Wow. As I sit here writing, I just noticed that it’s raining again—one of those delicious, soaking showers. It must be almost a week now that the Global Warming Gods have taken pity on us!
Now, let me share with you two of my favorite verses from John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High:”
He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below
He saw everything as far as you can see
And they say that he got crazy once, and he tried to touch the sun
And he lost a friend, but kept the memory
Now he walks in quiet solitude, the forests and the streams
Seeking grace in every step he takes
His sight has turned inside himself to try and understand
The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake
I call the first verse Fly and the second verse Grace.
In the second decade of my life in the mountains, a few friends and I segued into moving fast and light in the mountains. We had tired of lugging 45-, 50-, even 60-pound backpacks stuffed with everything for recreating life as comfortably as at home. We had come to believe that our purpose in being in the mountains in the first place was to enjoy the freedom of flying up mountain valleys, along jagged ridges, and trying to touch the sun from peaks known only to us.
Yes, we called it flying. I don’t remember how or when we coined the phrase. But, it meant a lot to us. We would stand at a trailhead gazing upon cathedral mountains we had never climbed, mapping out a route and tracing ridgelines with our hands. Finally, we would turn to each other and quietly say, “Let’s fly!” And, man, could we fly. We could cover 20 miles or ascend 10,000 feet in a single day.
We found that the biggest key to successful flying is to never stop. If you must, stop in place. Don’t take your pack off and never sit down. It helps immensely to have the primary things you need like food and water in pockets and not inside your pack.
The funny thing about flying is flyers are actually moving very slowly. To fly for long periods of time, you want to move as efficiently and deliberately as possible, maximizing balance and leg strength. You are even conscious of at what angle you are placing your boot. It’s almost like dancing across the rocks.
As the years have crept by, I have segued once again to my last phase of life in the mountains. Grace. I am trying to understand as I walk in quiet solitude the woods of our property. And, as the verse goes, I seek grace in every step I take. Even though it has been a long, long time, I can still feel what it’s like to fly across the mountains.
