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.