Cabin fever: I’ve been reviewing photos from previous camping trips, excited to get more blogs written showing some of my favorite places on the planet. But sitting at a computer editing photos and writing blogs is lacking what I really need at the moment; I need to get outside and spend some time with the “real deal” – creeks and trees. Even though it is mid-February, it feels like early spring: a good day to walk. So I head out of town on my two feet; don’t even need ski poles this time. Arriving at the Pulaski Trail, I only hike a short ways in, as here the shaded trail is quite icy and ski poles would have been handy.
Bridge over Placer Creek at Pulaski Trail Head
But that is okay; I dilly-dally taking photos of moss and ferns and dead leaves along the trail.
Moss bright and fresh
Placer Creek is a challenge to photograph today due to the sunlight being brighter than it has been for some time. The creek is also running high and wild due to snow-melt – in February! Trying to get that wonderful silky look just isn’t happening, so I go for the frothy look instead.
Placer Creek – the frothy look
I’m grateful for my wonderfully improved vision after recent cataract surgery; the world is bright and clear. Even though I don’t get many “savers” on my outing, I find great delight in merely looking at bare winter trees intermingled with the grand firs towering over me, naked bushes and shrubs along the dashing creek, moss perking up, and other signs of life along my path.
Signs of life
Soon we will be on the road, heading to new camping places and new sight-seeing adventures, but for today a good walk along Placer Creek invigorated my body, brightened my mind, and soothed my soul.
Mostly sunny this morning, but a very damp 35 degrees after yesterday’s rain. The campfire is reluctant this morning, but after awhile a cheery blaze warms me as I sit with my cup of coffee and “A New Earth,” reading about the pain-body, the condition where one identifies with one’s pain so much as to lose touch with the real person.
Keeping my coffee warm
After breakfast I walk across the meadow, irresistibly drawn to the aspens on the hillside. This time I find a game trail that ascends at a comfortable angle and I am soon at the aspen grove. I take lots of photos even though the angle of the sun is not ideal. There is quite a breeze, causing the leaves to shimmer and sparkle as they dance about. It is really quite marvelous and I thoroughly enjoy being there.
Leaves shimmer and sparkle as they dance about
I walk with trees
Back at camp, I have a long cello session broken by wood gathering in the deep woods behind the camp. I realize there is so much more to explore. I did not have the energy for it earlier in our stay, but I feel like I’m missing out on something important. Well, next time…. The twigs and branches that I find are really quite wet, so I reluctantly leave the magical woods
Magical woods
and walk across the meadow to gather twigs and branches that have had more time to dry in the sun and the wind. Back at camp I continue with playing cello until Becka calls. Someone made her angry and she calls to talk about camping because it makes her feel better. We plan a camping date for next summer, perhaps right here. Clifford needs to use my cell phone for a business call, so I give him the phone and head on back to the aspens.
The sun shines low from the west
The sun is now low in the west, shining through the gap between mountain peaks. It is cloudier this afternoon, so I have to wait for sunnier and still moments to get shots with the glow of the leaves as the sun shines through them. Back-lit leaves of plants and shrubs also get my attention.
Back-lit
Even while I wait for these photo-opp moments, I am thrilled to be here on the mountain with these lovely trees.
Lovely aspens dance for me
Hard to say good-bye while the sun yet shines
Still saying good-bye
I can’t bear to leave until the sun has settled low enough that no more sunlight illumines the grove. Finally I say “good-bye” and head down the hill, picking up chunks of wood on my way. Back at camp, it is time for another campfire, hot tea, and journal writing. Bass Creek has been good for me. Every day I breathe in the fresh air; I am surrounded by mountains, tall ponderosa at the meadow’s parameters look down on me, dark mysterious woods invite me to explore, and golden aspen dance for me – they have all shared their strength with me. I am feeling healthier and more peaceful being here at Bass Creek. There are even moments of joy. I hope to carry this joy with me as I move forward to what lies ahead.
