My dad has taught me more about writing than any book, class, or professor. We email frequently and I’ve saved many of our messages. The following is an email I wrote him during my first summer in Vail and is one of my favorites.
Dad:
I recently had my first genuine Colorado camping experience. It was more along the lines of mosquitoes and mountain lions and coyotes than lions, tigers, and bears. And to be honest I didn’t see any mountain lions or coyotes, or many mosquitoes for that matter. I’m confident, though, that the mosquitoes were there because I have more bites than I’ve had since sixth grade camp. As for the coyotes, I heard them howling throughout the night and I must say I’m rather happy to not have met one. And I neither saw nor heard a mountain lion, however, while hiking around Rifle Falls I saw a sign instructing parents to keep their children close around dusk and dawn as this is mountain lion country and they are likely to attack around those times.
Printed on the sign was a list of instructions on what to do if a mountain lion does attack. Among other things you should first try to act larger than you are (in an attempt to scare away the larger-than-life predator I assume). If that doesn’t work (which why the heck shouldn’t it? It seems completely logical) you ought to try throwing rocks at it, or, go ahead and fight back if it should come to that because, as the sign reminds visitors, “people can fight off mountain lion attacks.” It made it seem as logical and as common as “Only you can prevent forest fires.” Of course you are not, under any circumstances to run away from a mountain lion. Now I suppose I understand the logic behind that one, we all know mountain lions love moving targets and they are fast, those devils, but I gotta tell you it would take a lot of self-control and clear-mindedness in the heat of the moment to remind myself I shouldn’t run.
I later saw a sign posted on a dumpster warning guests to keep their trash out of the way of bears and I wondered who might win in a fight between a bear and a mountain lion. I tossed the question out to my fellow campers and we all pondered it (one of the deepest deep thoughts of the weekend). We came to no solid conclusion, but my money’s on the mountain lion, unless, of course, the bear has read the “How to Survive a Mountain Lion Attack” sign. I can only imagine what would happen if a bear started chucking rocks at a mountain lion. I hope I never encounter either beast, or a coyote for that matter. It was enough of a thrill for me to just ponder what if.
That was last week’s trip. It definitely took some convincing to get me to go along. This might surprise you but I’m not exactly the camping sort. I don’t get all excited thinking about sleeping on the ground in a tent, taking late-night hikes, and bringing a roll of toilet paper along just in case. But the boys found another girl to join us, a lake we could swim in, and somehow I found myself committed. And while the campsite left something to be desired––it was dusty with little shade––there were outhouses with toilet paper and I found them to be tolerable if I breathed out of my mouth. The ground was rocky and I’m not a fan of tents but the lake was amazing, an oasis in a mountain desert. That combined with the Rocky Mountain backdrop and I easily forgot that I couldn’t take a shower for a couple days.
And I even went along for a midnight hike (ok so I complained the whole way up but at least I went). It was a sacred moment, lying on my back on top of a hill under a star-spangled sky. There were more stars than I’ve ever seen. Andy got out his harmonica and started playing (he’s not at all good, barely knows how to play, but there’s something about the eerie sound of a harmonica that’s almost sweet and it seems you don’t really have to know how to play it to make music with it). Those oddly sweet notes drifted up into the silence, melting with the Milky Way, blending into my thoughts.
Falling stars darted across the sky and I felt so small, so humbled on top of that little mountain, in the midst of much bigger mountains. I felt part of something larger than myself and I started to understand what this summer is about. It’s not about trying to prove I can be one of the guys. It’s not about working and making money. It’s not about making a ton of new friends or even about re-inventing myself. It’s about moments like that one.
The next day, while sitting next to the lake, I decided I like camping. I don’t like sleeping on the ground, eating hot dogs for every meal, or boiling water for drinking, but if camping involves breath-taking views and life-lessons then I enjoy it. I enjoy it enough, in fact, to do it again, which I did but that’s another story for another time. I will tell you, though, that on my second camping trip I didn’t brush my teeth at all and only brushed my hair once, I’m a regular mountain woman now. I even slept under a sky full of bats. Now that’s the stuff adventures are made of.
I’m off to bed now, off to Starbucks again in the morning, I’m just hoping my knowledge of how to deal with a mountain lion attack will come in handy when dealing with the rich and privileged.
Love, Tracey
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