Nature – Page 3 – Adventures Told

A Collision of Worlds

We topped the ridge on the dirt road and began dropping quickly on our mountain bikes into the valley. Each of us knew that it’d continue to get warmer and greener as we descended from the Bolivian highlands, but our thoughts were mostly focused on what awaited us at the end of the ride. The anticipated post-ride rewards were different for each person- a warm bath, cold beer, hot coffee, or a dry room. And so, we thought of those things, and little else, as the town of Sorata came increasingly into view.

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To Be a Wuss

Rico, or “Tarzan” as he preferred to be called, hadn’t felt very strong since lunch. His backpack seemed exceedingly heavy, and the big uphill into Pinto Park was yet to come. He’d never been a complainer before and was intent on not becoming one right then. The feeling was new to him, and he wanted to figure out what was going on, so he could keep moving ahead in his accustomed dominant and carefree fashion. Perhaps, he reasoned, his weakness problem had something to do with the creek water he drank at lunch.

He recalled the Strep he had back during the winter and began to wonder if maybe this wasn’t that. But since there was no sore throat, he was pretty sure it wasn’t. “No, this is something different,” he decided.

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Fly on a Hook

Fly fishing the Tarryall. — Fly Fishing in Colorado.

The kid walked up while I was down in the creek fiddling around with a big rock, to tell me he’d lost his last fly. I was the fishing guide and the person responsible for that sort of thing, so I needed to act quickly. Of course, the most obvious solution would be for me to give him one. Usually, that’d be a simple thing to do– but since, in this case, I didn’t have any, it wasn’t even an option.

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Joy Bluff Rising

Over the bluff,
A Full Moon rises,
Casting its glow,
On the summer below.

Erupting the dark,
With light shining bright
Awakening the shadows and defeating the night.

Limestone cliffs return to life,
Ravines get deeper and hills get higher,
Cedar thickets spread their arms,
Deer become more than dark flashes,
Tree limbs come out of hiding to dance in the wind,
And silhouettes of monstrous Cypress line the river as it bends.

Then, smell and sound join in,
And…
Campfires flicker across the hilltops,
Cedar smoke fills the air.
Far-off drumbeats keep the rhythm,
And bits of story, song, and laughter,
Faintly echo from beyond.

Rejoice in the moonrise,
And the change it’ll surely bring.
It’s done this many times before,
And I hope there’ll be many more.

Just like those who watched before,
Invite the moon into your eyes.
Ponder the days that are yet to come,
Embrace the times that came,
And rejoice that the moon you see,
Still rises just the same.

Audio Version:

Fetching Water

I headed to the creek to get a pot full of water.
And tripped on a root on my way back to camp.
I staggered and stumbled but didn’t fall,
Then dropped the pot and spilled it all.

Continue reading “Fetching Water”

Part of the View

I climb to a high place,
And savor the view,
So much to see,
My world seems anew.

Ground ripples below
Until it reaches a stream.
That’s flowing along
With water agleam.

Bright shiny reflection,
Small, but intense.
Catches my eye,
Creating suspense.

A big Douglas Fir,
Sways to and fro’.
Seems guarding something,
From what I don’t know.

Squirrel scampers across
A branch to my side.
It notices me,
And begins to chide.

The light moves on,
And the magnificent buck
That’s resting under a pine,
Looks more like a duck.

Out of the forest,
A trail comes forth.
Crosses below
And heads to the north.

Some animal runs,
Its movement a flash.
Then abruptly jumps into
The creek with a splash.

A rock falls from the cliff
Off to my right.
Its crash at the bottom
Creates quite a sight.

Above the horizon,
Beyond what I know,
Big mountains arise,
All capped in snow.

Where clouds meet the ground,
And land becomes sky.
The near disappears,
And far enters my eye.

Then, I realize,
That the things that I see.
Are simple, yet complex,
And all part of me.

Each time I gaze,
At the world all around.
The sights may be different,
But they always astound.

It’s heartening to know,
I have a role in the view.
I’m a cog in the world,
A part of the stew.

So, I stand up and turn,
Then go on my way.
Ready to face,
What comes as it may.

Audio Version:

Happy

Backcountry afternoon — Wind River Range, Wyoming

Happy trails
And happy snails.
Happy whales
And happy tales.

Happy days
And happy craze.
Happy phrase
And happy stays.

Happy times
And happy chimes.
Happy climbs
And happy rhymes.

Happy sight
And happy night.
Happy light
And happy mite.

Happy spots
And happy dots.
Happy oughts
And happy thoughts.

Happy trail
And happy snail.
Happy whale
And happy tale.