Thanks to the milder than normal January here in northern Idaho and western Montana, I decide to make a trip over Lookout Pass to visit my daughter, Ang, who lives off-grid and blogs as Modern Mountain Woman. I take it easy going over the pass as it is hard to tell melting snow runoff from black ice in the shady spots. Once down the other side, the highway is clear and I make good time.
Clark Fork River
It is tempting to stop and take photos of the Clark Fork River, but I am eager to get on up to the cabin. Once off the highway, road conditions deteriorate somewhat. The state highway out of the village is mostly clear, but a little icy in spots; the road up the mountain begins as snowpack and mud, but soon turns into a sheet of ice topped with a layer of water. Nice and easy does it right to the driveway, which is a steep upward turn. Ang and friends have not been able to get up to the cabin, even with chains, but I am not crazy about carrying all my stuff – clothes, food and books to share, and a cello – up the icy driveway, so I decide to see if I can make it up to the cabin. Well, you gotta love a Subaru with good tires!
From cabin looking down the driveway
The next few mornings are spent enjoying the first light of the day, sharing French press coffee, talking about books we are reading, the writing contests she is planning on entering, sacred geometry, and manifesting.
Morning sun beams
Sunlight on the trees
Over the next several days, numerous bonfires are built – no easy task with everything outdoors either still under snow or wet from the humidity and the rain that fell softly one night – and deadfall is burned to begin a clearing process to let light into the forest and to create an opening for terraced gardens, greenhouse, and chickens come summer.
Getting the bonfire going with damp and green wood
One morning while Ang is working for the neighbor down the road, James and I have a fire making contest. Each of us had a fire pit and worked to see who could get a good fire going first. Although I had some flames at one point, James didn’t fare any better, and it was only when Ang returned that we had a really good bonfire.
Fire building winner is the modern mountain woman
Wood is cut and other chores are attended to. James and I play cello together, the first time doing a duet for him.
Ang cuts wood for the cabin’s wood stove
James gets a haircut
We visit with friends and family. Sometimes we drive out in my car and sometimes brave folks drive up to the property, walking through the woods to join us at a bonfire.
Friends come for a visit
Most evenings we go down to the next door neighbor’s place, as he is not quite so off-grid and has internet, electricity, and running water. We take care of business involving the internet, take showers, and share a meal while we watch Stargate. Back at the cabin, peaceful evenings lead into quiet nights except for the puppy and the cat when they get restless.
Ang with Boots and Thor (naughty but oh-so-cute puppy)
The cabin is cozy; I sleep on the bench/bed that will one day be part of the rocket stove, which will be built before next fall. I can look out the window and see stars on the clear nights, little solar lights, and the embers of a recent bonfire. I am delighted to be surrounded by great tall trees in the daytime and complete darkness at night except for these small gentle sources of light .
Evening bonfire that will soon die to embers
Although I probably could not live totally off-grid by myself, I enjoy the opportunity to share a few days in the life of a modern mountain woman. Tomorrow I will head for home; the next day Clifford will return from his business trip to California, and soon we will be able to take the Pony (our pop-up tent trailer) on a camping trip, our own version of living off-grid.
With errands to run, Ang trucks on down the icy road to town
Finally, some real snow – light and fluffy, and enough to make the landscape new and magical. Oh, we’ve had some snow and cold, but just enough to make walking icy and slow. This time, however, it is irresistible for a photographer. So, I bundle up, drape the camera over my shoulder and head out. As I walk to the edge of town several blocks away, there are many beautiful snow-covered trees, but power lines and buildings spoil every photo that I want to take. Once outside of town, I walk alongside the edge of the road, shuffling through the snow, keeping my distance from the traveled portion of the road. It is a relief to be away from power lines and fences and driveways. It is even better when I am far enough out of town to be beyond the concrete canal that encloses Placer Creek to make sure it behaves during spring run-off.
Now I can walk along the bank above the creek. And here it is that I take photos and more photos, loving the dark movement of the creek against the purity of the white snow and backed by snow-covered trees, dark and mysterious.
