Over the Divide

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.

- JRR Tolkien

Wow, this summer is flying by.  Already August 11?!  I can't believe it.

A few weeks ago my little brother came into town and stayed with me for a few days.  He's currently driving cross country on his way to Seattle to start a new phase of his life.  Gosh I love that guy.  We had some good times catching up and sharing stories over plenty of Chinese food and good beer.

The highlight for me was our two-day trip hiking over the Continental Divide from Bear Lake to Grand Lake, over Flattop Mountain and down the Tonahutu Trail.  Breathtaking views.  Grueling, rugged terrain.  Exciting wildlife and frigid alpine skinny dipping.  The entire time we were out there, I felt like we were trekking through Middle Earth.  Two hobbits bumbling along the beaten path, through forests with meandering brooks, over the misty mountains and into lush, green meadows.  The wildflowers were popping all over the place with bright bursts of color and variety.

Truly awe inspiring.  We live in a beautiful country.

It was pretty funny as we were trying to hitchhike back.  Ben tried showing some leg to no avail.  We also had an American flag (MURICA) with us and thought that might help.  As it happened, some of my park ranger friends just happened to be driving by at that moment, though they almost didn't stop because they thought we were waving a Confederate flag, haha.

It was an unforgettable adventure that will go down on my list of all time favorite hikes.



Next up will be the video I shot climbing Long's Peak.  I'm a little behind on my editing, so stay tuned!  Cheers.

I'll rise when the rooster crows

Last week, my father and I returned to the Cohutta Wilderness in North Georgia for our traditional father/son(s) camping trip.

Wilderness always offers an escape for both of us.

The highlight for me was whenever we were just sitting around the fire.  Smoke rising into the air with golden sunlight piercing through the trees, we both reclined on our rock seats and meditated.  Meditation through conversation... reading... journaling... staring.  Staring into the fire.  Through the trees.  At the great sky above us.

Howls & Owls

Over the past two nights I have been fortunate enough to hear two distinct and contrasting sounds from the wilderness around me.  The cries and calls of the coyote and owl are eerily beautiful.

The first time I heard a coyote (or rather a pack of coyotes, because I don't think you ever hear just one), I have to admit it was pretty scary.  Camping with Anna at Brushy Lake State Park in Oklahoma trying to set up our tents and cook dinner in the darkness.  Then out of nowhere comes the call of the wild... quite literally.

Cries and yelps and whoops and whines that sound more like a mixture of children and hyenas rather than canines.

Creepy at first.

But the more I listen to them, the more entranced I become.  I never actually see them (though that would be neat), but I imagine them running the open fields and plains freely and fiercely.  Perhaps they are chasing down rabbits and rodents, or maybe they're just having a bit of fun.  But their sound draws me in.

I've stayed awake until I hear them no more, never really wanting them to stop.  It's a strange noise to hear just before falling asleep, but I like it.  I like the quick startle I receive and the pounding of my heart when I first notice them.  It is a sound of wildness.

In addition to the coyotes over the past two nights, I have also heard a lonely owl performing his early morning monologue to wake me up.  I think owls often are associated with scary forest sounds as well, but the peacefulness I felt when hearing its call has been refreshing and reassuring.

Both nights camping, first in Utah then in Texas, I went to sleep with the coyote's howl, followed early the next morning with the cry of the owl.

It is a most wonderful way to drift in and out of dreams.

The Yearling

My dear friend Johnathan came to visit me this week at the park.  I only have a few days left of my internship, and I'm so glad he was able to come out and enjoy some of the beauty with me.

We were hiking Devils Garden when we both experienced another one of Nature's remarkable moments.

Devils Garden, like the Windows, is definitely one of the busiest trails in the park.  However, we found ourselves almost completely alone throughout our hike to Double O Arch and back.  We were enjoying the views and the stillness, but at the same time I wanted us to get back before sunset.

I tried to quicken our pace slightly.

