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This summer I hiked 11 miles in to the Montana Valley I visit every year. I crossed the river and hiked to the top of a hill, trying to find a level spot up away from the lake. While I was setting up the tent I glanced over at a dead tree next to me, and noticed several long hairs which looked like they came from a bear using the tree for a back rub.
A couple of nights later Maggie spotted something outside the tent and leaped at the bug netting, barking furiously. I was sound asleep and unfortunately she landed on my face, cutting my nose pretty bad. I couldn't get stiches up there, and I wasn't about to cut my trip short. My daughter says it added maybe 5 percent to my repulsiveness, not enough to matter, since I am a lost cause anyway. (her words, paraphrased).
The wilderness has taught me strength, resilence, and how to be comfortable with solitude and silence. I go into the most gorgeous landscapes,off trail, and almost never see another person. in his book about solitude, seeking wisdom in extremes, Robert Kull had this to say about being out there alone:
"There was another lovely rainbow today- with all the rain, they're common here- and through the mist and clouds I could sense, if not clearly see, the faint presence of distant hills. Ah, now I remember. This is so beautiful and i'm incredibly lucky to be here. Next time in the city, when I'm bemoaning not having a career or money, I must remember this." (p 13)
It is a good thing to leave behind the comfort of a secure roof and electrical connections, and immerse yourself in the beauty and mystery up high beyond the reach of roads and trails. I feel blessed beyond words to have seen some of the things I have.
My border collies were always there with me, and is much of the reason us four have the bond we do.
Little Mollie has been on a dozen backpack trips since Alyssa got her for us a year ago. She has added some spark to our lives, and it is wonderful to see her run up there above timberline, as much at home above the trees as in her backyard.
