A midlife crisis, an answer to prayer, inspired by two decades of solo night adventures in the Tetons of Wyoming. These are the tales of this woman's journey, seeking hope in the darkness and finding a childlike heart renewed in the night...in my wilderness sojourns with God.
So listen, relax and perhaps...find a place of peace to dream.
A midlife crisis, an answer to prayer, inspired by two decades of solo night adventures in the Tetons of Wyoming. These are the tales of this woman's journey, seeking hope in the darkness and finding a childlike heart renewed in the night...in my wilderness sojourns with God.
So listen, relax and perhaps...find a place of peace to dream.
It's 1am Adams cold chill has slipped in through my bedroom window and snuggled into bed with me. I woke up alone and missing my husband of all seasons tonight. After 23 years of keeping the bed warm for each other, this is what I miss him most. We've been separated for the past six months, and I have no one to blame but myself. a midlife crisis precipitated this move from California to the border of Grand Teton National Park. Now I have to live with my choice to follow my dreams, and the conundrum of unanswered prayer. Tim flew into Jackson last week for my 45th birthday a day to play. A Night to whisper loves promises again, than last embraces is he headed back to a place I once called home. Two months, six nights and a few hours. You will be moving here and making the cold nights warmer and this wild dream of mine a new dream of ours. But for now I'm a lonely old spinster dressed for no romantic rendezvous in my buttoned up red flannel long John's hand knitted scarf draped brown twice a beanie for a nightcap. thick woolen socks and hands wrapped in bright colored mittens. I'm wide awake now No use fighting sleep. A little comfort food and a latte still have the power to chase away some of this loneliness shuffling out to the kitchen and sheepskin slippers grazing through the refrigerator and cabinets for food like a grizzly getting ready to hibernate before another long winters nap. The cold huddles beside me and pinches my skin into goosebumps as I gather my snacks onto the table in my little cave, woven Manzanita branches and white lace around the dark window and tonight a first frost has etched the inside of the windowpane that looks as if moonlight touched the autumn leaves into a photo negative there white images printed on black glass. A faint glow wavers through the clouds and shadows of my frost leaves dance over my hands like puppet shadows. In fade is the clouds shroud the moon and darkness replaces the enchantment a sip of my latte might reach out to trace the fragile lines of frost with my fingertips. Crystals filled with winters magic skin tingles with that touch, filling body and soul with wonder again. This night's collage will disappear with the warmth of the morning sunlight. But this brief moment of play brings a sigh and a smile. overwhelmed by all the day's urgencies. I couldn't or didn't stop to enjoy the simplest of mysteries swirling around me. But tonight in the lonely, dark, undistracted, I relax and play with frost on a windowpane. Once the caffeine takes effect, maybe even recall some of the other blessings of solitude. Living alone invites quietness in in the quiet my heart is surprised by all the tender mercies the bill this new play. I now call home. I step outside for a moment and take a deep breath. Full Moon slips back into view and the stars are twinkling. Tonight is a good night for the birthday vow I made this year. The promise to go out into the wilds hiking alone at night before the birthday month ins all is the elk bugling season the reading season when the bulls call out their challenges and claim their harem of cows. Of course the elk cows are all mewling in the background softer little bugles, there come hither calls beckoning as the males clash with their antler axe to prove their prowess. So I will go out tonight empathize with the wooing calls of the elk. Maybe toss out a few pleas of my own. And maybe my lonely little love song crying out to Heaven will drift down with the moonlight and into my true love's dreams tonight. Finally bundled up for the nighttime adventure. I love the cuddly feel of layers and layers of clothes in these last years before turning 50. All sagging muscles and ripples of fat melt into the waffle thermals and are masked by huge down puffs that hopefully also make me look big to the other wildlife out in the dark. Last check of my backpack full of my treats for my first moonlit Tea Party at Tiger Lake. To 2am and no one else is on the only road out of town into the park. Late Night traffic signals flash a spray of red and yellow and a confetti of light drifts over my oldest Sousou as I passed beneath them. It feels like a ticker tape parade celebrating my first solo night adventure. The entrance to the park at Moose junction is only 20 minutes away. light