I. Mountain Therapy in Ouray, CO
Preface: Please excuse the boring, robotic prose in my first publication on Medium. I have day job hovering over a desk that is heavily weighted towards the left-side of the brain. Creativity is exercised mostly in finding ways to communicate clearly and concisely without coming across as a total asshole. Medium offers an outlet for more creative and honest writing, of which I’d like to do more of. I like the simple format and the ability to easily share another creative hobby: photography. Consider this a warm up publication. Maybe the first of many warm up publications.
Life in the outdoors or life in the city? In recent years I’ve struggled more and more to answer this question. For most of my adult life I’ve chosen to live in cities. I write “chose” - as if it were by free will - but it could just as easily been the consequence of fate, blind ambition or even delusion. Whatever the reason, first it was Los Angeles, then Phoenix and then Washington DC with some time in Baltimore and six months in St. Petersburg and Kaliningrad, Russia. Now, I’m in Chicago. As much as I love some aspects of city life, increasingly I just want to get away from it. Admittedly, this election season and your Facebook posts are turning me into a giant misanthrope. I need to get away from people— for my own wellness. When I get away, I most often find myself in the mountains.
I don’t consider myself a very religious or spiritual person. Yet being in the presence of these massive rock formations can trigger an awesome transcendental feeling. Mountains are nature in raw form, the product of a powerful, living, aging planet. I don’t want to just admire them from a distance - I’m drawn to them. I want to be on them, move through them and climb them. I want to hear the sounds of the wilderness. Hearing the simple sounds of birds singing to each other, the raindrops from a passing shower on the enveloping forest leaves, water streaming through a creek or even the drone of locusts in the “mountains” of Shenandoah have a powerful effect. They take tug at some primal part of my being and soul. They return me to a more natural mental state, free from the sabotage of human society and of civilization.
My most recent therapy session took place in the beautiful San Juan Mountains of southwest Colorado over Memorial Day weekend. I chose as a base the small historic mining town of Ouray, the “Switzerland of America”. Ouray is known for its ice climbing and the climbing culture in general is strong in Colorado. I’ve given the hobby of mountain climbing serious consideration even if it means being limited to gyms in Chicago most of the time, but given the outcome of a recent battle with gravity during a Tough Mudder race in Wisconsin, I’m satisfied with a rigorous hike. (I broke my collarbone severely enough to require surgery to mend it. A titanium plate, some screws and six months of healing and I’m fortunately almost back to “normal”. Thank you modern medicine and health insurance).
My older brother drove up from Arizona to meet me in Ouray. We weren’t acclimated to the higher altitudes, but we still managed to cover a lot of ground. Over the course of the weekend we hiked more than 16 miles and climbed close to 3,100 feet, with the highest point Baldy Peak at 10,600 feet. In the evenings, we melted away muscle soreness in steamy outdoor pools surrounded by snow-capped peaks and green pastures. This kind of living really made me question life in the city.
I returned to city life in Chicago feeling refreshed and at peace. As I drove downtown on Lakeshore Drive a night later, I drew closer to that iconic and unnatural skyline, and thought about why I’m torn between nature and the city — mountains and madness:
Even the city has its own life and beauty. If you’ve ever walked through Chicago or New York you may know what I mean. The creaks and moans of steel echo about as if the buildings are shifting in their towering stances, attempting to get comfortable amongst a restless human world. As crazy as it seems, the random horn sounding, the sirens and the roaring of the passing L may actually be missed were I to leave them for the primordial sounds of nature.
Abstract sentiments aside, my day job allows me to address this bipolarism while keeping me based in the city — at least for now.
