This is a fascinating perspective on talus. I've crossed it tentatively, following a contour line, which has become an analogy for me for being on the edge of disaster. Your essay makes me wonder if talus needs to be quite so scary.
I suspect we'll hear from others who know the rewards of similar pursuits -- I think I've read in the past that some people ride horses fast through the woods, for example. In control, but in touch with something beyond.
What's most amazing to me, I think, is that despite my not having run talus for many years, how the exhilaration and control and sense of something beyond me still feels so real and relevant.
I get that. There are other experiences that give me that sense of something beyond me, and they feel applicable every single day. I'm glad (and fascinated) to hear that running talus gave you that.
Thanks, Bryan. I have encountered another form of beauty on a Rocky Mountain talus slope - Erebia magdalena, the Magdalena Alpine. That's one of the fun parts of nature; you don't know what you might run across if you just go out and look.
Oh, that would be worth stopping for, Ernest! Another dimension to the momentum. I almost wrote about the art of slowing down while running talus. It doesn't amount to simple deceleration. It's more a matter of slow opposition as you land on certain rocks with suitable slowing power -- sort of like snowplowing while skiing: you're still moving, but using friction and counterforce to slow down.
Wonderful, Bryan. Thank you for introducing me to Doug Robinson and RUNNING TALUS. I’ve rarely crossed talus fields, but years ago I took great pleasure in running solo down hillside trails in coastal Maine, leaping from rock to rock, trusting that my feet and senses would protect me from any sort of messy spill. I’m happy to report I managed never to fall, and I fondly remember the miraculous feeling of it all.
Best of luck with that second new knee. (A Utah friend had both done in his early 60s and is skiing like crazy again.)
What a great metaphor for so many things. BTW: I crossed my first street about 2 weeks after my recent knee surgery and had a newfound appreciation for how long (barely) the Walk sign stays on. Not to mention a newfound sensitivity to random ice on sidewalks and crossings. And, as you mention, a newfound awareness of what's going on at every corner, when you stop to look.
Yes, on talus it is wise to move and let your nimble feet and trusting mind get you to the other side. I have experienced that on mountain sides in Greenland and Kamchatka. Being alone and moving without taking time to analyze the placement of my feet on shifting fragments is amazing. And like you, I have left the mountains to younger folks and focus, with that same trust, that I will discover more by taking time to see the small local wonders where I roam; slime molds, seeds settling on the crust of snow, or fairy shrimp in the nearby vernal pool. Bryan, thank you for sparking memories and reinforcing the joy(peace?) our community finds in nature. Best wishes for a full recovery from your knee replacement by the time the bog elfins fly again this spring.
Oh, perfect, Sue. I'm so glad we share this. And, yeah, if all goes well with the knee, I'll be out on the bogs in mid May for elfins. (Besides, those squishy Sphagnum mats are therapeutic on the knees -- and good for the soul.)
My talus slopes are on the Winooski River when in my kayak I face a rocky stretch of very light whitewater (No heavy rapids for this 80 year old) and feel one with the river and my body as I paddle and hip-wiggle my way through the channels and froth——whee! Thank you for the challenge to think about things. Best of luck with the new knee. The body has an amazing ability to heal.
Oh, of course -- the proper venue for you and equanimity, Judy. Not only a river running through it -- but you running through the river (at exactly the right pace)!
Always great to find a fellow brother in waiting. Long live the patience to wait for the light to turn green. Love these lines. "I stand on the corner and take in the beauty, idiosyncrasies, and surprises of my city and its inhabitants. From that intersection, I’ve seen a Bald Eagle soaring overhead and Peregrine Falcons hunting downtown pigeons. I’ve watched Canadian Tiger Swallowtail butterflies floating high over the Capital City and Monarchs weaving in and out of traffic."
What a joyful passage. Loved it. Brought to mind the experience of skiing a steep mogul pitch, feeling the terrain, looking three turns ahead, reacting to every bump and bang, being one with the hill and with gravity. As much as it translates to something more sedate, like walking in nature, there’s a special flow zone that comes from moving at speed, at the limits of your strength and fitness. I still get it now and then on my bike or a long portage and it’s precious. Good luck with the new knee!
Ah, yes, of course -- another venue for this very thing. Glad you're experiencing it. (I'll probably start a Substack Chat for us to share them.) Thanks, Brian!
