I Saw That!

Every day I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is burning with it.

Claude Monet

When I find myself feeling sad about my decision to give up backpacking in order to save my aching back from further injury, I play this game in my mind’s eye. I let the images come, remembering and re-experiencing the many places my two strong legs have taken me over decades of hiking and backpacking. There is no particular order to this process, so I am often surprised and delighted. It is like turning the pages of a picture book. My response to each image is, “Oh wow! I saw that!”

The photo above, for example, was taken in the Ruby Mountains of Nevada, the highest range in the state. I love how the red of the southwest canyon country is visible in the rock, how it warms the rugged landscape, how it surprises. It was taken on a short hike after supper. It had rained all day and more precipitation was in the forecast. I was beginning to think I was going to spend the week in my tent, reading a book. But a sun break in the evening enabled me to take that short hike near the campground, and there it was: soft sunlight filtered by clouds, a splash of red rock, a moment of color and joy in the Ruby Mountains.

Next up are the summits I have climbed: Wind River Peak, Mt. Baker, Cloud Peak, Sheep Mountain, countless unnamed peaks ascended on cross-country routes in the Pasayten Wilderness. These climbs afford the spectacular views that most hikers seek, plodding through the forest of the valleys, so they can ascend to great heights. The best of them afford 360 degree views. I like to turn slowly and sweep my arms around, like the needles of a compass, sweeping in all directions.

I have never eschewed the lowland forests. I have spent countless evenings camped next to a river, listening to the river voices, sheltered by the spreading branches of a western hemlock. On one occasion I watched two bald eagles conduct their elaborate mating ritual, soaring to the top of the canyon, then descending to the river below. My heart was beating so loud I feared the sound of it might distract them from their essential task.

There were the countless waterfalls descending from the ridge tops that surround Enchanted Valley. There were the many perfect campsites, hidden from the trail and other campers, a small stream nearby, a meadow of wildflowers, my tent pitched in the sunlight, my little stove resting on a rock, turning the stream water into tea. There were the short backpacking trips in canyon country, looking up suddenly to see Druid Arch rising above me, marveling at the petroglyphs etched into the canyon walls.

I have a strange fantasy which many people will consider morbid, but like any good Buddhist, I think often of death, trying to prepare myself for that most important event in my life, one that gets closer by the day. I imagine myself lying in my hospice bed, my daughters sitting by closely, wringing their hands in anguish. I try to prepare words that will lessen their grief, and here is what I have come up with: “Oh wow! I saw that!”