Moonlit Tree-runs
With holes in my shoes, and a spark of light in my eyes, I looked up towards my Mother Mountain. Strong and steadfast, bold and magnificent, she was and will forever remain, perfect in my sight. For when I sought beauty, she would display her splendor. And when I sought adventure, she would display her vast potential. Nurturing my soul, my Mother Mountain cradled me in the bosom of her natural and wild serenity.
And as I stood on a bustling stone bridge in Manitou Springs, overlooking her ancestral curves and weathered edges, I began to dream a little. With a slight breeze, I could hear her subtle music sing- it made my soul dance. My imagination tingled, and like a flower unfolding, an idea emerged from the fertile soil of my mind.
Could I dance upon the mountain? After all, I had a snowboard, and it certainly wouldn’t be my first time hiking up the peak. I knew there was an abandoned ski resort on her northern slope, and that if there were snow and trees- then there had to be tree runs to ride.
I hadn’t heard of anyone attempting to hike and ride it like this in the past, but I was living in the present and in that present moment, it seemed incredibly possible. I knew that this dream had a purpose, and my purpose was to fulfill it.
I was taught that God experiences life through us, and thus seeks to partake in life’s grandest expression, through our lives. Therefore when the Almighty Universe inspired a mere 18 year old kid like me, to hike up a mountain, in order to snowboard down it, on a trail that didn’t technically exist, it was really seeking to experience itself; to satisfy its wild curiosity and cravings for adventure, through my experience of it. Thus,
Life called out to me, tugging at my soul, urging me to taste my full potential. And while all are called, few have chosen to listen- even fewer to act.
Yet I chose to listen, and to take a chance.
It was the dreamer in me- the composer who practiced living life as if it was an art- who wrote my story; who crafted my humble life into a grand adventure. It was the free spirit in me who wished to soar through the skies, and witness beauty. It was the wise inner child in me, who taught me to play, in the most epic of ways. And oh, how we danced in the possibility!
The early morning glow of the new day’s sun painted a passionate crimson sky, and although I had risen hours earlier than usual, I was more energized than ever. More than just blood, electricity pulsed up and down my arms, enrapturing my excited heart; surging through my entire body. I was just getting started, but I was beyond ready!
My bag was packed, and my snowboard was securely strapped to my back- I was set. Rubber rolled along the asphalt as I rode my mountain bike out of the driveway, through the city, to the base of my Mother Mountain, Pikes Peak.
When I had made it to the trailhead, I quickly zipped off to visit a tree behind some bushes, which was off the beaten path. There I stashed my bike under some branches, and wove the rims into the grass. I traveled back to the trail, and saw the seemingly endless set of stairs in front of me- it didn’t scare me.
The Manitou Springs Incline is considered the crown jewel of physical competence in the region. This mile long staircase extends nearly 2000’ up a mountain side, and touches up to the sky, where the eagles fly.
I had once climbed it with a guitar on my back, and then proceeded to play tune in a tree at the top. In doing so, I temporarily bewildered, and befriend a man named Austin. As he took a long drag of his celebratory blunt, he looked around in confusion- for he could hear music coming from somewhere, but saw no one in sight. It wasn’t until he looked up to see me strumming away, that he got clarity about the situation. Seeing such a peculiar sight, he instantly declared our friendship, and invited me to a Hungarian House Party- which got pretty wild (to say the least) - but that’s a tale for another time.
In this adventure, I didn’t even make it up the Incline… without losing my hat. I stopped mere yards from the top before I realized what I had lost. Upon my new enlightenment, I stashed my bag in some bushes, strolled back down the stairs, and retrieved my hat at the bottom. Then I proceeded up the seemingly endless set of stairs, once again.
When I finally made it to the top, with all my gear, I immediately decided to lose the trail for a moment. I wanted to find a grand view to soak in, and some water to soak up. It wasn’t long before I found a perfectly perched boulder to settle down on. So I climbed up, and looked out towards the vast city scape, listening to the soft roar of the rivers of traffic.
“I can see my house from here!” exclaimed my inner child!
With delightfully curious eyes, we scanned the horizon.
Pine tree branches swayed in the wind, and I silently watched birds surf on the ocean of mountain air, riding waves of crisp wind. I tossed a couple organic raspberries into my mouth, and a delightful thought oozed into my mind.
