[pct-l] Huh? Where am I?

[Bighummel@aol.com (Bighummel@aol.com)]

My wife called me on my cell phone on the way to work this morning and asked 
where I was.  I answered; "sitting in traffic on the 57 freeway".  

When I hung up I realized that wasn't really where I was . . .

 . . . I was three steps below Forrester Pass with the Southern Sierra peaks 
spread out before me, glissening with crystaline snow like crown jewels in 
the early morning sun . . .

. . . No! I'm standing on an unnamed lake in northern Yosemite watching the 
expanding ripple on the mirror surface of the lake distort the perfect 
reflection of deep blue sky and puffy white clouds against the stark, dark 
peaks . . .

. . .  No! On second or third thought, I'm coming out of my tent with sleep 
in my eyes on the ridge north of Mt. Baker finding the rain has stopped, the 
sun is warm on my face and the spectacular north Cascades panorama takes my 
breath away, for just a moment, . . . 

 . . . Huh? Yes . . . Now I'm standing at the fence, at the border, at Campo, 
a cold breeze almost freezing my cheeks.  Gazing north in my mind, no images, 
no imagination can come to satisfy the wonder, the questions, the curiosity. 
I think that I'm ready, prepared, but the butterflies are huge and rumbling 
around trying to unsettle my calm.  

. . . now two weeks north of the border, the distractions are gone. A deep, 
quiet calm has settled into my soul, confidence is rising after a couple 
early trials.  The excitement of what lies ahead is what draws me forward, 
pushing, pulling, prodding, more miles . . . more miles . . . over that ridge 
. . . beyond the next lake . . . 




Watch Out!  Brake lights ahead, slow down, back to the 57 freeway.  

Shit, living in the past again.


Strider