- At sunset, after several miles of hiking, we turned up the
forested north slope on what I thought was the right path.
Climbing up the steep mountainside caused our breath to
mist in the cool January air. I stopped and put on my
hood; it was getting downright cold as night approached.
Fresh snow lay on the branches of the Douglas Fir, turning
them downwards; the landscape was patterns of white and gray
in the twilight.
As I continued into the quickening darkness, I began to get a strange realization that something was not right, there was a falsity about this path, that it was not the true one. I could not even explain why I felt that way at first, other than intuition. I could backtrack if I needed to, if my fears proved to be correct. When I reached the summit, it was clear my decision at the foot of the mountain was the wrong one.
I paused for a few moments wondering what to do. Backtracking my steps to the familiar path was the sure way; but it would take longer. Descending the ridgetop I stood on would be the shorter way, but it would mean going into an area I had not traveled before, at night.
I started down into the darkness. Large unseen rocks caused me to stumble. I found that I could keep my feet if I stayed in the light of the deep snow drifts. The cold silent night air and the dense conifer forest on the north side of the ridge gave me a feeling of uneasiness as I walked downslope into the unknown landscape.
I came across a set of footprints in the fresh snow. Someone had been here before, recently, passed without me seeing. I was disappointed, betrayed by the visitor to my ridge, that I thought was mine alone on this night.
I wondered about the tracks and the visitor. There was not much that I could know. The forest had seemed like a beautiful dark wilderness, that was so young and fresh from the snowfall a few days before. I wondered how close to me they visited, a few hours?, a day?. We contined downhill, my dogs in front leading my way into the night. What lay before me down the ridge top was my immediate future.
The long needles of the dark Ponderosa Pine were silhouetted against the glow of the rising full moon to the east. I was glad to have my dogs with me. This is heaven to them, walking in the mountains by my side. We could hear the music of a small stream below us. I stopped to listen.
How much I love the mountains; the trees; the separation between the sound. I believe this is heaven to me also.
