It hardly seems intuitive to begin an autumn migration by going north, but that is what we did yesterday. Latitude does matter, at least 400 mile chunks of it, and especially at this time of year, but altitude still matters more. The Uncompahgre River drains to the north.
A cynic might argue that half the appeal of a reverse migration is just the feeling that one isn't supposed to do it. Actually, one of the sweetest pleasures can be gotten by noble and voluntary suffering in the Cold before finally relenting and moving towards the Warm. (We all know certain Sybarites of the Road who would never believe this.)
When the dogs and I got out of the van in Montrose CO, the sun felt delicious; but it was the rareness of this pleasure that was most appreciated. How many times does the driver of an un-air-conditioned cargo van actually enjoy warm sun coming through that big windshield? Normally I loathe it, and worry about the heat harming my dogs.
I can't imagine bathers in famous hot springs pools in glamorous overseas spas ever getting more pleasure than I got yesterday from that weak evanescence of heat from the dashboard, vanishing into that wide cold valley, and then vanishing 'like breath into the wind' into the cold blue Colorado sky. So too would it vanish into late afternoon chill when I drove the rig up onto a nearby mesa, for a night of cold, lonely camping. In the longer term this precious heat would vanish when the bittersweet months of autumn congeal into the rigidity of winter.
In Montrose I began a shakedown of the town, while accompanying the dogs on chores of theirs. The satisfaction of the dogs was so noticeable, despite the routineness of their chores. Each sniff of a bush was vitally important to them.
And here I was, getting back into the old traveler's routine of shaking down a new town. I slipped back into it so naturally it was as if I had never left it for three years. But why the surprise? We are animals after all, and are entitled to experience genuine satisfaction in doing our daily chores, just as dogs are. As I walked along I stepped outside myself, and saw an animal doing what he was intended to do. He was foraging for the necessities of life.
Foraging is under-rated as one of the satisfactions of a traveler and camper. It is more common to believe that sight-seeing is a traveler's daily occupation; primarily this idea comes from the tourism industry that wants us to see traveling as visual entertainment for which they sell the tickets.
A cynic might argue that half the appeal of a reverse migration is just the feeling that one isn't supposed to do it. Actually, one of the sweetest pleasures can be gotten by noble and voluntary suffering in the Cold before finally relenting and moving towards the Warm. (We all know certain Sybarites of the Road who would never believe this.)
When the dogs and I got out of the van in Montrose CO, the sun felt delicious; but it was the rareness of this pleasure that was most appreciated. How many times does the driver of an un-air-conditioned cargo van actually enjoy warm sun coming through that big windshield? Normally I loathe it, and worry about the heat harming my dogs.
I can't imagine bathers in famous hot springs pools in glamorous overseas spas ever getting more pleasure than I got yesterday from that weak evanescence of heat from the dashboard, vanishing into that wide cold valley, and then vanishing 'like breath into the wind' into the cold blue Colorado sky. So too would it vanish into late afternoon chill when I drove the rig up onto a nearby mesa, for a night of cold, lonely camping. In the longer term this precious heat would vanish when the bittersweet months of autumn congeal into the rigidity of winter.
In Montrose I began a shakedown of the town, while accompanying the dogs on chores of theirs. The satisfaction of the dogs was so noticeable, despite the routineness of their chores. Each sniff of a bush was vitally important to them.
And here I was, getting back into the old traveler's routine of shaking down a new town. I slipped back into it so naturally it was as if I had never left it for three years. But why the surprise? We are animals after all, and are entitled to experience genuine satisfaction in doing our daily chores, just as dogs are. As I walked along I stepped outside myself, and saw an animal doing what he was intended to do. He was foraging for the necessities of life.
Foraging is under-rated as one of the satisfactions of a traveler and camper. It is more common to believe that sight-seeing is a traveler's daily occupation; primarily this idea comes from the tourism industry that wants us to see traveling as visual entertainment for which they sell the tickets.
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