Anonimity

Radio silence. It's nice in a way. Now that no one is paying attention, I don't have to worry about offending anyone. I don't have to be careful about which story I tell or which picture I post.

Have you ever known someone who is repeating themselves? I do. I know I am. I just realized this evening that the other woman in my relationship is a pack of 6 German Shepherd Dogs. The funny thing is, in my last relationship, the other woman was a bunch of middle school boys and girls. I wonder if it would be as strange if the other woman, really was another woman....

I see patterns. And I have to obfuscate them. This would be an ironic story. A man marries a woman he is madly in love with, who in his opinion is constantly going out with her friends. He doesn't like it, but lets her go because it's who she is. She cheats on him with said friends, and disappears.

So he hooks up with another chick, because he needs to pay the bills. And she likes to ride horses. He likes to ride horses. His ex-wife never liked to ride horses and he disliked that about her. They move away and follow their dreams of working with horses together. He is not madly in love, but marries her anyway.

She gets knocked up a few times and has a couple of abortions. Finally they are settled enough that when she gets knocked up again, they can have the baby who comes two months pre-mature. They divorce when the baby grows to a little girl.

The man is heart-broken. All he wanted was a family. Now his only little girl lives with his ex-wife and her lover. The other two babies got thrown away. All she wanted to do was "go" he said. She insisted they buy a horse trailer so they could take the horses and go. He bought a house in the middle of a horse community so they wouldn't have to. Why did she want to go away.

Who knows what happens in between, but eventually he meets another woman. She wants to go. She wants to go to the mountains and camp and hike and travel. She wants to write and take pictures. And he says that he bought a house in the middle of a horse community, near a state park, up against the mountains, on an acre and a half, so he would never have to go. Why does he need to go up there, when he has everything he wants, down here. She buys two dog crates and a bike rack so she can go whenever she wants and not be a burden.

He loves her, but she wants so many friends. She moved to a new community and wants to meet new people. He tolerates her search, but critisizes her finds. He refuses to socialize with her friends and becomes jealous.

All of this overwhelms the love. He breaks up with her. Now he can sit at home and grow a garden and watch the birds and raise his dogs who tear the house apart, one board at a time. He can breed his champion show dog. But he can't wake up early enough to get the dog there. He occasionally gets some time with his daughter, who is now old. She can't come over very often, because she has to care for the horses.

Mostly Alone

Note to self. Always sign cards in legible hand-writing.

This evening I was sorting through things; planning to clear them out. But instead, I let a whole lot of stuff back in. Graduation cards for instance.

Cards rarely seem meaningful at the time. But given years to marinate in an old box for 10 years, the sincerity or lack thereof become very evident. Cards from ex-family members. Cards from those who used to be "we" but now are "I" as the other has passed on. Several cards from people I can't remember at all. And I have a very dialed in memory for small details. And then there were several cards where I couldn't even decipher the signed name. Very unmemorable.

Then I started through the pictures. Of how I looked when I was 20 and 21 and 22 and engaged and at my bridal show and at my wedding and on my honeymoon and on vacation number "X" to Gatlinburg. How young my brother and my sister and my mom and my Dad and all of us looked. How much we must have thought we had aged at the time. But dang we all looked so good.

Then I go through my current pictures. The last seven years or so. There aren't as many. They aren't as varied. And I find that I am pictured mostly alone. Or I am not pictured at all. I have a bazillion pictures of German Shepherds. I have many pictures of other people. I have a smattering of pictures of me with my family. And then I have me in Waterton Canyon. Or me in Alaska standing on a staircase. Or me next to the river in Breckenridge. Or me with Trinity at the Hayman Burn area (pictured).

But I want pictures of me in Glenwood Springs. I want to see me standing next to the river flowing through the canyon near Moab. I want to see me in Arches with the sunset glowing on my face. I want to see me sitting on the edge of the canyon in Canyonlands. I want to see me dating someone. I want to see me standing in the picture with the man I am dating. Asking someone else to take the picture.

I want to see us going places. Yes...this picture was with such and such friends. Oh that picture was when we used to hang out with so and so. This is a picture of us at our wedding in Rocky Mountain National Park, with the wild falls rushing behind us. And this picture is of our families having a good time at our reception. Something simple. Here is my husband and I on our honeymoon. Pick something romantic and spectacular for those shots. Here we are at year 1. Year 2. Year 3. This is a picture of our first child being born. His third birthday. Our Sixth wedding anniversary. Now that would be a great picture.

How to Make this Sound Not So Whiny

I've longed for some time to sit together with friends and catch up.
I've longed for some time to meet new people
I've always felt when the right person came along, they'd show up...so there was no use looking.
I've always felt that I was strong, and could get through it.

But when you are ready to meet someone, and they haven't come through.
And you are ready to meet new people, but it's coming slower than you thought
That's when strength can be hard to find.

When I'm out in the the mountains, I feel the same way.
I've been longing to sit and catch up.
I've been longing to meet new people along the trail.
When I look at the mountains, I know God showed up.
And I don't need so much strength when I'm backed up by so much hard rock.

