Whoo! That was such a solid adventure.
I went out around 3:00 am this morning, and noticed what a beautiful night it was. It’s been snowing for the last 48 hours without interruption–over two feet at Bridger Bowl. And it was still snowing when I went out. It was perfectly still, with the sky all aglow with the lights of the city.
So, I put on some snow pants, and took my car to Peet’s Hill. It was a little chilly, at first, slogging through six to eight inches of snow up the hill. The snow pelted me in my face, snuck into my jacket through my too-large neck opening. But then, in one of those snow-epiphany moments, I realized that it wasn’t really that cold. And then I stopped noticing it and just enjoyed my trudge through the white fluffy stillness.
Below, snow-plows raced, lights flashing, to clear parking lots, streets.
I made it to the top, and jumped up on top of the bench there to have a look around. And my, I’ll probably remember that view for quite some time to come.
Then, feeling full of energy, I decided to run down the other side of Peet’s Hill. And … I did. I slipped a few times, but didn’t come close to the cartwheeling spectacular crashing disaster that I was, without really admitting it, secretly hoping for.
Cresting that small hill, 3/4 of the way down, I stopped to look out. Amazingly, Bozeman still has open space, open fields. I knew that, looking out past the houses, then open fields, then more houses, there was a trail that would lead me back to my car.
At first, I was stumped: how could I get back to my car without going all the way around? But then … it dawned on me. I’d just cut across some yards. Something I’ve never done before. I hesitated, and then–probably precisely because I hesitated–I went for it. First, though, I had to make it down the rest of the hill–bouncing through a full ten inches of fluffy powder, I plunged down the 30′ embankment to the road, ran across, and plunged another 10′ in to someone’s yard.
I took a few steps, and then an automatic light came on. I froze, for a moment. Then, convincing myself that everyone was asleep, I along the wood-post fence to the back of the yard, where Bozeman creek–a full 8 to 10 feet wide–formed the back side of the yard.
Fortunately, there was a downed tree, a little ways down, that stretched across the creek. I stepped out on the log, praying not to slip, and worked my way out. Five feet out, it occurred to me just how badly it would suck to slip and fall into the quickly rushing water below.
Once on the other side, I had to figure out how to get through the bushes and brambles to the field on the other side. I walked along the bank a bit, and then found a spot where I could crawl, on my hands and knees, through the bushes without running too much risk of tearing things.
And then, I was out in the middle of a field. Bozeman creek, a few houses, and Peet’s Hill on the East, houses on the West. Open fields, criss-crossed by fences and animal tracks, stretched north and south.
I took to an animal trail, and started to run north. After checking out a cool-looking, ancient barn (that was, tragically, thoroughly secured against intruders), I worked my way West. All the while, I was plowing through at least a foot of unblemished (aside from some dog trails) snow. Spectacular!
Rushing through another person’s yard, I was back on the street–in a place I recognized, but wouldn’t have expected to find myself.
I took to the road, and the sidewalks, running, then walking, and peeling off my beanie and gloves, unbuttoning my coat. Whoo!
Along the way, an automatic light came on, and then another on the same house, illuminating a driveway with a perfect 2′ layer of snow across it (obviously, it had been shoveled before the owner went to bed). For grins, I took a giant leap in to the driveway, and ran in a funky, bowing and pivoting circle–twice. Then I jumped back out, and admired my handiwork: a perfectly shaped heart now filled the middle of the formerly carte blanche driveway. Truth be told, I’m pretty pleased with myself for discovering the snow heart. As I continued, I found another good driveway, and made one–this one facing the house. It didn’t turn out quite as well, but these things take some practice, I suppose.
I kept traveling–walking, bouncing, sucking in the night–north, passed a dead-end sign, to some sort of industrial storage lot. I recognized it–I’d run along it, on the trail to the north-west, countless times. Unfortunately, between me and that trail (which would lead back to my car), stood this big, fenced industrial storage area, with angry “Warning! No trespassing!” signs. The fence was eight-foot chain link, with three strands of barbed wire on top.
Flushed with my recent success running through people’s yards, I went for it. The climbing was a little tricky, but I got to the top and jumped–into three feet of snow below on the other side. Then, I ran. I ran across the complex–getting a little freaked out by one building, where some heating equipment made some unexpected noise, then found a corner on the other wide, adjoining the trail, and carefully climbed over (using the tree to help get over the barbed wire). Then, I was on the trail to my car.
