Signs, Seasons, and Stories; Colorado Nature Close to Home (Naturalist.org/Poetsheart.com)

I don't think I have ever carried more while backpacking- 60+ pounds - two sleeping bags, two tents, and food for me and my daughter Amy.

Amy has only gone backpacking with me three times since she was 17, and I was trying to make sure she had a good time.

I did my best, but . . . :

On the way up she asked what we will do for water. I told her I have a Katadyn Pocket Water Filter - the finest water filter made. She said "there is no way I am going to drink water that fish poop in."

I am sure she is my kid. I saw her born. I guess some things she just learned from her mother.

So in spite of me carrying double weight, Amy managed to load her pack down with water bottles.

Two miles up the steep trail she then told me "it's not fun," and could she have the truck keys so she can go home and pick me up in three days.

I told her to suck it up and just keep going. It is always hard hiking uphill, but it is worth it when you get there.

She couldn't see it, and we had this discussion on and off for about an hour, until the trail started downhill into the final valley before our campsite.

Perhaps then Amy started to notice how beautiful the woods were, and that we had this whole wilderness to ourselves. She and her dogs disappeared ahead of me. I just couldn't keep up with her considering what I was carrying.

When I made it to the lake, she and Drift and Reiney were nowhere to be seen. I was worried she kept going up the trail and yelled 'Aiiimmmeeee,' several times.

No answer.

Finally she appeared, from the trail behind the lake. She said she thought I broke my neck or something. She was bored waiting for me, and had gone exploring. She found a great campsite behind the lake, and seemed postively excited.

I know how the recollections of these hard trips go. It doesnt take long for the discomfort of the tough hike to lessen, for the memory of the mosquitos and the rain to dissipate. What will remain is the memory of the adventure we had, the breathtaking view of the continental divide a few steps away from our tents, how happy the dogs were to be up there with us.

I heard a hermit thrush singing in the woods, and pointed it out to Amy.

It all made me so happy, for my daughter to hike up there with me, to sit across the fire from her talking until late in the evening.

Amy's dog Drift accompanied me several times on the harmonica during our trip. He really gets into it, and appears to raise his voice in a long howl the same time I am hitting high notes.

I figure he does it because he likes me, and him and me and Ben and Maggie backpacked four days through a snowstorm last fall, when Drift was barely 9 months old. Amy says he won't do it any other time.

After we got back I took him and the dogs down to the greenbelt, and video taped Drift singing with my harmonica again.