I wore my explorer pants today. The last time I wore my explorer pants we climbed a mountain.
I never told you about that, did I?
One fine day at the end of last summer I was working at a fishing lodge. I worked there many fine days actually, but this day was a particularly fine day, for this day we went on an adventure.
We climbed a mountain.
These were my companions; I like them all a lot:
Judy: The Australian Wife of the Australian Wrangler.
Maddie: My adventurous new friend from San Fransico.
Tyler: Our official guide.
(and my occasional, less official, dish-helper)
(Wilderness guides are skilled folk. They have many talents.)
The packhorses are big and sturdy and strong.
I rode Strawberry that day and Sysco the next.
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We travelled through mud and past lakes and through trees.
Once, we startled a moose once who startled a horse who startled me.
I hadn’t smelled trees all summer. I loved the trees.
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We left the horses at the treeline and scrambled up on foot the last hour,
but first we ate sandwiches. We snacked on crowberries too.
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We startled goats twice, and snatched up pieces of their hair stuck between rocks and stuck in tufts of grass.
The wind blew our hair everywhere but was nice ’cause it was a warm day and we had just walked up a mountain.
We took pictures and wandered around the top
and it was fun.
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At home, I was sticky and smelled like horse
and had just enough time to shower before setting the table for supper.
It was a Very Good Day.
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Actually, it was a good WEEK.
Why?
Because a few days later we got to do it all over again –
but this time with a new trail, new mountains, a new direction!
Plus it rained and we ate skittles.
I didn’t wear my explorer pants that day. I wore blue rain pants.
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I’ll have to tell you about it sometime.
