My Reality of Liquid Environs

I love this time of year. The essay posting today specifically addresses one of the elements that’s a part of that. Here’s hoping you’ll enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.

I love playing in water. Some people might think that can’t be the case since I happen to live in a valley that’s close to 820 miles inland from the Pacific Ocean. In addition, the 4-corners region is often referred to as the “Desert Southwest.” Silverton may be a mountain environment, but it’s also notable for its noticeable lack of humidity. “High-altitude Desert” is a fairly descriptive term for the area in this particular situation.

I’m different, always have been, so why should people be all that surprised? Another thing that isn’t astonishing about me is the fact that I learned how to swim at a fairly early age. During one of our childhood trips to California, my older sisters and I took lessons at the local pool near our grandmother’s. Having totally embraced this opportunity, the mold was set for the rest of my life. I find myself getting excited whenever I notice water in all sorts of variations. Whether its snow in the winter, high water rushing through rivers in the spring, or waterfalls miraculously forming out of nowhere (also at this time of year).

One great thing about the next few months is observing these things as you’re traveling from one place to another. You find yourself cruising down the road and all of a sudden you see this waterfall coming off the cliff and depositing itself onto the highway in front of you. The angle of sunlight as it hits the moisture being precipitated down onto the pavement sparkles radiantly and you think to yourself, “How cool is that?”(I’m easily entertained, aren’t I?).

Then you’re on an overnight trip and staying at a hotel with a swimming pool at your disposal. That first moment of excitement as you’re jumping into the body of water is better than all sorts of sensations. Something about knifing through water in its liquid form that has you thinking this is truly one of life’s great pleasures. Equaled only by collecting a tax refund, landing your dream job, or finding out the network Exec’s have decided to renew your current favorite TV show for another season.

I quite frequently tell people that if I lived in Ouray I wouldn’t just have an annual pass to the Hot Springs Pool, in my case the pass would be lifetime access. I’m so jealous of the folks on that side of the mountains being able to hang out in water on a daily basis. Almost like they won some sort of liquid lottery.

Then again, playing in H2O on a regular basis can have its disadvantages. Your skin starts to look like an over-ripe prune whenever you exit the water, working out in it forces you to find additional exercise options since all that swimming you do doesn’t have the force of gravity working in your favor, a person goes around feeling like they’ve got some sort of strange enlarged lung capacity, and you begin to think most people don’t mind having to observe other folks with minimal clothing on.

That’s one of the advantages of playing in water. It’s incredibly easy to just sink down in it and hide your physical appearance. I’ll admit it, when I’m hanging out at the pool I wish more people would take advantage of this opportunity.

My relationship with most oceans is sort of like a love-hate scenario playing itself out. On the one hand, I can think of numerous wonderful beach experiences with friends and/or family that had me feeling like it’d be nice to live closer to the ocean. Proximity to large bodies of water can be such a beautiful thing.

Looking at it from an alternate perspective, I sometimes look at the ocean as a large receptacle of grief and despair. A lot of this has to do with the fact that I suffer from a life-long bout of seasickness. I’ll always remember that first sailboat trip on San Francisco bay where I experienced my initial bout of emptying my stomach contents. Then there was the deep sea fishing adventure off the coast of Kenya. Another intimate interaction with green facial transformation, and a deep investigation of the water off the side of the boat.

Living so far away from the ocean can also create an unusual perspective with water. Specifically the fact that oceans can be very huge and extremely salty bodies of H2O. Then again, this has more to do with the innocence of youth. While attending a birthday celebration for an uncle in So-Cal, the family decided to pay a visit to the beach. All of us in the Colorado contingent got very excited since this would be the first experience my nephew and niece would have with an ocean.

Upon exiting the car my three-year-old niece quietly asked if this was a swimming pool, to which an older Californian cousin casually replied the Pacific is indeed the world’s largest swimming pool.

Then while collecting seashells a big wave came crashing to shore and knocked my nephew over. Upon picking himself up out of the water, the first phrase out of his mouth was classic six-year-old words of wisdom, “Yuck, somebody ought to do something about the water, this stuff tastes terrible.”

The water may not taste all that appealing, but most of the time I’m not being forced to drink any of it. What I’d prefer to do is play in it.

My all time favorite water-playground experience? That one is easy. The Nepal/Tibet trip and my cousin arranging for the two of us to ride the town elephants down to a pond where they washed themselves off. You ever tried to stay on an Asian elephant when the animal is doing its best bucking bronco routine in a body of water? Being the type of person I am, that’s what H2O and interacting in it is all about.