Day 2
I was greeted by helicopter-jet bugs
this morning, a squadron of them hovering nearby, instantaneously
changing formation at some unheard-by-me signal. I stripped naked
and smudged myself and the wheel, giving thanks for protection and
for the messages revealed to me in my dreams.
A small knoll in full sun pulled me
from my cool shady bower. Surveying the vast, multi-hued landscape
stretched out for a hundred miles in each direction, my gaze lowered
to the trailhead, noticing with chagrin a large truck, a dog, people.
Fear entered my heart: Rangers! We parked wrong, didn't fill in
the trailhead name, were on a closed, road, using fire for ceremony.
They're coming to shut down the quest. I got behind a boulder and
retreated to the bower. Fear subsided somewhat in my circle and
reduced down to simply the fear of encountering people and being
forced to talk. I decided to ignore it (the fear) & them,
putting my gear in order, reducing the visual size of the campsite
to diminish the chance of them stumbling upon it, took any ID and
keys along with the daypack and water and.....stopped.
For on the ridge across the way was a
Dall sheep. A bighorn. I took in his majesty for 10-15 minutes
until he disappeared over the other side. Then I slowly began my
hike to the top of the escarpment that would afford me a view to both
east and west. The top of the Hart Mountain range.
Arriving at the first ridge where I had
stopped the day before, I started northward along the shade of the
junipers until I came to the departure point for the next leg. Here
I sat on a log and eased further into dream time. I became aware of
the beautiful white harrier gliding, soaring, searching, resting
aloft, riding the wind, a mouse dangling from its talons. Its mate
came gliding up from below, and he descended towards her, dropping
the mouse from some 10' – 15' above. She nimbly snatched it out of
the air, returning along the high meadow to the nest as he ascended
to resume watch. A raven entered the harrier's airspace, flying
towards me, cawing. The harrier pursued, drove it away, and came to
soar slowly above me, checking me out until, satisfied, he resumed
his lofty duties.
When he left, I headed for the ridge,
easing my way through ever denser meadows of paintbrush and lupine,
penstamon and pennyroyal until, just below the juniper grove at the
top of the final ridge, a lush, full-flowered continuous swath of
something (wild cyanothus maybe?) presented a tapestry, unbroken
except for a single sheep trail, exuding an aroma, a wild, lovely
fragrance that enveloped me once I was upwind.
This hike today is dedicated to my dad,
whose slow, short, painful footsteps I echo here. I think of his
mantra: “Growing old ain't for sissies.” I think of the reasons
he has chosen that path of continuance. I consider the bits and
pieces that have shaped him through his life: a mother full of
prejudicial bile and frontierswoman hardness of heart, military
training and strictness and structure, and war. I forgive him the
physical abuse heaped upon me. I forgive him the constant harangue
with my mother who harangued him back so often that that is all I
remember of conversation in our household.
This hike is also for her, my mom, who
lies right now at this moment with a new pacemaker setting cadence
for a heart that has always shown love to me. The beauty of this
place, these small, magnificent events that have unfolded and been
revealed to me in such abundance and quietude are dedicated to her.
And of course, every encounter with
fragrance and blossom and flor floods into mind the woman who brought
me to this magical place to undertake this difficult journey. She,
Changing Woman, enters my thoughts more often than food, than comfy
chairs, or any of the time-eating emails and jobs and games that I
use to occupy the space of time, although a nice comfy chair probably
comes in ahead of food for second place. ;-)
Dealing with gnats has been more
difficult than dealing with hunger. Mid-day they swarmed and I
covered completely, lying still until I fell asleep. But they and
the heat woke me, until I was foced to be constantly on the move,
choosing first to go to the buddy pile where I found a heart shaped
by stones. Her love infused me once again. And her quest gift saved
me from the gnats: the sarong tied around my forehead, neck, and
ears may have given me the grace and sanity to maintain the quest when
I had thoughts of giving it up due to gnats. Aaargh! But I have
survived another day, witnessing many small wonders which will
probably shape my dreams.
