Grieving in the Mountains

View from La Plata Trail

Last Sunday I took a hike, literally. I wanted to get in one more good hike this summer, and if I waited until after my trip to Oklahoma this week, chances were the mountain tops would be snowed in. So I got up at 5AM and drove over to the trail head for La Plata Peak, a 14000 foot plus mountain in the Sawatch range, near Buena Vista. It was my second attempt to climb La Plata. The last time I got lost, wasting 4 hours, and had to turn around before I got to the top in order to get down before dark. This time I got started about 8 AM, which I figured would give me enough time for the grueling 4000 foot climb.

Shortly after starting up the trail, I started to notice mushrooms. The vegetation is never the same in the mountains, so there’s always something new to see. These mushrooms were golden in color and I wondered if they were the same golden mushrooms I had heard were good to eat. Jim would be interested in that, I thought.

It wasn’t long before I started noticing photo opportunities. The trail through the forest offered a lot of variety. The tall pines can create such a dense enclosure it’s almost like being indoors. In contrast are the Aspen groves. The sunlight shines through the Aspens’ tiny leaves and that, combined with the trees’ white bark, gives Aspen forests a bright open appearance. I took some camera shots of the trail through the pines and then aimed one up at the sky through the Aspens. I wished I could send prints to Jim. She always appreciated the beauty of the forest.

As the climb became steeper the trail followed a mountain stream. It’s hard to get the feel of rushing water from a photograph but I still can’t resist trying. I like to get right in the middle of the stream and watch as it rushes past me. It’s like being in the center of a waterfall. The streams erode the soil away from the tree roots to make interesting patterns, and I love the way the moss and other vegetation grows along the banks. Getting just the right angle can be challenging though. I didn’t fall into the water this time, but I did drop my GPS and lost a couple of batteries. Jim would have enjoyed that story, and then she would have scolded me for taking risks.

This hike was a little late in the season for wild flowers, but there were a lot of berries. There were many different kinds. The only ones I recognized for sure were the wild strawberries. They’re smaller than regular strawberries but they taste just as sweet. The bears are eating berries this time of year to fatten themselves up for hibernation.

I didn’t see any bears but they were on my mind. I don’t carry any weapons, only pepper spray. I figure that I make enough noise the bears will probably stay out of my way. I met a hiker on the trail who told me a story about a mountain lion who attacked his aunt, but was so weakened by starvation he died in the attempt. What a woman!

Jim would have rolled her eyes at this story I'll bet, but she did love animal stories, and I told her any that I heard. I remember rushing to tell her about the fox that chased a squirrel onto our roof, and the bear that tripped the automatic door opener at our local hospital’s ER. Luckily he didn’t go inside.

I hardly ever see a big animal on my hikes, only squirrels and chipmunks, who don’t usually sit still long enough for a portrait. The same goes for birds, although last winter I got a really good picture of a Stellar Jay for Jim. They are a brilliant blue color.

Once I got up above the tree line I started hearing the picas chirping. The pica is a little mouse that lives among the rocks at high altitudes. Their ears are perfectly rounded reminding you of Mickey Mouse. I got a good picture of one for Jim a couple of years ago.

Another critter you see a lot above the tree line is the yellow bellied marmot. Marmots are about the size of a big cat, with thick fur. They hibernate like the bears during the winter. I saw a really fat one on this trip. They’re a little shy and I was never able to get a good picture of one for Jim before she died.

When you climb above the tree line you can literally see for hundreds of miles. I took lots of pictures for Jim of the majestic views from mountain tops, but you can’t really capture it in a photograph. I tried to tell her though. I didn’t want to scare her so I didn’t tell her about the chill that goes up your spine when you’re walking along a ledge over a thousand foot drop off, of about how easy it is to lose your footing on the rocks.

Jim had a fear of heights, and she would cringe to hear my stories even though I tried to tone them down. She told me about visiting Seven Falls near Colorado Springs one summer after dropping me off at a summer music camp. She said, “I got so frightened Don (my dad) had to practically carry me down the trail.” Jim was puzzled by the experience. She said, "I was never afraid of heights as a child. Bob and I used to climb up high in the big trees in Mamma's yard, and we also played on the roof of our house. I was never afraid then."

As I walked back down the trail, I realized that I had been thinking about Jim all day long, taking pictures to show her, planning how I would describe my experiences to her. Thinking back, that’s how it had always been during my hikes.

I began to wonder if it's time for me to give up hiking now that Jim is no longer here. After all it's pretty strenuous exercise at my age and I don't have anyone to go along with me who shares my interest. Sarah, my wife, is uneasy about my mountain treks, and would rather I stay home.
But looking back, I really did enjoy spending the day with my mother, so I guess I'll continue hiking, as long as my body holds up, and as long as I still can take Jim along, if only in my imagination.