fades behind me ahead is a welcome darkness. The Elk refuges still empty to the east the herds of elk will begin to migrate over the next few months along with bison wolves coyote mountain sheep up on Miller be Maybe a mountain lion. A brief glimpse at the airport lights that are dimmed to the west and then the wilderness darkness covers me with no other cars in sight. I love the fact that Jackson only has three roads that lead to the outside world and all of them weave through various mountain ranges. I'm driving on the one that goes north through the Tetons and eventually into Yellowstone. During harsh winters sometimes all the roads closed due to winds snow, avalanche and Jackson in the tea cones become snow bound, isolated from the rest of humanity and that is a delightful prospect. When I think of my first winter here, an old fashioned Christmas with husband and daughters, who will arrive from college. I reached moose junction turn off a sprinkling of starlight fills that iridescent night sky and dances over the silhouette of the Tetons, I pull into Tiger Lake parking lot. My car is the only one here. I turn off the headlights amazed at how the darkness reshapes this familiar landscape around me. Outlines of landmarks blurred colors washed into soft gray whites and blacks. Granite pebbles gleam invitingly on the trail, it brings to mind Hansel and Gretel shimmering breadcrumbs as I watch them disappear under the hovering shadows of the pines. And wonder what surprises this night obering? The old car engine cools quickly and clink some thunks as hot metal meets cold air. Now gather up my pack, hiking sticks, glow lights, and final layers. I always think I'm ready to go when I head out for my adventures, but there are those last few items that have to be added and tucked into place. It's harder to manage in the dark than I thought. I put something down and quickly lose it. Then I have to search my pockets and the seats are my flashlights I can find what I've misplaced. But the chaos works up a sweat and by the time I finally snatched my last pack from the backseat, I've warmed up again as I step out under the stars, I shut the rusty car door timidly lock it, distinctly aware of click that now bars me from my refuge. I stand still and listen. Alone in the Dark of the wilderness for the first time. A wave of fear slowly washes over me. I tried to screw up my courage a bit to push back the second thoughts I'm having. I pull memories from the stories I had read about other women out in the wilds and their anxious feelings, the dreadful thoughts that grow so large when you find yourself alone and small in the complete middle of nowhere. And here I stand struggling to take the first steps away from a parking lot. Not 30 minutes from home on an old familiar trail. Get a grip woman. How can I be intimidated by just standing alone in the dark of the Wilds after all the dangers working as a paramedic the long nights chasing down drug crazed wild beasts that roam the city wilderness? Why am I afraid? Now? It's one thing to think I am alone out in the dark. It is another thing to stand here and feel the hugeness of the wilderness settle down around me. Darkness gives the world weight and bulkiness as a wraps round and down and down. It makes me feel small, so much smaller. Like I've just put on a coat too big for me. I suddenly feel like a wee little woman and a children's very big storybook. This place does not recognize the word adult. There are no grown ups here. At least none that I can see. I am reduced to a childlike fear of the dark. And I since a whimper growing inside my head. There is no wind tonight. No other noises my ears tingle at the roaring silence. A deep breath. I take my first step and as my boot hits ground a low roaring rumbling note rises up from Cottonwood Creek behind me. I jumped back instinctively grabbed the car handle shaking it as the song of the bull elk rises in pitch and volume. Power of his bellow moves through the air with a vibration that pulses through skin rattles around bones and beats against breath and heart. And all thoughts in my head flee. The bowl bugles again, low roar slowly rising into a whistling trill. The echo of his song shatters the night trembling with so much power. I wonder if it surges up past the moon and into the heavens. Song brushes against my face beats against my heart and waves that wash over me until they fade suddenly the air pills with answering bugles from the edge of forest males rebuffing his song disdaining as bugle with ones that try to pitch lower louder, higher notes. The challenge began, the Knights quest is alive. Then come the mewling of the females. Notes that melt into the calls of the bowls and answer with their come hither invitations across the meadow in front of me. This is the ritual the celebration of fall out close songs in a moonlit meadow. Now I begin to feel like I'm entering the fairy realm, the land of