Sunday June 15th
To the Other Side of the Mountain
We’re new in the neighborhood. A neighbor stops by, a curious ground squirrel visits in the fresh morning sunshine that beams in our camp’s clearing. He hasn’t gotten around to the huge red object beyond him with its the strange smell of rubber. He heads first to the strange dome shaped contraption caging us humans. This might be a first for the tiny young critter. It shows no fear, coming right up to the net tent’s side wall, close to my face.
I lie sideways, awake, newly opened eyes adjusting to the light. I’m a bit surprised by the local greeter. The eyes placed on each side of its head, tell the direction of its vision. It stands up on hind legs, as we exchange staring looks with each other. It seems that we are each wondering, “How far will the other go?” I wonder how close this encounter will be, once my resting body moves.
The diminutive student of the world retreats to a nearby log. I later find debris there. It shows that it has spent quite a bit of time there, chewing on pine-cones.
As the morning passes, I sit in my chair, read and put some time into looking out to the far distance and the foreground, listening, smelling, taking note of my circumstances and my relationship to it all.
A grosse slowly strolls through camp, not ten feet from my feet! I’m acknowledged, as it lumbers. This is a bird the size of a very large pigeon, a small chicken, enough for dinner! Yet, it acts like it has no concept of human behavior. I’m a stranger, just another animal, not a predator, as I sit and observe. I’m being treated to a sight not ruined by the treachery of man. I’m a part of a gift delightfully received. I’m free to experience the uninterrupted observations, a close up of nature, the feathered arrangements, the critters movement and actually my sense of comradery and trust between species.
After breakfast, we’re heading up the trail past the barriers into forest behind the ridge that we’re camped on. We’re just planning to see what we find and to move freely.
We take nothing, expecting to see no one. DF has a small towel to comfort her shoulder strap, maybe to sit down on at some point. We desert rats always have some water, not knowing how far our adventure may continue. Stripped down, there is an additional sense of freedom and sensuality.
NOTE: I have divided this story into three parts. It may feel a bit long, maybe not. I’m still in the middle of computer issues and change over. I was able to get this done without blowing up the old computer. Looks like I’m changing over to Mac soon and hopefully, I’ll learn that quickly. So, I apologize for any delays.
Reading the Signs:
At our feet, purple flowers are losing petals into the trail. We conjecture whether these are molested, or dropping away at a seasons end? We discuss what animal might be so destructive and when it may have passed here. One thing that doesn’t occur in the wild is picking petals and searching with, “She loves me. She loves me not.” The sight is not unlike the scene of a child’s commiserations. We’re always looking for clues so as to know who is in the neighborhood.
We come to the bumps placed in the old road to stop traffic. There is thick vegetation on one side, and a quad or ATV has used the other at some time. The destruction of spinning tires leaves a lasting mark. We decide that nobody has been around here for a while. These humans had nothing to do with the purple petals in the trail. Grass is tall in the tracks, probably at least a rain and several days, or maybe weeks to grow.
Soon, the western vista appears through the trees. We will be standing, or sitting here several times during our stay.
Downhill around the bend, we notice a lot of fallen trees. Wondering why, we choose to investigate later, perhaps on our return. For now, the plan is to see what is left of this old road, where it goes and why.
A big ground squirrel pokes its head out of a hole on its way out. Oops! It sees me and ducks back in, thoroughly surprised.
I’d suppose that it might seem to the rodent that I’m not supposed to be here. At the least, no one has ever been at this critters doorstep in its experience. This is the third clue today that people just don’t come around here that much. Although there are many signs of humanity, including this old road turned into a trail, few have been here since. The destruction and disturbances were a long time ago. There is an untouched quality for us to feel, not just any ‘ol walk in the woods. Natural is coming back.
The sense of belonging to, as a part of nature, is enhanced by being properly attired. We’re natural for the occasion, no weird textile scents, carrying no weapons, no white pickup trucks, nor loud quads scaring every critter within a quarter mile. We’re quiet, we step carefully and do our best to fit in and show appreciation and respect. We listen and use our weird humanoid bark sparingly.
We begin to follow the road down a long slope to somewhere. This elevation’s thinner air can sometimes affect our endurance. Looking a long way down the trail, reminds me that we must walk a long way back up. That’s the price. That’s alright.
