Sometimes solving a big problem means slowing way down
Earlier this summer I headed up with the dogs to one of our favorite areas to claim a camp spot we had identified the previous year. It’s a popular area (seems to get more so every year) and we’ve learned that you can’t roll in at the last minute Friday night and expect to get a great spot. I had recently left my job and career of 20 years and had few commitments, so I volunteered to go up Thursday — the rest of the group would join me the next day.
This spot is high up, around 10,000 feet, and I wasn’t totally shocked when I came to a snowbank on the north aspect almost completely blocking the road. I turned around and looked for another spot, but came back to the snowbank. The great spot was up ahead. I stood there in the road and thought a bit. There were a few ATV tracks across the snowbank but the angle was pretty steep and the road was soft and wet on the downhill side — my little camp trailer would likely slide off downhill, which would have been a bigger problem. I had two things going for me, I figured. I had a shovel, and it was 2pm; the sun wouldn’t set until after 7. So I resolved to see if I could shovel out the snowbank. I am not young anymore and I’m carrying about thirty extra pounds so I kept it modest and paced myself: I set a goal of shoveling for 45 minutes to see how far I could get. It was good work and hard in the thin air with the smell of pine and sun warm on my back. I settled into a rhythm, slinging snow and chipping ice and taking a break every now and then. After 45 minutes I had moved about one third of the snow blocking my way. I had some water got back to it. An hour and a half later I had cleared enough to squeeze through with the trailer.
On top of the ridge was a great spot with a stunning view of mountains in three directions, nobody else around. I set up camp and put a steak and some asparagus on the griddle. I enjoyed this solitary meal perhaps more than any in recent memory — hands, arms, and back sore and my spirits light. This was what I had been looking for, different from ordinary nourishment.
Stepping away from a busy career has freed my time to explore a bit more, and to reflect. One of the things I see clearly now is that our most precious resource — more precious than money, stuff, or status — is something that we spend every day without hope of ever getting more than our allotted amount. It is time. You probably figured that out already. Bear with me, I’m learning.
