Extremes

Extremes occur in backpacking:

the strenous high uphill, the wild and magnificent storms.

Snow once feel on my tent while I was asleep. Not enough to collapse it, but enough to transfer the morning into white brillance, covering the trees, meadows, peaks. Purity and clarity is what I awoke to, and fresh snow scented air.

Then there is the danger, hoping not to slip and have the weight of the pack drive you down. There is the the risk of what may wander near the tent at night, while camped in grizzly habitat.

The opposite is the quiet and the beauty, which I saw just last week after I had tied up my bear bag. All that remained to the day was watching the light fade on the alpine peaks, witness the mysterious still of wilderness night overtake the forest. My girl Border Collie Maggie laid behind me , on the other side of the log I had my back against. Wild Ben was next to me, under my arm, exhausted from a day of exploring, leaning against my chest.

I could see silhouettes of elk at the edge of the trees, across the meadow, moving down the valley. This other extreme, is the the kind of peace that is hard to describe, in solitude, stillness, in such calm. It is lying down to sleep in that forest, and awakening to look out at the silent trees, and the thousands of stars showing through their tops.

It changed for us again the next morning at a stream crossing, Tough as nails and loyal Maggie followed me right into the water. She figured if I was going, that was good enough for her. So was she.

Smart and spirited Ben wasnt so sure. To be honest neither was I.

The current seemed fast and deep. How deep I couldnt tell, because the morning shadows were still covering the stream, leaving the bottom in darkness and the depth an unknown. I stepped carefully, making sure each foot was secure before moving my trekking poles that braced me against the current. The water was so cold that my feet hurt before I got across. Maggie had been swept down a ways, but she ran back up the far bank and was waiting to greet me.

Ben ran up and down the side, looking for an alternative to what he saw Maggie and me do. After a good five minutes, he positioned himself at the end of a log that was hanging almost a third over the stream. I called and encouraged him. He backed off the log and again ran looking for another way.

Finally, when I started to walk up the trail with Maggie. Ben returned to the log, wined for a few seconds, and jumped as far as he could, landing in the fast current in the middle of the stream.

What courage: A fort pound dog leaping into a fast mountain stream. And you should have seen his joy when he reunited with me and Maggie. He jumped up and down as I patted his back, telling him 'good dog, good job Ben,' over and over again. Maggie wagged her tail and licked his face.

Extremes. The peace and still and the fast and dangerous. I try to be smart, enough to be safe, but I am not inclined to fear whatever comes. Extremes are part of life. Live long enough and you will encounter them - maybe not as dramatic as I have described, but they are part of the journey, the nature of the trail. Accept them with quiet determination or resign yourself to them, with a brave heart, hoping for the best.

But know this, experiencing the joy and sorrow, the mysterious and the beautiful, the furious and the still, is what makes the journey so fine, make us feel life, so intensely.

Especially up there.