When one becomes overcome with the cravings of Wanderlust, the only possible solution to curing the ache is to surrender to a new adventure.
Maybe you don’t even leave town for this adventure. Or maybe you fly across the globe.
Maybe you get lost in a book. Or maybe you get lost in the wild.
For this adventure, I chose the latter.
I find myself on the trail, hauling a 35 pound pack with all I need to survive in the wilderness for a night, eager for the unknown. The trail to Glacier Lake is short & steep; climbing about 1,200 feet in a bit over two miles. Honestly, the road to get to the trailhead probably takes more time to navigate!
I fall into sync – my steps matching my breath – and a big smile refuses to leave my face.
This is bliss.
I breathe in the pine, the wildflowers, the juniper, the moist air. It smells of nostalgia. Only, not a longing to relive the past… more of a nostalgia for the present moment. It smells like home. I could spend forever in those moments.
The people I encounter on the trail are all wonderful. Some pass by without much interaction, some want to linger on conversation about our journeys.
Most make remark of me being alone. How brave I must be.
I find it hard to justify as bravery oftentimes… it’s more of a simple need to see the world anew. And if I must go alone, then I will.Solitude & vastness make way to me gradually as the sun sinks low. I curl up for bed, thinking that the blustery wind will be the song of nature for the night.
But as soon as I nod off, the lightning, thunder, and rain roll over. I curled up in a little ball, counting the seconds between the flashes and the thunder. When it was right over me, the echo through the bowl I was in was ground-shaking.
Breathing to myself – inhaling “I am safe”, exhaling “I am one”.
There’s something about being a part of the food chain. Like really. The possibility of being eaten by a bear or wolf or mountain lion is an actual reality out here. That is humbling. And to just be okay with the cycle of life, and trusting that when mother nature takes me it is the right time.
I start reading “The Light in High Places” by Joe Hutto, and am pulled in by his descriptions of the Wyoming wilderness in the Wind River Range. He saw the sheer beauty of this place & I think he found all the answers he needed out there. It’s refreshing to find someone who is just as inspired by this place as I am. “Maybe it is not simply magnificent vistas & panoramic views that arrest our mind. Maybe it is the infusion of some less-familiar light – a subtle brilliance. The brain becomes the receiving emulsion, attempting to seize & trap the light as if capturing something essential.
Surely we all share an insatiable craving for light, and of course the role light plays in our psychological well-being is no secret. As our bodies prosper in proportion to the availability of clean, pure water, our spirit also must be nourished in proportion to the innocence and quality of the light that surrounds us. At 12,000 feet, the light is printine and unadultered by impurities in the atmosphere or even by the dulling lens of water vapor. Here the light is unobstructed, unfiltered, less refracted, and it its most perfect earthly form. It penetrates the eye and at once illuminated our deepest recessed with its incandescence, calming the dull prattle of the ceaselessly imperfect mind. I periodically drink from this great wellspring like crystal waters. High mountain light must be the true nectar of the gods.”