Loved your essay, Bryan. It reminded me of when I was a child, about 12 years old, living in Tanzania and we used to visit places of boulders and rocks and stones, called 'kopjes', and we kids used to play hide and seek and chase each other amongst those rocks. Race over them with bare feet. I remember being, and feeling, incredibly surefooted and confident and completely in my element. A fantastic feeling, which I have very rarely experienced since... Thanks for bringing back great memories. Wishing you a swift recovery on the other side!
Perfect, Jess. Thanks. To be sure, the exuberance and inquisitiveness of youth is a huge part of this. I'm grateful for that recollection of yours from Tanzania. What a place for it!
Thanks so much for sharing Chasing Talus, and the depth of your reflections on it. On a smaller scale, I enter a similar flow while trail running (especially in places where there are lots of rocks and logs and things to navigate), that supreme experience where one's body, moving at speed, feels completely in tune with the terrain. Oh how I love that fluid feeling of connection with the world. Also: sending best wishes for a smooth recovery for your knee!
I might have liked trail running. For whatever reason, I didn't do much. But, as you express so well, it seems a bit closer to earth and growth than talus. Both have their place, of course. But I like the idea of running wild on the long, green paths. Thanks, Andrea!
Loved this line Bryan: “It is instead an affirmation of body and mind navigating and caressing the contours and complexities of Earth. “ Good luck with your surgery.
I could feel your feet as they grazed the stones, the magical balance and finesse. A great piece for our times. Good luck with the knee!
Thanks, Mary Ann. Knees are big -- so is walking. It'll be nice to walk far again without pain. And what a privilege.
This is a fascinating perspective on talus. I've crossed it tentatively, following a contour line, which has become an analogy for me for being on the edge of disaster. Your essay makes me wonder if talus needs to be quite so scary.
I suspect we'll hear from others who know the rewards of similar pursuits -- I think I've read in the past that some people ride horses fast through the woods, for example. In control, but in touch with something beyond.
What's most amazing to me, I think, is that despite my not having run talus for many years, how the exhilaration and control and sense of something beyond me still feels so real and relevant.
I get that. There are other experiences that give me that sense of something beyond me, and they feel applicable every single day. I'm glad (and fascinated) to hear that running talus gave you that.
I'm thinking about starting a Substack Chat for us to share those experiences.
That was me and my trusty old Quarter horse, Captain Jack--- circa 1976. I still miss that crazy cowpony.
Great. So it IS a thing! Thanks, Kathleen. I'm sure you miss Captain Jack!
I wait at that crossing as well. And I have two new knees. Good luck with yours.
We'll knock them together there next time! ❤️
Thanks, Bryan. I have encountered another form of beauty on a Rocky Mountain talus slope - Erebia magdalena, the Magdalena Alpine. That's one of the fun parts of nature; you don't know what you might run across if you just go out and look.
Oh, that would be worth stopping for, Ernest! Another dimension to the momentum. I almost wrote about the art of slowing down while running talus. It doesn't amount to simple deceleration. It's more a matter of slow opposition as you land on certain rocks with suitable slowing power -- sort of like snowplowing while skiing: you're still moving, but using friction and counterforce to slow down.
Wonderful, Bryan. Thank you for introducing me to Doug Robinson and RUNNING TALUS. I’ve rarely crossed talus fields, but years ago I took great pleasure in running solo down hillside trails in coastal Maine, leaping from rock to rock, trusting that my feet and senses would protect me from any sort of messy spill. I’m happy to report I managed never to fall, and I fondly remember the miraculous feeling of it all.
Best of luck with that second new knee. (A Utah friend had both done in his early 60s and is skiing like crazy again.)
This is it! You got it! Yep, we're on the same metaphorical rocky paths here, Brian! Thanks!
What a great metaphor for so many things. BTW: I crossed my first street about 2 weeks after my recent knee surgery and had a newfound appreciation for how long (barely) the Walk sign stays on. Not to mention a newfound sensitivity to random ice on sidewalks and crossings. And, as you mention, a newfound awareness of what's going on at every corner, when you stop to look.
I'm SO GLAD to hear this. It really helps my nerves. (I've been meaning to call -- but have been busy writing.)