Burnt bark on some of the trees shows us that there had been a fire long ago. The lesser trees have come back, these larger ones continue to endure. The thick canopy teases us, keeping us from the sight of a probable grand vista. We can’t take vista photos from this trail. The solution is to start to look for a spot to climb the steep hillside’s slope to a higher elevation somewhere above us. It would be one of those climbs up and down, dealing with soft slippery pine needles and loose soil, bringing each step back half of the distance achieved. There is maybe another old road up above; it might wrap around this mountain, but I’m not certain.
Eventually, we find a fork in the road. We try the higher route, perhaps it will lead up to a vista, or another trail on this mountain and some answers. The old tune, “You take the high road and I’ll take…” comes into the mind as I change course. Eventually, this one just ends on a platform of sorts. There is a continuing foot path trail, but that is from animals, or some sparse foot traffic at some time, or both. It soon fades away.
We climb up the slippery steepness of the hill toward what may be a ledge above, a level spot hidden from us. There are frequent piles of rubble here and there. We begin to see more and grander piles of similar rubble.
We have to suspect, “Is it a part of a mine? These investigations conclude that these are swales for erosion. Perhaps these are to mitigate the effects of that long past fire, followed by rains and flooding.
There are small aspen plants, but amongst them are tiny and young oak. How are oaks up here? There are none anywhere else. DF suggests birds. After a bit, it occurs to me that it is a reseeding scheme to prevent erosion with an indigenous species, from lower elevations.
Eventually, back to the fork in the road the trail leads us through an aspen stand, which has taken over the road generally. Then, our route just peters out.
We are looking for a path, but nothing is evident. We’re finding our way using the old grading through the tight aspen grove, made up of all young aspen. Out of nowhere, DF says, “Life is like that, a path, but not a path.” This place also tells us that it has been recovering from a fire.
With All Senses:
In the grove, DF pets the smooth stems of young aspen.
They leave their white pollen-like powder on her hand, a film.
She smells the bark and tells me that it is fresh and moist.
I find the smell unique, but the powder goes up my nose.
She stands with her hands up to feel what they may find. She gets in touch with and shares natural energies with it all.
DF tries a pine tree, noticing the soft bristles with the softer newer growth at the tips. She sniffs.
I try it. The whiff penetrates and a plethora of a dozen different scents comes to mind. Dust, dirt, flowers, pine and more, all at once blend as a perfume. I consider all of the microbiota that I just impregnated myself with! If you’ve ever inhaled drug powder, then you know the tingling that such a thing leaves, not quite a sneeze, but a disruption and not a bad disruption. It is olfactory exercise, alerting, stimulating, like during a workout of heavy breathing exercises, the body is alive. In this case the nostrils are rejuvenated.
DF stands still to listen to the aspen’s song, but right now, there is not much wind. This forest is amazingly quiet. It has been a calming walk and silence enhances that.
On this side of the mountain, there is much less vegetation than where we are camped. Here, prickly bushes are dominant. We hold hands walking close, bonded within the day’s experience, but soon have to spread out to walk. There’s a pricker bush between us.
We make our way back to camp to rest and eat.
A Bit Later:
After a nap, we are committed to retrace and investigate the field of fallen aspen tree trunks that we saw earlier.
As we look out between the trees at the vista point, we are surprised at a fog of smoke. It can be tasted, the expanse of the Hell’s Backbone Wilderness, dozens of miles in the distance, is gone from sight. There has been more destruction today from the distant fire that chased us from the lowlands. It is probably too difficult to fight, perhaps climbing in cliffs and the very rough primitive terrain. Out there, the Forest Service had determined that there are no buildings to protect and just left it to burn as nature intends. This fire is however, out of season, man-made and unnatural in unusual drought. It is more just something destructive, polluting and a sad occurrence.
That field of dead aspen is not far down the trail, so we continue investigating to solve our mystery. Heading down the slope, the logs show the effects of fire. With that, we have solved the reason, but why hasn’t it grown back? Did the roots die, too in the heat? We wander. Aspen are the first to recover, roots intact, running throughout an area, sprouting out of the ground, sometimes in rows. It can’t be good to breathe hard while inhaling today’s smoke. It adds an extra dimension to our exploration of these fallen trees. There was smoke like this.
Considering the smoke, we decide to take it easy. Holding hands some more, as we casually walk naked together along this mountain forest trail, there is the bond with the natural and a bonding in our nature. Everything suits the other. We return to camp and sit and read.
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