them from behind a boulder. It was pure luck that put me in that right place and at the right time because wildlife viewing wasn’t one of my goals for that day.

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Big and Small

 

Tent on the Kahiltna Glacier in Alaska with a glacier travler moving away from camp.
Glacier Travel- Maybe a big thing?

Morning coffee,
By the creek.
Pondering how,
My day I’ll tweak.

Climb the mountain,
Rising high.
Knife-edge summit,
Fills the sky.

Gulp of water,
Clear and cold,
No sight of flecks,
Dirt, or mold.

Trail ascending,
Miles to go,
Heavy packs,
And thigh-deep snow.

Sardines with honey,
Such a treat.
Sweet and filling,
Hard to beat.

Unfathomed darkness,
Fills the cave.
To enter deeper,
Must be brave.

Cross a log,
Above the stream.
You don’t fall in,
Or even scream.

Mountain bike,
On sketchy trails.
With massive cliffs,
And no guard rails.

The best 12 peas,
I ever ate,
Were hard and crunchy,
But filled my plate.

Roaring river,
Drops and chutes.
Scary options,
So many routes.

It didn’t snow,
Or even rain.
Now sunshine rules,
And clear skies reign.

Climbing rock face high above.
Footholds, handholds, and lots of gear.
Keep your focus and your balance
Have strength of mind,
But never fear.

Strike a match,
Start a fire.
Warm your hands,
Cold not so dire.

Massive snowfield,
Long and steep,
No run-out,
And the snow is deep.

Things that happen,
Are both big and small.
But remember that,
They matter all.

Audio Version: 

A backpacking trail group takes a break while hiking a trail
A Welcomed Trail Break

Measuring Ancohuma

Climbers running GPS to determine the elevation of Bolivia's Anchohuma
Measuring the summit elevation of Ancohuma

Ancohuma is a high mountain in the Cordillera Real of the Bolivian Andes. Until a team of three American teenagers and one adult guide collected summit data in 2002, its elevation had never been determined. There was conjecture up to that point that its height was possibly over 23,000 feet, which would have made it the tallest peak in the Western Hemisphere, but that turned out not to be the case. It ended up being 21,079 feet- tall, but not the tallest.

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Outdoor Adventure Is…

A suspension footbridge near Coyachique and above the Batlopilas River
An unexpected bridge

Goal chosen wisely,
Journey planned well.
The unknown awaits,
With stories to tell.

The first step is telling,
Confirms the intent.
Each one that follows,
Will surely augment.

Calm and smooth sailing,
Is widely perceived.
The plan moves on forward,
Just as conceived.

Cloudless skies and well-marked trails,
Stoves that work and wind-filled sails.
Cars that run and sturdy shoes,
Healthy heals and happy news.

But then,

A storm looms to the west,
               The trail sign is gone.
               There’s no way to cook food,
               Good breezes allude.

               The engine won’t start,
               Your boots come apart.
               Big blisters have formed,
               The news has transformed.

When plans go awry,
And you wonder why.
Don’t cry for what’s not,
Think of all that you’ve got.

Be excited when curveballs,
Come your way.

Because then is when,
Real adventures begin.

 

Audio Version:

 

A crevasse on a glacier in Alaska
A crevasse to deal with

Remembering

People, places,
Visions, and faces.
Pictures, stories,
And skimpy traces.

Thoughts, dreams,
And blurry schemes.
Memories, tales,
And forgotten trails.

Colors, voices,
And always choices.
Before, after,
And often laughter.

Luck, mistakes,
Clear alpine lakes.
Gushing fountains,
And foggy mountains.

Breathing hard,
And hardly breathing.
Winning, losing,
Always amusing.

Hard, easy,
And sometimes queasy.
Win, lose,
And one time wheezy.

Upward, downward,
Often inward.
Planning, hoping,
Incessant coping.

Bluebird days,
And starry nights.
Scary heights,
And distant lights.

Peaceful summits,
Windblown meadows.
Forgotten canyons,
Where no one goes.

Hot and thirsty,
Cold and dry.
Frozen toe,
And sweaty eye.

Lost and found,
And outward bound.
Profound, astound,
At times renowned.

So many moments,
All melted together,
And frozen in time.

Audio Version:

Hike a Bike on the Silver Trail