Beau The Cephus has conjured up old vapors, recollections, remembrances, thoughts and ruminations of former ideas that he wishes to offer for your consideration. I, Langston, have been selected and called forward to relate this release of concerns for the carnivores, herbivores and omnivores of humanity.
Beau was collecting his climbing team for his engagement with the 14,259 ft. Longs Peak last August. He spent a long time collecting and evaluating different team members for their varied talents. He needed a strong resilient crew. He was very concerned with the base camp personnel and their understanding of the arts, practices of comfort and food. While humans need chocolate and gummy bears, Beau prefers red lizard liver pate roasted over a smoky fire of freshly dried catnip and a few balls of dried and salted bat wing confetti. Not just any bat but the Mexican Free tail bat (Tadarida Brasiliensis) from the southwest area of New Mexico and parts of Arizona. He enjoys putting just a pinch between his delicate lip and gums to savor as he climbs. The Cephus will drink of the streams that run through the boulder field provided that the water has passed unmolested through at least 117 Meters/ 383.8536 feet of pea sized gravel. However he much appreciates water drawn from the Castalian Spring. Surface water unfiltered often harbors parasites like giardia that will upset the finely tuned digestive system of The Cephus. Beau has seen Pika that defecated in the surface water around the large boulders during his last attempt to conquer this the highest mountain in Rocky Mountain National Park (Beau’s Park). When drinking of the waters that nourish his soul he carries paper straws, not the plastic straws that may contain bisphenol-A. a hardening chemical that can make the Cephus soft. The tips need to be cut a 45 degree angle. The straw should be held so that the sliced area of the straw is horizontal to the water. This allows a larger surface area of the water to be drawn in from the top water layer only the freshest waters, the clearest and cleanest waters. This water on the surface contains more oxygen and less of the dregs of the lower and most aged water in the container.
Beau likes to interview the aspiring team members at a comfortable location. He reserves a room at the Riverview Hotel on the corner of Osborne and Saint Marys streets, room number 12 Martha’s Room. The top corner room above Segales restaurant in Saint Marys, Georgia. There is the policy at this hotel that adds to it desirability and their policy is “Your Secret is safe with us!”
The view out of the four windows in the room inspire sturdy thoughts and create meaningful relationships with the environs. The hand hewn water oak floorboards provide a touchable reminder of the location of ones foot. They warm to the touch and respond to each movement of his paw pads. The wavy old glass panes of the windows give the room an attitude of the late 1800, a time when making flat glass was still a learned talent. There was the iron queen bed upon which to have serious sleep each night.
Rising early to take care of his constitutionals each morning then down the staircase to travel across the street to the water’s edge for a little mustard greens with a lot of ham and very slight on the greens. Beau really likes it best after the ham and greens are removed and the pot likker is warmed by the rising sun. A manly breakfast says The Cephus. I, Langston, collect my thoughts in the restaurant downstairs. Then after eating his fill, Beau heads back across the street behind the submarine museum and up the fire escape to the hall and on to the room.
He then lays down upon a pillow at the edge of the floor to bask in the sun’s emanation until and beyond lunch into the late post-meridiem hours, sliding up and down the sleep ladder of daily rest. As the sun passes to the later phases of the day and the cool marsh breezes consume the passions of all, The Cephus gets down to the business of bouldering the problem of finding a great team of rock masters.
He heads down the staircase and into Seagles Saloon. Friday nights are a favorite. There is live music and a crowd of friendly salty souls from the ships on the harbor.
This is the place where months ago, the Cephus met one of the most fascinating female felines of his life. Belladonna was a Prestigious Ragdoll feline, full of spirit and joy. They spent the evening setting near the front window watching the crowd, muttering sweet purrs and muffled hisses. Just before Ms. Cindy, the barkeep had sewn the place shut, the beautiful Belladonna swept out the front door into the darkness that only Saint Marys’ nights know. Beau stayed there in his boat for weeks looking for her each evening. Beau asked all he would see about Bella, never an answer. In time she then became a dream for the fated Beau. He was up early each morning to check the hotel’s cruising station for his mail and packages. He would then return to his boat to await the dusk and continue his search.
Beau stationed himself at a table outside on the patio. A place where he could interview his future mountain mates. He would ask question, some which dealt with mountains, some that were poised to give insight into the nature of the person. He would just scratch notes on the back of the leather binding of the desert menu. Beau always kept notes in Latin. He says that the language is more precise. When something is said or written, there is only one thing that it means and it is frozen in the moment.
He was looking for those that were true mountain souls. Looking them in the eye, as they held their breath, would often be as good a guide as how they held their hands. Some would hold them on the table. Some would keep them hidden below the table. Some would clasp them, others would just hold a glass or napkin. The hands must never shake. Beau knows fear. He loves the sea and the mountains. There is a saying that, “you may love the mountain or the sea, but the mountain and the sea do not care. They will consume you.”
Next morning Beau had made his choices. He set about making travel plans from the coast of Georgia, across the fruited plains to the altitudes of the Rockies.