As I walk and observe and take photos, I am thinking about my life at this moment. Healing is a complex process. It isn’t just a matter of incisions drawing closed, the simple healing of a wound. The deeper wound is “how could this have happened?” How do I know it will not happen again? It took me so by surprise – I who had not been to a doctor in over 20 years – faced with a life-threatening condition.
A new lease on life has been given to me, but here I am, waking up with anxiety and going through my day with a sense of weariness. Even though I approached all the procedures as openly as possible, seeing the process not as a war against cancer but as a journey back to wellness, I still feel battle-weary. Where does this weariness come from? It occurs to me that even though I am busy every day, getting caught up with bookwork and housework that has fallen behind in the last several month, as well as helping out more with my husband’s non-profit, this busy-ness is without enthusiasm and sense of purpose.
I KNOW what my purpose at this time in my life is, but I can’t seem to accomplish it in a meaningful way here and now. I’ve always been a person with my ducks in a row, but now I feel that I’m floundering in a life that isn’t my own true life. It is most uncomfortable. Perhaps a time of being lost in the desert is okay, or even good and necessary, but it is still uncomfortable. I have spent too much of my life being in resistance to “what is” – a long and difficult first marriage, more recently a move that has left me longing for a home that is no longer my home, and my family still too far away to give and receive the hugs we all need.
It is a leap of faith to be totally accepting of this present state of affairs, to lovingly embrace my life as it is, with all of its uncertainties and ducks running amuck. I want to be like this creek as it flows toward the sea, flowing effortlessly over and around the rocks in its way. I want to be joyfully alive and surrounded by beauty. This is my gift to share: seeking, finding, and sharing beauty. So I will accept the floundering and look for the beauty in each and every day (and ignore the ducks as best I can).
Tuesday October 21: We were going to put the big tarp over the Pony yesterday since there is a forecast of rain, but we were too tired and cold when we got back from hiking and figured we could do it this morning. Then it started raining in the night, so it is too late to put up the tarp. Too wet for a fire this morning – I could build a fire, but can’t read and edit in the rain, so it is an inside morning.
Rainy day at Charlie Waters Campground
Mossy tree trunks, all in a row
The rain emphasizes the moss on the tree trunks
Later, when the rain lets up a bit, I decide to go for a walk across the meadow,
Our campsite as seen from across the meadow
and once there, emboldened by my successful hiking yesterday, I hike on up the hillside to the grove of young aspen that I have admired from a distance.
Hiking to the aspen grove
Nearing the aspen grove
It is pretty here, even if there is no sunlight to bring a glow to the leaves. I walk amongst the trees, admiring their autumn colors and smooth cool bark. I could be an aspen tree.
Walking with the aspens
By time I get back to camp, my shoes, socks, feet, and sweats are wet; I change clothes and wear slippers the rest of the day as I only have the one pair of shoes with me. Another oversight in planning and packing – of course I know better, but sometimes things fall through the proverbial crack. I haven’t gotten all my ducks lined up properly this fall.
Rainy view from the Pony
I finish editing “Against All Odds” and then edit photos from our British Columbia trip until the battery on the laptop runs out. That is the drawback to camping without enough sunshine to inspire the solar panel to create electricity for us. Time now to write in the journal – real paper, real pen – no electricity required. Chilly outside all day, but the Pony is cozy, so we don’t mind.
Monday October 20, 2014 – It is going to be sunny today, but I make a small campfire for the warmth until the sun reaches the campsite, enjoying my morning ritual of fire, coffee, and journal. After breakfast we make a quick trip to Stevensville for ice and a few groceries. Back at camp, we decide to hike the Bass Creek Trail which leaves from a parking lot at the end of the campground. Based on the doctor’s recommendation, I’ve not been exerting myself, but every day that we are here, I feel better. There may not be another chance to hike the trail with a great blue sky and sunshine while we are here. We drive around to the parking area, although it wouldn’t have been terribly far just to hike to the trail head. I have a small thermos of tea, my hiking sticks, and the Canon G1X. I am going to mosey along taking photos while Clifford goes on ahead. I will only go as far as I feel totally comfortable with.