“Hydration, Nutrition, Breath-
Couple these with Love, and I will give you all the strength you need.”
I looked out upon the vast sky, and smiled a prayer of gratitude for this remembrance.
I wanted to chew on this concept for a while.
Beyond a paved road on prose, I wanted to journey in poetry of thought, and synchronize the words of my heart, with the rhythmic beat of my footsteps. More than just listening and observing, I wanted to dance my way through this free verse symphony of life- and I wanted to do it my way.
Like shooting stars, thoughts raced like brilliant lights across the sky of my mind, and gradually faded into the night; only to be remembered in emotion.
I remember, quite clearly, learning this though-
“There is Potential in Desire.”
This resonated deep within me, and soon became a major cornerstone concept in my life. Thus, I had to ask myself,” What did I truly desire?”
At the moment, I couldn’t quite grasp it. I knew the answer was already within me- I would simply need to chip away at the marble of my mind to find my inner truth. I tossed back a couple more raspberries, and with the delight of a bird in flight, I spent some time dancing in philosophy.
I couldn’t spend all day bewildered on a boulder though, so I packed up and journeyed on. Five miles later, I found Barr Camp. I inscribed my name in the ledger, and briefly wrote my recent insight into the comment section, “There is Potential is Desire”. I defended my statement when the Park Rangers inquired what I was up to.
I told them plainly that I was going to hike up, and then snowboard down the mountain. They asked what trail I was going to take. I wanted to provide them with an answer to alleviate their concern, but I didn’t even know if there was a trail to take. I simply knew it was possible. Fretfully, they dismissed me as a wild eyed lune, and suggested I ditch this dream for safety’s sake.
It probably was sound advice, but I didn’t mind taking risks. I assured them- I’d be careful.
I traced my finger over a topographical map, and gave them a brief idea of what I had planned. Then, after waving goodbye to the wary rangers, I left camp, to proceed up the mountain. My enthusiasm wasn’t dulled by their disbelief, but my body did feel rather drained from the ascent. The energy of my initial excitement left me, but in its place, a new breath of determination gave life to my bones and tired muscles.
“Hydration, Nutrition, Breath-
Couple these with Love, and I will give you all the strength you need.”
Then, with a full, slow inhale, filled with imagination, I took in the beauty that surrounded me. Inspired, I held the breath in for another brief moment. Then as I let it go, I felt an invigorating source of life flow through me once again. Like a fire, my body began to warm up to the idea of progress- up this mountain, through life and all of its difficulties, wherever; I wouldn’t let previous defeat, or the snow appearing at my feet stop me. I was making my way up this mountain!
Looking down at the clouds that stretched over the city, I paused for a moment. “Had I made it to heaven? Or was that just the elevation?”
It wasn’t long before I progressed to the point of exploration, going beyond what already been established, into the unknown. The sun was still high in the sky, and I guessed it was about three in the afternoon. Finally, I had made it to timberline!
I pulled my self aside from the beaten path to reconnect with Source, and enjoy some physical sustenance. In full awareness of the juicy tomatoes, and crisp lettuce; in full gratitude of the slick cucumber slices and nutritious onions; and in full appreciation for the life of the chicken, who was now giving a product of its life, to me- I found every bit of my sandwich to be delicious. Consciously consuming, every taste was a treat in which I gave thanks.
I was even blessed with the company of two bluebirds, who appeared to enjoy my sandwich crumbs, as much I enjoyed my sandwich. I hadn’t realized it until then, but I was on a date with Divinity. I was in great company, in a beautiful place, enjoying a delicious meal- the whole experience left me enraptured in the romance of life.
I wrapped up what was left of my sandwich, and wandered west. Eventually the trail became a distant reference point, and the increasing amounts of snow started to become a real challenge.
The white blanket that was spread over the mountaintop had a rigid and crunchy shell, and a powdery core. As I proceeded to walk across it, my feet would sporadically plunge deep into the white earth, burying my boots in the soft snow.
Utilizing the skills acquired from playing “hot lava” as a kid, I found a small boulder field to skip along. This quickened my progress for a while, but soon enough, I found myself confronted with a real challenge. A massive glacier stood in my path; 30 yards long, and 300 yards down, this icy snowpack took the form of a deadly slide, whose bottom resembled an Olympic Jump, and whose landing resembled a jagged rock pit. And although it might have looked like fun, I wasn’t letting my inner child slip down this slide- I still needed to make it home, alive.
