The Low Down from the High Up

A new book born of this valley

In her essays, Polly Oberosler ponders the land, animals and humans that have shaped this rugged paradise.

By Arvin Ramgoolam

  When I look back at my 20 years in the valley, I still consider myself “new.” I haven’t climbed every peak or seen every river. But as I read Polly Oberosler’s new book, The Low Down from the High Up, I sense that she has seen just about everything in her life here.

 I begin reading Polly’s book on a cold winter night, and I’m transported from a Folsom tradition camp 10,000 years in the past to Polly’s childhood in Almont six decades ago. Polly takes her time intertwining the human and natural history of Gunnison County, inviting us along on her journeys from high peaks to riverbeds.
 Polly has experienced a life afforded to few. Living at the crossroads of a community of miners, ranchers, visitors and wildlife, she is witness to the majesty of nature and the people who work hard to live in this rugged paradise. In sparse prose, like stories shared over a dwindling campfire, Polly considers the behavior of beavers during drought season, or the Skyland Camp (which preceded the golf course) where young people learned to commune with nature and learn about themselves.
 This edition contains more than two decades of writing. When I interview Polly, she mentions that my mother-in-law, Claire Ayraud, while working for the Crested Butte Weekly, asked if Polly would join her and Bonnie Chlipala as a third writer for their Women of a Certain Age column. Claire was captivated by Polly’s storytelling and encouraged her to begin writing down the tales. The rest is Gunnison County history.

 I sit with Polly in the bookstore and fall into her world, hearing what Claire heard all those years ago, a different perspective on a place that continually holds surprises for me. Readers love Polly’s missives published regularly in the Crested Butte News and in this magazine. Often touching on how things used to be and what the land is trying to tell us, Polly translates the personal histories of the people she has known her entire life. When talking, she highlights her “responsibility to tell the truth, no matter what.”

 The book has sections on ranch and mountain life, animals and wider ponderings. Assembled by the skilled Keitha Kostyk into a beautifully slim edition, the book would live comfortably in your backpack on a hike or on a bookshelf next to Rick Bass, Edward Abbey and Aldo Leopold.

 Reading Polly’s testament to the Gunnison Country will leave you contemplating. During our talk, Polly reflects, “I never stop thinking.” That calls to my mind her passage about a downed tree and an arrowhead: “I am given to muse, so that evening I sat up for hours pondering the find and what it meant to local civilization. Then suddenly, as if struck by lightning, I realized that tree and therefore that arrowhead was older than our country’s official founding. That idea occupied my mind for hours as I thought about the ancient Native Americans, and how people such as Burr, Hamilton and Franklin may not have even been born when that tree was a sapling. Or perhaps they were by then in the struggle of minds to liken this country’s structure to the Athenian Democracy that existed 500 years before the birth of Christ. Either way, this country was simply a twinkle of an idea when that tree grew from the tiniest of seeds much like the Republic itself.”

 Polly’s book also asks readers to consider the wild beings that share this place. “Wildlife has always been a big part of my life, from traipsing behind my dad as a small girl to check his trap line, to following each of his big steps in the snow hunting elk. By trapping marten, fox and bobcats, he provided us a roof to live under, and the wild game and trout he harvested gave us food to eat, for we were money poor. He taught me a reverence for the wildlife, too.”

 As we talk about the role of community in our lives here, Polly offers, “Community can’t be lost.” She observes in her book, “People depend on each other as neighbors and friends. Of course, as others move to the mountains, things are changing, but  there is one basic theme, and that is you are not the center of the universe. Folks in the mountains are a community of hard-working, most often thoughtful and caring individuals who come together for the whole. People expect cooperation and problem solving that comes from the heart. It takes a while to truly understand how life works in the mountains, but people eventually do, or they move on.” In our conversation, Polly adds, “The fabric of the community can stretch; it doesn’t break.”

 I’m saving the last chapter of Polly’s book for one of those endless summer days in the backcountry. I’m going to heed Polly’s words and listen to the land. I’ll find a place I’ve never been and open her book. I’ll relish her plain and direct language and look forward to my next 20 years in Gunnison County with a little more appreciation for the places and people I’ve come to love.