We hiked on Saturday from our house, the ski chalet, and I saw a puff of wind blow yellow leaves off an aspen, like a swarm of bees buzzing out to collect autumnal nectar. We spent the whole day exploring the mountains behind our house. Naturally, the conversation turned to skiing, discussing our goals of the coming season and our triumphs of the previous season. By Sunday evening I had ordered a new set of touring bindings and Johnny had a new backpack in the mail. The way I figure it: if you live in a place like this, your mental health hinges on how into winter you get. I hear moans and groans at a time like this, this glorious season change, because they don't want the summer to end. Find a winter sport you like, set some goals, invest in the right kind of gear, and GET INTO IT!
Sunday we climbed Emma:
There she is in the background, that peak on the left. It was a long day, but how great is it to climb a 13,000 foot peak by walking out your door, across town and up a lovely aspen-shaded trail? Summiting Emma was significant to us for a few reasons. First of all, she is kind of scary. Second of all, the class of climbing on Emma is the next level that we are facing with our 14er accomplishments. And third, Emma was Johnny's dad's favorite peak and we wanted to get up there and toss some ashes.
So we breakfasted on pumpkin-pecan pancakes, marched up her slopes and navigated the sketchy spots until we popped out on the summit. On the final stretch, in "the chimney" I made a big move from not-so stable footing to stamping my foot into the snow, and literally saw Grandpa John give me a fist pump, and I knew we were going to make it. Here is Johnny tossing some ashes into the cold clear mountain air, with lovely Sneffles in the background:
I did the same, and I have to admit being on that summit, with the support of his dad, flinging him free into the clouds, and knowing we had just raised the ceiling on what peaks are now possible for us, was emotional for me. We stayed long enough to soak it up, eat some dried mango slices, and descend to a grassy area for more food. Look at our incredible ski area and massive Bear Creek in the background, so patient, waiting for the inevitable blanket of snow:
Here is what I have noticed about my mountaineering skills following the Event in the water in August: I am less fearful. Areas or moves that would have made me hesitate or even turn back, I now seem to register as, Well, that looks kind of exposed, but, whatever... and I just move through them and keep working towards my goals. I have not yet been able to really put my finger on exactly what is different, and I can tell you that it has nothing to do with me putting myself at risk more than before. It's different. Scary stuff just doesn't seem as scary. At least not on land. It might be a whole different kettle of fish once I am back in the ocean again. For now, I am just recognizing that there has been a subtle yet distinctive shift, and it is working for me.
Kelly, I know you are reading and I wanted to include a photo of the "Honolulu Sunset" in bloom, our condolence orchid:
We have so many awesome photos of this fall, I thought I would just include the link here.
The kidlings come back tomorrow and we are hoping for another desert camping trip, the temperature is dropping and it will be nice to get back out in that quiet landscape for a couple of nights.
Oh, I forgot to mention that I am learning to play the ukulele! It is super fun. Good 'ole mom caught wind of my intentions, and hit the pawn shops in Durham until she bargained me a nice little 'uke to strum away on. There are tons of online lessons. I will let you know how it goes. So far I can move between F and C chord without looking at my hands. It is slow going but so much to learn something new.
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