So I took a deep breath, folded my hand into a fist, and then drove my glove deep into the snow. My foot followed its lead and kicked in a foothold. From there I shuffled into these hand and footholds, and punch by punch, kick by kick, created my own path. With an icy fist, I fought my way across the snow-packed madness.
I took a moment, mid-glacier, to form a snowball in my hand. I released it, and let it go. As it rolled down the slope, it gained mass and momentum, and eventually catapulted itself up into the sky. Suspended in thin air for a second, with a thud, it found its final resting place impaled on a rock. I didn’t want to be that snowball.
Grappling the glacier, I eventually made it past the snow mass. A couple steps of relief followed- then alas, another Glacier appeared! Momentarily overwhelmed, the palm of my hand smacked my forehead, and I let out a sigh. “O golly, here we go again”.
With an inhale, I moved forward. Throwing punches at the icy wall, I was at it again; kicking, punching, shuffling, huffing and puffing. It was no easy feat, but I made it. Still, to ensure I was up to par on my glacier grappling skills, The Wild gave me a third glacier to cross.
When the forth glacier dared to challenge me, I laughed in denial, “O Hell no! This has been terrifyingly fun and all, but I didn’t come here to grapple glaciers.” So I scanned the horizon for another route.
I was in luck! There was a route through a boulder field, which looked like it would lead me to a good hillside to start snowboarding on. Growing up in Woodland Park, Colorado, scrambling on rocks was in my blood. It was my favorite pastime, and at this present time, it was clearly the best option. I climbed up into the rustic rubble and began to scramble around.
The rocks resembled castle ruins, and the kingdom it looked over, stretched across state lines. Although the landscape was bold and unyielding, I was still wondering,” Who put this jungle gym on top of the mountain? This is fun!”
But I guess it wasn’t all fun and games; I had nearly forgotten about the snowboard on my back. I went out on a ledge, to reach for the next hold, and then felt the restraint of a snared snowboard. Somehow my board was wedged between two rocks. Miles and miles from any sort of help, I found myself hugging the side of a stone cliff for dear life, immobilized with apprehension.
If I couldn’t unlock my snowboard from this boulder, I was bound to either lose my balance, or my strength, on this ledge. And below the ledge, stood twenty feet of nothing, and an unforgiving stone, which would defiantly break bone. I wasn’t ready to subscribe to that fate, so I prayed to be saved. And I was; sometimes salvation is just that easy.
The fingertips of an angel gracefully unhooked my board from the stone, and I carefully continued down, through the ominous boulders.
A little shook up, I noticed the sun slowly falling from the sky. I still had another hillside to climb to get to where I wanted to be, so I wasted little time in getting back to it. The hillside I was now confronted with, involved a mix of swimming through powder, and climbing up scattered boulders. There was even a point where climbing a tree actually brought me up to the higher hillside, so I could continue my journey.
Once I made it to the top, I realized that this is where I wanted to be. So I unloaded my pack and changed into more fitting attire. I threw some snow pants on and traded out my work shoes out for some snowboarding boots. I looked up at the now colored sky, and smiled. I had made it!
Slowly, I watched the sun set and the moon rise to new heights. It bloomed in its full radiance, lending a soft glow to the landscape. I clicked in the latch which strapped my helmet on, and I set off- to experience the unknown.
It’s amazing how something can sound quite easy- yet prove to be really difficult. For instance, when I thought of hitting tree runs down a mountain, I remembered the refined hills of Breckenridge and Monarch. -Oh, how they would wind and weave in their near perfect flow. Sun Mountain on the other hand- she was wild! Unmanicured, she was beauty in the raw, and thus tested the strength and ability of all of those who sought her glory. It didn’t help that the snow was thinning out.
Down the steep slope, I navigated the darkened hillside, and in a grand meeting of the elements, my board felt the abrasive handshake of every rock and log which reached out from the shallow snow. Then, as I made my way through the crowds of tree limbs, I balled up like Bowzer to blast through them. This method wasn’t the safest- but it was the fastest. Yet slow and steady wins the race, and in my rushing forward, a branch reached out, and threw me on my back.