Not ready to be done just yet, I took a side trail, and followed it to the street, and then to Bogart park. Where I found … swings! Naturally, I picked one, cleared out enough snow from under the swing, and commenced that familiar rhythm–sticking my legs out to the side a bit, when going backwards, because the swing was a little low to the ground.
The first time I tried, I failed. But I got back on, picked up speed, inertia, again, and then–just as the swing was at its forward apogee, I jumped–flying through the air, then landing in the snow and cartwheeling forward. For good measure, I made a snow-angel, and some random (or not so random) shape in the snow around it.
I trounced through the almost knee-deep snow across the park back to my car, brushed off the half inch of snow that had accumulated while I was away, rolled down the window, and drove back home–flushed with the excitement of my adventure. It was SPECTACULAR. The snow was soft and hushed and thick and fluffy. I didn’t see another soul. I think I saw onecar, and that only from a distance. I had the world to myself–and, oh, I reveled in it.
Trudging up Peet’s Hill, I found myself wishing for someone to trudge with.
Once upon a time (Freshman year comes to mind), I was much more of a loner. I would have gone on an adventure, like tonight’s, and been glad that I had it to myself. Been glad for the time to spend alone with my thoughts.
(Thinking about it now, the enjoyment of being alone–or, more specifically, forming memories while alone–may related to the fact that, at the time, nearly ALL of the memories I had from high school were painful memories. So maybe I enjoyed doing things by myself, because (subconsciously), I knew that I would never regret or be hurt by those great things I did alone.)
But not tonight. Tonight (at least at first–when I started climbing over that eight foot fence, I was glad that there wasn’t anyone to hold me back), I found myself wishing, mildly, for someone to wake up at 4:00 am and force to go play in the snow. (A girl, that is.)
It seems more tenuous, now, but at the time I drew a parallel to my former degree of introspection. (a train of thought, doubtless, sparked by something Tegan said tonight.) At the time, I was all about learning about myself. I was all for reading philosophy and challenging literature. Staying up all night, having soul-seeking conversations–about the nature of self, life, the world, etc.
I’ve noted, previously, the dearth of any such introspection, and my gradual conversion to Philistinism. Anymore, I rarely read. I rarely have an interesting conversation–at least, not of the “soul-searching” variety. And that’s all quite intentional. There was a point–a year? eighteen months?–ago when I decided that I’d had quite enough learning about myself. That I was no longer interested.
(Put in literary terms that I didn’t think of at the time, I turned by back on Socrates–“the unexamined life is not worth living”–and converted to Plato–time examining robs one of time experiencing, and experience is the thing to be desired most in life!)
Breaking that train of thought for a moment, I should here record that I’ve been, on balance, significantly more happy and content since I abandoned my soul-seeking ways. Perhaps I’ve been more emotionally inert, but that doesn’t bother me in the least. I don’t mind not suffering the vagaries of raging, out-of-control emotions. And, as long as I stay busy, I stay happy. (When things slow down, though, like they did for a few weeks last fall … well, it was a little rough there for a bit.)
So this was the parallel: formerly, I didn’t desire the company of anyone else to share in an experience. An experience didn’t feel lacking, for not having someone else to experience it with. At the same time, formerly, I was much more introspective. Did a lot more thinking. So, maybe the two things are connected.
Regardless, the point is that I would have liked to have someone along tonight. I didn’t think about it much, but it did occur to me. It’s not something that could be quantified, but I might still arbitrarily suggest that tonight might have been 20-25% more enjoyable with someone else who’s company I enjoyed.
So, as I was bounding through the snow across Bogart park, it occurred to me that what I really crave, in a relationship, is someone to share experiences with. Someone to do stupid (or brilliant!) things with, like dropping down that 30′ embankment off Peet’s Hill tonight. Or running across a stranger’s lawn, in the middle of the night, for the first time.
And, I’m not sure why. I think it has something to do with memory, though. Either 1) being with someone else would help solidify the memory of the experience; or, 2) having someone else experience the same thing make the experience more tangible, and creates mutual memory. In either case, I think that much of the desire for someone else to be present stems from a desire to remember experiences more throughly, accurately, vividly, etc.
Any way about it, though, tonight’s experience was thoroughly vivid. Goodness, I LOVE BOZEMAN!