I am thrilled with the sunlight coming through the aspen trees, turning yellow to golden. The western larch are also a rich autumn color.
Although I can hear the creek below me, the dense growth often obscures the sight of it,
The creek below the trail
Colors of autumn
The further up the trail I go, the chillier it is. As we were getting ready to go, I discovered my day pack was left at home by mistake. It was warm enough at the camp that I didn’t think I would need more layers than what I am wearing, but now the windbreaker and gloves in the day pack would be most welcome. Reminder to self to have the extra layer just in case.
Patches of sunlight on the trail
So, I hike from one sunlit patch to another, stopping to take photos whenever autumn leaves catch my attention.
Several times I stop, thinking I will turn back, but after resting on a rock in the sunshine and drinking some of my hot tea, I go on, eager to see what is beyond the next bend in the trail.
Around the next bend in the trail
Eventually, it is the deepening shadows on the trail and the chilly wind that forces me to turn back. I am glad that my stamina was not the determining factor.
Trail in shadow
Deepening shadows on the trail
Down the trail toward the lingering sunlight
I hike briskly back down the trail, not stopping until I reach the trail head, where the last of the afternoon sunshine brings a bit of warmth.
Last light coming through the trees
Back at the campsite, I am too cold to play cello, so go on inside the Pony to warm up. Make a hot cup of tea and get on with editing. Clifford has hiked considerably further up the trail than I did, so it is a while later before he comes. Then we have dinner and I continue editing. I am nearly finished with the book I am working on. I download the photos taken today and am pleased with the beautiful autumn colors. I am looking forward to doing some photo editing soon. And off to bed with vision of golden trees dancing in my head.
Friday October 17, 2014 – Partly sunny and 32 degrees when I get up. No campfire this morning; I just find sunny spots and move my chair and table to keep pace with the warmer oasis of light. Make a cup of coffee and read “A New Earth” – thoughts on how thoughts/emotions come from the ego trying to strengthen itself, which is always at the expense of the “other.” Edit “Against All Odds,” play cello while the sun shines,
Wood, dense and mysterious
and explore the woods, gathering more branches and twigs. I love the woods, so dense and mysterious. Haven’t explored them nearly as much as I’d like.
When the campsite is in shade, I build a campfire and continue editing until it is too dark to see outside.
Saturday October 18, 2014 – Today is a town day and so off to Missoula first t hing. Run errands, visit my mom – a very bright 88 years young, and go to Barnes & Nobles for the bookstore fix. Home after dark and head to bed soon after unloading and putting away our purchases.
Sunday October 19. 2014 – Nice day, no need for a campfire this morning, and I’m saving wood for the cooler days that are forecast. Katie, Jeremy and the boys come out in the afternoon and we do a walkabout in the woods to the creek and to the little A-frame “fort” that some industrious kids built sometime this summer. The boys (my grandsons ages 2 and 4) have a great time playing in the water and exploring the fort.
Finley throwing rocks in the creek
Jude at the fort by the creek
Katie and Finley in the fort
Finley peeking out of the fort
Katie and Finley headed back to camp
Back at the camp Katie gets the campfire going and starts dinner while the Clifford, Jeremy, and I gathered more wood. After dinner we sit around the fire enjoying the time to relax and chat. I’m really glad that they were able to come out again,
Later, more editing. Hard to put it down. The Novels of Shannon series which I am editing takes the reader to another world where the characters become real while their adventuresome journey, fraught with peril, draws the reader in. Our lives may seem tame compared to theirs and yet we all face common questions about the intricacies of life: how to live with our weaknesses and our strengths, how to survive pain and loss, how to become fully alive.
Wednesday October 15: This is a day of changing weather.
Overcast, then the clouds begin to part
Cloudy when I get up to make my campfire and a cup of coffee. Read “A New Earth” resonating with the words, the meanings, going beyond ego to BEING. Well, I might not be getting there, yet, but it makes sense, anyway. Write in my journal and have breakfast by the campfire, enjoying the warmth.
