If a wilderness can have a soul it would be like the Minam River, a powerful pulse of energy flowing from the melting high lakes down through the forest. Right now it is at flood, and impressive.
|Ain't nobody crossing this puppy.|
|Dana on a higher ridge a few days back. This time I was on my own, on a parallel ridge below this one.|
I was checking contractor work but I was also letting the ridge and river country do their magic after a week of trying to make unhappy people happy. At my job I catch a lot of weather: people venting about everything under the sun and wanting me to fix it. Sometimes I feel like I absorb their unhappiness like a sticky dark cloud and I have to unwrap it somewhere, let it go. That's really why I come here.
Sometimes I think that the complainers are way too entitled. I'd love to shove a pulaski in their hand or put them at the hard end of a misery whip and have them clear trails for a week. Clearing trails is the hardest work I've ever done and it puts everything into perspective. But since I can't change anyone, just myself, I come here.
Tally: Days: 2. Miles: Lots. Elk: 2. Bears: 1. Thunderstorms: 2. Scary water crossings: 2. People: Zero.