TV That Talks Back at You!!
July 26, 2013
Constructive Daydreaming
August 23, 2013
The following essay was published in the local newspaper yesterday (#22 published over the past two years by the way). Somebody asked me how much the editor of the Silverton Standard newspaper pays me for the essays I give him. My reply was that it’s the same amount of cash as in the Bhutanese Naval budget. Publication of one’s writing is easy, it’s getting paid for it that’s the key.
Word Count: 691
The Great
Summer Wildflower Hike
To say it’s been a crazy-busy summer is truly an understatement. Because of my multiple jobs, secondary projects, this eternal writing obsession of mine, and all sorts of other intellectual and physical pursuits, I haven’t had much time. This extremely tight tempo hasn’t allowed me to engage in one of my favorite activities, Going for long hikes in the high country here in the San Juan Mountains.
Now that the monsoon rains have totally kicked in, over the past month I kept hearing these persistent reports from tourists and locals that the wildflowers were amazing. A week ago an opportunity presented itself and I finally got the chance to check it out for myself. The time leading up to my planned hike found me acting like a kid trapped overnight in a candy store. Best of all, not only was the inevitable sugar high persistent but long lasting. Some songsmith once said, “The Waiting is the Hardest Part.” It can also be the coolest part of the whole deal.
Here in the mountains of the Four Corners, the summers are short, yet extremely sweet. Since going for a hike was going to be a one off affair, the spot we chose for our saunter had to be a good one. The walk up to Ice Lake Basin was chosen specifically because someone mentioned to me that the wildflowers on both sides of the trail were waist high in a few spots. Were their description tales a nasty exaggeration? Hopefully not.
At first it didn’t look like Mother Nature had any intention to cooperate in anticipation of our planned hike. It rained heavily the night before, as well as most of the day leading up to our mountain saunter. Not really ideal weather for hiking in the San Juans, more conducive for ducks or possibly the growth of one’s vegetable garden.
As my sister who teaches pre-school likes to tell her students in anticipation of a fieldtrip through the rain, “You aren’t made of sugar, you won’t melt.”With that in mind, the appointed time in the afternoon arrived, we persisted, jumped in the jeep, and headed toward South Mineral Campground.
Rain it did too. Heavily enough when we first started up the trail that it looked like we’d have to turn around. Streams of water gurgled down the middle of the path, and the first creek we might have to cross could present a problem. How do we ford it without looking like city slickers that have just escaped after being chained to their desks?
The further up the path we got, the more the deluge depositing its moisture let up. A few patches of blue sky actually began to appear, and then the low-lying clouds and fog put on a show for us. Patches of moisture soaked atmosphere moved in and out of the trees, and pretty soon the three of us began to thank our lucky stars that summer in the San Juans is such a special time. Every waterfall in sight was running, and I imagine this must be what New Zealand or Ireland looks like? Beyond brilliant is an appropriate description of the scenery that afternoon.
We only got as far as the Lower Ice Lake Basin before having to turn around. It started getting dark and nightfall was closing in. The prospect of stumbling down the path by using the light from our phones to guide us just didn’t seem that appealing.
This trip the wildflowers weren’t the best I’ve ever seen. In point of fact, they were only waist high in a few spots, and actually past their peak. Their leaves have a faint tinge of yellow. Possibly an indication of the first hints of fall already in the air?
A walk up into Ice Lake Basin never disappoints. Now I can go through the rest of the summer without feeling like I’ve been cheated out of something. I’m still running around like a chicken with its head cut off, but that’s pretty much the modus operandi I like to go through life in.