Then the sky clears up enough that I get out the cello, glad to have enough sun to sit and play a bit. But by time I get the cello out and set up, and play through one piece, it clouds up and starts to rain. I scramble around getting the cello and music put away as quickly as I can. The little storm passes, the sun come outs, so I get the cello out again. Then the rain comes again and as I am putting the cello away, a big gust of wind knocks over the stand and music is blowing everywhere. I could have used some help, but Clifford is not is sight. This time the rain continues through the remainder of the afternoon.
Sometime during the afternoon the rain lets up enough to let the wonderful warm late afternoon light come through and a lovely rainbow appears arching over the trees at the end of the meadow. Sweet.
Cloud moving on, sunlight coming in
Rainbow arch at the end of the meadow
Dark clouds in the background, warm sunlight in the foreground
My homemade chicken soup has thawed out, so I simmer it an hour to be on the safe side. How much nutrition is left in a soup cooked that long, I don’t know, but I am not taking any chances.
Our battery is not charging, so light and power are an issue tonight. Too bad, as I can see to write blogs with the laptop, but once its little battery is dead, I am out of luck.
Thursday October 16: I light the stove to start warming up the Pony and get the tea water going. There is a pretty sunrise this morning.
Sunrise color
Take photos of the droplets on branches on my way to the restroom, nearly a block away. It has been good for me to do a morning walk, albeit out of necessity, and this morning it is especially pretty out after yesterday’s rain.
Delicate seed pods
After breakfast we go to Stevensville for ice and groceries, then explore the Chief Looking Glass State Park. It was too expensive for us, and I am really glad we didn’t go there, as it is much prettier where we are at Bass Creek.
Mountains of the Bitterroot Range
Later Merri and Ali come to visit. Merri and Clifford have a plant identification project going on, which is fun for Merri, as she loves plants and knows a LOT about plants and trees.
Looking at the trees
Ali is kind of bored and just pokes around at the fire. Maybe walking around looking at trees and moss and berries are not her thing. We all have a cup of tea before they go. I am glad they got to come out, even though Merri and I didn’t really get much time to visit. Just nice to have her here for awhile.
Decorating the pumpkin with gifts from the forest
We do the CI meeting from my cell phone. I’m not feeling great, but can’t distract myself with photo editing, as my laptop is dead, and it would be rude to distract myself with reading or writing. Finally I just crawl up on the bed and don’t even pretend to be actively involved. Wonder if it was eating a whole raw potato that caused my indigestion.
Yogurt and mint tea for my dinner and by bedtime, I feel better and sleep okay.
Sunday October 12: Wake up early; too dark to sit out, so I make mint tea and sit inside to read “A New Earth” until it is light enough to head outside to make a campfire. The wood under the pull-outs is a bit wet, but the wood under the tarp is good and dry, so I soon have a cheery fire going. The way Tolle explains some concepts in “A New Earth” helps me to make sense of the lessons from “A Course in Miracles” which were not resonating with me. A different way of looking at things can be very good.
Ang and Oden come
about 11:30 and we
have time to do a
walkabout taking
photos of raindrop
on leaves and
other delightful
after-rain images.
Give her a camera and a cup of coffee…. and she is all set!
Then we head out to see my sister, Lillian, who lives about 10 miles outside of Stevensville on the other side of the Bitterroot valley. As we look back, we can see snow on the mountain tops on the western range. We have a nice visit with Lillian; I let her know that I have been to a doctor for the first time in about 20 years and that there are some health issues going on.
Lillian, Carol, Ang
Oden displaying 12-year-old dorkiness
Lillian’s driveway
From the eastern side of the valley where she lives, we have a clear view of the snowy mountains to the west, so more photos are taken as we head back to the campground.
