Mountains are Calling
John Muir once said, “The mountains are calling and I must go.”
It don’t get much more honest than those words. That sounds extremely corny, but I wonder if I could have survived the existence of a 19thcentury wanderer.
“Jeremiah Johnson”, the classic tale of an 1800’s easterner transplanting himself into the Rocky Mountains, was recently on the tube. I think I could watch this movie another thousand times and not get bored. Even the movie theme takes me away.
Vacations growing up as a child were normally camping in Texas, New Mexico and Colorado. It took me years to fully appreciate what my parents were trying to instill in me... As children, my siblings (Amy & Dan) and I could not appreciate these mini-adventures like we should have. We wanted to stay in a motel or lodge and visit the mecca for all kids 12 and under; the motel swimming pool. Dining in a restaurant was super cool and much more appetizing than a fire side meal of roasted marshmallows and hot dogs. We could watch TV while in bed, a luxury that we could never do at home. The best part of camping was I never had to take regular showers. Ah, the constant smell of fire smoke and sweat. My dad finally told me, “Bath yourself or you eat your meals downwind.”
The solitary environment is probably what I crave the most. I could never be apart from Susie very long, but for some reason I feel like I could thrive being the only human for miles around. Well, maybe Susie, me and the dogs instead of just me… My need for them trumps my personal needs.
We would have to rely on my hunting and fishing skills (strike one) and her gardening skills. Sometimes it’s kind of nice to think that you only had to lean on yourself to survive. I told my dad that once and he replied in a dead pan, serious tone, “So you want to be a bum?” Sometimes maybe I do.
I could probably build a fairly respectable cabin, although it would look like 7thgrade shop class built it. I’m not very good at constructing 90-degree angles (strike
two) and my stone masonry skills would probably result in a drafty and mis-shaped chimney. Susie could dress a deer or an elk out fairly well because she used to help her dad do this at home. Without her knife skills, I guess we would be pretty skinny. Perhaps a vegan mountain man is more my speed.
I hope I would run into a Will Geer type of mountain man who could teach me the ropes and help me hunt grizz. Although I have a few outdoor skills already, I think help would be of the upmost need. I can build a fire, only I need lighter fluid and a match. Cutting down trees would be a breeze, but since I tire easily, it might take a few days for one tree. I suppose I would build a really small cabin because of that. Fishing would be fairly easy, but then you have the messy job of cleaning the fish. Thankfully I make a mean spinach quiche.
Oh sure, it’s fun to imagine living off the land in the 19thcentury. Making grizzly tooth necklaces, eating jerky and corn dodgers, doing your business in an outhouse… Good times for all.
Maybe I’m best suited to just live where I do. I get to gaze at the mountains and listen to the wind in the pines. When I’m done with staring at nature, it’s good to know I can go back to my centrally air conditioned and heated home. Turn on my electric lights, open my refrigerator, crack a cold beer and binge watch “Breaking Bad”.
Not a bad life and I don’t have to use my own feces to fertilize the garden.
