Reflections on the Long Walk Home - #27 The Companionship of Creatures

Even in solitude I wasn't alone

Thank you for reading Reflections on The Long Walk Home — my newsletter about life lessons from hiking 3100 miles on the Continental Divide Trail from Mexico to Canada, and from celebrating more than 400 lives through funerals and memorial services.

Dear Readers,

When I was away from other humans, solitary in Nature, I still wasn’t alone.  “Solitude” doesn’t negate companionship with other parts of the natural world.  Quite the contrary. I had many companions.

Embedded in my memory is the landscape, and the awe I felt in the presence of lakes, mesas, ridges, saddles, summits, cirques, forests, basins, valleys, deserts, marshes, peaks and meadows…. 

Not all my memories of being in awe of Nature are memories of big, overwhelming places.  Some awe-stricken moments were on an intimate scale:  visits by animals sharing the place with me, who even chose to come closer, touched me profoundly.  Although seeing wild animals wasn’t unlikely, their visits were always a surprise.  Each visit was a gift.

Diane

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“Morning Poem” by Mary Oliver offers a reflection on how perfect, in its way, Nature is – complete, and whole, and embracing… encompassing the sacred, and inclusive of us all.

there is still

somewhere deep within you

a beast shouting that the earth

is exactly what it wanted ---

The Companionship of Creatures —

People who don’t hike ask me all the time about what wild animals I’ve seen.  But I’ll start with one of my favorite experiences of experiencing the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) with an animal who wasn’t wild; he was just lost.

What a pleasure, what an affirmation of the possibility of companionship with other creatures, to have an animal who was a stranger to me be at peace in my presence! 

My brother Mike and I had left the southern border of Yellowstone the night before, on our way to the northern edge of the Wind River Range, when we camped near the Buffalo River.  In the middle of the night, I heard a bell that sounded like it was the size of a cowbell.  An animal that was within a few feet of my tent, stood up.  Apparently he had been sleeping there, unbeknownst to me. By the sound he made when he stood up, I could tell the animal was hooved, but I didn’t know what it was.  He trotted off in the direction of the bell, and within a few minutes all was quiet again.  Mike heard the bell too.  We had no idea what was going on until later the next day when a herd of 30 horses came running at us with bells on.

We had heard that outfitters and ranchers kept horses in that area, but until then we didn’t know that they all wore bells so they could be found and rounded up.  Apparently, a colt that was too young to get a bell yet was separated from his mama and had decided to sleep next to my tent.  Maybe he associated the smell of humans with safety?  I felt very privileged to have received his trust like that.  When mama showed up in the night, he heard the bell and trotted off to rejoin her and then return to their herd.

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Many wild mammal visitors have been quite small -- rabbits, foxes, pika, marmots, various rodents, pine martens and ermine (in the weasel family).  Others have been larger -- coyotes, deer, elk, and a few moose come to mind. 

Some deer have come particularly close.  Outside the small town of Horca in southern Colorado a deer bedded down within a few yards of my tent near the Conejos River.  (Animals trust me, I guess.) I think it was the doe I had seen walking in the area before sunset.  She was so close that I could hear her breathing that night.  Quietly I got up in the dark to make sure my food bag was hung high enough to be out of her reach.  That’s all I was concerned about. I didn’t want to disturb her. I snuck back into my tent and we slept.

Another deer came to my camp in the Zirkle Wilderness, near the Colorado/Wyoming border. He was a beautiful buck of robust proportions, truly in his prime, with impressive antlers.  I had been praying out loud for a family member who was in her final hours of life and struggling with her passage.  “God, bring her home!  This good woman shouldn’t be suffering!”  I was very upset, truly LOUD in my words, when this deer walked to the edge of my camp.  It would have been impossible for him not to hear me.  He stood there for several seconds staring at me.  I became absolutely silent.  Then he flipped his tail, turned around and left, trotting away with a purposeful focus to be on his way elsewhere.  Perhaps the message was just this: “Peace, be still.”  Within a few days I received messages from my family.  This dear woman had passed away the evening of my tearful prayers calling on God’s mercy.  The deer’s visit reminded me that there are powers at work beyond our understanding.  Perhaps his message was, “We’ve got this.”  Call it what you will, I call it humbling.  I call it a reminder to be at peace.

The video below is of a young deer in Montana who bobbed its head trying to figure out if my brother and I were dangerous or not.  Such innocence!  We stood very still until he passed by. Many other deer came quite close to my tent at night. As if the tent was a blind, they acted like they didn’t know a person was only a few feet away. They were so close that I could hear them chewing the grass.

A curious deer

Moose…I’d rather run into a bear than a moose!  Moose are far more unpredictable.  They’ve watched me as I carefully skirted their territory. All have ignored me…except for one.

It was my second day of backpacking on a 2-week trek. I was one day into the Never Summer Wilderness outside Rocky Mountain National Park.  It was a “bluebird sky” day, as we call days with crystal blue skies in Colorado, with a bit of crispness in the air that said it was mid-August now.  There were several people around – I thought perhaps they were having a family reunion. But I was the first to enter the meadow just below Bowen Pass, over 11,000 feet in elevation.  Keeping the weather in mind, pace can be critical, so I often forego taking pictures at high elevations.  But it was a beautiful, calm day, so I stopped. 

