Because It's There

I always thought the response "because it's there" was a crazy answer to the question "why did you climb the mountain?" But over the past five years I have come to understand "Because it's there" just acknowledges that something has challenged you and, no matter how crazy it seems, you have to do it.  I ran solo across Badlands National Park. I also ran the 45 mile Eagle Rock Loop in Arkansas solo in 15 straight hours. I went scuba diving in a 500' deep lake fed by glaciers and snow melt where the water temperature at the surface on July 5th was 40 degrees.  All my life I had found it necessary to "play it safe" because I had a family to consider. That ended when my children all had their own families and I was on my own. Today Pamela and I travel the west, volunteer at national parks, and pack all the life we can into every day. You only go around once. No returns for the I-wish-I-hads. 

Bright red is my route up. Burgundy is my route down with fewer cacti.

Today I was just out looking for some gemstones on the side of the mountain. I kept getting attracted to natural features further and further up the mountain. Before I knew it I was standing at the top of one of the peaks. Granted that the climb was just a wee bit over 1,000 ft above the campground, and my friends who are real mountain climbers wouldn't consider this more than a stroll, I don't think it was bad for an arthritic old man. I ended up taking the hard way up because I wasn't really planning to go to the summit. I wasn't as worried about falling as I was of hitting all the cacti on the way down, so I took a much longer route down that had less cacti.  When I got close to the top it became a matter of "because it's there." 

 The picture above makes it look like a gentle grade on even terrain.  As you can see from the two pictures to the left, that isn't exactly true. I was off trail and had to contend with all sorts of obstacles.

The picture to the right is of my final ascent to the saddle which was just before the rock-climb to the summit.  I did not go back this way. LOL.

To the left is a selfie as I was just below the summit. I didn't try to get a picture right at the top because it was pretty windy and I didn't want my hat to beat me back to the bottom.

The picture to the right is the last 20-30 yards climbing over large boulders. It wasn't quite as bad as it looks. They were large.

Another selfie near the summit. I picked this one because you can see the valley below. The valley is about 4200 ft elevation. The campground where I started is 4600 ft. The summit is 5,680 ft. 

The mountain is one enormous gemstone. I saw obsidian outcropping the size of a pickup and walls of Jasper. The park lets you take stones but there is a weight limit. I see why.  

To the left are some stones with great examples of Jasper  and stratification. The picture to the right is an outcropping of obsidian. This isn't the biggest, but the one I encountered that was the size of a pickup was toward the top of the mountain and I rather had my hands full.  

The Walk

The ground is firm under my feet as I walk the well used trail through the woods. The loblolly pines have made a fine mat of needles on the forest floor around me. Their reddish brown bark hangs like scales while their tufts of branches and long dark green needles are high above my head. But I can tell when the canopy is thin without looking up. Wherever the canopy is a bit thin there is a small cluster of seedlings all vying for that bit of sunlight.

There were supposed to be animals in the bayou. Everything from bear to alligators. I didn't see any. There was lots of hunting. I wondered if they were in hiding. Animals are smart, you know. When you visit a large national park where they're not allowed to be hunted they don't run and hide. You get to live together in peace. That's not true elsewhere.

I know that killing another animal for food is part of the cycle of life. I am well aware that if the carnivore predators disappear the herbivore ungulates overgraze and you end up with an environmental mess. Human created such a disaster by purposely killing off all the wolves in Yellowstone. It reversed and balance was regained when the wolves were returned. I happen to be a omnivore, like kiááyo - the bear, but I have a distinct advantage. I have all sorts of food sources and options, and I have the ability to make a conscious decision not to kill other sentient beings.

Stopping on a small rise above a campground I see the signs in the earth. Deer tracks. It had been raining for a couple of days so the tracks were very distinct even though some of them were hidden in the grass and pine needles. It looked as if the deer had stayed looking down at the campers stamping her or his feet. Were they upset or frustrated by the human presence. No matter. The tracks turned and led off in another direction. I didn't follow.

I can't help but think of how humans will purposely kill an animal for no reason other than "sport" or to purposely exterminate the species. Then we act like we have been burdened by the responsibility to "thin the herd" of ungulates to "maintain balance." If we had stayed out of it in the first place and only hunted to put food on our tables, we wouldn't have created the problem.

As I stop to admire a small pond I try to redirect my thinking. It is hard. I get so angry with my species. We have such potential and we blew it! We've become an insidious invasive species yet we're so arrogant that we think we're saviors. I look around. I fantasize about having so much money that I can buy up vast tracts of land to save them from my own kind. But the fantasy is short lived. The signs of death are all around me . . . the rusted fence running through thick forest . . . high fences topped with razor wire surrounding an open area filled with piles of gravel and equipment . . . slabs of concrete dumped . . . once clean water polluted and stagnant. And we haven't even gotten near the urban sprawl where lots are almost an acre, trees are cut, the environment ignored to make space for a gigantic houses built for two. Two?!

I hang my head and move farther into the forest. I can't stand straight. The sense of despair is too great. I love to admire all that is around me as I walk or run through the woods, but right now I keep my eyes to the ground because I can't bear to look at what my species has done. The shame is almost overbearing. I want to escape from reality but I know that no matter how far into the forest I go I will still be the same. I can not escape myself.

I stand on a ridge looking out over beautiful trees and meadows. I see the birds. I smell the nature. I beg forgiveness but to no avail. This marvelous sight may well be gone before my name is forgotten, and I am helpless to stop it, but I share in the blame because no matter what I do the reality is that I am a homo sapien - a human - an interfectorem terrram, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . an earth-killer.