I was going to write about how easy it is to forget that the mountains have teeth, but I don't want to write about it. Instead I will write about this:
Last night I heard howling and I went outside. Darkness enveloped the steep-sided canyon. The mountains did not sleep. From behind the fence, our dogs were howling back to the wolves across the river. Their voices volleyed back and forth in some secret language I can't understand.
Wilderness is still the only good thing, sometimes. Even if our lives can end there. Like love, the mountains are always worth taking a chance on.
part of the story
|Jake Merrill. blogs.Seattletimes.com and Backcountry Essentials|