As I took my phone out to take a picture, I heard a loud snort to my right.  I turned, and there in the dark timber no more than 50 yards away was the unmistakable profile of three bull moose.  Moose.  Dang it.  This is not an animal you want to surprise or upset. Three of them were staring at me – a large adult male and two adolescents.  I backed off, facing them but in a very meek posture, speaking in a low, calm voice.  The adult followed me with his eyes for the next 45 minutes, until I had completed a large half-circle around him on the fringes of the meadow. To make my way back to the trail without crossing his path, I bushwhacked through willows along the stream at the meadow’s edge, coming out on the pass above him.  Only then did I guess I was safe.  I looked back.  Those three moose plus two more had walked into the meadow.  That was their space.  I was a visitor.

After I crossed to the other side of the pass, I sat down to rest and reflect.  Sometimes I embark on long hikes with a theme in mind.  The theme of this hike – over one hundred miles from Rocky Mountain National Park across the border into Wyoming – was breath.  I wanted to become more aware of my own breath and the breath of Spirit (Energy, Life) around me.  My adventure began with an appropriate start – a “Holy Snort” calling me to attention.  Duly noted.  I did my best to be more attentive to everything I was walking through and walking with.

Birds…In sheer numbers, most of the wild animals who accompanied me now and then were birds.  Here are just a few favorite memories of my winged companions on the trail. 

Cranes….If you’ve ever heard a sandhill crane screech at you while the bird remains unseen in the forest, you never forget that screech and how it made you feel.  I felt like I had wandered onto haunted ground.  Perhaps I had.  The place was haunted by long-legged birds, paired up and protective of their territory. 

Owls….Such beautiful, silent, big-eyed creatures.  A few times, I disturbed one during the day while the owl was resting.  And a few times, while my brother and I had the rainfly off the tent so we could see the stars, an owl swooped over us trying to figure out “whoooo” we were.  When I hear an owl at night, I try to figure out which species has visited.  A big-horned owl has stopped by more than once. But most of all, I simply lie in my sleeping bag smiling that an owl is nearby, making nightly rounds, undisturbed that I’m there.

Grouse….Dusky Grouse have been fellow travelers many times, usually beginning with startling me out of my wits. They wait until a passer-by is right next to them before they flush out of grass or the forest floor. But occasionally they stay nearby and stand very still while we stare at each other. Ptarmigan will also stay very still when I’m near, or move very slowly across the tundra, babies in tow, thinking they can’t be seen.

Dusky Grouse….formerly called Blue Grouse

Doves….Near Dubois, Wyoming, a flock of doves decided to hunt from the tree I was sleeping under.  I could hear their wings after each of their sorties to catch bugs for breakfast. Snuggled down below them, I thought it was an eerie, unearthly sound.

Mergansers….It’s common to see them in the northern Rockies especially, sailing out like a flotilla at morning or night, plundering the river or lake of unfortunate fish.

Common Mergansers on the hunt for fish

Swans…Seeing a swan is such a deep wild moment. Stunningly beautiful, they are so large that, if they fly close enough to you, you can hear the loud whoosh…whoosh…whoosh of their wing beats.

A lone swan as I walked through the Wind River Range.

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A shoutout to those who could have eaten me but didn’t

Early in my long-distance hikes, but not on the CDT yet, my hiking partner and I were stalked by a mountain lion.  Or at least we’re pretty sure that’s what it was. We had two llamas with us. The lion/llama relationship is ancient, and a llama will let you know when a predator is nearby.  We didn’t see the lion, but the llamas’ warning that a predator was nearby was unmistakable. Imagine a braying donkey.  Imagine a loud bray that continues for half an hour as you leave the area as quickly as possible. They say that hikers are seen by lions far more often than lions are seen by hikers. I can believe that. So….I’m grateful to the lions that I didn’t see.

I saw evidence that many black bears had traveled on the same trail that I was on, but I didn’t see as many bears as you might think.  My hiking partners and I quickly improved our “bear hang” skills, especially when we got to grizzly bear country. A bear hang involves hanging a bag of food and other smelly items from a tree, ideally about 10 feet off the ground. This leads to some comical and frustrating situations as you toss the line, tied around a small rock, to a branch overhead. Again and again if necessary.

Here was one of the ironies of the trail. In more than 3000 miles of trail, I have only seen a few bears, and encountered only one. My husband walked one mile into the woods, and ran into one within an hour.

When my brother and I were in Glacier National Park, we came upon a large black bear eating berries next to the trail 20-30 yards ahead of us. The bear calmly, even apologetically, even courteously, left the trail and sauntered uphill, still munching. All very nonchalant.

