There is a rapture on the lonely shore;
There is society, where none intrudes.
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more...

-Lord Byron

Definition of Walkabout :

a short period of wandering as an occasional interruption of regular work
Showing posts with label Alta. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alta. Show all posts

11 August 2013

stories from the trail : Chapter one "Cecret Lake"

I came across a story written by a girl, about her five favorite hikes of the Wasatch mountains here in Utah. Over the next couple of months, I'll be attempting to finish them myself. Hiking gives one a chance to collect your thoughts, put life into perspective, and for me, get some much needed exercise.

A few days ago, I heard a song that triggered a long lost memory, taking me back to the year 1988. While hiking today, I re-visited that time....
I was seventeen years old, and weeks away from graduating high school. The van was loud with the usual teenage conversations, but I was alone in the back, listening to music with my headphones on.

My friends didn't notice. It was dark as we were returning from a church youth group activity, something I used to love attending, but lately that was changing. In fact, everything was changing.
I was at a crossroads in my young life, and didn't know which way to go. I could succumb to the masses and follow the footsteps that everyone around me expected, or I could radically change the system, live my own life, find importance and meaning for me.
As I listened to the song, slowly I saw that the road my life was heading was going in the wrong direction. I knew if listened to my head and heart that I would lose almost everyone around me: friends, family, teachers, guidance, support....yet I did nonetheless.
The one hundred and eighty degree turn didn't come without heartbreak, sacrifice, and tears. Yet here I am in the year of 2013 with a feeling that it has been the right choice, a road filled with wonder,

Here I go, again on my own.

03 March 2012

Morning yearning

A long cold lonely winter until last week
snowflakes fall and pile up in feet
my morning yearning has come.

Get to the  mountain old man.

First time up the lift is with foul mouthed men 
it's amusing to one not easy offended
but I wonder about them, as they don't seem concerned about my feelings,
maybe it's the whiskey.
Next a young boy, a local, talks to me like best friends
although I feel a chilly stare from his father
in the air.

Three friends pass a pipe, laughing and slowly exhaling
they kindly offer, making a joke about me not slapping cuffs on them.

Like characters out of a novel
I find my self surrounded by
in the snowy mountains of home.

13 February 2011


I slowly unzip the back, sliding out the contents within.
My hands feel familiarity.
Let the wax warm while I sharpen the edges, one long smooth stroke along each side.
Taking time for all the little details.
The wax burns my fingers as I rub it in the crevices, filling the scratches, holes, mistakes.
I'm ready.
I've missed the wintertime mountains.