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Noticing Special Pleasures on Unpopular Land

I've certainly experienced it before, and many times. But it has been awhile since I enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of a partly cloudy day. It was bright and cheerful enough. The solar panels could charge the batteries. But what you really notice is how kind the world seems when you aren't under relentless attack by the sun. May and June are the worst months in the Southwest.

It takes a special effort to appreciate the importance of this kindliness. You just have to slow down, stop running around like a postcard tourist, and let it soak in.

My dog and I biked up to the top of a large ramp called the Uncompahgre Plateau, west of Montrose CO. It is not as steep and photogenic as the newer orogenies of Colorado, therefore it is less popular with sightseers. Even Wikipedia virtually ignores it. It is a place that only locals and old-fashioned outdoorsmen go. But the lack of extreme verticality makes it more fun to mountain bike and RV-camp on. 

But occasionally there are peeks at the distant, more photogenic peaks of the San Juans. It's almost a tease. And a challenge. You can't just settle into the easy and lazy mode of letting Mother Nature knock the eyeballs right out of your head. 

I usually rhapsodize about the rivers in Colorado. It seems fitting to visit the area where so many of the rivers start. But there aren't any big rivers here on the Uncompahgre, at least, not close. There is a pleasant feeling of detachment here.

After a mountain bike ride I am always in a relaxed mood, ready for a little mind-drifting. And thus I put on some piano music and let imagination and gravity pull me slowly off the plateau, down to that nearest far-off river. 

Comments

The Unc used to be my own private mountain biking paradise, or so I thought. You can bike the Tabeguache Trail all the way to Grand Junction. Lots of wild turkeys and a few bears and mountian lions. And your post was almost poetic, watch out, next thing you know you'll be posting postcard photos. :)
Yes, a "Kinder Gentler" version of curmudgeon is emerging. I kinda like it...
XXXXX said…
You know, bottom line, it's not really possible for words to do justice to the experience. Reading between the lines, it reminds me more of the idea of Tao, which is not the name for a thing but refers to the natural order of the universe. As an order, it is a verb, not a noun, so it is a flow, like the flow of water but not like water just sitting in a jug. It is the flow of it in nature. How water acts in the world, all its forms and characteristics.
Can you see my point?
Solitude is a wonderful thing for too much jibber jabber and having to pay attention to another person draws one's awareness away from the experience of being fully in one's environment.
I appreciate your effort in trying to convey the beauty of your experience. It's just too bad that such things can get demoted and diminished sometimes.
There is certainly no better place to view water as a verb than the Southwest, where the topography is delineated by differential erosion.
I appreciate your comment, Spotted Dog Ranch, so I will let you off easy for breaking a taboo on this blog: using abbreviations! (grin)

I hope to explore the north end of the plateau, which you are referring to. But I might have to wait for the cooler weather in September.
Hey, that's not an abbreviation! It's how it was pronounced by the Utes. The Anglos just made it longer beacuse they were trying to be obtuse so nobody would know where it was - they wanted to keep it all to themselves. :)
TomInBellaVista said…
Keep writing like this and the land may become not so unpopular
Thank you, Tom, and welcome back.
Mark, well OK, we'll let your get away with that. But don't start thinking that I'm going to turn into some kind of nambie-pambie, touchie-feelie guy. (grin)