becauseihavenowife.com
| following Andy Polley as he travels around the world... |
So there I find myself...in the mountains of Vermont with a bunch of other
singles. Tucked away deep into the country in one of the most beautiful
cabins I have ever seen.
It was quite a welcome relief from the pavement and noise of Boston. I had
been living in Boston for a couple of months, and for a country boy, it was
time to get out for awhile. Now don't get me wrong...cities have their
perks. But I grew up listenin' to the corn blow in the wind, watchin' deer
jump across fields, and sittin' underneath the stars at night. I could
recognize the sound of a combine from a mile away; when I wanted fresh
fruit or vegetables, I went out and picked them (not bought them), and
street cleaning simply meant I bent down and picked up some trash of the
side of the road.
Needless to say, I needed some country again. And so there I was, miles
away from any thought of a city, tucked into the Green Mountains. The
drive up there was beautiful. Ok, granted, it was some of the coldest
weather I have ever been in, and I had to change a flat tire with numb
hands, but the skyscrapers turned into trees, and the pavement into
flowing rivers. I could have no complaints at all.
I was invited to a singles retreat of sorts. More or less, you grab a bunch
of singles, and you throw them into a cabin. In my estimation, that is a
terrible idea from day one. But I took my friends up on the offer. After all,
they were going, too!
Well, we get to this cabin. I knew it would be nice when we had to pass a
couple of covered bridges guarding nearly-frozen rivers to get there. But I
totally underestimated the beauty of this cabin. Wood throughout. And it
was huge! Rooms everywhere. Some rooms were connected, others were
tucked away. And, of course, as with any cabin, the fireplace was goin',
and it was goin' strong! No gas, either. Just pure wood taken from the
mountains.
To put it into a word, it was...
Cozy.
Now let me stop here for just a minute. I don't mind "cozy." I'm all about
sippin' hot chocolate while watchin' the fire and talkin'. That is all fine and
good! Playin' cards deep into the night, laughin' at each other's jokes.
That's a great time.
But for every ounce of cozy, I need about three ounces of adventure.
And so, there I find myself, minglin' with strangers I didn't know, sittin' in a
warm cabin, playin' cards, and listenin' to one of the jokesters.
And all I could think about was...
"There is a mountain outside."
I seriously couldn't shake that thought. Now don't get me wrong, I loved
the people, and they were rather funny. But we were to spend a weekend
here, and for me to stay inside the entire time would be a cruel form of
suicide.
I think I started to realize the danger of it all when the women pulled out
their crochet hooks. Now I'm not talking one or two girls here. It was like
an army of crocheters sprung forth.
Save me now.
And so I started my game plan. We were currently sitting on a smaller
hillside, but I remember coming in that I saw this gigantic mountain across
the road. And I distinctly remember seeing a sign down on the bottom that
said, "Please climb me." No one else could see it, and that freaked me
out, but the mountain wanted some company. Who was I to refuse it?!
So I did what any man would do.
"I'm going to go climb a mountain."
People looked at me. Maybe one or two laughed. And then I think they
saw the seriousness in my eyes. "Oh, he's not joking. Yarn around once,
then through, yarn around..." They didn't know how to respond. They
retreated to their happy place of yarn and needle.
A couple of people advised against it. "That's not a good idea, Andy."
"Why not?"
"Well, who is going with you?"
"Anyone that wants to. You in?"
"Not hardly."
"Ok, well, I guess it's just me."
"Don't do it. Do you have a cell phone?"
"Why, do they get better reception up there?"
Hmph. City folk. I love them. I really do. But at times I can't understand
them. A couple of them turned into my mother for awhile, telling me how I
could die and all that good stuff. Of course I knew that! It was a mountain,
for cryin' out loud!
But their retreat was a bit different from my retreat. They simply needed to
be away from the city. I needed to be IN the country. And that was the
biggest difference.