Happy places
And happy faces.
Happy races
And happy spaces.

Happy talks
And happy walks.
Happy hawks
And happy squawks.

Happy sounds
And happy towns.
Happy bounds
And happy grounds.

Happy sights
And happy nights.
Happy lights
And happy mites.

Happy time
And happy chime.
Happy climb
And happy rhyme.

Happy songs
And happy throngs.
Happy Kongs
And happy wrongs.

Happy theres
And happy bears.
Happy wheres
And happy pairs.

Happy words
And happy nerds.
Happy birds
And happy herds.

Happy talk
And happy walk.
Happy hawk
And happy squawk.

Happy spot
And happy dot.
Happy ought
And happy thought.

Happy sappy
And happy yappy.
Happy snappy
And happy happy.

Audio Version:

Marching Always

Marching to the drummer
Across the canyon
From where I walk.

Rhythmic echoes, pounding drumbeats
Like the ticking
Of a clock.

Miles of trails and distant rivers,
Manzanitas, Oaks, and pines.
Hardened heels and herds of goats,
And long-forgotten mines.

The only time that matters,
Is how long until the night.
Move like the Raramuri,
Who keep following the light.

Dancing fiercely o’er the mesas,
With partners
Made of rock.

Often soaring skyward,
Flying freely
Like a hawk.

Layer upon layer
Of color fills the sky.
The magic of the distance
Inundates the eye.

Subtle tailwinds urge me forward
And gentle headwinds hold me back.
But like the local people,
I maintain an onward track.

Then the drumbeat fades away,
Yet still, the land has much to say.
I close my eyes and faintly hear
A beating heart that’s somewhere near.

I realize it’s underfoot,
The sound is rising
From the dirt!

It’s good to know
That even though
The drummers come and go.

The land I cross
Lives on and on,
And the beat is never gone.

Audio Version:

The Long Way

Let’s take the long way back,
And cross the river ‘round the bend.
If our feet get wet,
We can dry ‘em in the wind.

There’s a trail down there
That no one knows about.
And it leads to a fishin’ hole
That’s full of big ‘ole trout.

Since we’ve got our poles,
We can wet a line.
If you don’t have any flies,
You can use some of mine.

Once we’ve had our fill of that
We’ll head into the trees,
To a big red rock
With a view that’ll bring ya’ to your knees.

From there, we’ll keep goin’
‘Till we reach the Highline Trail.
We’ll follow it across the meadow
Where I once got caught by hail.

Just on past that meadow, there’s a gully
Full of berries of some unknown type.
I don’t know much about ‘em,
‘Cept they taste good and should be ripe.

We’ll fill our bellies there
And when we’ve had our fill,
Head into some Aspens
And move on up the hill.

Our path will pass
By old cabins and mines.
And once up high,
There are Bristlecone Pines.

There’s a good sittin’ spot at the top,
Where we can take a break.
No doubt we’ll need to rest when we get there,
Since our legs will surely ache.

Then, we’ll walk along the treeline,
With the treetops down below.
Huge mountains fill that skyline
And the wildflowers steal the show.

As we walk along the tundra,
The lack of noise will astound.
There may be wind, or planes, or talk,
But the silence is profound.

Soon, we’ll reach the spot
Where the trail begins to drop
After passing through black timber,
We’ll reach the valley where we’ll stop.

Another river fills that valley,
And we’ll round another bend.
We’ll wade into the stream
And take the long way once again.

Audio Version:

Base Camp area trails — Passing through the Aspens

Good Senses

Looking into the Copper Canyon backcountry

Starry nights
And faraway lights.
Where storm clouds go
And a wild lightning show.

Above the peak
And the end of the trail.
Crossing a log
And staying out of the bog.

Warm days in winter
And fields full of color.
Snowfall in summer
And a distant drummer.

Intriguingly perched boulders
And birds flying south.
The movements of herds
And undefined words.

Second winds found
And hills lit by the sun.
Uncharted miles
And grandeur that smiles.

Mysterious corners
And faces in logs.
Waves rolling in
And time without end.

Branches all tangled
And stickers that stick.
Why campfires smoke
And cause you to choke.

The bacon that’s cooking
And ants that don’t bite.
Dust Devils on the horizon
And moments that wizen.

Unknown new roads
And scratching an itch.
At the top of the climb
And the future time.

Life fills up your mind
And lights up your path.
So, free your spirit to wander,
There’s so much to ponder.

Audio Version:

Category: Nature

A Collision of Worlds

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To Be a Wuss

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Fly on a Hook

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Joy Bluff Rising

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Fetching Water

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Part of the View

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Happy

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Marching Always

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The Long Way

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Good Senses

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