Posted by: paywindow7 | September 11, 2014

Bucket List

Bucket List

We’ve all heard the term “Bucket List”. “I’m putting that on my bucket list” we say.
Then everyone within earshot knows that whatever is being discussed is something the bucket lister really wants to do. My bucket list is to revisit some adventures from the past to see how the years have changed the landscapes in my memory.

I’m a mountain freak, don’t care much for the beach or seashore even though there is beauty there also. No I like the mountains, and not just rolling hills that are called mountains sometime, but actual mountains with snowy peaks that rise above timberline pushing into the clouds. Some create their own weather while standing aloof above the gritty writhings down at sea level.

There is something about being way high where the air is rare that compels you to be more heads up and watch what you are doing and brings the dangers of a careless act into tighter focus. The same can be said about life anywhere but I feel it more high up and am more aware.

You might think that they can’t have changed much in just a few years, they are mountains after all. But yes they can change and do change, a lot in some cases. Grown trees now tower above remembered saplings. Rockslides take out roads and trails. Snow avalanches sweep whole forests away.

Sheep Mountain will be first. A mountain just south of the gaudy whiz bang that has sadly befallen Aspen Colorado. Rising as a sentinel over the remote Crystal River Valley with its historic ghost town and the Dead Horse Mill. Lots of mining history there. Silver mostly and other rare earths and a quarry mountain of white marble that supplied stone, back in the day, for many of the monuments that stand today in Washington DC.

The next “go to” is the trail leading into the Wemanuche Wilderness that heads at 30 Mile Camp west of Creede Co. It’s near where the Rio Grande River forms up just below the Continental divide and begins its powerful, swirling 2000 mile dash to the Gulf of Mexico. A place where rocks overlook the trail in some places to provide shelter when 3 day blizzards make it impossible to hike. Strange nights with knife in hand and sleeping bags pressed hard against the base of cliffs when lights come and go above the low hanging clouds and seem in search for someone or something. Was it something I said?

From there we go to the Big Bend area of Texas and head for “The Basin” of the Chisos Mountains at the eastern reach of the great Chihuahua desert sweeping up out of Mexico. Nope, can’t forget those Chisos. No snowy peaks there, just the spirituality of the place that is unforgettable and undeniable. Apaches ruled here for hundreds of years and a few can be still be seen if you are real quiet in the early evening. Last one I saw was over on the east side run of the Basin where Pine Canyon opens out onto the desert. He was minding his own business, just looking back up the canyon towards the pour off. He turned to me briefly but I could not see his eyes and then a slight breeze and he disappeared.

Next is not a mountain trek but a river run through mountains down the Deshutes in Oregon. Beautiful country and a river that is a match for any other with rare stretches of flat water flowing into almost constant Class 3s, 4s and 5s and at least one 6. The confluence at the Columbia River will take your breath away.

Will I ever make it back? Doubt it, but hey, they are all in my head so my dreams, sometimes, are spectacular.

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Responses

  1. I, too, thrive at high altitudes…
    Dreaming with you of those spectacular places.
    😉

    • The times when you round the curve of a mountainside, either by trail or road, and you are suddenly drawn into a panoramic vista that takes your breath away are memorial. Photographers have tried but cameras can’t capture that vision with the emotion. John Muir said about the same in one of his writings. Thanks for the comment Laura.

  2. I love mountains too. Or I should say, I love the view of mountains. I’m not so good with heights. 😉

    • Thanks for the comment, Carrie. I never had a problem when I was flying or hiking along high or canyon trails but if I had to go on top of my house I was nervous. Must be a story there.
      When I was young I always thought that someday I would go find an old rickety bridge, somewhere high, to live under and become a troll.

      • As long as you live under the bridge instead of on top of it. Some of those old rickety ones don’t have such great support. Of course, then you’d risk getting crushed should it collapse. Ah, such is the risk of the troll life.


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