by susan | Sep 8, 2022 | Uncategorized
a few days ago I hiked to grandeur peak, a local favorite that begins with a steep-sided upward journey alongside a shaded creek, then moves through a series of switchbacks to reach a view-dripping saddle, and ends with a twenty-minute climb graced with unending vistas, a few brief scrambles, and finally a landing on a rocky, scrubby peak. the brief “scrambles” have toe-holds and often good handholds, and if you reflect, it’s evident that most of us who utilize this route experience the same thought process, the same decisions, and the same method of getting securely up (or down) the sketchier places. my feet seek out the exact same ledges those before me have.
one such place has a tree on the right of the trail, and after I grabbed one of its old, stunted, broken-off outshoots to keep myself upright on the steep slope, I turned around and went back to take a picture of that smooth, polished-by-thousands-of-hands-over-the-years branch. if you look closely, you’ll see how the branch on the left is darker, burnished over time by me, and by people just like me; the branch has been buffed by sweaty palms, gloved and mittened hands, cool grasps of those who hike in the chilled early morning.
as I hike such a traveled trail, I realize what binds us is much greater than what sets us apart. we each love, seek to be loved, strive to plant ourselves firmly wherever we are, and reach for that which might stabilize us.
I reach for the polished branch without much thought; it’s almost instinctual to grasp what can keep us upright.
by susan | Aug 15, 2022 | Uncategorized
here I go again, giddy over a word.
it began with research into carabiners, which led to research into climbing ropes, which led me to attempt to understand rope construction. my head began to spin as I tried to understand the three-strand hawser rope, because “with the lay” and “against the lay” are unfamiliar terms, and possibly also because the accompanying graphic was from the 1943 Seamen’s Pocketbook.
I decided I didn’t really need to understand that design, essentially because the climbing world moved on.
the latest iterations of climbing rope are light years beyond those used a century ago, which has led to an increased number of climbers surviving falls. most significant was the discovery of nylon, and its introduction into climbing rope, adding elasticity and strength. in 1953 the “kernmantle” design was born, brought to life by a german company, edelrid, and remains key to climbing ropes to this day; its mantle and core provide strength and stretchiness for dynamic—more elastic—and for static—less elastic—ropes.
I smile at the name for this design, yet its origin is not complex: the “kern” or core consists of nylon filaments which are spun into yarn, which is then twisted to form a ply, and then a few of these are twisted together, creating a bundle. several bundles form the kern. the mantle is simply a nylon sheath that is braided around the core or kern. ta-da.
I often think about the multitudes of people who have eased my path in this life. from safe climbing ropes to motors and engines to medical discoveries to electricity, to the convenience of grocery stores and internet shopping, to the gifts of companionship and camaraderie and support, I have benefitted tremendously, in ways I cannot even express, from the creativity of others who came before me.
if I can but pass along love and gratitude, is that enough?
by susan | Jul 18, 2022 | Uncategorized
twenty years ago I was committed to living a life without regret.
now I realize the naivety of that position, and that I could likely fill a page or two–or ten–with the things I’ve done, said, or chosen that I now truly wish I hadn’t.
perhaps this is simply the wisdom that comes with age (that is so very hard to type, this acknowledgment that I have absolutely aged), with wider perspective, with greater awareness. regardless of its origins,
it has led me to a place of surrender. to truly accept that all is as it is, and to understand that my trying to make things happen is rarely helpful to anyone. to accept that my role right now is to be aware, insightful, patient, grateful, generous, and loving. to have those intangible, oh-so-difficult-to hold-onto things we call trust and faith.
to have a deep trust in the universe. I’ve tried it the other way, and now I surrender.
so far, it’s feeling pretty good. I hope that my list of regrets will stay at its current length, that I’m done adding to those pages.
by susan | Jul 10, 2022 | Uncategorized
yesterday my bicycle got a new cassette, and my shifting and pedaling this morning were smooth and lovely.
and my route included about 5 miles of newly-laid asphalt: heaven!
but what completely made my morning was the guy in the canyon who called me a bad ass. I followed him for the first three miles up, a discrete distance behind, and then passed him, saying I know you’ll come catch me, to which he responded eventually, but you’re a bad ass!
I became the rabbit, of course, and had to stay steady. two miles later I heard his labored breathing behind me at the top of a rise, but he backed off as the road eased. during the last tenth of a mile I heard him behind me again, breathing heavily, and as he passed me at the crest he offered me a fist bump and said, nice pace, you are a bad ass!
yes, I’m still glowing.
whoever you are, thanks for making my day.
by susan | Jun 29, 2022 | Uncategorized
I’ve had many love affairs in my life, some with men, and many others, with words.
presently I’m in love with uncompaghre. un-com-pa-gre. what a beautiful word.
and even more beautiful, the uncompaghre wilderness. oh, my heart swells, takes over.
uncompaghre is said to mean “red water sitting,” “red lake,” or “where water makes rocks red,” and even “dirty water.” the uncompaghre wilderness spreads itself across the north-central region of the san juan mountains in southwest colorado. I first visited this area a dozen years ago, and perhaps left a piece of myself there for I have felt a pull to return ever since. (to be accurate, I haven’t stepped foot in the actual wilderness, have only been in the uncompaghre national forest, but my romantic, creative, writer’s soul is captured by the words uncompaghre wilderness. poetic license.)
this piece of myself has been calling to me for years, and it’s time to reconnect. I have a date, a reservation, and a flutter in my heart.
as I travel I note names, roll them around my tongue, sprout questions about their origins. who named this town-river-mountain, and what roots belong to that name? on my drive to oregon last month I crossed “thousand creeks” and instantly spun off into story after story, my own included, possibilities, dreams, reflections, wonderings. I made that name the title of an as-of-yet unwritten book.
in every journal I own, random words dot the pages, those I want to remember because they delight me, spur me on, send chills, provide a sense of awe: buckboard, chrysalis, targhee, caribou, amorphous, ephemeral…
and uncompaghre, where I left a bit of myself.
I’ll let you know if I find her there.
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