First Hike: WMR Pt.8

2023-06-25

White Mountain Retreat (WMR).

Sun’s going down between the trees. We ate earlier today to align with the sun’s light and warmth. I’m lying in the pink canvas hammock feeling satisfied, looking up at the canopy of evergreen trees. The sun has gotten lower in the sky and light shoots through the deep forest. I’m fascinated by the golden green light. There are streaks of golden green color and the glitter of sap on pine needles. Below, in some places, the glowing grass looks much the same, like a reflection of the canopy. The pine needles high above spike out almost crystalline against a deep grey in the azure sky.

Up at 10,000 ft. the dark depth of space tints the bright turquoise. There’s a deeper more infinite depth than I’m used to. I’ve been noting spots of it while looking up and out through trees opening along the road’s route in of the forest and then when standing in the open Great Field.

We’re just back from what might have been a short walk after dinner, but one thing leads to another and it extended to a three mile exploration around the great field. We have rambled through the forest, which looks like enchantment decorated by pine, aspen and spruce, with a plethora of smaller treasures along the way. This is our story:

We have a natural garden around the tent. A path runs through it. It surrounds the tent and the front “porch” of the canvas “summer house.” I have hand gathered the wood that I ran over when parking, as we claimed our spot in the gift of the forest.  With the stove setup on the tailgate, we’ve just enjoyed mushrooms and cauliflower, followed by rich brownies and slabs of dark chocolate for our dinner.

We gather a camera, a bottle of water and walking shoes. Resting, bundled on our shoulders, we have long sleeve T-shirts with hoodies, just in case. We still need to familiarize ourselves with timings of the chill of these high mountains and the potential for bugs. The coverings may or may not become handy.

The road is filled with rocks uncovered by the gnarly tires of occasional ATV’s and Quads, yet we have seen only one pass since we arrived. We know that we are likely alone out here, but obviously this rough road gets used here and there. When the winter snow melts, the thick mud gets kicked up and dug deeper, rains wash it away, exposing rocks, which come loose and roll about in the roads uneven surface. Today, in drought and heat, the disturbed soil has become dust. In some places, a small cloud puffs up around our feet with each step. We often step from stone to stone, like a waterless creek.

The best thing to do is simply watch each step, to avoid a mishap that might injure feet, or an ankle. With our thin soled fivefinger shoes, our natural agility keeps us cushioned. Then for a while, the surface just smooths out. Sometimes we find an opening in the forest’s floor along the road where grass grows among pine needles. It is like a cushioned carpet, but is also home to new life that is easy to crush.

The old forest service road soon leads us into the white bark of mature aspen, contrasting with green shadows and tall grasses. Sometimes the white bark reflects the green hews that surround it. It feels like  a wonderland.

It has been years since we walked here. We know that this road leads to several hiking adventures. It links travel through many miles of forest. Then, the grassy high plains take over the landscape.

I am always considering alternative places to glamp. We come across one that I had considered before. We re-inspect it and consider its levelness, the trees, the water flow, the grass and mud potential, firewood, distance from the dusty road and more. It still “feels” pretty good. I stand here nude, reminded of the flow of the air and those associated obstacles surrounding the space. It is good here. There is sun for warmth, shade to cool, all to integrate into a lovely naked day enjoying the changes with a body’s delight.

There is an interesting hollowed log along the road.  I knock on it like a door, “Anybody home?” There is tonality in the massive tube.  One experiment leads to another and soon DF has a couple of choice sticks and is playing it like a drum.   We probably scatter any wildlife sightings…but we have some fun.

Memories begin to return, cued by a bend here, a landmark there. I know how far it is to where this road curves back into the great field on its east side. Soon enough, the field is seen.

The road is deeply rutted here as it crosses the field. During rains and probably piled on winter snow, the ground becomes mush and the dark greyish black soil gives way easily to weight. Today, the mud has cracked from drought. There are several tire tracks to choose from, as vehicles have searched for virgin grassland to bypass the quagmire.

I stand and watch, as DF walks off into the tall grass to photograph the flora. As I soak in the radiant warmth and the mountain air, the late day sunlight puts her aglow against a backdrop of the field and mountains stretching out west.

I squint, searching for a sign of our big white tent in the distance, somewhere in the trees on the other edge of this massive grassland.

There are lilies amongst tall daisies, amongst tall green grasses. She wants to capture the show in photos. Lilies are in bloom, some are spent and also there are those ready to come back anew.

I saw a spring listed on a satellite photo. There is a darker green area out in the field, a little further from the road. We walk around a drier border where the grassy field meets the forest and find water standing. With the light general slope of the mountain, it seeps out of the ground. It all travels through old volcanic rock beds on top of this mountain. I imagine how the liquid finds its way across the mile and a half of field, percolating and pulled by gravity, finding cracks and getting pushed by its own mass behind it. Covered by deep snow during the winter, the melt is significant and this winter was very wet and cold.

We’ll save the reentry into the deep forest for another hike. It is extensive according to the satellite imaging. The daylight won’t stick around long enough and we both notice the elevation taking our breath and endurance.

Turning to the other side of the road, there is a huge lone spruce, by itself. Three sisters have come together to create this one melded mammoth.

I wonder if the three trunks together have allowed it better stability in the winds, allowing it to survive alone out in this field.

Still, not far, another spruce has fallen after a life rich in abundant water. Too much of a good thing has loosened the shallow root system and an entire disk of soil and root has been upended, ripped from the earth. There was just too much moister when the high winds came barreling through. It had no windbreak to protect it, as it sat alone in this field.

A hole is left and it is filled with water, making a new pond. The more aquatic species are seizing the opportunity.

We inspect closer. There is still an upended intact forest floor on the tree side.

Walking around, a huge creature, a monster, has emerged from the forest. It stands challenging us. We photograph, unfettered. It’s just a bluff and it keeps its distance, still and resolute in its threatening manner.

Pleased with our walk, we have enough daylight to get back to camp at a casual pace. I feel like things are working out perfectly, as one big blessing. Into the setting sun, the forest comes alive like jewels. Glitters from emerald, to crystalline forms, illuminate our stroll.

There are a few swarms of unknown bugs at this time of day, so we decide to cover up and keep moving in places.

Still we have time to stop and enjoy the clusters of various flowers along the way. DF stops to caress, smell and talk to a young pine tree, thanking it and wishing it well in life.

The child plant’s greater relatives fascinate us. DF begins to pick up some of the light and beauty herself.

I spot a swarm of bugs ahead. They are many, the mass is unavoidable.

We decide to just walk through quickly, in case they like bare flesh. They are actually as much fun as they are threatening. The same evening’s glow illuminates them, until they look like dancing fairies. After passing, we realize that they were no trouble.

We are looking forward to a “Super Moon” at sunset. We’ll watch from 10,000 feet tonight, in the Great Field. It will be like going out on the town to see the latest primal movie extravaganza in a hugely infinite theater. That’s another story.

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