Sunburnt Philosophy, Part 6
Posted: April 25th, 2005, 1:55 pm
I puzzle over these elevation tricks. This gentle grade extends for miles.... the drop adds up to thousands of feet, yet it seems virtually flat, stretched over such a great span. Stratified hills project from the slope below, but it's difficult to judge their size and range, or if I sit higher than their tops. I try to project a flat line of sight, but where is my point of reference? How do I discern true horizontal?
The spring snow and crisp air lend clarity to the highest mountains, but even this clarity deceives. I see canyons and escarpments in great detail within the far mountains, but I have no idea of their scale. They appear quite close.... perhaps only a few miles off, though I know this to be an illusion.... a deception of distance.... one made worse when these far-off peaks are framed directly over much closer foothills and formations.... which turns out to be a common illusion, demonstratable by backing away from any window with gaze fixed on an outside object, which draws closer as it fills up the frame....
When the haze returns, ridge lines will be sorted by shades of purple smoke.... yet still no reliable point of reference.... The sweeps of raw sculpture cannot be grasped as a whole.... perhaps ridge to ridge at best, though elements of myth tend to inhabit the far ridge, in rich strata of imagination, dangerously near the subconscious. The scale is simply too immense and wide-open to taken as pure rational science.
Thousands come here to find rugged salvation when all other beliefs come up empty, or to simply slip under the radar. I pass through straight-laced Mormon settlements and the quagmire of Vegas.... a theme of extreme.... the same intractable desert compulsion tied to its own heat-stroke logic, which powers a shimmer across the dry lakes and propels the faithful to their singular resolution. There is no middle ground. Those who seek this place have the one true faith or are convinced they will find it by means never before imagined or pulled off just right. Look for preachers and outlaws.... prospectors, all of them. See if you can tell them apart.
The desert extorts philosophy with its tricks of light and elevation. I climb a slope toward a mesa. Which is better? A view of the mesa or a view from the top? Have I climbed far enough already? Keep in mind that a little elevation goes a long way here, free of forest entanglement.... Perhaps the mesa top is worth a shot. But why would someone climb a mountain? Because it's there.... apparently. I suppose I also carry this ethic, but my version is considerably more horizontal. I've noticed a distinct lack of return for continued elevation gain once I've topped three, maybe four-thousand feet over the basin floor, similar to, say, a bell-curve of drinking.... or politics.... or religion. How high is high enough for best returns? Above what point is the excercise rendered a sort of questionable sporting event?
Summit photos are generally of clouds and ice.... impressive mainly as proof of athletic achievement. Above, say, eight-thousand feet or so, it takes a rocket ride to get my attention. Who remembers Apollo Eight and the Earthrise photo? Who remembers the earth as a thumb-sized lifeboat? Now that was a summit photo to inspire great awe, even if it was taken by a hardnosed military officer who was trying to beat the Russians. It was possibly the most groundbreaking and instructive photo ever taken. Now it is a lost artifact.... a missed opportunity.
I have my mesa top. I rest on the edge and take notes. I've climbed high enough, at least for now.
The spring snow and crisp air lend clarity to the highest mountains, but even this clarity deceives. I see canyons and escarpments in great detail within the far mountains, but I have no idea of their scale. They appear quite close.... perhaps only a few miles off, though I know this to be an illusion.... a deception of distance.... one made worse when these far-off peaks are framed directly over much closer foothills and formations.... which turns out to be a common illusion, demonstratable by backing away from any window with gaze fixed on an outside object, which draws closer as it fills up the frame....
When the haze returns, ridge lines will be sorted by shades of purple smoke.... yet still no reliable point of reference.... The sweeps of raw sculpture cannot be grasped as a whole.... perhaps ridge to ridge at best, though elements of myth tend to inhabit the far ridge, in rich strata of imagination, dangerously near the subconscious. The scale is simply too immense and wide-open to taken as pure rational science.
Thousands come here to find rugged salvation when all other beliefs come up empty, or to simply slip under the radar. I pass through straight-laced Mormon settlements and the quagmire of Vegas.... a theme of extreme.... the same intractable desert compulsion tied to its own heat-stroke logic, which powers a shimmer across the dry lakes and propels the faithful to their singular resolution. There is no middle ground. Those who seek this place have the one true faith or are convinced they will find it by means never before imagined or pulled off just right. Look for preachers and outlaws.... prospectors, all of them. See if you can tell them apart.
The desert extorts philosophy with its tricks of light and elevation. I climb a slope toward a mesa. Which is better? A view of the mesa or a view from the top? Have I climbed far enough already? Keep in mind that a little elevation goes a long way here, free of forest entanglement.... Perhaps the mesa top is worth a shot. But why would someone climb a mountain? Because it's there.... apparently. I suppose I also carry this ethic, but my version is considerably more horizontal. I've noticed a distinct lack of return for continued elevation gain once I've topped three, maybe four-thousand feet over the basin floor, similar to, say, a bell-curve of drinking.... or politics.... or religion. How high is high enough for best returns? Above what point is the excercise rendered a sort of questionable sporting event?
Summit photos are generally of clouds and ice.... impressive mainly as proof of athletic achievement. Above, say, eight-thousand feet or so, it takes a rocket ride to get my attention. Who remembers Apollo Eight and the Earthrise photo? Who remembers the earth as a thumb-sized lifeboat? Now that was a summit photo to inspire great awe, even if it was taken by a hardnosed military officer who was trying to beat the Russians. It was possibly the most groundbreaking and instructive photo ever taken. Now it is a lost artifact.... a missed opportunity.
I have my mesa top. I rest on the edge and take notes. I've climbed high enough, at least for now.