Well, one of the guys went and grabbed some snow shoes. Snow shoes. I
thought these only hung up in really fun restaurants. I strapped them on
and tried to walk in them out in the snow. It would take a bit of getting used
to, but it sure helped quite a bit.
And let it be known that the snow was roughly 2-3 feet deep at the cabin. I
still sank a few inches with the snow shoes, but at least I didn't have to pull
my entire leg out of a hole after every step.
And so I walked down the hill to the road.
You know, I must say, snowshoeing is actually quite enjoyable. It's one of
those activities that you wonder how it first began. I mean, seriously, who
combines the act of walking with the sport of tennis? "Now if I just take
those rackets and put laces on them...."
But I was indebted to whomever thought of the idea.
Now, there's one thing you should know about mountains. And I seemingly
forgot this important fact. Mountains deceive. Every one of them. They
tell you they are here, only to find out they are there. The mountain I
thought was "just across the street" turned out to be quite a hike...just to
get to its base!
But I arrived. And I had to cross a river in order to get to it. I walked along
the rough banks until I found a log to walk on. If I fell, I would instantly
freeze! Man, I love this!
And so started my journey up this mountain. I simply just started going
up. Sometimes I had to go a bit sideways to go up, but the basic gameplan
was to walk up. Trees dotted the entire mountain, so I had to zigzag in and
out.
But it was everything I thought it would be. And more.
Like a lot more. As in time. I would see the top of the mountain up ahead.
The trees would disappear, and I could no longer see any snow. Must be
the top. Well, until I got there. Then I saw the same thing again.
Countless times I thought I was getting close to the top only to realize that I
was far from it.
As I climbed higher and higher, I would occasionally stop to rest. I had
taken a backpack with some extra clothes, a couple of bites to eat, and a
camera. I looked out to see the view, and I noticed a sibling mountain.
That's when it hit me.
"If these are the same size, then I am only half-way there!"
It wasn't really a jolt of defeat or of disappointment...more just a statement
of fact. I am so small...
And then I would continue on.
I made it to the "top" of where I was heading. But I realize that I had started
at a point at the base that put me in line with a place just a bit lower than
the top.
"If I'm come this far, I'm goin' all the way."
And so I turned a little bit and kept going.
And after a while, I could see the real top. It was wide, and it had several
"tops," but I had made it. In roughly 3 hours.
I stopped, I took plenty of pictures, and I rested. I just sat there and looked
out across the rest of Vermont. No words, really. But there is something
deeply spiritual and even necessary about being on top of a mountain and
looking out. Of the same importance of sitting underneath the stars. No
words. Just looking.
I don't remember how long I stayed there, but I enjoyed every bit of it. I
traced animal tracks, and I tried to follow mine far as the eye could see.
And then I decided it was time to head home. After all, by time I get back, it
may be gettin' dark!
And I looked back down at my tracks through the snow. I knew where they
lead. And because of that fact, I could not bring myself to go back down
that same way.
There was more mountain to discover, even if it was on the way down.
So I faced another direction, and I started heading down.
Let me say that I could see patches of evergreens on the sister mountain.
Most of my trek up the mountain had involved what I would call "normal"
trees...birches, oaks, etc.
But scattered throughout the landscape were patches of evergreens.
Some were thick, while others were rather small. I took nothing from that
observation.
Well, going down the mountain was absolutely some of the best times I've
ever had. I would more or less sit on my butt, then ski down on the snow
shoes.
And I was making great time!
Until I met the evergreens.
I quickly found out why the evergreens live on mountains. It's because
they are the only tree that can withstand the intense angle of incline (or in
my case...decline!). The birches simply could not root themselves into
these cliffs. Either the root system wasn't strong enough, or as they grew,
the weight became too much and they would collapse. But for some
reason, these green trees loved these steep embankments.
And I came flying into these evergreens. I managed to stop myself. The
descent below me was much too steep. I had no poles, I had no ropes,
and what is more, I had no control. If I started, I would not be able to stop.
