COLUMN: The effects of a Full Moon
Throughout history, the moon has always been an object of mystery and mystical power. Some beliefs and studies claim that the lunar cycle is linked in some intangible way to human behavior. The word lunatic comes from a time when it was believed that persons of questionable mental stability were influenced by the cycles of our celestial circle.
There seems to be little scientific logic or reasoning to support these claims. As for myself, I have yet to transform into a raging, hairy teeth-baring menace to society, or feel the hankering for a homicide as the moon aligns in complete opposition to the sun. While I can understand the physics which allows the moon to cause the rise and the fall of the tides, I have not delved into the metaphysics composing lunar legends.
Still, on nights when the moon is at its brightest, I can’t deny that there arises a certain tug within me. Maybe the pale hue cast over everything adds an element of allure and mystery to the usually dark scenery. Whatever it is, those nights with a full moon seem to infuse my bones with an ache for adventure. Whether it is the need to climb at night without my headlamp or ride my bike down grayscale streets, there is a draw to those nights that pulls me out from under a roof of wood and shingles and into a pale dome of possibilities stretching from horizon to horizon.
The peak of the latest moon cycle found me with a group of friends, pointing our car toward the Canyon as the clock struck 11 p.m. I guess the homework due the next morning and the other so-called “pressing matters” couldn’t counteract the rising tide of promised adventure that a moonlit night held.
Forty minutes later, we arrived at our destination. Pulling into the parking lot by the maintenance sheds located in the Sinks region of Logan Canyon, we spilled out of the car into the frigid mountain air. With backpacks with Airboards (an inflatable sled which has found popularity in Europe) on shoulders and snowshoes strapped to our feet, we struck out for the slope which led to the ridge above us. We moved quickly along, not even noticing our lack of headlamps or flash lights.
As our single-file line climbed up the hill, I thought about the supposed power of the moon. Its suggested chaotic effects seemed distant as we moved through the silent night, punctuated by the staccato rhythm of our steps and breaths. As we worked our way out of the cedar trees and onto a bare face, instead of feeling primal urges, I felt simple satisfaction.
When we reached the top of the ridge, Bear Lake rolled out before us, moonlight glinting off its surface. A cold and stiff wind cut through my layers, causing me to shiver. The scene held an ethereal quality, hauntingly beautiful.
The cold wind caused us to begin our descent after admiring the beauty only a moment. Backtracking to where the trees cleared, a smooth bare face of the mountain sparkled below us. Pulling the Airboards from our packs, we had them unfolded and pumped up within a matter of minutes. The snowshoes were strapped onto our packs.
Holding my Airboard tightly against my chest, I took one last deep breath, enjoying the serenity of the night. With that breath, I let out an exuberant shout and dove down the steep slope. The few inches of powder that covered the crusty snow made for fast conditions and I quickly gained speed. The brightly-lit snowscape flew past me and my shouts faded into laughter. We flew down the open face and into the cedars that covered the bottom half of the mountain. Barely slowing, I found the track made by our snowshoes an hour earlier and used it to help me navigate the quick turns between the trees. The world was a blur of gray and black and then the slope lessened and I came to a stop.
I scrambled to my feet, covered in powdery snow. Still exhilarated from the rapid descent of a mountain by moonlight alone, my heart beat fast. The night was once again still and quiet. Looking up at the moon, I considered it once again. I felt a tingle down my back. Was this the moon reaching out to command me to bring out the animal inside? Looking at the earth’s glowing watchdog, I felt a stir.
Then I realized that it was just snow melting down my back, crammed into my hood as I flew down the mountain. So much for a primal urge. Shrugging my shoulders, I let out a howl at the moon, just for good measure.
– dustin.nash@aggiemail.usu.edu