The Candidate of My Choice
March 30, 2012
Your Political Analyst in The Field (Silverton Style)
April 13, 2012
This essay is about another deep obsession of mine. People sometimes ask me why I ended up moving back to the area where I grew up. This is a big part of it. Enjoy!!
Word Count: 1310
Make Mine Vertical Landscapes
The main reason why I want to see The Mountain Studies Institute really establish a strong foothold in Silverton is that I’m obsessed with the whole geological phenomenon that is mountains. I love the fact that whenever you look at them it doesn’t matter what season it is, or the time of the day it happens to be, they always look back at the place where you’re situated like massive Easter Island monoliths standing guard over you. An uncle once told me that after awhile the mountains surrounding our valley feel like prison walls closing in on you. I disagree with him on this point and a large part of it has to do with a 180-degree difference of opinion. This disagreement also has to do with our political philosophies. His being a bit more of a conservative approach, while mine are firmly rooted in a more naïve, and therefore increasingly delusional outlook on the world.
Mountain environments have been a part of me since the days when I firmly believed in the existence of Santa Claus and the Easter bunny. One hiked them in the summer, skied down them all through the winter months, and planned your strategy during the period in between. Unfortunately with a weather pattern that changes every five minutes and therefore usually gets worse before it ever gets better, flexibility in scheduling things also becomes an integral part of every mountain environment. Result, you often wished you could be somewhere else during this strategy planning phase of the yearly cycle.
What mountain environment doesn’t include the existence of “mud” at one point or another? None as far as I know. Then again I haven’t done much exploration in mountainous habitats that also doubled as desert surroundings. Zen philosophers say that one should embrace, or at least learn to tolerate obstacles in your path. This isn’t an easy thing to do in the case of mud since you’re often doing one of three things; 1. Sliding through it, 2. Tracking it in doors, or 3. Wading into it.
This interest with mountains has worked in serendipitous ways throughout my life. Part of its hereditary, as my grandmother’s family on my father’s side emigrated from the northern Tyrol region of Italy. Of course I grew up in a mountain valley-Silverton, and ended up going to college in a place close to the mountains-CU-Boulder.
My best friend in college also carries with him this odd infatuation with vertical landscapes having grown up in Vermont. Both of us also hold onto other eccentric predispositions. I suspect this has more to do with physiological changes happening as the result of massive ice cream and candy consumption during our youth.
Even though I never asked for it, during my Peace Corps hitch I ended up being assigned to the central highlands region of Kenya. I could literally walk out of the compound where I lived and see the snow-capped summit of Mount Kenya. Then glance over my left shoulder at the Aberdare Mountains gleaming in all their glory off in the distance. Those two years I managed to climb Mount Kenya four times and experienced many of the wonders to be discovered from summating the peak. Alice-in-Wonderlandtype flora and fauna, the mysteries of difficult to reach landscapes, and the intense sun that can only be found 5 degrees south of the equator at 17,000’.
These experiences weren’t without their fair share of hardships though. Included was getting lost in a bamboo forest while climbing the mountain, waking up on Christmas morning to find that my wet boots from the previous night were frozen solid, and trudging through a fog bank that gives new meaning to the term, “thick as pea soup.”
The greatest hardship, or inconvenience depending upon your perspective, is an area climbing the western flank of Mt. Kenya known as the, Vertical Bogs.These make the mud episodes during off-season here in Colorado look like strolls in the park on a sunny day. Think of climbing a mountain where you’re forced to jump from one clump of grass to another. When a person misses their mark they end up sinking up to their knees in quicksand-like goo. Not exactly my most pleasant memory of the country.
Being obsessed with bulges in the topography even back in those days, I also grabbed onto the opportunity to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. Traveled out to western Uganda to trek through the Ruwenzoris (Mountains of The Moon) too. Both experiences were incredible except for the railroad ride back to Kenya from the Ruwenzori expedition. My companions and I were awaken at 6:00 am and unceremoniously led off the train. Then had AK-47’s stuck in our faces, but that’s another story I’d rather forget.
I’m still pretty tight with my college buddy from Vermont so I’ve been to visit his part of the country a number of times. The mountains in New England are much smaller than ours here in the west, but other aspects of them make the experiences just as amazing. The vegetation is thicker, views from the summits can be just as panoramic, and every time I visit my buddy I discover something new and eye opening during my treks to the state.
I used to tease my friend that our mountains are so much bigger than those in his neck of the woods. Both are figuratively pimples on the landscape compared to the Himalayas. The one (and hopefully not only..) trip that I made to Nepal, then across the Friendship Highway onto the Tibetan plateau was without a doubt one of the great adventures of my life. The Himalayas are huge, and climbing across those granite spires while traveling from Katmandu to Lhasa takes your breath away.
In my cousin’s case this is a literal thing, since he lives at sea level and crossing over a 20,000” mountain pass played havoc on his body. Meanwhile me, having grown up at altitude lucked out and didn’t experience any sort of sledge hammer-like headaches. Mild stomachaches, but I think that was more the result of that Nepali pizza I ate the previous night.
I assume that because his body enjoyed it so much, my cousin had a repeat performance of the altitude sickness while the two of us were traveling in Peru. I feel like I need to apologize for teasing him so mercilessly while riding that boat on Lake Titicaca (12,500”). Should I feel sorry for being so sadistic? I suppose, but damn it was a Hell of a lot of fun at the time.
This mountain thing will be a life long obsession of mine, and I’m hoping to get further into South America just so I can see the mountains in Patagonia. The Atlas Mountains of Morocco beckon as well, and I still haven’t visited any of the “Stans”, or the beauty and grandeur that is Alaska. Still haven’t spent much time in the Alpseither, and The Urals sound fascinating. I’ll get to all these places one day. Count on it.
The list of hidden treasures that can be found in mountain environments is limitless. It’s like some sort of complex landscape that you’re plunged into and asked to meticulously dissect. Either by skiing or hiking through it. Wildlife in infinite shapes, varieties, and configurations, waterfalls around every bend, and hidden alcoves all over the place. Better than your childhood Lego blocks since the collection is usually infinite and you don’t have to fight your siblings for parts.
Going to mountainous locales in far-flung parts of the globe will definitely be a part of me till they’re shoveling soil onto my permanent dirt nap. Then again as another buddy theorizes, my brain functions better with less oxygen getting to it. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it.
