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Lost Mysteries

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A poem by Rachel Lanman

When the forest burns, so does it’s mysteries. The cool dark places where deer hide, now too hot and exposed. The smell of sweet pine replaced with the acrid scent of rot and ash. It gets stuck in your nose and lungs. Green to black, life to death.

When 500,000 acres burns, it’s not just death, it’s annihilation. With whole generations of bear, deer and birds unable to escape, succumbing to smoke and heat. A collective and final exhalation of breath. Sound to silence, life to death.

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The Many Meadows of Yosemite (PCT Day 85)

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It’s cold again this morning. In the twenties, I assume. 25? 28? I’m not sure exactly. I watch the sun as it makes shadows on our tent. The shaded imprint of branches wave across the rain fly. When the sun is sufficiently illuminating the bottom of the tent, my motivation rises, bringing me upward to my feet. Again it’s time to hike. It’s time to go to work. Today will be a good day I tell myself again. I’m hopeful for beauty, wonder, joy, and a pain free day.

The snow from last nights dusting is mostly melted, with only hints of it in the shade of giant conifers. A little bit of ice sits at the bottom of our tent, where the snow began to melt then freeze again. Near our camp is a river, we must cross first thing in the morning. We do it before our coffee. So, does it even happen or is this just a dream? I skip across the rocks, precariously placed. But, I make it with dry feet. Unfortunately, Lupine is not so lucky, dunking her foot into the stream. Burrr…

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Donahue Pass, Tuolumne Meadows & The Yosemite Valley (PCT Days 82-83)

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We rise to another blue sky in the backcountry. I turn over to greet Jon, and notice something odd. He is laying on a completely flat mattress pad. “Oh no, your pad!”, I exclaim. “Last night it kept deflating, so I pulled out the valve, and then it broke”. This was, admittedly, a little frustrating. Over the past week, the pad had been showing signs that there was something defective with the valve. Cactus would wake up multiple times at night and reinflate it. While in Mammoth Lakes, we went to a gear store to buy a new one, but Cactus has declined – citing the cost, almost $200.

I leave Cactus in the tent to evaluate the status of the broken gear, and make our breakfast on a stone in the sunshine. A chubby little Marmot joins me, observing carefully my preparations from a distance.

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Optimized for Trail (PCT Day 20)

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The days begin to merge together as we climb through the dry, barren hills of southern California. The scenery is beautiful, but the views are less inspiring than those we beheld from San Jacinto.

Have I become jaded to the scenery? Will only the most epic vistas capture my attention from here on out? I question if this fickleness is the problem with humanity – this need to be endlessly amused, and entertained.

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Apache Peak (PCT Day 15)

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I awake to watch the sunrise over the Palm Desert. The nightime lights of Palm Springs are still illuminated, speckles in the darkness. The sun splits the horizon into color layers. Blue, yellow, orange, the black of Palm Springs below still in darkness, and the brown sand of my surroundings.

I wonder how many others have just seen this. Maybe none. A few early birds tweet their appreciation, creating our fellowship of the sunrise. It’s just us. No instagram or television to broadcast it to the world. There’s no need for more than just us today right now. 

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