So I looked back up behind me. And I quickly realized I had no option. I
had already become so far into the steep part of this side of the mountain,
that it was physically impossible for me to climb back up it.
I couldn't even stand, as the angle was too sharp.
And so I had to commit myself to continuing my trek down.
So I did something that seems silly to me even now as I write it. But I would
look down and spot one of the trees. And I would hang on to another tree,
as I tried to line myself up with the one down below me.
And then I let go.
Gravity quickly took over, and my body would slide ridiculously fast down
the mountain. Sometimes I would hit my tree, othertimes I would miss.
But there would always be more trees.
Now this wasn't the easiest of maneuvers. Granted, when you let go, you
fall. But it took some nerves of steel to plumment down the mountainside
and try to nail a tree. And when you missed, you simply tried to hit another
one. Was I scared? I don't think "scared" is the word. I mean, as fun as it
ended up being, this is not something that I would willingly choose to do. It
was simply too dangerous. But seeing as I didn't have an option, I just sort
of went with the flow. It's like a man in battle. You don't have time to be
scared. You just do what you have to do.
Now, for the record, I wasn't tumbling. I was still sliding on my toosh. I
would lean back with the snow shoes in front of me and kind of blaze a
path of snow removal. When I looked back behind me, you could see the
wide path of a body flying down. It was quite enjoyable!
Until I hit what was ultimately the last tree.
I could see it coming up, and again, there was not much I could do about
it. Up ahead of me (but several feet lower than me) was a drop-off. The
only reason I could tell is that the trees just sort of became shorter all of a
sudden. And I could see where the snow ended abruptly.
So I slid down to the last tree before the drop-off.
All in all, it didn't look too bad. I mean, we're not talking Niagara Falls or
anything. But this isn't your front porch step, either.
I looked back behind me, and I again had no option. I had slid too far over
to even think about climbing back up. Climbing sideways was impossible
due to the steep incline. It was either sit here and enjoy my last few cold
days on earth, or keep on going down.
And so I let go.
My body flew over the drop-off. And to this day, I wish I had this on video.
My body plummets forward. The momentum had flung me forward, and
now nothing but gravity was acting upon me. My upper body hurled
towards the front as my feet sank into position.
And then I landed...face-down in the snow. My entire body landed face
down...head to toe.. Luckily, the snow was thick, and it cushioned my fall.
I lifted up my face, and I tried to get up. But I couldn't.
I was physically stuck in the snow.
These snowshoes that had just allowed me to walk up the mountain now
prevented me from moving. They were lodged straight down into the thick
snow. And I couldn't move. My legs were immobile!
I was able to lift my face up, and my upper body, but I couldn't even twist
my back, as my lower body was submerged.
And you know what I did?
I laughed. I distinctly remember laughing at the humor of it all. I had just
plummeted off a short cliff, and I was now stuck. How funny is that?!
Over the next couple minutes, I was able to pry myself loose. It was quite a
job, though, let me tell you. Those snow shoes were lodged into the snow.
And then I had the opportunity to look behind me. I looked up, and I saw
where I had just plummeted from. It was only probably 15 feet up or so,
but I could see exactly where my body came down. There was a huge pile
of snow on the left, a huge section of snow missing in the middle, and a
huge pile of snow on the right. I had taken all of the snow off the edge with
me, and I could now see the exposed rock.
And then a surge of disappointment hit me! This would be the perfect
picture...but I had used up all of my shots at the top of the mountain! I
never thought that I would want one on the way down! I was so frustrated!
But that cliff is emblazened into my memory!
The rest of the way down was not too bad. I again had to cross the river,
and this time there was no log, but I managed.
It took me 3 hours to get up that mountain.
And 20 minutes to get down.
As I walked back to the cabin, I looked back at what I had just conquered. I
think I had received my "fill" of country for the day. I was now ready to go
back to the city. I walked up to the cabin, and I met my friends back inside.
After all, it was now time for some hot chocolate.
singles. Tucked away deep into the country in one of the most beautiful
cabins I have ever seen.
