Golden Tamaracks in Quehanna Wild Area

Going to the mountains is going home. - John Muir.

We'd all had one heck of a stressful week, and T. Tiger suggested we might all need a vacation. So we did the next best thing: we went to the woods. The Quehanna Wild Area, to be specific. Not backpacking. Just for a day hike, but a LONG one. We put in about 7 or 8 miles on this day, but with just daysacks, it wasn't that hard. Still, we were all played out by the time we were done.

Tiny Tiger and Little Bear and Alex the Alligator came along. And they seemed sort of puzzled that, while we visited our favorite back-country campsite, we didn't put up our tents! I know: it was shocking indeed, but for once, the tent and the sleeping bag and pads (hello, Big Agnes!) and backpack were at home.

So we sat in our campsite for a little while, but in the pine woods, it was a bit too chilly, so we moved out into the sun, where we could look out over the Valley of the Elk and marvel at the golden tamaracks on the far side of the hill.

Before the afternoon was over, we packed up our stuff and walked down to the creek, which was running quite nicely indeed; much higher than the last time we were there, thanks to recent rains. And we crossed the creek by hopping on rocks, and I stepped right down into a gopher hole or something along the edge, and nearly fell in. But since I didn't, all's well that ends well. (It was a dicey few minutes, though!)

And then we slogged across the bog, the wet moss making big squishing, sucking sounds on our boots. And we walked up to the top of the hill on the other side and caught the main trail, which circled back and crossed the creek via a lovely wooden bridge (see bridge in extras).

T. Tiger had some questions for me about all of the events of this past week. For he had never seen anyone "die" before and he didn't know what it meant. Dexter had died because his heart had stopped. T. Tiger didn't HAVE a heartbeat; would he have to "die" too, someday, or might he be excused?

And I tried to explain about heartbeats, and how some of us (such as me) have them, but creatures such as himself (a stuffed tiger) do not; but that he is still very much alive and real to me. And no, he does not owe this world a death, which makes him very fortunate indeed!

I told him about how there is an immortal soul or spirit that lives in each of us, and that it is invisible, but large, and beautiful, and mighty, made of forever-stuff; and how it lives on after the heartbeat ends. And how there are many ways to be immortalized, and to live on in the hearts of all who love and remember you, and perhaps are even inspired to do good works in your name.

And then T. Tiger crawled into my jacket, just above my heart, and he sat there, all snug on a chilly afternoon. And he could hear my heartbeat; he said it made him feel better about everything. So just for a little while, he said, he would like to listen and make sure my heartbeat continued on, as he has been feeling rather insecure about the whole situation. I agreed. Me too, Tiny Tiger. Me too.

And then he said that maybe someday I could write a really beautiful story about us, in which we would all be together again with Dexter, and we would all be happy again. And that then Dexter would live on inside us and in our stories; I told him I would do my very best. That's a lot of thinking for a very little tiger, indeed!

The foliage colors are nearly gone now from the Quehanna Wild Area, except for the golden tamaracks. The trees have been beautiful this past month or so: this is their last, glorious dance before the leaves fall and winter comes. We cannot stop the cycle of life, and we can't really opt out of the hurty parts (dagnabbit), but we sure can enjoy the show.

It doesn't last.
But then again, nothing does.
Except for our spirits, which rise.
And our love, which outlives us.
Oh, wasn't it spectacular and beautiful indeed!

Two songs were running through my mind as I wrote this.
John Denver and Placido Domingo, Perhaps Love.
Tracy Chapman, All That You Have Is Your Soul.

From the first song:
Perhaps love is like a resting place
A shelter from the storm
It exists to give you comfort
It is there to keep you warm
And in those times of trouble
When you are most alone
The memory of love will bring you home