The mornings were cool and crisp. The kids were back in school. The guests were mostly gone.
Not me.
On Elk Street, in front of restaurants and bars and coffe shops, past art galleries and clothing shops, couples promenaded hand in hand. Or singly, with a dog. Twice, I spotted a blind man, his white cane tapping the rough pavement, a woman on his arm.
Even a blind man, Finds the sound of Aspen leaves, Lovely as can be.
It was not peak Aspen season. (Full foliage is mid-October.) But here and there on the mountainside, the leaves were turning golden yellow and red. Just as lovely, is the sound of the leaves fluttering in the breeze. Amazing to think, an Aspen grove is one biomass.
One day we rented E-bikes and road to the tiny town of Gothic. It was silver town, played out, now the center for the Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory. A coffee shop, usually closed, a museum and gift shop, usually open, a great place to stop and chat.
Especially while it rains.
In the pouring rain, E-bikes on the road to Gothic, Then a moose — Wow!
— Bashō no yōna, October 2024
Deer and elk, we take for granted. A fox not often. A bear let’s hope not. Moose, should you be lucky enough to spot one, are pretty docile unless they’re cornered. It’s best to wait before you pedal onward.
Late in the day, much too late, the wife and I were hiking a short trail outside Crested Butte, past the ghost town of Gothic. The trail marker said half mile to Judd Falls. A Japanese couple returning from the hike to Judd Falls said hello. And in that strange language that people from different cultures try to talk, told us it was getting dark and too far. As we would learn, they were right, the sign was wrong. Judd Falls was much further and darkness fell as we walked.
The hike, the mountain, the golden Aspen, the falls, the friendly Japanese couple, all reminded me of Basho’s many walks.
The Coffee Shop in downtown Rocky Ford, Colorado, hot coffee, friendly chatter, cute jewelry.
The Coffee Shop
There are piles of cantaloupe and watermelon and peaches on stands in Rocky Ford Calla Colorado. But it is too early in the season for these to be grown here.
Swink, Colorado
Swing, I think they need
A catchier name
Swing
Don’t blink
You missed it
La Junta, Colorado
Wow
They’ve got
A Walmart
Three towns in quick succession. Rocky Ford, Swink, and La Junta. The last is close to Bent’s Old Fort, an early settlement on the Santa Fe Trail. A way’s further to Las Animas.
Hurry, she said, let’s hurry
Why, I said,
You’ll miss this moment
Cannabis
Can’t miss it in
Las Animas
From Las Animas, it’s on to Hasty and La Mar. Beneath the ground is a giant aquifer quickly shrinking from the irrigation needed to water the crops.
Once on a trip to Estes Park, a friend and I camped below Longs Peak (a “fourteener” located in the Rocky Mountain National Park), having decided on the spur of the moment to make the long climb to the top. It was summer, the evening was cool. It is hard to ignore, he snores. He slept in a one man tent, I crosswise and bent in the car. The stars filled the night sky, and the Milky Way rose behind the peak we hoped to climb the next day.
Unprepared, ill-equipped, we didn’t make it all the way, but had a great time. P.S. a better climber started us out, illuminating the pathway with a headlamp that he wisely brought.
a mountain path
Some thoughts:
Nightfall Too Dark to Read, To Bed
A fool Climbs Mt. Long Not at all
In Darkness, With trust in the Buddha, I start, I stumble, I fall
One can ride horses along the trails on the mountainside. When the sun rose, we saw a few horses roaming freely on the range. One horse had only three legs.
A three legged horse On the mountainside Climbs better than most
In the Summer Sun Snow melts, water gathers A cold stream
There is still snow at the highest elevations, even in July. The summer sun melts the snow forming narrow streams. One often stops to wash the face and hands with the cold water. Then one moves on, admiring a wildflower that grows nearby.
mountain crocus
1685 (year of Jōkyō, 貞享)
The following haiku is from Basho’s Journal of Bleached Bones(Nozarashi Kiko, 野ざらし紀行). This travelogue covered a trip that began in the fall of 1684 and ended the next spring. Basho traveled from Edo to Iga Ueno, his birthplace. After paying respects to his mother who had died the year before, he traveled to Kamigata (an are encompassing Kyoto, Kobe, and Osaka). Coming along a mountain path, Matsuo Basho spied a mountain violet (sumiregusa). This dainty purple flower with its heart shaped leaves has no smell, but it is charming nevertheless, being one of the earliest flowers to blossom in spring.
coming along a mountain path, somehow so charming – a wild violet
[ゆかし, yukashi meaning charming, endearing, or moving. This haiku inspired Enya to compose a charming song in Japanese called Sumiregusa.]
My thoughts is this:
A tiny mountain flower Don’t pick this jewel Just admire
Having reached the peak of Mt. Long, many climbers quickly descend, either because the peak has become crowded with other climbers, or the time of day is late and the weather uncertain. I think Basho would agree, there is joy in the summit, but the greater joy is in the journey.
matsuo-basho-haiku 