It was quite a welcome relief from the pavement and noise of Boston. I had
been living in Boston for a couple of months, and for a country boy, it was
time to get out for awhile. Now don't get me wrong...cities have their
perks. But I grew up listenin' to the corn blow in the wind, watchin' deer
jump across fields, and sittin' underneath the stars at night. I could
recognize the sound of a combine from a mile away; when I wanted fresh
fruit or vegetables, I went out and picked them (not bought them), and
street cleaning simply meant I bent down and picked up some trash of the
side of the road.
Needless to say, I needed some country again. And so there I was, miles
away from any thought of a city, tucked into the Green Mountains. The
drive up there was beautiful. Ok, granted, it was some of the coldest
weather I have ever been in, and I had to change a flat tire with numb
hands, but the skyscrapers turned into trees, and the pavement into
flowing rivers. I could have no complaints at all.
I was invited to a singles retreat of sorts. More or less, you grab a bunch
of singles, and you throw them into a cabin. In my estimation, that is a
terrible idea from day one. But I took my friends up on the offer. After all,
they were going, too!
Well, we get to this cabin. I knew it would be nice when we had to pass a
couple of covered bridges guarding nearly-frozen rivers to get there. But I
totally underestimated the beauty of this cabin. Wood throughout. And it
was huge! Rooms everywhere. Some rooms were connected, others were
tucked away. And, of course, as with any cabin, the fireplace was goin',
and it was goin' strong! No gas, either. Just pure wood taken from the
mountains.
To put it into a word, it was...
Cozy.
Now let me stop here for just a minute. I don't mind "cozy." I'm all about
sippin' hot chocolate while watchin' the fire and talkin'. That is all fine and
good! Playin' cards deep into the night, laughin' at each other's jokes.
That's a great time.
But for every ounce of cozy, I need about three ounces of adventure.
And so, there I find myself, minglin' with strangers I didn't know, sittin' in a
warm cabin, playin' cards, and listenin' to one of the jokesters.
And all I could think about was...
"There is a mountain outside."
I seriously couldn't shake that thought. Now don't get me wrong, I loved
the people, and they were rather funny. But we were to spend a weekend
here, and for me to stay inside the entire time would be a cruel form of
suicide.
I think I started to realize the danger of it all when the women pulled out
their crochet hooks. Now I'm not talking one or two girls here. It was like
an army of crocheters sprung forth.
Save me now.
And so I started my game plan. We were currently sitting on a smaller
hillside, but I remember coming in that I saw this gigantic mountain across
the road. And I distinctly remember seeing a sign down on the bottom that
said, "Please climb me." No one else could see it, and that freaked me
out, but the mountain wanted some company. Who was I to refuse it?!
So I did what any man would do.
"I'm going to go climb a mountain."
People looked at me. Maybe one or two laughed. And then I think they
saw the seriousness in my eyes. "Oh, he's not joking. Yarn around once,
then through, yarn around..." They didn't know how to respond. They
retreated to their happy place of yarn and needle.
A couple of people advised against it. "That's not a good idea, Andy."
"Why not?"
"Well, who is going with you?"
"Anyone that wants to. You in?"
"Not hardly."
"Ok, well, I guess it's just me."
"Don't do it. Do you have a cell phone?"
"Why, do they get better reception up there?"
Hmph. City folk. I love them. I really do. But at times I can't understand
them. A couple of them turned into my mother for awhile, telling me how I
could die and all that good stuff. Of course I knew that! It was a mountain,
for cryin' out loud!
But their retreat was a bit different from my retreat. They simply needed to
be away from the city. I needed to be IN the country. And that was the
biggest difference.
Well, one of the guys went and grabbed some snow shoes. Snow shoes. I
thought these only hung up in really fun restaurants. I strapped them on
and tried to walk in them out in the snow. It would take a bit of getting used
to, but it sure helped quite a bit.
