Sunday, July 7, 2013
Two Weeks Today
It is Sunday and I have been on the road for two weeks. I have camped out every night in a variety of improved, unimproved and improvised campsites. I have experienced a variety of weather, from near freezing temperature, annoying heat, pounding rain with thunderstorms, and, of course, the howling bellicose wind, hammering the sides of my tent. It may sound like I've been roughing it but, in comparision to historical descriptions that I have read on signboards along my route of early pioneers who rode on horseback or wagon, I am living a life of pleasure and ease.
I am writing today from a Safeway Starbucks in Bozeman, Montana, where I have stopped to buy supplies for my trip north to Alberta. Since my last post I toured parts of the northwestern portion of the Grand Tetons, visited Yellowstone Park and fished a breathtaking stretch of the Madison River near Ennis, Montana. At almost every turn, I have seen the grandeur of amazing vistas of mountains or rivers, or the vast stretches of wide open plains and sky. As I ride along, I experience a sense of elation, peace and awe. These feelings squash, for the most part, the little pests of loneliness, insecurity, and doubt which have been too often the uninvited ants at my life's picnic.
On the surface of a cool, crystal clear river with its water teeming with life among its smooth rocks, I, a well-tied, colorful fly, bob along downstream. With all such adventures, there is always the risk the capricious trout emerges for its tasty meal. That's the way it is. In the meantime, I am flowing with a full-bearded head, feelers extended, tanned-colored wings and legs, and weighted with impressions to share.