Friday, July 13, 2007

Goat hair on the bear berry

It started out as a short day hike up Mt. Alice with Jason’s dog, Solars. It ended up being a 3 ½ hour climb, out of the hemlocks, past the alders, and onto the alpine and scree. The world of miniature plants, rock gardens, and snowmelt ponds emits a sense of serenity and peace whenever I tread over it. I climbed and climbed, past the highest point I’d ever been to where I’d been skiing with Ryan and Ben, and way past the rise I thought I’d turn around at. This was new territory! How could I stop? After meeting two hikers coming down, I was inspired to push it just 400 feet higher, up the rocky and unstable slope to get, “a good view,” as they explained. When I crested the rise, I burst out, “Holy &#@%, holy &#$#@!” as a smile danced across my face. I dared to peak over the edge, and quickly stepped back. The cliff dropped hundreds of feet down to a craggy slope, but spread out before me, lay the Godwin Glacier, as I have never seen it before, wrinkled, cracked, blue, and a long tongue of ice. Clouds screamed up from below me and dwarfed a little red helicopter heading up the Glacier. Waterfalls laced the cliffs and snow caves gaped treacherously. After an unwilling parting, I began the long, 3,700 foot descent down. Solars was long gone, and I was caught unawares when I rounded a hill and halted 30 feet before five surprised mountain Goats. Their coats were half shed, giving them a half human appearance. They split up in a second, disappearing into the rugged cliffs, all except for one. Then I spotted Solars, running like a wolf 50 yards behind a goat, heading straight for the abyss. “NOOOOOO! SOLARS, COME HERE!!!!” I shouted. My heart started to beat in trepidation, as they neared the cliff edge. The goat flew over and disappeared, but Solars had the brains to give up his chase. As I finally picked my way down, I gave him a half-hearted scolding, and then spotted the goat again, about 100 feet down, on a rock ledge. I lay close to the earth and peered over the lip at him for a good half hour. Every few minutes he’d wiggle his ears and shift around on the rock. The minute I turned my back, he vanished like a banshee. The thing that gets me good, is I was only a few miles away from home, while I was communing with mountain goats and prancing across the alpine and snowfields.

Friday, July 06, 2007

From the Arkansas rice farmer and midwife, to the oncologist and ex-chef who spouted out recipes like an entrancing fairy tale, to the New Jersey Russians who reapplied their make-up every half hour and the wise old Indian who blessed me and wore a grin from ear to ear, I learn from the people that surround me. The day may start rainy, foggy, or sunny, but as the hours unfold, trapped on a 43 foot boat with a group of strangers every day, I learn to unfold their stories, as I unfold my own. I learn my first impressions are often wrong, and I learn to expect the unexpected. From a girl who used to be petrified of striking up conversation with unknown faces, I am beating down my shyness one day at a time. The next challenge: the art of story-telling: capturing words on the spot and crafting them into a luring and strategic web of sounds. No delete or backspace key to be found. The challenges never stop and I grow ten-fold with each flounder. Someday, I'll be the best deckhand...ever!