Deer Creek Canyon

Yesterday, I ventured out into the Colorado wilderness on a blustery day! Okay...it was a Jefferson County Open Space Park. Ten steps up from John Bryant State Park or Glen Helen, for all of you Dayton, OH natives. But still...not the real wilderness where civilization is behind you.

My friend Dick and I headed south west out of the parking lot on a trail that steadily climbed away from our car. As we hit our stride and the parking lot was well out of view, I began to take in the views of the "mountains" (a.k.a foothills). Turning my head in a slow arc, I saw beautiful snow covered rocks, a ravine filled with trees and (sound of record screeching to a halt) --- a one million dollar home. That's right. Snap dab in the middle of the beginning of my lovely hike were several luxury log homes. Suddenly, my decision to carry an overnight day-pack seemed silly. Food. Water. Anything else that could have gone wrong. Well...there's the drive way.

But...the trail did ascend out of the oddly placed fringe of wealth. We eventually escaped and came to the junction of "plymouth mountain" and "meadow lark" trails.

"So, what do you think, Dick? Meadow lark or go back the way we came?"

I was kind of hoping he would say "go back the way we came". But he said "meadow lark"

The reason I wanted to backtrack was, I had traversed "meadow lark" before. Albeit from a different approach, but for me it was a terrifying experience. As much as the Colorado wilderness fascinates me, it scares me to no end. This particular trail has a narrow, exposed section to Deer Creek Canyon faaaar below. I had never traversed the entire trail, so I didn't know what to expect up to that terrifying 200 yards or so.

The trail turned out to be rather mild. I was pleased that I was not upset with some of the steeper sections. The parts that I had thought were pretty exposed before, didn't seem that way from this other approach. Maybe because I wasn't already terrified by walking the shelf.

And then she appeared. The trail was snow packed, and I feared a little icy. Dick kindly tried to think of things that would help me get through this part of the trail with as little trauma as possible. He offered me his hiking pole which I eventually took. He offered me his moral support. And I think I did do a bit better than the last time. When I was three quarters of the way to the other side, I stopped and made myself look down. When I reached the end of the 200 yards of terror, I looked back to see part of my fear. A narrow entrance to an exposed trail with snow, ice, and rock. Seems simple to many, but it gets my heart rate up and my feet to slow down.

It's strange how thinking of falling can make you lose your balance. How being afraid makes you take smaller steps. And how looking back can help you see part of what made you afraid in the first place.

Winter Camping School Part I

I've begun a new adventure. It's called "Winter Camping School" with the Colorado Mountain Club. A few weeks ago, I attended my first lecture. We went over appropriate cold weather attire, cooking devices, and staying hydrated. As I stared mesmorized over the syllabus, I felt like I was holding a Little Orphan Annie secret decoder pin. This school was going to open up a winter wonderland of back-country snowshoeing for me.

But what ensued was a house of horrors lecture which mainly focused on the many (and I do mean many) ways in which you can die in the cold and altitude of back-country Colorado adventures. I felt panicky as I realized how much of the gear they were talking about I did not own. And not owning didn't seem like an option. One of the listed causes of death should have been heart attack upon reading your bill at REI.

My way of dealing with fear is humor. Or writing. Or climbing into my sleeping bag and pretending like I don't have to figure out the logistics of peeing in the snow. Or....

So, without further ado, this is what I learned during my first winter camping course lecture:

-You MUST drink water. PLENTY of water. In order to drink water, you must melt snow. In order to melt snow, you must have a stove. But make sure your stove works. Otherwise you'll have to get under the hood and do some field repair! But back to water.... If you do not drink enough water, you will get dehydrated. Or you will get Altitude Sickness. Either way, you will die.

-The next lecture was given by two women. Between the two of them, they must have owned nearly $2000 in outdoor technical clothing. What I learned is you must have proper clothing. It is imperative that you stay dry. If you get too hot, you will sweat. Your sweat will make you cold. If you get cold, hypothermia could set in and you will die. If you do not dress warm enough, you will get cold. If you get cold you will die. Make sure that you keep a nice Arizona winter temperature of approximately 60 degrees with no humidity going on under your jacket at all times. I guess winter romance is becomes out of the question...

All of this so terrified me I became hell bent on buying whatever I could to keep warm. So much so, that in a panic, I went to REI desperate for a "shell" (definitions to come), and paid $130.00 for one of the cheapest I could find and it didn't even fit. I picked up another $100 in miscelaneous items. As I tallied up the remaining items that I still had not purchased, I had another mini-heart attack. How did Jeremiah Johnson ever camp and walk around in winter without his $300 Atlas snowshoes; his $9.00 Nalgene bottle with a $12 cozy; his $130 primaloft outer shell, his $500 4 season tent....

Glossary

• Hypothermia is a fancy way of saying "You will freeze to death".
• REI is a camping store and that all Coloradans must have a working knowledge of.
  
• Shell is a jacket that is worn over all of your other clothes to keep you dry. Ideally it will be waterproof and breathable. Yet another glossary term:)
• Breathable fabric allows moisture to escape. It goes hand and hand with water proof.
• Altitude Sickness is a mountain illness. My experience with it is a head-ache and flu-like symptoms. It's a huge topic, far beyond one bullet point.