In Mountain and Meadow~Colorado Nature Close To Home -

30 September ~2009

I went down to the Grizzly Rose on Saturday Night, the first time since my surgery. The Rose is large enough that you can stay back if you want to avoid the action on the dance floor and next to the bar. It's possible to have solitude and social life on the same night. I usually lean again the rail by the DJ booth on the East side of the dance floor, or shoulder up against a post at the back of the West side, waiting for a good song to be played.

My favorite songs are fast triple steps, and I might wait quite a while for one that makes me feel like moving forward to find a partner. I don't see the point of always being out on the floor, just going through the motions for music you don't care much for. I want a song that that makes for a memorable experience.

Part of the reason I stay at the back is so I have a good view of the tables, to see what ladies are available to dance to. (Billy Joe Shaver called it 'hawking the tables'). Ladies at tables with an equal number of men don't work too well, although if the women are attractive enough I have asked anyway, especially if they don't seem too attached to their male friends. The ladies may see that as a compliment to be asked to dance, and sometimes say yes, especially if they are having a boring evening.

The best dance partners are athletic, who know how to move on the floor and can stay up with the speed of the fast triple steps.The ones I try to avoid feel slow, as if they are holding back, for whatever reason.

On Saturday I noticed a tall slender brunette with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, talking with a couple of friends by the dance floor. I lost track of her, until Johnny Cash by Jason Aldean came on, and there she was, right in front of me. She said I would have to show her how. I just told her you rock to the left and rock to the right, and take big steps. Within 20 feet she had it, and was damn perfect, and is why I look for athletic women for partners. Even if this is not something they have done before they pick it up real quick. The spontaneity of it is magic. It makes you feel like you are living a damn good life. (which right then is true).

And this woman seemed to enjoy it. At the end she dragged me off the floor and said I needed to dance with her sister. She found her sister standing by the bar, and I could hardly believe my good fortune. The sister was also tall and slim, with shoulder length curly strawberry blond hair - almost more gorgeous than the brunette. Another fast triple step came on, and I found my new partner was experienced at dancing. At the end of this song I dipped her over, in spite of not planning to do that sort of thing at this stage in my recovery.

It certainly is true that doing what you love can speed up the healing process. That might be how I was able to return to dancing so soon after my surgery (before three weeks). There was the expectation of dancing with women like that to drive my recovery, during songs like Kerosene (Miranda Lambert), or Johnny Cash (Jason Aldean), or 8-second ride. (Chris Ledoux) (enter userid of music and password of music).

I sure as heck love Honky Tonk Saturday nights and the gorgeous women that show up there, and am awful glad to be back. Life is too short to spend them sitting at home.

On Sunday morning I went backpacking, also the first time since my surgery. The advantage of robotic surgery like I had is that your abdomen heals a lot quicker. I was able to strap the waist belt tight to my stomach, without any problems. I only went about a mile though, steep uphill, until I found an aspen grove still holding on to it's yellow leaves. A lot of trees were already bare because of the foot and a half of snow the Collegiates had 5 days before.

Once I set up camp me and the dogs didn't go far. We mostly stayed in our grove that first day, checking out the yellow canopy overhead and the red geranium and purple strawberry leaves on the forest floor. I threw sticks for the dogs to retrieve back to me, a game they never get tired of. At night we could hear animals moving through the dry leaves, which I hoped was deer or elk and not bear, coming around because of the carcass remnants a bow hunter left on the other side of the meadow.

Getting up in the mountain with just the dogs is something I need, just like some people might feel like the need to go to church on Sunday to get in touch with God. For me the voice of the Creator is in the peace that comes with darkness - the remaining aspen leaves sounding above us, and the stars that become visible through them. It is in the mountain peaks going from rose to red to yellow with the first eastern light from below, when me and the dogs are up and ready to set out exploring.

When you are wondering if you might lose something, it is awful sweet to have it back. I didn't expect to be backpacking and dancing within a month of my surgery, and I am sure thankful for it.

Part of what appeals to me about backpacking up high in the fall and winter is the freedom you feel at night before the frost settles in and clouds the view of the stars. Sometimes the Milky Way streams down like a white band to the mountain top. It is mysterious and beautiful, and once you are accustomed to being up there alone, there is hardly anything better.

Perhaps the cold of the winter nights matches some cold in my heart, this side of a long life. The only thing that warms it is live music, the touch of those hard-backed and sweet smiling ladies, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

Chris Ledoux wrote in Riding For A Fall that you should turn back, that "on a cold lonesome evening, what the hell good is your freedom."

Maybe he turned back too soon. Maybe he had something worth turning back to.

The truest freedom is up there alone in the glory of the mountains, knowing that no one expects you back down anytime soon.