Getting in touch with my inner Boy Scout

When I retired to New Mexico I resolved to do more outdoorsy stuff and I’m finally getting around to it.

This is a novelty for me because I grew up in a Chicago neighborhood where we learned not to play in the traffic. My only childhood exposure to nature, other than barefoot summers with my grandparents in Mississippi, was the camping, hiking and canoeing I enjoyed as a Boy Scout.

When I raised my own family in the Chicago suburbs camping was a fun, cheap vacation that got the kids good and tired. However, most Midwestern campgrounds have the population density of Chicago and are nothing at all like Walden Pond. We were more likely to be awakened by a fellow camper’s country music than by soft birdcalls. So I was ready for a place where you can drive through miles of open country and see nothing but the occasional art gallery or Indian casino.

As I write this I am happily footsore after a 6-mile hike with a group I joined a few months ago. My hiking boots are nearly broken in and I am enjoying it, although part of me still asks “Are we there yet?” after the first couple of miles.

Last month I took a white-water kayaking class on the Rio Grande near Taos (where it’s a wild mountain river long before it dampens the backs of immigrants on the Texas border). I quickly learned that (a) there’s a reason why kayaking is an Olympic sport and (b) I may be too old for this. You have to sit in a scrunched-up position with knees against the sides while leaning forward to paddle, which can be painful for those of us whose joints are getting a little creaky. Perhaps I could master kayaking eventually but would make some chiropractor wealthy in the process.

White-water rafting is more my speed. A few days ago a lady friend and I took a half-day raft trip, paddling in reasonable comfort and getting splashed a lot while bouncing through the rapids. We even enjoyed the unplanned swim when an inexperienced guide capsized our raft. I will do this again and also hope to do some canoeing on a quieter stretch of river.

I have not yet tried camping in New Mexico. It’s quiet and pristine but there are bears out there.

 

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