One last tug secures my instep crampons; winter’s ice makes them necessary. Our destination is almost one mile below us, just over seven miles by trail. I have been there before; they have not. My eyes move quickly, glancing at the trail, the ice, their equipment, their faces—they are ready. Pausing for a moment, I … Continue reading Moose in the Grand Canyon: Chapter One
One might stand here listening to Alum Creek join the Yellowstone and think the confluence complete. Somewhere else that might be true, but not in Hayden Valley and not this morning. My mind and early fog work with the water awaiting the final piece, the morning sun. Still hidden by the hills of Hayden, it … Continue reading Hayden Valley Sunrise Chapter 2
Layered against the cold, I removed myself from the warmth of my car and stepped into the morning darkness. The nearest hour was 4AM. My memory provided what my eyes could not, a placid river twisting through a green valley, rolling hills rising into a tree line. Abundant elk, bison and waterfowl interspersed with the … Continue reading Hayden Valley Sunrise Chapter 1
The sound is faint, faint but familiar, small ripples on the Snake soften my mood; rocks and water competing for space. It seems ironic, the hard, immovable obstacles will eventually succumb to the flexible fluid. But I do not want that thought this morning, I want the present, I want the harmony they create, I … Continue reading Until Tomorrow
The river appears dissatisfied. I have just walked 7 miles down the South Kaibab Trail for another visit with a temperamental artist. Seven miles of panoramas, panoramas revealing a small segment of this masterpiece called the Grand Canyon. The river, not content with its work, continues its relentless search for perfection. It continues to carve … Continue reading Below The Rim
It is an icon, it defines a park, it defines nature, it represents wilderness, it represents commitment. Half Dome will always be Norma. The role of a rock can change. Knowledge of the trail to the cables moved Half Dome from icon to obsession. The cables allow access to the top; they allow access to … Continue reading Half Dome
The sound no longer registers. Hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of impacts have dulled my senses; I no longer hear my boot striking the trail. It is selective filtration, the repetitious, man made noise subjugated. Willow Flat stretches to my left, its dense vegetation offering life in the form of food and concealment. Frequent moose … Continue reading Depth of a Rainbow aka Lunch Tree Hill