While gathering my composure, I could see my water bottle roll farther and farther down the hill, until it buried itself in the darkness. It’s funny how such a moment can really make you thirsty. I began to feel this sensation, yet had to fight it- I was out of water. It didn’t matter though. I was making progress down the mountain, and soon enough, I could figure out a solution.
Eventually the snow thinned out so much, that I had to unstrap my bindings and continued on foot. Eventually, I had to stop- beauty required it of me.
I found myself in awe, in the middle of an oval clearing of trees. Unblemished snow, a foot deep, blanketed the ground. The full moon lit up the land in supreme perfection, and an Undeniable Peace settled into the area. With her unseen hand, Mother Nature touched my very soul, and in her timeless love, I was comforted.
I continued on until I saw the city lights. From this view, I knew where to set up camp. And by set up camp, I mean build a campfire. I wasn’t planning on this adventure taking so long, so I didn’t bring any supplies. Yet I was resourceful- and they say that’s the greatest resource. So I gathered up a large pile of wood, and stacked it by a boulder. I formed the fallen timber into wooden walls, and with the boulder, formed a wind barrier around my campfire. Then I crept into the sweet spot in between the warm fire and the heat reflecting stone; this was home.
I was still thirsty, and knew I needed to get hydrated. So I dug deep into the possibilities, (and my backpack), to find the last bit of my sandwich. I knew it wasn’t smart to eat in a survival situation if I didn’t have water, because it takes water to digest. But, I noticed the plastic bag that it was wrapped in, and wanted to use it.
So I finished up the last couple bites, and scattered the crumbs. Then I filled up the bag with snow and placed it close enough to the campfire to melt the snow, but not the plastic. Soon enough, I was hydrated again. I had a meal in me, and with the warm of the fire, I was actually pretty cozy.
I looked up at the heavens, then across the horizon of city lights, and found it rather hard to tell where one stopped, and the other began. For blanketed in darkness, both the lights of the sky, and glow of the earth, burst through. I thought back to an Allen Watts lecture, when he talked about how,” We are the light that shines though.” I fell asleep, and despite the cold hard ground, I felt comforted knowing that my little campfire and I weren’t the only light upon the vast horizon.
The next morning greeted me with a cold sunrise. Like a subtle alarm, the brisk mountain air lightly shook me from my sleep. I clutched for blankets that weren’t there, and then rolled over to see if there was any more wood. A white smoke danced on the embers, and wafted in my face. I was down to tinder- scraps of little to nothing.
Soon, I decided it would be more comfortable to get up, and get moving, than to endure my current situation. So I threw some snow on the fire and left for home. I still didn’t know how far home was though; I just knew it was downhill. I wished there was still snow, and imagined what it would be like, hitting this section of the mountain. In my mind, I played with the idea, but my body longed for it. These miles and miles ahead of me would be nothing if I could slide down it. Yet step by step, I made my way.
Then at last, after a mountain of solitude, I found evidence of civilized life. Paw prints raced tracks across the snow, complimented by a pair of foot prints. I had to put on my detective cap for a second to figure out which direction the two came from. Clearly they hiked back on the same trail they came in, and as soon as I could figure out which boot-print laid on top of the other, I could get my bearings.
A mile or so later I found the road. Not only could I now feel the asphalt beneath my feet, I could feel the ache of fatigue pressing into my body. Determination and desperation battled exhaustion for the rest of the decent, and slowly my energy drained away.
I had finally made it to the highway, but didn’t have any juice in my phone to find a ride. So I raised my thumb. I was exhausted- and you could see it. I probably looked like the mountain just spat me out of her vastness- cause that’s how I felt. Yet that fatigue eased into gratitude when a suburban pulled over to the side of the road. A woman, probably in her forties, greeted me with a smile and asked where I was going.
“I just need to get down the pass to Manitou”, I replied.
“Hop in” ,she said. She had a kind smile and compassionate eyes. “You remind me of my son! He lives up near Breckenridge, and apparently hitchhikes up there quite a bit to get to the resort.”
Instead of passing me by, because of the common belief that “it’s dangerous to pick up hitchhikers”, she was able to relate to my situation, and decided to do something about it. With a raised thumb, I called out to many- but she was the one who chose to help; she's an angel.