Pike's Peak

Today was a blast!

I was at it againe... Hieronymo's mad againe.

Performing an offering of flute music to the Sun and Moon, at the Valley of the Gods.

Fluting and praying and offering and gave-ing...

An intriguing rock formation

The rock behind me is white. It is different from the three orange rocks around it, because at one time the orange pieces were one solid rock.

According to an elderly park ranger at the info desk, at one time the ground shifted along the fault line between rocks and pushed the orange rock apart. The white rock was connected to another one just like it, further away.

There is some meaningful, enlightening interpretation to this fact which I leave it to the reader, as an exercise, to work out... because I am too lazy to fabricate something and sell it t' ya!

An encounter of the Supernatural kind

A Chinese man came up and asked me if I believed in some religion whose name I couldn't understand with my limited knowledge of the language. He asked me about my flute playing, if I was at 练习, practicing, and I said it was kinda my 爱好, hobby or passion.

He again asked me, then walked 'round and once more asked me, if I was at 练习, trying to understand why I was playing. I couldn't express my intentions, but then he imparted on me that this was a place having a kind of 气 "Chi" that Westerners couldn't understand, that he thought maybe I played not to gain anything but to offer a service to the rocks, the people passing by, the spirit of the mountain. I jumped on his description and exclaimed, 'Yes! That is the gist of what I'm doing.'

He was surprised. 'You understand then, what I am saying?' he asked. 'Yes, I think so.' Then he revealed that he had come in the very same endeavor, holding forth a bag of bread, apparently to feed the pigeons nesting atop the rock formations.

The man told me in three nights time I will have strange dreams, and then I will be touched by a spirit. Reminds me of the Tales of the Supernatural by Pu Song Ling, where a traveling Daoist monk would do that to people.

How reading? Me wan' look sky and ground

Full album of pictures. (That's pronounced 'Pik'cha's' to you immeegants)

Pike's Peak

Oh yeah, and I also went to Pike's Peak. It was elevation-ly exceptional.

The wind at the top was hella. It didn't let up in gusts, it was constant face smothering.

Near miss with disappointment

I really wanted to see the peak today. The well rehearsed lady at the admission gate answered me that there was hiking above the winter road closure and an information center would tell me all about it. The road was open for 16 out of 19 miles. My worst fear was driving 40 minutes up to a souvenir stand to be sold a picture of the peak, so at first I thought the $10 entry fee (+$2 off with a coupon!) was a scam.

When I found a gift shop a fair distance up, the lone employee there was a disinterested teenage girl who informed me that the only hiking trail to the peak was from Manitou Springs (like eight bajillion fathoms away) and it took about 8 hours to trek. I asked the girl if anything was at the closure point to see. She said there were a couple of cones to tell ya ta turn around. I was prepared to be disappointed. But actually, the closure point was a peak of sorts that was gud e'nuff.

A redeeming discovery

At the road closure, there was a peak a short walk away. From there, the summit could be seen in the distance. Summit looked not much higher than the peak on which I stood. If a body jumped straight up in the air, I reckon he'd be as high as the top of the mountain.

I stand alone on the cliffs of the world. No one ever tends to me. - Kyuss, Space Cadet.

I had a hard time believing the gift shop teen when I got to the top, because I could see no way to reach the summit other than the road I drove up. But it turns out she's right! There's a Barr trail starting from the railway (yes, you have an alternative option to pay for a train to take you up, ya overweight mountain of a woman) that leads 13 miles from trail head to the summit, climbing a vertical elevation of 7,510 feet or an equivalent patriotic 1.422 miles.

Zebulon Heights

The mountain is 14,115 feet tall. That's 2.673 miles high, to y'all patriotic 'Muricans. Its height has changed over time with measuring and re-calculations. The namesake and discoverer was a young lieutenant named Zebulon Pike. My 8th grade chum did a report on him for history class, solely on the strength of the coolness of his first name. The Peak also inspired the song "America the Beautiful".

Driving up afforded lots of breath-taking and pee-in-ya-pants scary, cliff-dropping-ly beautiful views. I parked my car to the side of the road and felt if the red dirt yielded way, I would have a short yet eventful descent.

A window view from my ledge car

What's up, bro?

I met a cool fellow Asian guy at the peak. We chatted for a bit. He was from the South and a novice to Colorado snow and temperatures. I prolonged this buddy out in the cold much of the trip, keeping him talking at the peak when we met. The winds merely buffeted my windproof jacket, but likely penetrated his invisible coat. I slid down the snowy slope on my heels; he tried. Then I kept him talking when he made his retreat to his car, mentioning how cold his hands felt. Sorry! I hope he's warm and healthy tonight.

We got lunch at a Wendy's. We walked a loop at the Valley of the Gods. With people of the same creed and culture, making plans and following through feels natural and effortless. Me with white people has often been a guessing game where I get left hanging.

The descent

Rockrimmon' down the street in my car...
(Parental Discretion Advised)

Portrait of a young alchemist as a musician

After sending my companion home, I loitered the valley contemplating, 'what doing next?' I was having a great day. I wanted to share my good mood. So I mused upon a slender silver oat, under the broad stony canopy of a huge monolithic rock (-10 stylistic points, too much redundancy), a la Tityrus.

I marched around the walking path with flute in hand, searching out the retiring sun, and when it flaked on me, I retreated car-ward. (My home is my car. Homeward. I - see what I did there? I - uh- aww.)

Then I drove to a McDonald's for some R&R. Saw the Denver vs. Pittsburgh patriotic football game on the restaurant TV. Conclusion? (Spoiler alert: John Snow dies.) Peyton, prepare to face your nemesis Patriots and prepare to leave in tears. Brady has Edelman back and Gronkmonster is *gasp* healthy in the post-season. Omaha help us!

(If you did not understood a single word of the three passages above, I sincerely apologize. Please keep calm and pretend you had just read an unmemorable and aggravating passage of James Joyce.)

Karma, dude... Karma

'Oh, I get it.' - Homer Simpson, Homerpalooza.

At the McDonald's I bought a burger for a homeless dude sitting by the TV. 'Cause the Asian dude bought me lunch at Wendy's, and I was having a bangin' day and I was about to be visited in my dreams by a valley spirit, and 'cause Karma, don't stop at me! Karma, keep on flowin'!

Turns out this homeless guy was sane, mannered, and had lots he wanted to share with me. We talked for hours. I agreed with much of his ethics: don't ask for handouts, and don't bother people soliciting help; work for your earnings. I also shared my interpretations about principles, politics, and personal maturity and growth.

He said I helped him understand some things better, like, about how sometimes we're affected by our own construed fears rather than reality. It wasn't so much I said anything profound to him, but he told me there was something his father told him, which after I explained my point of view he was able to understand much better. I felt good to see him alight in his eyes with the delight of a mini-epiphany.

In my words, the advice would be something like this: nobody's out to get you, unless you put the self-image in your mind of a delinquent and project it in front of their eyes.

Fin

Whew, what an embiggenning day! Most cromulent.