Backcountry Poetry

Morning Hike

Watching the sun paint the peaks in sunlight on an early morning hike. Trying not to be in teh direct beams yourself. It acts as almost a spotlight, illuminating the beauty of the moment. Finally it pours upon you, but it is okay, the amazing show is over and now that the house lights are up, you see you are among flowers , surrounded by trees and amid beautiful rocks.

Backpacking thoughts

There is a time while backpacking that the listlessness and the excited nervous enegy is over. you pack feels like an infinite weight, sweat is everywhere letting you know of any cut, scratch , welt, and abrasion, stinging its hello.
At that moment you wonder if you packed two Christmas hams or any other food you could magically eat and make the pack light again. no dice. Would you trade that moment? Not I.

Mosquitoes

The meadows in a glaciated valley are so quiet and so pure. The green is what suburbanites dream their lawn will look like, but they will never achieve it. The squeaking of ground squirrels lets you know you are not alone, even though you have not seen a human for a few hours. All at once you realize you have sat down and removed your pack to rest. you sit and drink in the surroundings. you sit on a rock and lean your pack against it. Maybe if you eat, the load will lessen. flies and mosquitoes buzz around you not biting, but checking you out. Two or three finally bite to keep you awake and you are up and on your way.