The Aesthetics of Adventure
The other day, I watched as rock climbers ascended the gargantuan walls of Yosemite, possessed of grace and clearly undeterred by the shadow of death. Remarkable. Actually, I watched a number of videos on that occasion, ever more fascinated with each passing image. From certain angles, it appeared that the climbers were securely pressed against the face of granite, as if in a lover's embrace. Then, as the camera panned across nauseating depths, the truth became apparent. In short, the aesthetics of adventure offer endless moments of beauty, but sometimes exact a dreadful price.
When considering the most daring of "extreme sports," free diving and solo free climbing come to mind, as they take the form of death, but apparently offer athletes fulfillment and appreciation for life. When I first came upon the former activity, I purchased a book written by a journalist, an investigator who chronicled the sport and its lithe divers, men and women who achieve legendary status for their skills.
For my part, I can only imagine the experience of discovering blue furlongs, the unknown gradually revealing itself--one meter of depth, then ten, and soon the darkness gathers itself into an abyss, engulfing you like the throat of a giant. I'll pass.
As for those skilled and brave enough to embrace adventure, the aesthetic rewards are unparalleled. Only a few can boast of seeing endless skies from the vantagepoint of eagles, or touching the depths sustained by nothing more than a single breath and a set of undulating fins. My aesthetic enjoyment is tame by comparison but no less invigorating for the rich variety of landscapes I encounter.
Regarding Tall Pines in the Afternoon
On the occasion of the photo you find above--my RV nestled amid the pines of Oregon--fires were raging in various parts of the state with the southern regions remaining blessedly safe. I thank God for that mercy. Although certain days were thick with smoke and the ennui of late summer, there were interludes of sun filled with fragrance and a sense of joy. From the highway, Mount Bachelor was visible to the north, towering with intrigue as new adventures awaited me.
Reno and Las Vegas: Lights and Fading Glory
From Bend, Oregon, I traveled through parts of Northern California and eventually stopped in Reno, Nevada for two nights of rest. Then, I continued south to Tonopah, Nevada, a hub of lithium mining (and a bit of marijuana growing) which I examined in a recent essay. As a side note, Tonopah has an interesting legacy related to underground military bases and mysterious disappearances, whispers of strangeness piercing through its otherwise ordinary existence. And, of course, there is the Clown Motel of Tonopah, a landmark of creepiness unto itself. Anyway, let's conclude by considering the aesthetics of Las Vegas with its lights and fading glory.
This enclave offers cultural historians a wealth of material to examine, from the implosion of old casinos to the behavior of inebriated tourists wandering amid blackjack tables. Indeed, a walk down the strip reveals much to the careful observer. In recent times, "sin city" has fallen into decline, its sea of neon unable to hide emerging homeless encampments and the festering infrastructure of its tunnel systems, where the castaways of glamor take up residence en masse. All to what end?
Although I stayed for only one night at the Vegas KOA, I made time to visit Walmart and Trader Joe's before heading to Quartzsite, Arizona for the winter. All along, I wondered about the future of Vegas and the remnants of Western culture it contains. How will succeeding generations remember this former playground of America, where ordinary people traveled to lose their paychecks and sip watered-down drinks? At any rate, the ambience of Vegas remains fascinating; the red and purple neon; the colored glass ceiling of Bellagio; and the fountains that defy parched desert landscapes all speak to the town's heritage and imminent demise.
From forests to mining towns and beyond, the ornaments of adventure are fluid and colorful, emerging from the smoke of wildfires and extending to the waves of Oregon beaches.