In a strenuous overnight trip to the high country this weekend, I was blessed to discover a few things I did not know, or in my busy life had forgotten.

. . . That frost will occur at timberline even when the lowlands are stuck at 90 degrees.

. . . That my backpacking manual says to hang food in a bear bag on a limb at least 10 feet from the main trunk. That there is probably not one Engleman Spruce or Subalpine fir in the state of Colorado that has such a limb high enough that a bear couldn't reach. (they are conical, so they can hold the weight of the snow).

. . . That there are still some places so intensely wild that you can walk all day and not see one other person.

. . . That you better not stumble with a heavy pack on. Its momentum can send you downhill before you can recover.

. . . That a 50 pound pack is heavy at 5000 feet, but damn heavy at 10000 feet.

. . . That when sleeping you will hear voices in brooks meandering across a globeflower and marsh marigold meadow.

. . . That even good pictures do a poor job recording the beauty, solitude, and freedom one sees and feels in a wilderness.

. . . That foxes walk through spruce fir forests after midnight, screaming like they are insane. That all three of my dogs will hear them before I do.

. . . That some animal noises are heard, but hard to identify.

. . . How beautiful shooting stars are, streaming across an alpine sky filled with stars like sand on a velvet blanket.

. . . That by examining the night sky on a moonless mountain night, you will know when dawn is approaching when the ghost image of the milky way starts to get dimmer.

. . . That some nights are so clear and bright that a tent is too much roof.

. . . That on a solitary camping trip it feels perfectly right to play Amazing Grace on the harmonica at dusk and at dawn.

. . . That one truly alive mountain day surpasses ten lowland days.

. . . That my border collies love these mountains the same as I do.

How lucky I am to live in this beautiful state of Colorado.