And let it be known that the snow was roughly 2-3 feet deep at the cabin. I
still sank a few inches with the snow shoes, but at least I didn't have to pull
my entire leg out of a hole after every step.
And so I walked down the hill to the road.
You know, I must say, snowshoeing is actually quite enjoyable. It's one of
those activities that you wonder how it first began. I mean, seriously, who
combines the act of walking with the sport of tennis? "Now if I just take
those rackets and put laces on them...."
But I was indebted to whomever thought of the idea.
Now, there's one thing you should know about mountains. And I seemingly
forgot this important fact. Mountains deceive. Every one of them. They
tell you they are here, only to find out they are there. The mountain I
thought was "just across the street" turned out to be quite a hike...just to
get to its base!
But I arrived. And I had to cross a river in order to get to it. I walked along
the rough banks until I found a log to walk on. If I fell, I would instantly
freeze! Man, I love this!
And so started my journey up this mountain. I simply just started going
up. Sometimes I had to go a bit sideways to go up, but the basic gameplan
was to walk up. Trees dotted the entire mountain, so I had to zigzag in and
out.
But it was everything I thought it would be. And more.
Like a lot more. As in time. I would see the top of the mountain up ahead.
The trees would disappear, and I could no longer see any snow. Must be
the top. Well, until I got there. Then I saw the same thing again.
Countless times I thought I was getting close to the top only to realize that I
was far from it.
As I climbed higher and higher, I would occasionally stop to rest. I had
taken a backpack with some extra clothes, a couple of bites to eat, and a
camera. I looked out to see the view, and I noticed a sibling mountain.
That's when it hit me.
"If these are the same size, then I am only half-way there!"
It wasn't really a jolt of defeat or of disappointment...more just a statement
of fact. I am so small...
And then I would continue on.
I made it to the "top" of where I was heading. But I realize that I had started
at a point at the base that put me in line with a place just a bit lower than
the top.
"If I'm come this far, I'm goin' all the way."
And so I turned a little bit and kept going.
And after a while, I could see the real top. It was wide, and it had several
"tops," but I had made it. In roughly 3 hours.
I stopped, I took plenty of pictures, and I rested. I just sat there and looked
out across the rest of Vermont. No words, really. But there is something
deeply spiritual and even necessary about being on top of a mountain and
looking out. Of the same importance of sitting underneath the stars. No
words. Just looking.
I don't remember how long I stayed there, but I enjoyed every bit of it. I
traced animal tracks, and I tried to follow mine far as the eye could see.
And then I decided it was time to head home. After all, by time I get back, it
may be gettin' dark!
And I looked back down at my tracks through the snow. I knew where they
lead. And because of that fact, I could not bring myself to go back down
that same way.
There was more mountain to discover, even if it was on the way down.
So I faced another direction, and I started heading down.
Let me say that I could see patches of evergreens on the sister mountain.
Most of my trek up the mountain had involved what I would call "normal"
trees...birches, oaks, etc.
But scattered throughout the landscape were patches of evergreens.
Some were thick, while others were rather small. I took nothing from that
observation.
Well, going down the mountain was absolutely some of the best times I've
ever had. I would more or less sit on my butt, then ski down on the snow
shoes.
And I was making great time!
Until I met the evergreens.
I quickly found out why the evergreens live on mountains. It's because
they are the only tree that can withstand the intense angle of incline (or in
my case...decline!). The birches simply could not root themselves into
these cliffs. Either the root system wasn't strong enough, or as they grew,
the weight became too much and they would collapse. But for some
reason, these green trees loved these steep embankments.
And I came flying into these evergreens. I managed to stop myself. The
descent below me was much too steep. I had no poles, I had no ropes,
and what is more, I had no control. If I started, I would not be able to stop.
So I looked back up behind me. And I quickly realized I had no option. I
had already become so far into the steep part of this side of the mountain,
that it was physically impossible for me to climb back up it.
I couldn't even stand, as the angle was too sharp.