shadow and sound that melts into another time and place. I can glimpse the hint of silhouettes prancing with movement out in the meadow. How could I have not heard or seen them in a quiet that was their only moments before a scuffling of who's in branch and water in the creek behind me. I can't see the bowl. I don't know where he has been standing. But branch suddenly cracks under hoof and I can hear him moving closer now. I begin to dig frantically for my keys. I want to get in the car and out of harm's way, but no keys appear. Then I catch a glimpse of my face my grimace dimly reflecting in my car window, face to face with myself. I'm suddenly reminded again of why I came here. I pause in the bugling and movement ceasing quiet close the night again, just like that. A deep breath, heart pounding slowed and I realized that I had nothing threatening me. This is what I wanted to be a part of. This is what I had wished for. I just didn't know what to expect. And so now I do. I don't want to be safe in my car. I want to be a part of this wild night filled with power to move my body and soul. And with that, I take a step away from my car. I reach the trailhead. Plant both hiking sticks into the ground. This marks the beginning there will be no turning back I will have a tea party Tiger Lake tonight. The trail of white stones shimmer and dance with the shadows it feels like the trail is moving and slowly carrying me along. My boots are making an incredibly loud crunch against the pebbles and I don't think I could surprise any wild things as I draw closer to the next meadow. I pause at the first little ditch hop over another elk bugles from the mountain side of the meadow. But I only jump I don't panic and now I'm smiling as I step past a clump of sage and into the next open field. Suddenly covered in moonlight my shadow appears beside me. And with that the stillness of the meadow explodes around me. The silence of the night is beaten back by the percussion of hooves clattering over stone, breaking branches swishing through the sage, elk sprint towards the pine dodging around this Buddhist noisy thing that just stepped into their meadow. I'm rootbound unable to figure out which way to turn in the midst of their path but can't move can't see the bulk of their weight pounds. The ground rumbles through the soles of my boots until it shakes my head. Sound replaces sight. The loss of one sense intensifies the other. I'm spinning wobbling in the dark, disoriented with blindness. Then suddenly a new bugle roars down from the ridge. They turn galloping past cool muskie air swirls over me is elk silhouettes molded into a single dark wild beast that cleaves the moonlight at the top of the ridge melts into the pines. Silence drifts after them echoes in this wilderness shadow box. The black velvet curtain drapes to a close on the old puppet show. And I am still rooted to the ground staring and all in wonder. A stampede had only taken a few minutes. Faced with my first danger. My fright flight mechanism abandoned me. But I didn't get trampled. I wasn't even threatened to prize more than afraid. Again. The awkward startled and probably annoyed that I had interrupted their romantic interlude. I'm annoyed too, that I stumbled into their gathering and ruined a chance to be still just listen. A lesson learned just because it is quiet in the dark doesn't mean that there's nothing there. I just long to walk quietly and be full enough peace to listen. I was busy thinking about where I was going, what I was doing, instead of what was around me. Oh so much of what is around me. I take a deep breath let out alongside it is well with my soul. My first brief encounter with the real beasts of the night should help temper my fear of the imagined Wild Things roaming in the dark now.
Unknown:And since it is over, I am left awestruck. The pounding hooves vibrating through my body, the chuffing as they ran stir the air like a breeze across my face. The Darkness intensified the sound of their shadows dancing with the light I have witnessed my second mystery of the night. First terror, then delight. Bittersweet in its odd mix of emotions that stirred in me. I think terror is the utter sense of suddenly being intensely alive and glad of that life, and at the same time being aware that death could be imminent. Terror rarely happens in my daily life, thank goodness, but sometimes it is good to meet it face to face. It reawakens gladness, or being alive, blessings encounters freeing me to be alone, afraid, alive, revived, thankful. What would this night mean if all I had when I finished was A walk out to the lake and back again, without any sense of epiphany. I feel like I've been initiated finally, into the fellowship of adventurers. I turn from the meadow and back to the trail and my fairy tale crumbs of light that lead into the dark forest ahead. The night is young, and I am feeling younger too, with the curiosity of a child like art