Hold On

Our last afternoon in Banff brought us a window of clear skies and glorious gondola ride to the peak of Sulphur Mountain. New snow, plenty of it, lay on top of old snow, storm clouds roiled in the distance, and the windchill dropped as we ascended.

Now when Catbird says glorious gondola ride, what she means is terrifying.  Though some might call it acrophobia (which means an unnatural fear of heights), Catbird doesn't see anything unnatural about a wingless mammal trembling when sailing up a mountain, over the tops of trees in an aging plexiglas box dangling from a one inch cable, and all under the purview of a couple of bored adolescent males.  

Catbird is, for the most part, pretty cautious (read: scared witless about many, many things), and wants to live a good long life with her physicist.  But she also wants the prizes that are way outside her comfort zone. She learned, incontrovertibly way back in nursing school, that we all have to die of something, and invokes that thought as she weighs the risks and rewards of her adventures.  

Possible headlines inform her fears:

Local Physicist and Bitchy Wife Die in Mine Collapse in Argentina 

...or (in my hometown paper)

Former Ellettsville Girl Dies when Catwalk Gives Way at Iguazu Falls (with subheading: "She Shoulda Never Left," Says Former Guidance Counselor)

...or Caught in 3rd World Political Uprising, Physicist and Insignificant Wife are Missing and Presumed Dead.

The pragmatist in Catbird's head helps her negotiate between fear and adventure, looks for safety measures to minimize risk.  Sensible shoes, seatbelts, sunblock, DEET, pre-trip review of local customs, copies of each other's passports, timely vaccinations, mosquito net, bottled water, etc. all must be given their due. 

But in the gondola, sitting across from her physicist, there was no seatbelt, no handle, no net, no visible fail-safe measure of any kind.  If the winds, which were kicking up some great ghostly plumes, managed to tip the gondola off its cable, there was nowhere to go but down.  Nothing to catch Catbird and her physicist, who sat opposite one another as the cables stretched not only higher on the mountain, but also higher above the trees.

And with that realization came a clarity of thought that rang true for the whole of life: we have nothing to hold onto but each other.  So Catbird, unbalancing the distribution of weight and rocking the gondola like a Ferris Wheel, stood up and moved to sit where she could hold her physicist close.  

The view was great, and it turns out holding onto each other is a pretty good way to experience life, even when you don't fall.

The Town of Banff and the Banff Ctr Way Below

Looking West from Sulphur Mountain