I suppose I owe Magical Missives an update. Or something. Maybe not an update. Daily events are pretty boring until they add up to something.
Where to begin? What's happened since the last entry? You see what I mean? Hell, when was the last entry? What was it about? I don't quite remember.
Oh yes. It was Arizona the dog.
My folks had him cremated and will spread his ashes on their land, and in their garden. They saved a small jar of said ashes for me (per my request) to take to the top of Wheeler Peak the next time I visit Taos, New Mexico.
At 13,161 feet, Wheeler Peak is the highest point in the state. I made it to the top once, way back in 1996. I was thirty years old, then, and in tremendous physical shape; much better than I am now. Arizona accompanied me on my expedition. We were both so tired that, at the peak, we leaned against each other for support and stared, dazedly, down at the vast world below.
Poor Arizona. I really should not have made him go with me, but I was younger & more foolish and I didn't know any better. He was so tired and sore that all he did for days afterwards was sleep. (I was pretty worn out, too.) Everytime I came near him he would make pathetic noises and limp away, for fear that I was going to make him do it again. But I wouldn't have. Nope. Never again. Poor guy. However, I will make sure that some part of him ascends to the highest high once more.
As long as I can stay healthy, I'll do it. I'll get myself in the kind of shape required to make that climb again.
I tried a second time to hike to Wheeler Peak, back in 2002. I got into great shape for it (stair mastering as much as two hours a day) and was ready to go, but my hiking partners (who shall remain nameless, and should have stuck to bookselling) were neither as buff nor as gung ho as I. We only managed a short stroll up the giant's ankle before turning around.
But now I have a bold new volunteer in the person of my good buddy Jordan. He is willing (and I think) able to do it. Maybe next summer sometime. After Amanda has her baby, of course. Maybe we can take him with us.
Probably not.
But Jordan, my friend, you have sights such as the following to look forward to:
Above is Wheeler Peak as seen from La Cal Basin. It takes an hour or more to cross this particular vista. The path zigzags along the edge of the basin to make the steep climb possible. (On the return trip, I said, "Screw the zigzagging!" and cut a straight line down the center.) There's a little dome in the middle of the basin called Point 13,045. The peak, itself, is a dark and challenging shadow in the upper right corner.
Shown above: Summit Ridge. I remember making it to a tall mountain top, very weary, thinking I'd reached the peak, but then I saw this natural mountain causeway, balanced precariously atop a ridge. It lead off towards the real prize: Wheeler Peak. (This photo was taken from the peak looking back; the homeward path for tired travellers like Arizona and me.)
Among the many denizens of the Wheeler Peak trail, are bighorn sheep like the ones pictured above. There are also many mountain lions, grizzly bears, alligators, anacondas, King Kong, Godzilla, and Jack the Ripper.
Actually, the trip is fairly safe, and well trodden. I saw a number of people who made the journey before me. This lessened the unique quality of my climb, somewhat (meaning I'm no Sir Edmund "Because It's There" Hillary), but actually served to strenghten my resolve. If they can do it, so can I! And on the way down, I in turn, became the incentive for others to make it to the top.
At one point, when I thought I was totally alone, strolling happily along with my walking stick, I started belting out Led Zep's "Over the Hills and Far Away" in as strident a rock 'n' roll voice as I could muster. Then I realized that, though I didn't actually see anyone else at the time, my heavy metal hollering was probably travelling across the mountainside, yodel-like, to other hikers.
Sure enough, a little later, as I passed some ascending mountaineers, one wise guy says, "Hi there, Robert Plant." (Such a wit. A regular Oscar Wilde.)
I was a bit embarassed, but, a little further on, I started singing again.
And, yes, though it was a hot summer day down in the ski valley and Taos proper, there was still snow up on the mountain tops. And Rerun, who was there in Taos at the time, was very glad to see me when I got back. And Arizona was very pleased to see my folks.
And we all ate a huge dinner.
(Note: the pictures in this entry were not taken by me. I did not have a camera at the time. They are all downloads from the net.)
