April...showers?

I’d gotten used to seeing the signs of spring, even the tiniest ones. I liked the barely-there shoots of green grass poking up beside the clumps of winter worn vegetation, sprouting like new teeth before the old ones have come out yet. I was used to the miniscule buttercups blooming gold in any warmer pockets: a shallow dip in a meadow, or near the base of a dark colored rock. I was ready for the days when you could walk around without a jacket, or hat, or gloves, and not regret your choice.
We’re in McCall now, and it’s a reality check. There is still a good three feet of snow on the ground. Icicles have sprouted like glass roots under our porch. The other night the temperature dropped to five degrees. And more often than not, the precipitation that falls from the gathering clouds is white rather than clear.
But, it’s not all bad. Actually, none of it is bad, I had just forgotten quite what spring meant in McCall, and not realized it was so wildly different from where we just spent the winter. The snow is really trying to melt, and maybe we’ll be out from under it in another month or so. We’re getting to see friends, and wander around the produce section of the grocery store drooling, and catch up on life in the yurt. I am feeling better by the day, quite literally, and truly hope to get back out there before spring is over in the mountains.
It’s a funny feeling to sit back in a yurt, on the outskirts of a rather tiny town, and miss the solitude of the wilderness. I wouldn’t want to live there forever, and I do enjoy the feeling of community that a small town offers, but I must say, the wilderness has been a good host. I want to go back, and I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of a good visit.

Wandering Star

Isaac spent April Fools Day clopping down the trail, riding Star, followed by three long-eared girls carrying our gear (Bird, Bat, and Penny), all the while singing “Wandering Star”. Needless to say I was jealous, but he was the packer of the day, as right now its not that comfortable to ride long distances, and I can’t keep up with them for too long on foot (though I tried!).
They made the round trip to Cabin Creek and back, through a stormy day of minor snow squalls that wafted down the canyon. From what I heard, all went smoothly, just a few break-away’s broken, and one new candidate for slowed-down, backcountry living.
Thanks to the mules, we are basically moved, except for a few last things we can carry on our own backs. We plan to fly out on the next available plane with some room to carry us, thought the weather has been a bit unpredictable lately. It will be sad to go, but it has been a good winter, and hopefully we will be back soon enough.

And just because I’m in a contemplative mood, here’s a few thoughts for the day:

“This is our place. Let us tend it.”
-Woody Tasch

"There's no use trying," Alice said. "One can't believe impossible things."
"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
-Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, a.k.a. Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

“Forgiveness is understanding that a person did the very best they could in that moment; otherwise they would have done it differently. It is making that true for yourself as well.”
-Deena Spear

A fork in the Trail

We are nearing the end of March, spring is slowly being painted onto the hills, and we’re thinking about where to go next. Very soon, our digs here at Taylor Ranch will be needed for the University. That means becoming somewhat vagrant again, and the thought is bittersweet. We look forward to getting back to a more “in touch” existence, quite literally, without the conveniences of the cabin, internet, and running water (“running” being a loose term, mostly meaning running in the creek fifty feet away, but just recently, actually running through the thawed pipes and out of our faucets in the cabin-whoa!). We also look forward to being “out” all the time, and not struggling with the temptation to stay in the cozy cabin next to the woodstove on a snotty day. But on the other hand, basing out of Taylor Ranch has allowed us to be out here throughout the winter. For a couple reasons, mainly our electrical power needs, and my current health difficulties, we wouldn’t have been able to be out here all winter otherwise.
We are thinking that we will move our gear up river to Cabin Creek, a wide open bowl-type area with a look almost more like Yellowstone. It would be a great place to watch spring green-up, maybe see some wolf activity, and just have new scenery as spring sets in for real. However, the flip side of the coin is that I need to get out to the front country for a while and do some more work to try and sort out my Rheumatoid Arthritis. I have long been off conventional medication for it (it didn’t feel right, and wasn’t helping enough anyhow), and while it has been a long and very bumpy road, I know I am going in the right direction. I truly think I am turning a corner and making (very slow, but) steady progress. There are a lot of amazing things you can learn about your body just by truly paying attention.
So it looks like we may move our base up to Cabin Creek, then take a little time off so I can work some kinks out. After that who knows. I really hope we will be able to get back to the wilderness before the spring is up. Maybe Isaac will come out on his own for a couple weeks. At this point we don’t know and it is just going to have to be taken day by day. I will keep the blog updated from the front country, in hopes that we can come back and finish out our last couple months strong. This is frustrating timing for me, but sometimes you just have to give up how you thought things were going to be, and accept how they are.
Thanks for being patient with this blog. It has definitely had its ups and downs…

The Ahhhhh factor

[I realize this photo hardly says "spring", but due to some unfortunate circumstances involving our still camera, Isaac, a soldering iron, 8 feet of 2-conductor lamp cord, and a 7.2 volt nickel metal hydride batterie, our still camera is currently at the Canon factory service center in LA. So I have limited older photos to choose from... at least it gives the idea of a flower...]

It’s here, big time. Spring, that is. And with spring comes this thing I call ‘the ahhhhhh factor’. It’s still getting down into the 20’s at night, sometimes lower; it can still be cold in the shade; and for sure you can feel cold fingers sliding down your neck if the wind is up and your collar is off guard. But step into a patch of sun, find a cozy spot in the nook of a rock or up against the grassy swell of a hill, and you can’t help but close your eyes, smile and say “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….”

Green-up is just starting to happen all over the hills. It’s not even yet visible as a whole really, from far away, but if you are walking through the dry grass from winter and look down, you can see green shoots underneath. The grazers know it too. Elk and deer have returned to the lower hills, and of course the bighorns that never left.

Fabulously Great Old Broads

I did mention earlier that we were at Thomas Creek, among other reasons, to meet “The Great Old Broads for Wilderness” who were staying there at the Lodge and gallivanting about the wilderness during the days. They were out to protest the helicopter dart-collaring of wolves during the annual sheep counts, which was supposed to be happening around that time, demonstrating that there were in fact people out in the wilderness at that time of year, whose experience could be affected by a helicopter buzzing about and chasing critters.
What we found, were three fabulous women (one of whom was one of the founding “broads”, and about to celebrate her 80th birthday) scrambling around the mountains, enjoying the heck out of the experience, hot springs included, and passionate (and feisty) about what they were doing and what they stand for. It was refreshing to talk to people who really wanted to share their story, who welcomed the opportunity to talk to us, after a year of people wary of the lens, and sometimes less than willing to share their perspective (I’m only talking of some, we’ve also run into plenty of people glad to share). But this was especially nice simply because they were such a fun and spunky group anyways. “No one expects older women to be trouble makers!” they say, smiling innocently and slyly at the same time.
I am greatly honored to have met them, and aspire to Great Old Broad-hood some day.