Yes, on talus it is wise to move and let your nimble feet and trusting mind get you to the other side. I have experienced that on mountain sides in Greenland and Kamchatka. Being alone and moving without taking time to analyze the placement of my feet on shifting fragments is amazing. And like you, I have left the mountains to younger folks and focus, with that same trust, that I will discover more by taking time to see the small local wonders where I roam; slime molds, seeds settling on the crust of snow, or fairy shrimp in the nearby vernal pool. Bryan, thank you for sparking memories and reinforcing the joy(peace?) our community finds in nature. Best wishes for a full recovery from your knee replacement by the time the bog elfins fly again this spring.
Oh, perfect, Sue. I'm so glad we share this. And, yeah, if all goes well with the knee, I'll be out on the bogs in mid May for elfins. (Besides, those squishy Sphagnum mats are therapeutic on the knees -- and good for the soul.)
Bryan,
Artful. Thank you. I hear two essays woven into one so seamlessly....
Never knew your mountaineering past! Thanks for sharing this with us.
As an adventurer, I'm a couch potato compared to you!
Love this! Only you could get talus to State & Main in the same essay! Hope knee #2 goes smoothly! ❤️
I'll hobble or glide to that intersection for as long as I am able!
My talus slopes are on the Winooski River when in my kayak I face a rocky stretch of very light whitewater (No heavy rapids for this 80 year old) and feel one with the river and my body as I paddle and hip-wiggle my way through the channels and froth——whee! Thank you for the challenge to think about things. Best of luck with the new knee. The body has an amazing ability to heal.
Oh, of course -- the proper venue for you and equanimity, Judy. Not only a river running through it -- but you running through the river (at exactly the right pace)!
Mountains, mindfulness.
A tale of two taluses.
Earth, self, flow as one.
Earth and self -- not much need for anything else. Thanks, Marisol!
Always great to find a fellow brother in waiting. Long live the patience to wait for the light to turn green. Love these lines. "I stand on the corner and take in the beauty, idiosyncrasies, and surprises of my city and its inhabitants. From that intersection, I’ve seen a Bald Eagle soaring overhead and Peregrine Falcons hunting downtown pigeons. I’ve watched Canadian Tiger Swallowtail butterflies floating high over the Capital City and Monarchs weaving in and out of traffic."
Thanks, David. Yeah, we'll find our joy sprouting from cracks in the pavement!
What a joyful passage. Loved it. Brought to mind the experience of skiing a steep mogul pitch, feeling the terrain, looking three turns ahead, reacting to every bump and bang, being one with the hill and with gravity. As much as it translates to something more sedate, like walking in nature, there’s a special flow zone that comes from moving at speed, at the limits of your strength and fitness. I still get it now and then on my bike or a long portage and it’s precious. Good luck with the new knee!
Ah, yes, of course -- another venue for this very thing. Glad you're experiencing it. (I'll probably start a Substack Chat for us to share them.) Thanks, Brian!
Loved your essay, Bryan. It reminded me of when I was a child, about 12 years old, living in Tanzania and we used to visit places of boulders and rocks and stones, called 'kopjes', and we kids used to play hide and seek and chase each other amongst those rocks. Race over them with bare feet. I remember being, and feeling, incredibly surefooted and confident and completely in my element. A fantastic feeling, which I have very rarely experienced since... Thanks for bringing back great memories. Wishing you a swift recovery on the other side!
Perfect, Jess. Thanks. To be sure, the exuberance and inquisitiveness of youth is a huge part of this. I'm grateful for that recollection of yours from Tanzania. What a place for it!
Thanks so much for sharing Chasing Talus, and the depth of your reflections on it. On a smaller scale, I enter a similar flow while trail running (especially in places where there are lots of rocks and logs and things to navigate), that supreme experience where one's body, moving at speed, feels completely in tune with the terrain. Oh how I love that fluid feeling of connection with the world. Also: sending best wishes for a smooth recovery for your knee!
I might have liked trail running. For whatever reason, I didn't do much. But, as you express so well, it seems a bit closer to earth and growth than talus. Both have their place, of course. But I like the idea of running wild on the long, green paths. Thanks, Andrea!
Loved this line Bryan: “It is instead an affirmation of body and mind navigating and caressing the contours and complexities of Earth. “ Good luck with your surgery.
Thanks, Margie! (Yeah, a bigger deal than the smashed finger of last July! 😀)