Marion Patterson

Our next task was a “leisurely” walk up to base camp, only 2,000feet above. Well, two miles and one rushing creek later…(Burma Bridge) “Try to dig it!” Later in the day we learned how to tie knots, and fix our slings. We almost felt knowledgeable until we realized we were about to do the high rappel! If we thought our first day was challenging, what with the morning run and dip, the Burma Bridge and the high rappel, we found more was to come. In fact, in retrospect, our first day was easy!

Rock climbing was one of our most stimulating, challenging and frightening experiences. We were told, “It’s not how many times you fall, it’s whether you get up or not that is important.” Of course as Mom said, “They wouldn’t lead you into any deliberate disaster!” How comforting. “Take your time. Lean back. Look for holds.” FEAR! Not so much fear of not doing, but one of ‘Now that I am here, how do I get out?’ You know others have done it. You must concentrate, but, you must not dwell on your predicament. You learn to relax and sense body awareness. In the midst of my effort and fear a flower greeted me at mid-climb. Alone. Simple. Alive. At the top you say, “Yes, I can! with conviction…and in retrospect.

Everything we did was purposeful. The exercises on the ropes’ course caused us to confront fear of heights, fear of failure. It caused us to acknowledge a joy within ourselves on accomplishing a difficult task. The exercise created competition and group spirit of helping and really caring whether or not someone in your group succeed. We recalled the ropes course on our various river crossings, Tyrolian traverse, peak assaults, and snow work.

The next day we began our first expedition. “I experienced a deep feeling of serenity in the presence of so many natural things; the wood fire, the valley which drew us on, the magnetic mountains, the air of peace and silence, the living sky.” (J Muir) We were to climb the S-ridge of Snowmass Mt. The only patrol to attempt the climb. A snow squall halted our attempts. So, we spent the day relaxing. Ricki and George, our instructors, seemed to know just the right combination of toil and pleasure which they mixed in equally delightful proportions. Our afternoon was absorbed by McCleod’s circus! We rigged a zip line from a high point across a gully to a low point on the opposite bank. Time after time we would strap ourselves into the swami seat and away we would zip!

The weather cleared and the next morning dawned bright and beautiful. We began our ascent. Birds began their morning call in a setting so odd as to be unreal. Even ore startling were the small flowers that greeted our ascent. In these very old mountains of upheaved granite dwell lichen of every color, shape and form; a lichenologist’s haven, an artist’s inspiration, a child’s delight….and I was delighted. So, over boulder and scree we pressed upward. Little ponds came into view and the earth tone changed from moonlit to sun lit. Our previously learned calls of “on belay.” “Up rope.” “Climbing.” “Climb on.” were substituted for “Oops.” “Here I come.” “Hold it.” “OK.” and “Help!” I feel that many times in our society we do not see concrete results of our actions. We often belittle ourselves, falling into the habit of thinking and therefore behaving worthlessly. But, in the wilderness you graphically sense your worth. You realize the trust being placed in you and you work to meet those expectations. You come to recognize and handle your strengths and weaknesses.

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow freshness into you and storms their energy.” (J Muir)

“The mountains reserve their choice gifts for those who stand upon their summits.” (J Muir)

We descended from our 14,000 foot accomplishment by a snow field backing carefully down a 400 foot slope of soft snow. Again we had the right combination of toil and fun as we glissaded down the slopes. And then, a well-deserved rest after a day that had begun at four in the morning.

Soon we traveled from the snowmass stock into the Maroon Bells soft sandstone. Difficult day. Silent majority. We learned that challenges of the day -to-day variety show our true mettle. When you see pictures of the high rappel, a rock climb, or peak assault, you feel “That’s challenging.” And they are. But, anyone can get psyched up for these activities. What about the challenge of a different nature? The small challenges: setting up a trap in the rain. Cooking a meal. Smiling when you really don’t want to make the effort. Or, hiking 15 miles with blistered feet. The challenge is never one of “Will I go on or not.” You have no choice. It is one of “How do I continue with the least amount of pain?”

To Shirley: (One of the members who tended to my blisters)
Pain.
Red twisting firey pain takes its toll.
How on a brilliant day can pain be so real?
Pain exists and grows amidst the thump and crunch of our movement downhill.
Feet trying to thread their way through rock and stumps and mud end up slamming into each. Creating a new jot of pain which extends up through the body and the mind.
A rest, a soothing touch, a smile and I know I can continue and thrive.

One of our experiences was “SOLO” a three-day stay alone with minimal food. The purpose is to reflect and experience being alone with no outside distractions. This can be soul searching…decision time…or just rest. “Excitement dominated the site this morning as we gathered our belonging for SOLO. What had I expected for a site? Something with a view? Rocks to sit on and look at? I am stuck on a steep hillside full of giant cow parsnips! How do I camp here? I explored and found a brook and a lovely campsite under a fir tree.” (Thoughts from journal.
I reflected on the importance of family and the environment. Some poems I wrote follow)

Surprise.
Black and white butterfly lands on
Sun-soaked body.
Stillness prevails inside the
Rush of the brook
On dappled rock.
Man, a part of nature, can give! (MJFellows)

Stinging
A green barb
In shaded seclusion
Retaliates to footfalls
And crushing of fiber by
Injecting protein into my leg.
Walk softly. (MJFellows)

Mail call. Man a solitary creature or a social creature? We are both. (MJFellows)

Our final expedition stressed the geology of the area and the impact on man and animals.
(These final notes accompanied slides and were more visions than explanations.)
Maturing of aspens…demise of beavers. Watermelon snow…smell…taste…danger!

Full circle around Snowmass. We view the ridge up which we had climbed.
Siberia Pass into Prospector’s Basin and the joke of how the “quaking aspen” got its name. Our footsteps wound down into Lead King Basin with its evidence of mining. If there is one spot I’d like to make a summer home it would be in this high mountain basin of 12,000 feet. We turned toward our re-supply stop. And our descent was greeted by the large and the small which indeed make up the large.

“And so, our journey was ending. Although our stay was exciting and rewarding, the time had come that we all desired – for the return home. Our last task was a 17-mile run over ‘the most scenic terrain yet.’ Well, before the run you would not have convinced us, but indeed, passing Cinnamon Mountain and small mines, fording rushing creeks, descending an old cart path by a roaring water falls, loping along meadow roads and through the abandoned town of Crystal up to Lizard Lake was beyond personal challenge. The marathon was an inspiration and beauty personified.

“At first I was totally engulfed with Outward Bound experiences. Now, I have put them into perspective….Outward Bound is NOT an end unto itself. These experiences will make me ‘stronger, more open, more sharing.’ (words from a song I wrote)

“As I see it, the wilderness has a place in my life, but so do home and civilization. If I may draw from each, being sure to return, for no things can five infinitely without renourishment, my life and that of people I touch will be gloriously alive.” (MJFellows)