Here’s a little ditty I wrote yesterday in a moment of intense inspiration. I love it when those sorts of things happen.                                                                                                                         Word Count: 880

Being Loved

To Death

To say the Covid-19 Pandemic has turned things upside down this summer is an understatement of the grossest sort. There isn’t one thing that hasn’t been affected in one way or another over the past five months, including the fact that there isn’t a summer tourist train here in Silverton. One thing we still have in this valley is lots of mountains, and that’ll never change (Thank God).

I’ve taken advantage of every opportunity to go hiking in them in the past four months. Not as much as my friend who gives new meaning to the definition of, “mountain hiking.” I like to tell anyone who’ll listen to my rants that this guy does more mountain climbing in a week than most people do in an entire summer season. For his age, he’s healthier than most folks’ half his age too. Leads a minimalist lifestyle, but I can guarantee you he eats nowhere near as much raw broccoli as me. Yes, this is a badge of courage, and I’m proud of that fact because unlike George Bush Sr. who once said he hates the stuff, I happen to like it. Incidentally, cooked broccoli sucks.

In keeping with the “strangeness” factor being so prominent this summer, I’ve really noticed a huge uptick in the number of people coming for hikes in our mountains. This phenomenon was actually becoming quite noticeable in the past few years, but it’s really become more so this summer. Particular areas stand out…

I’m reminded of my cousin’s son and his wife who came down here to do some backpacking last summer. They rode the train, and out of something like thirty backpackers that got off at the Needle-ton stop that day, twenty-eight of them went up the Pigeon Creek drainage into Chicago Basin. My nephew and his wife went in the opposite direction up the Animas River and into that magical place that is the No-Name Creek Drainage (Good call…). The very heart of the Weminuche Wilderness, and a mythical environment that’s hard to get to and so isolated and beautiful that you feel like you’ve died and gone to Backpacker Heaven. I’m hoping to get back up the No-Name Drainage before it’s too late and I’m slobbering profusely as I hang out on the rocking chair at the old age home. By the way, I’ll walk off a cliff before I end up having to live in a Convalescence Home. That’s another story for another time.

The main point I’m getting to is this, all the really popular places here in the San Juan Mountains and just about everywhere else are becoming even more desirable. Actually, this shouldn’t be that much of a surprise to hear. Being the world traveler that I am (don’t ask me about my Carbon Footprint-which has gone through the roof), it wouldn’t surprise me all that much to find out access to all sorts of incredible places will eventually become very limited. Keeps them from being destroyed.

I noticed this phenomenon fourteen years ago when I visited Peru. My cousin and I decided we wanted to climb up Huayna Picchu, the peak above the Inca ruins of Machu Picchu. Access was only allowed at a set time each day when the gate leading to the hiking trail up Huayna Picchu allowed only 250 people in. Needless to say, we got there right as the gate was being unlocked, and the hike and views when we got to the top was another one of those spectacular, “Take Your Breath Away” Moments.

As most of you know, throughout my life I’ve tried to live by the mantra, “Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.” A favorite quote of mine, and I love the philosophy behind it.

Heck, you already need to have gotten a high lottery number just to do almost every river trip here in the west. The Colorado River through the Grand Canyon being the prized jewel in the crown. I’m hoping they limit access to all sorts of other places too. The Nabatean Ruins of Petra, in Jordan. Anghor Wat in Cambodia. The peaks of Fitz-Roy in Patagonia (southern Chile/Argentina). Victoria Falls in Africa. Uluru in Australia, which won’t even let you climb it unless you’re an indigenous Aborigine (another good call). Just a few of the numerous places I’m hoping to get to before it’s too late. As you well know, the list just goes on and on.

The problem with not limiting access to a particular area you end up turning the place into a sad situation. The spot is basically being, “Loved to Death.”

The classic example here in the southwest Colorado mountains is two of the more popular spots in the San Juans near Silverton. The trail up to Highland Mary Lakes, and the Ice Lake Basin trail. Both beautiful spots, but basically turning these areas that make the Nepalese route up Mount Everest looks extreme when compared to driving down the freeway in L.A. Come to think of it, from what I’ve read that whole Everest summit attempt experience is turning into a mountain climber’s nightmare? Is anyone surprised to hear that? I’m not…