As we bounded up and down the red rock fins, joking and singing goofily, we suddenly were stopped dead in our tracks.  A group of mule deer were grazing in the middle of the trail.

In the middle of the trail!

One of the most frequented sections of trail in the park.

There they were.  A buck, two does and a yearling.

They put some distance between us, but we remained frozen and watched.

Barely breathing because of their proximity.

As we stood and watched them, the buck retreated to a higher vantage point and never took his eyes off of us, while the does, and especially the yearling, returned to their late afternoon meal.

Slowly but surely the yearling moved closer and closer to us, nibbling on some of the black brush and service berry branches.  He chewed the leaves.  Looked up at us.  Moved closer.  And found more branches to try.

All the while, the buck stared us down from a distance.

Johnathan and I sat down on the rock.

Still.

The yearling eventually crossed in front of us, only about fifteen feet away.  It was nothing for him.  He didn't care about these hikers, or perhaps he wasn't yet old enough to know about the dangers of man.  He just chewed his food and walked past the awe-stricken onlookers.

The two does followed.  A little more cautiously and a little further away.

Then the buck.

Hesitant at first, he approached our position very slowly.  He stopped before fully committing, probably thinking to himself, "They do not know about man.  I have lived long enough to become wise, and I know these men cannot be trusted."  But because the rest of the family had already crossed, he could not let them go ahead unprotected.

Johnathan and I again held our breath as the large animal passed before us, swiftly and gracefully.  We both knew we should probably avoid making direct eye contact with this dominant creature, but we could not resist.  We both looked directly into his dark eyes.

Mesmerized.

His cautious run quickened to a thankful retreat as he ducked below some juniper branches avoiding entanglement with his large antlers.

He rejoined his family and hurried them along over the fins and out of sight.

Johnathan and I looked at each other and let out a sigh of relief and amazement.

We were astonished and thankful for such a sincere moment in Nature.

A moment of surprise as we came across the herd in the first place.

A moment of wonder as they didn't retreat out of sight.

A moment of innocence as the yearling crossed before us fearlessly.

And a moment of respect and admiration as the buck reluctantly trusted us enough to rejoin his small tribe.

Moments like this do not occur everyday.

*   *   *   *   *

On another note, the Fiery Furnace is a great place to reenact scenes from Lord of the Rings.

Enjoy.

Windows

Other than being there in the middle of the night, this was the only time I have ever seen the Windows parking lot completely empty.

Walking up and down the trails completely by myself in a place that is usually one of the busiest sections of the park was pretty remarkable.

Almost magical, in fact.

It really is a beautiful area, but I think a lot of the time it is loved too much.  So many tourists stroll up to that North Window so they can get a photo of themselves underneath an arch, and then they're on their way again (most likely to Devils Garden or Delicate Arch).

But as I walked quietly by myself today, I noticed things I don't usually see when it's busy or when I'm leading a guided walk.

I began the primitive loop going behind the South and North Windows, and I stopped every couple minutes and strained my ears and eyes.  During one of these stops, I suddenly found myself in the midst of a staring contest with a mule deer.

We both stood perfectly still.

Then it lowered its head and began to drink from one of the pot holes.

I took a few steps to try and change my vantage point, and at that moment a buck with large antlers came bounding up from out of sight.  With his signal, four more deer appeared seemingly out of nowhere and the herd was bounding off together over the ridge and out of sight.

Even on a day when I was the only other hiker on the trail, I would have missed them entirely had I not stopped every so often and looked around.

I think we often go outside and go hiking and go biking and go running and can even be extremely active outdoors, but sometimes we forget to just go and be still.

“Be still, and know that I am God;
   I will be exalted among the nations,
   I will be exalted in the earth.” 

~ Pslam 46:10 ~

More Defenders

The NPS created this video to show at visitor centers around the country.
It could be the most inspiring three minute video you see in a while.

America's Wilderness

"Wilderness.  The word itself is music."
Edward Abbey