And so I had to commit myself to continuing my trek down.
So I did something that seems silly to me even now as I write it. But I would
look down and spot one of the trees. And I would hang on to another tree,
as I tried to line myself up with the one down below me.
And then I let go.
Gravity quickly took over, and my body would slide ridiculously fast down
the mountain. Sometimes I would hit my tree, othertimes I would miss.
But there would always be more trees.
Now this wasn't the easiest of maneuvers. Granted, when you let go, you
fall. But it took some nerves of steel to plumment down the mountainside
and try to nail a tree. And when you missed, you simply tried to hit another
one. Was I scared? I don't think "scared" is the word. I mean, as fun as it
ended up being, this is not something that I would willingly choose to do. It
was simply too dangerous. But seeing as I didn't have an option, I just sort
of went with the flow. It's like a man in battle. You don't have time to be
scared. You just do what you have to do.
Now, for the record, I wasn't tumbling. I was still sliding on my toosh. I
would lean back with the snow shoes in front of me and kind of blaze a
path of snow removal. When I looked back behind me, you could see the
wide path of a body flying down. It was quite enjoyable!
Until I hit what was ultimately the last tree.
I could see it coming up, and again, there was not much I could do about
it. Up ahead of me (but several feet lower than me) was a drop-off. The
only reason I could tell is that the trees just sort of became shorter all of a
sudden. And I could see where the snow ended abruptly.
So I slid down to the last tree before the drop-off.
All in all, it didn't look too bad. I mean, we're not talking Niagara Falls or
anything. But this isn't your front porch step, either.
I looked back behind me, and I again had no option. I had slid too far over
to even think about climbing back up. Climbing sideways was impossible
due to the steep incline. It was either sit here and enjoy my last few cold
days on earth, or keep on going down.
And so I let go.
My body flew over the drop-off. And to this day, I wish I had this on video.
My body plummets forward. The momentum had flung me forward, and
now nothing but gravity was acting upon me. My upper body hurled
towards the front as my feet sank into position.
And then I landed...face-down in the snow. My entire body landed face
down...head to toe.. Luckily, the snow was thick, and it cushioned my fall.
I lifted up my face, and I tried to get up. But I couldn't.
I was physically stuck in the snow.
These snowshoes that had just allowed me to walk up the mountain now
prevented me from moving. They were lodged straight down into the thick
snow. And I couldn't move. My legs were immobile!
I was able to lift my face up, and my upper body, but I couldn't even twist
my back, as my lower body was submerged.
And you know what I did?
I laughed. I distinctly remember laughing at the humor of it all. I had just
plummeted off a short cliff, and I was now stuck. How funny is that?!
Over the next couple minutes, I was able to pry myself loose. It was quite a
job, though, let me tell you. Those snow shoes were lodged into the snow.
And then I had the opportunity to look behind me. I looked up, and I saw
where I had just plummeted from. It was only probably 15 feet up or so,
but I could see exactly where my body came down. There was a huge pile
of snow on the left, a huge section of snow missing in the middle, and a
huge pile of snow on the right. I had taken all of the snow off the edge with
me, and I could now see the exposed rock.
And then a surge of disappointment hit me! This would be the perfect
picture...but I had used up all of my shots at the top of the mountain! I
never thought that I would want one on the way down! I was so frustrated!
But that cliff is emblazened into my memory!
The rest of the way down was not too bad. I again had to cross the river,
and this time there was no log, but I managed.
It took me 3 hours to get up that mountain.
And 20 minutes to get down.
As I walked back to the cabin, I looked back at what I had just conquered. I
think I had received my "fill" of country for the day. I was now ready to go
back to the city. I walked up to the cabin, and I met my friends back inside.
After all, it was now time for some hot chocolate.
| What Goes Up Must Come Down... Faster!!! |
| The Cabin |
| View from Bottom |
| Me at the Top! |
| View from Cabin |
| The Steep Incline |
| My Snowshoes! |
| My Tracks! |