Across the Bitterroot Valley – we are camped over there
Back at the Pony, after Ang and Oden leave, I do some editing and read portions of the journal from 1979 to 1980. There was an entry regarding a conversation Katie and I had regarding priests and bishops, and how bishops could tell the priests where they had to go. Katie, who was four years old at the time, totally got the idea and decided that she would be a bishop when she grows up so she can tell people what to do. It was really quite delightful, the best part of the whole 6-month journal, and it made her day when I sent it as a text to her. No campfire tonight as it is a bit chilly this evening and more comfortable inside, even though I struggle to read by the available light.
Monday October 13: Wake up early with leg cramps, but luckily I am able to go back to sleep and get up after daylight to go out build a campfire. I make tea and as I get settled by the fire to read, the tea spills and I have to go back inside to make a new cup. Clifford is up and we have a discussion about the pan that needs replacing, which gets me thinking about what I have been reading about ego – is my suggestion to use more butter in the pan merely a suggestion or is it my ego coming forward to say I know better than someone else how to use the pan. There are definitely some grey areas here. I do a walkabout looking at the other campsites, gather wood, and explore the woods which are enchanted, I’m quite sure.
Enchanted woods
Old school cello is camping cello
Mild temperatures and sunshine in the afternoon gives me the opportunity to play the cello again today.I am not very satisfied with this cello, not liking the sound of the A-string or 4th position, both of which are used all the time. It creates a quandry for me – how to go camping AND have a pleasing instrument to play. Haven’t felt like playing the flute because the higher registers are not appealing to me. Oh well……
And so goes the day. Later in the afternoon the picnic table at the vacant site next to us is still in the sunlight, and I move down there to continue writing in my journal until the sunlight is overtaken by shadow. Before the sun sets behind the mountain, the last rays hit the young aspen grove on the hillside across the meadow from where we are camped. What a wonderful burst of color.
Last glow of light on the aspens
Back at our spot, I build another great campfire and sit out editing until it is too dark to see. As the fire dies down, I leave the embers to glow while I go inside to join Clifford and make us a tasty dinner. After dinner, I make notes in a word document from the old journal. Not sure I want or need to save the old journal once that is done. I had written down many dreams that might be of interest, but maybe not worth keeping, either. If I was going to learn from them, it should have have been then. Head to bed, thinking how much different my life is now. The struggles of that period of my life are far behind me. How joyful it is now to be camping, drinking a morning cup of coffee or tea by a campfire, having the day to read, write, or walkabout taking photos, and quiet evenings with Clifford. My kids are grown and are people I enjoy spending time with. Life is good.
Okay, so it’s only 12 degrees out this morning, but the sun is shining and not a cloud in the sky, at the moment, anyway. Rare for Wallace in the winter. So, Clifford and I decide to go for a little outing close to home. We both have a busy day lined up, but this is too good to resist. We bundle up in winter clothes and head to the Pulaski Trailhead, just a couple miles out of town.
Clifford on the bridge over Placer Creek on the Pulaski Trail
Although down in Wallace the trees are are, here they are snow-covered,
Snow-covered trees
We don’t know how far we’ll hike in, as it is quite chilly out and the trail is mostly in shadow this time of year.
The trail into the sunless forest
Even though I’m dressed warmly, gloves light enough to finger camera dials are not quite warm enough to grasp ski poles (safer than hiking sticks on the snowy trail) comfortably.
Warmly dressed
But it is easy to ignore the cold fingers as I become enchanted with taking photos of snowy trees and ice on the creek.
Along the creek
Encased in ice
Snow changes the look of everything. All becomes fresh and new.
Fresh and new look
My goal is the bridge at the half-mile marker, as that is where my favorite waterfall is located. I’m not sure we’ll get that far what with the deeper chill in the sunless forest. I stop often to take photos (while Clifford waits patiently) and before we know it, we have arrived at the falls.
Fairyland Falls
It looks so different with all the moss hidden under a layer of snow, and now it is the surrounding trees that make this a special wonderland.
Wonderland trees at Fairyland Falls
I feel blessed to be here at this special place. Soon, however, we head back down the trail and find great delight in reaching a spot where the sun shines through the trees.
