A Fear Of Flying

"CHAIN LAKE"
Beartooth Pass, Wyoming
Oil on Canvas
8 x 10
(Private Collection)

Since we're meandering around the Beartooth Pass, I may as well put this one in and admit the full spectrum of my humor during the earlier years spent dancing on the edge.

There is but one road that accesses the Beartooth Mountains, and it is a rare adventure through 12,000 foot peaks where the snow accumulates upwards of 30 feet in the winter, glaciers remain through the summer and you can get stormed off the pass on any day of the year. Twenty-foot poles border the road, and these are to guide snowmobilers during the thick of winter. It is a steep drive up, no matter which end you start on and one hopes both the transmission and brakes are in good order. At the mid point it features one postage-stamp sized little convenience store called The Top of the World, which has no phones (really, they're not holding out), a few cabins, and a rescue service for those who get into trouble. Up the road is Island Lake Campground and just yonder this little gem called Chain Lake. I perched by the side of the road to paint here, just me, the picas (little rock varmints that make a funny "gneeee" sound) and the cars passing by.

At one point, a woman approached, presumably to peek at what I was painting. She had a German accent, we exchanged pleasantries, and I soon discovered her true intention, which was to verbally unload a great fear of heights, now fully activated driving through the Beartooth Pass, which is really no place for a person known to be afraid of heights. But she and the husband had driven it 20 years ago, and presumably enough time had passed that she dared try it again, or she imagined the mountains had gotten smaller, or perhaps she had better drugs.

At its highest point, the Beartooth Highway reaches 10,974 feet and rests above tree line with a series of hairpin turns on both sides of the pass that would raise the hair on even the most calmly disposed neck. Looking downward, one can easily imagine one's swift demise, bouncing and plummeting down 1,000 foot jagged rock slides and cliffs, coming to rest as a mere stain at the bottom. The few species that seem to have mastered this terrain include the Mountain Goats and Sheep, which leap straight up the side, and the Grizzly Bears, who do whatever they damn please.

What exactly was she thinking? And just why was she pestering me about it -- must have a magnet somewhere...I continued painting while Nervous Nellie embellished on her fears. Suddenly that sick humor, which I could easily blame on my father, kicked in, and out of my mouth came, "Well ya know... there's only one way to cure that problem..." Honestly, I had no idea how to cure that problem, and no clue what I was going to say except that her mouth was now hanging open in rapt anticipation. "Just drive up the road a piece and find a nice little high point... then make like a bird!" That was a lame attempt, even for me, but it did serve a purpose.

Terrified, she gasped, "Your painting is lovely, but your sense of humor is HORRIBLE!" As she began collapsing fully into the drama, the husband appeared quickly with a protective arm and whisked her away, hissing admonitions at the demon artist as they went. Might not have been funny to them, but in the moments that followed I nearly peed myself laughing. Just me and the wind and the place to myself again.

In retrospect, having settled some business in my own interior and finding a greater compassion for the human comedy, I realize how often the things we fear are sometimes those that fascinates us most. The hypnotic flame that burns the curious fingertips, the edgy bad boy relationships that end in predictable heartache... and it does take a certain amount of consciousness to catch yourself, choose things that make you happy instead of taking yourself for a white knuckle ride. Above all, if you're going to dance on the edge, best to learn not to complain about the inevitable wreckage because you know better, and it only annoys the pilgrims.

Here's a cool site about the Beartooth Highway http://gorp.away.com/gorp/activity/byway/mt_beart.htm