(Made summit on 01-24-2019) For my first stunning feat of daring adventure on my Peak List I chose to summit the first peak I see now as I raise my gaze from my page steadily upward past the crawdad shell on my windowsill nature altar, past my blue Toyota Echo, past the "gun" spraying ditch water out over paddock 2 in the goats' pasture, some Cottonwoods, a distant cherry orchard, and a stretch of yellowing grass: our beloved "P" Hill (AKA Cedar Hill), its P for Paonia turned to my left toward downtown at an angle that looks like a white smudge from my vantage point. It's the closest peak I see from my tiny house, the most in-focus amid the summer rain that's falling now and obscuring all the mountains in my view to varying degrees. The feat of this ascent was perhaps not so much in the climb itself, as in motivating my chosen human climbing partner to undertake it. N is a self-professed lover of yoga, dance, and some other forms of exercise, but a hater of hiking of any kind, particularly uphill. Also, it was winter at the time, so at least one of my peaks was climbed under cold and snowy conditions. "Wear boots," I told her, though for the record I failed to take my own advice on that score. As you can see in this photo. It's ok, though. I'm tough. We drove (yup) to the cemetery on the southwest side of the mountain and parked at the bottom of the last bit of road (yup) leading up to the summit. There was a good bit of snow on that last bit of road, and it was satisfyingly steep, though not terribly far. Unless you're N. Then it was very, very, very far. She did, I believe, complain piteously almost the entire way up, as I had been duly warned she would do. She was, however, smiling. I suspect she may have been sneaking some fun-having along the way. After a herculean struggle up slippery slopes trodden only by a couple of brave souls before us, we arrived at the top. "We made it!!!" We cried. We had to wade through thigh-deep snowdrifts to gaze out over the Paonia downtown. N's spirits were considerably brightened even beyond the fun of grumbling up the hill. She positively glowed. As we were admiring the view, a sprightly little willy-willy of a wind funnel bounded up the hill toward us, stopping just feet from where we stood, as if to say hello. Clothed in sparkling snow, it could hardly be called a dust devil. N expressed our mutual awe and wonder by exclaiming, "What is that?!?" with emphasis at least seven or eight times. I could only grin. We then made our way over to the two picnic tables (yup), where I sang my Mountain Song to set a tone of reverence, and then endeavored to fulfill what I felt the mountain was asking of me as an offering. It asked me to describe what I saw from there through my human eyes. Somehow it seemed that my seeing could enrich the mountain's "seeing", could enhance its slow knowing. I don't know for sure, but I did my best. It certainly awakened me further to my surroundings, to pay closer attention to all I could see from there, how much there was to see and notice from there, and how much I tend from necessity to overlook. My inner map of how things are connected was strengthened. I felt how my human way of seeing and knowing is only one tiny way among many, but none-the-less bright and magnificent for all that, and I was struck that a being like a mountain might possibly be interested in what I saw. N and I sat in the sun at the picnic tables and talked for a while. The snow had melted and refrozen into cylinders dropping through the holes in the metal of the table tops. From below it looked weird and interesting. Our conversation took a turn to the depths, tracing childhood trauma evoked by current relationships and our desire to hold and heal our inner children. I felt gratitude to feel the safety of revealing deeper aspects of ourselves in our budding friendship. We did snap some summit photos to show we had been. "Now, N, you can say you climbed a mountain!" It was relatively painless, wasn't it? Perspective was gained - in the heights and the depths. My Peak List had begun!
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Amber DarkriverI am a collaborative experiential artist residing in Paonia, Colorado. Check out my Artist Manifesto! Archives
January 2020
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