“Oh, the places you’ll go.” -Dr. Seuss, Ph.D.

Up on the Divide

The contridiction of writing about adventure comes that, whenever there is adventure worth commenting on, one never has time to write for all the adventuring.

I have learned something very pointed over the years, that there is something magnificent about how you look at the world when you are travelling. There is a freshness about each morning. Thoreau, in Walden, writes about an intimacy with the Dawn. There is a sort of transcendent palpability of life present. And then each night, one returns to bed with a gratefulenss. When you wander Bosnia without any idea of where you’ll be stopping each night, this is a particularly poinient sensation.

Such are my Colorado years. All two months of them.

The weekends are given to biking new trails and searching for aspen groves. If you’ve never had the chance to do that during the fall, it’s worth the price of the bike. I’ve been backpacking on the Great Divide, playing dodgeball, and obtaining permissions on Peruvian copyrights. When you’re new to a town, every day burns.

And this poses an interesting question. What is it about Man that we desire to burn our days? Why do we place such high value on adventuring and experiencing life? Isn’t it safer just to take a nap? If all we are is a creature that is only focused on his survival, what is it that stirs within?

PS – The snow is coming and the skis are waxed.

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