This essay is an update (with lots of changes) of an earlier missive that was originally published in the local newspaper here in Silverton way back in summer 2017.Things have changed so much since then and here’s the latest update.

Word Count: 673

The Soothing Charms

of Hiking above Timberline

By David G. Swanson

Having lived through the #416 Fire of summer 2017, which was the result of an extremely dry winter, coupled with the subsequent aftermath of a shut-down train, low water marks everywhere, and mudslides because of sudden, torrential, rains in late July makes life seem so unfair.  The strangeness has only persisted ever since too.

The following year we had the exact opposite with record snowfall in winter, followed by torrential thunderstorms the following summer, but no monsoon moisture. Summer 2019 was another no-monsoon three-month period. Thunderstorms yes, but no monsoons. Then things got really strange in summer of 2020 with the first wave of CoVid-19, accompanied by no monsoon moisture. Summer 2021? Lots of thunderstorms, but still no monsoons.

What a difference summer 2022 has been. It’s all due to the fact that the monsoon moisture has come back with vengeance. Every day it rains, and most days my job maintaining those flowers for the town on Main Street gets easier and easier. Most of the time it just consists of picking dead heads. Pretty good gig if you can get it, right?

What does one do in situations such as this summer? Unfortunately, some people that don’t get out enough, instead excuse themselves just so they can go into the nearest bathroom. For these folks, secretly slashing their wrists is an option.

Fortunately, I’m not one of these people (much to the chagrin of a few of my enemies). Instead, I’ve done what a lot of my friends here in this little valley do in the summer time, climb up into the mountains. This seems to act like some sort of mildly natural sedative for me, and that, in combination with the regular yoga and meditation practices, has gotten me through all sorts of highly turbulent situations.

I’ve got lots of friends who do a ton of hiking (this year in particular). This includes the local librarian and her husband, the retired former hardware store owners, and many others too numerous to mention at this juncture.

The ultimate hiking champion is of course the guy who takes total advantage of living in this town. He gets up regularly at an ungodly early hour each morning (3:30 am-does life even exist at that time of the day?), This has resulted in him doing more mountain climbing in a single week than most folks do in an entire summer. His reply upon reading an account I gave him of two regional heroes (Telluride & Ouray Demi-Gods) who set the original speed record for hiking all of Colorado’s 14ers in record time. Borrowing a quote from the esteemed Mark Twain, he off-handily mentioned, “Sounds to me like this article is some sort of bad analogy of that original Samuel Clemens’ definition of, “Golf”- basically a good hike wasted.”

You’ll agree with me when I say very few things beat walking over a ridge here in the San Juan’s and suddenly coming across a huge field of wildflowers. Their massive explosion of colors is simply amazing. I’m thinking it’s got to be all this rain? Suddenly you start to think that maybe you did indeed die and stumble your way into heaven.

Now that we’re on the verge of the mushroom and raspberry picking seasons about to happen, hopefully the mountain exploration options will continue to be just as endless and amazing as they’ve already been. Because of the schizophrenic nature of the monsoons around here, I’m not going to make any predictions. Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that the sensational walks do indeed carry over into fall.

There have been numerous hikes this summer when David G. Swanson felt as if he had died, and stumbled his way into heaven