It’s almost over. It feels like it already is. Summer.
Done. Bummer. Sept.
21 is the last official day of summer in the Northern Hemisphere. It’s a time when a kiss of frost greets the waning warmth of the sun. Then it’s on to darker, shorter days and darker colder nights.
Dark. As my life goes by, I’m more and more nostalgic about summer and all the possibilities that the season offers. Here in the high country, each season is distinct and unique.
Fall is a beauty — so it’s not over yet. As the temperatures increase every single year, presenting us with another “warmest year in human history,” the changing of the season almost is a welcome relief. Even in Aspen, girded by wealth and altitude, it’s getting hard to ignore the sweeping changes happening before our eyes.
On a hike over the weekend I walked a high logging road under a cover of clouds, hunting gold leaves, mixing into the scene with men in orange vests hunting for elk. Some were hunkered in their camps, perhaps spending time away from the hustle and expectations of family life, while drinking it in with the guys. Maybe getting away with your buddies is the real draw.
Reporter Stina Sieg just filed a Colorado Public Radio story about a group of women rafters who leave their men at home as they get outside and create memories. Some of the women just published a book called “Where Are Your Men?” The story captures the magic of floating away from the hustle of terrestrial life with friends you love so very much. The boaters talk about the way river floating is a life-changing experience.
The women in the story explained how it takes dedication and lifestyle adjustments to capture the magic of river life. As one who once did every possible thing to be on a boat on any river during all four seasons, I can relate. Life circumstances have slowed my time on the river.
But just last week, I got to spend six days on the Green River floating through Dinosaur National Monument through the Gates of Lodore. The passenger list went from about 18 to a final tally of six, showing the stark contrast between “I wanna go” and “I’m going.” Planning a river trip seems harder than ever with dynamics like that, but once we pushed off in the late-summer sunshine, peace and tranquility took over and I was very happy to be with this dedicated small group of adventurers.
In the past on a trip like this, I had to explore almost every side canyon, seek out as many Native American petroglyphs and dwellings as I could find and write a journal, trying to hold the memories as close and vivid as possible. I think I’m qualified to call myself a seasoned captain at this point. Seasoned captains know when to sit on their boats in the shade in a desert canyon sipping an impossibly cold beer while others are off running about exploring.
I still take pictures. The photos resemble each other. Big desert vistas, deep blue skies and happy faces.
Sometimes nature adds a punctuation mark with hard, fast storms and flash floods pouring over the sandstone cliffs. Disaster is always a possibility and boaters on the San Juan River found out the hard way in late June when a sunny, pleasant day turned horrid as a fast-moving storm swept in and the river rose from a few feet deep to more than 30 feet deep in a matter of minutes. The family saw their kit swept downstream as the “easy” river turned into a monster.
I have floated that river dozens of times and seen a lot — but nothing like what they experienced. One time I was with my daughter on the Lower San Juan River and we both had to get out and give it our all, dragging our boat for miles as the desert fan, set on “high,” pushed us back and dried us out. Whenever everything lines up for a perfect day on the river, I am humbled by the many arduous treks that led me to this day.
Fall really is the best time to float the desert. Mild days, starry nights and the chill away from the campfire that makes you snuggle a little deeper into your bag..
