Our Thoughts

MOORE ON LIFE BY CINDY MOORE

ravings Daylight

It’s here again. That weird time in March. “You mean the holiday when we violently pinch those not wearing green; the time when we force ourselves to shove corned beef and cabbage down our throats even though we hate it; the holiday we party around like happy little leprechauns till we pass out?”

Wow! I though my idea was weird, but you’re right, that is one messed up holiday. Well then…ahem…the second weirdest time of the month--daylight savings time.

History tells us that daylight savings time was originated by, George Hudson, the famous entomologist.

“Who the heck is he? And what’s an entomologist?” He just happened to be a renowned scientist who studied insects. He believed that by creating a two-hour time shift, he’d have more after-work hours of sunshine in which to go bug hunting in the summer.

But there are advantages and disadvantages with the time switch. Let’s go over some.

Pro: People shop more during extended daylight hours. More shopping and more sunshine release more endorphins. Endorphins stream through our system like happy little bugs. Back off Hudson!

Con: I could very well explode from an overdose of endorphins.

Pro: Our math skills sharpen. When the clock is changed I am constantly adding or subtracting hours to find the “real” time. Alarm goes off at 6 a.m. “Let’s see, six minus one hour means…it’s really 5 a.m.! Wake me when it’s nine minus one!”

Con: Mentally we can’t adjust and physically our bodies never truly adjust. Our seasonal timing is severely affected. Similar to the physical jolt that happens when I walk into Hobby Lobby at the end of August and the Christmas decorations are up. I began to twitch and shudder and physically feel a gust of frigid air and mentally begin to hear “Jingle Bells” playing in my mind. I experience a seasonal meltdown.

Pro: The crime rate drops. The first day of daylight savings saw robberies fall seven percent. The alarm goes off at 4 a.m. and robbers say, “It’s really 3 a.m.! Much too early to plunder and pillage!” Further proof that criminals are lazy lumps.

Con: There are more accidents. Pedestrian squish-ups are three times higher. But when compared with texting while walking, it came out much lower.

So we can thank the Bug Man for making our lives really messed up, but not as messed up as that holiday when we celebrate green.

Cindy Moore is the mother of three superlative kids, servant of two self-indulgent felines and wife to one nifty husband. Her ficticious occupation? Archeological Humorist: someone who unearths absurdity and hilarity in strange and unusual places including public restrooms, the lint filter, and church meetings. Most recently, she excavated a find in her neighbor’s bird feeder.

I woke up the day after my climb, spent and sore. I drank as much water as I could, and took lots of electrolytes. A small breakfast was all that would sit in my gut. A good mountaineer would have completed my climb and gone on from the gully to the summit, an outing well above my ability, then looked for something else to do the next day. That said, the previous day’s adventure was quite an accomplishment for an old, banged-up guy. Looking back on it, it was the kind of undertaking that could have resulted in the Search and Rescue crew putting remains in a bag, and wondering, “What was this guy thinking?”

The wind was fierce, the harbinger of an approaching storm. In between trips for water, naps were the main activity for the day. Earplugs were necessary to keep the racket of the flapping tarp down to a dull roar. I endured another night at this camp, and began the trip out the next morning, covering a few miles back to my previous campsite.

Shortly after setting up this next camp, the storm finally arrived. Several inches of snow fell, and the day was spent mostly under the tarp, venturing out during lulls in the storm to take care of food, water and a little bit of hiking. The storm began to break up in the late afternoon, and as the sky cleared, the temperature began dropping. The forecast called for an overnight low of 26 degrees; it was 26 as the sun went down, and the overnight low hit 10, with the ever-present wind adding to the chill. All the seemingly excess clothing I had lugged in proved to be quite welcome, as I slept in all my clothing wrapped in the sleeping bag. It was comfortable – just barely.

A few more miles out the next day put me at a camp off the main trail with a good view of the mountains where I had spent the last few days. My appetite had returned, and I did my best to make up for not eating for a day.

It was a good campsite to reflect on the trip, and put some old demons to rest. I used to spend as much time in this range as I could; life had thrown up some unexpected detours, and I hadn’t been back here for quite a few years. I had just completed a climb that hadn’t seemed possible anymore. That was a good thing to ponder.

The next morning had me on the trail early. It was a long hike out, even with a

Avalanche is a functional illiterate who left the St. Louis area three decades ago in search of adventure. He enjoys motorcycling and all things outdoors. He lives with his wife and dogs. pack lightened by more than 15 pounds worth of food and fuel consumed. There was a considerable amount of foot traffic headed into the range, as the latest blast of winter had blown out, and the sun was providing nice fall conditions.

I spoke with a young guy and his girlfriend along the way. He was an enthusiastic sort, loved these mountains, and was afraid that increased usage could turn this wilderness into a National Parktype of environment. I suggested that he use ear-buds to listen to the “music” blaring from his phone, as the rest of us had the same concerns.

The last few miles out were a long, weary march, mostly through dense timber. Views of the range’s crest were few and far between, the trail muddy and slick. A couple more hours of trudging and I was back at the truck. A motel room thoughtfully reserved by Staci was a wonderful luxury, as my original plan had been to drive home immediately after getting out of the woods. A decandently long hot shower, clean clothes, and a warm, soft bed made for a pleasant ending to a fantastic journey. The assorted final numbers were 40- plus miles hiked, mostly above treeline with a heavy pack. The warmest day was 65 degrees, and the coldest night 10 degrees. The climb itself was 1,500 vertical feet, completed in five hours round trip, solo, with no belayer, and only two pitches rappelled, the rest down-climbed. There was one worried wife at home, taking care of our two giant Newfoundland “puppies”. The battery life of my new fancy satellite messenger was less than 10 percent of the advertised 240 hours. The muscle aches and sore joints subsided over the next week, as did the eye hemorrhage, a bloody reminder of a lifealtering injury. Best of all, the trip redefined what might be possible in the future. Down & out