“I guess designated wilderness areas figure you can find your own way in, so they don’t fuss. Their parking pull-off is a neglected corner of nowhere, right about now. The town plow, doing its job, continues to effectively block it off. Okay, I get it. Last week we parked as far into the snow bank as we could, and I’m here today to repeat what we did, but possibly go further. It’s a little earlier in the day, by maybe, a half an hour. Every shred of sunlight in February, is a resource, to be managed. I have less camera gear, and more backup layers of clothing. I don’t like getting cold. But I do love the challenges of winter. And if you look hard enough, you can find the advantages, of winter, too. Like the trail in front of me, that’s already been broken, by some intrepid soul. I’m not used to the luxury. There aren’t trails on this tract, unless people make them, and I’m new on the scene. I’m a follower, following my nose. It’s exciting to stumble on any sign that anyone knows their way around this forgotten place. It’s not a flashy range, with a name that rings out, iconically, like “Camels Hump”, or “Breadloaf”. No, it’s a generic, bland name, that entices almost no more than a handful; I’m pretty convinced of it, having read log books and sparse accounts, online. However, I know a few key geological features, and I’m back today, to hit up the same frozen stream, and go up the ridge, and maybe over. See, I’ve had my sights on a pond, that is impossible to get to anymore. Since thousands of acres went from privatized, to federalized, and the old roads were shut down. Maybe I’ll figure something out, at the top. As it turns out, I’ll get a little further. To a drainage, a ravine, and then a cessation of broken trail. Turns out, whoever was up here, gave up. I’m not going to make it today, to the pond I have yet to find. I relied on them, but hey, perhaps, were relying on me. This silent collusion between people who have never met, but who tramp the same lost ground, is profound to me. Yes, any of us could die out here, if we neglected to absorb the nature of the terrain. Not to let the entrancing siren song of virgin territory, suck us down. I am already filled with memories of trees, and how their populations change, at various elevations, and the odd flat spots (I call “house sites”), and more rigorous twists, that no man should foolish into, on foot, if “foolish” were a verb. I trust myself, with some fear and lack of confidence, which seems to call up a deeper sense of belonging, on this line of inquiry. The new lingo is to “send it”. I am sending it, I did, and so should you, whatever that means in your life. And I’m plotting a return in spring, with pink surveyor’s tape, to mark a few things, and a warm drink, and a snack, and a few hours more, to take my time imbibing the secrets of place. Spring is coming. Let’s make the word “epiphany” our guide stone. To the massive gold reserves of revelation, and wisdom, we were too shy to reveal, until now.”