But my husband, who doesn’t ever hike and is rarely in the woods, came face to face with a black bear as he waited to meet me near the end of the trail in Canada. My beloved walked a mile from the trailhead in Waterton, Canada, and stood there with a bag of snacks and sodas for me and family members who were finishing the final miles of the Continental Divide Trail with me. All of a sudden, a bear rounded the corner of the trail 40 yards ahead and walked straight toward him.  Hubby put down the bag of groceries (not protocol, but that’s what he did) and then laid his tall body on the ground behind the nearest large rock.  Quaking. Hoping the bear would eat the candy bars rather than him. The bear continued down the trail, walking just a few feet from my husband and the snacks.  I’m assuming the bear had either a full belly or a cold and couldn’t smell.  What the heck!

Now when people ask me if I ever had a truly close call with a bear, I say, “No. But my husband did.”

In addition to the young grizzlies we saw near The Bob Marshall Wilderness, my brother and I saw lots of grizzly bear tracks, especially when we hiked in Yellowstone. 

A grizzly bear track going one way and my boot print headed the other way. I was glad he had already passed by….and that this was a small bear.

As far as I know, there were two times when my brother Mike and I came close to encountering a grizzly.  The first time was in Yellowstone after two hikers had irresponsibly called out to one they saw in a meadow they were passing through.  The bear “bluff charged” them (a charge that doesn’t end with an attack) and then went back to eating.  When the hikers came up to us on the trail, they told us what had happened.  We were going in the direction of the bear, so I thought we should wait a while before continuing. I asked my brother Mike, who was hiking with me, “How long does it take a grizzly to eat breakfast?”  We had no idea.  We waited close to an hour before very carefully crossing the meadow.  The bear had departed. 

The next time we know we were near a grizzly was in Glacier National Park, near the Canadian border with Montana.  Hikers told us there was a grizzly a half mile ahead. When three young trail crew members trotted by us going that way, we warned them.  Then we tried to keep up with them so there would be five of us going through the area.  Sure enough, the leader of the trail crew spooked the bear, it bluff charged him, and then it took off.  The crew chief simply said, “Well….now he’s not on the trail anymore.”  Nerves of steel, young man.  We all kept going. 

A few days later, I heard a distinct bear-sounding snort in some thick brush next to the trail, in the vicinity of berries. Mike said, “We better keep moving.” Heck, yeah! A grizzly is formidable and I’m very glad I had no closer encounters than these.  Meanwhile, Mike and I had several discussions about exactly what to do if we did find ourselves facing a grizzly bear.

Wolves…. I’ll never forget seeing wolf tracks for the first time.  We were in the Bob Marshall Wilderness in Montana. My brother showed me how to read them and pick out the pack members: the male, female, and pups.  Judging by the freshness of the tracks, we had slept down the hill from a small pack that had noiselessly slipped by during the night.

A wolf track next to my brother’s hand for a size comparison. The canine that left that footprint is a lot bigger than any dog in your neighborhood! The pack had walked above our campsite sometime while we slept. 

I had other wolf encounters on the trail – never close enough to see them, but they made their presence known.  I’ll tell those tales in future posts.

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I have so many reflections on being companioned by the Wild.  But I’ll end with this story:  Midnight at Cumbres Pass

I’ve never heard of an elk attacking a person in a small tent, but I was too tired to think about it when a bull elk showed up within 50 yards of my tent above Cumbres Pass.  It was my last night on the trail from Ghost Ranch, New Mexico, to the Colorado border – a segment I dubbed “100 miles of up” – and I was deeply tired.  I knew he was there because an elk bugle is unmistakable.  It was early August.  The bulls are on the prowl then, as mating season is about to begin.

At midnight, he let out one long bellow. For the next two hours, he made a slow circle around me, letting out three more bugling calls, roughly at the compass directions, so he set four equidistant points in a circle around my position. Each time he called, I woke, listened, and went back to sleep. I’d never heard of an elk trampling somebody in their tent in the middle of the night, so I didn’t get up. What good would have come from my making an appearance? I was quiet and did nothing to change his opinion that I posed no threat. By morning when I got out of my tent, he was gone. 

The elk’s presence could mean a few things, but I put it on the metaphorical level. (You must have noticed by now that I tend to do that.)

At no point was he aggressive.  Instead, I was physically encircled in the heart of the night by a symbol of wildness.  Thanks, buddy.  I felt guarded.  I felt like it was ok with him that I was there.  There had been a harrowing encounter with livestock earlier in this particular hike, so maybe I had even earned my spot.  I felt at peace.  When I left camp, I shouted “Thank you” into the wild sunrise.

Sunrise above Cumbres Pass

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I have gathered well over 400 life stories for funerals and memorial services. Some have stayed with me more than others. To continue to hold some of these stories has been a good kind of haunting — a poignant treasure of life experiences to draw wisdom from.

In a natural setting in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, we brought to rest a young man who had a deep spiritual connection to landscape and wild creatures. My closing words were for those who had gathered to say farewell to him, holding each other and hoping to carry his legacy forward into their days.

From “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver 

….Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting 

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Wild geese will fly here and call to his resting place.  So will song birds, turkeys, foxes, even an occasional bear and lion.  They call to us, too.  We each have our place in the family of life in this world.  Amen to our taking that into our hearts and living with graciousness, caring, kindness to the people and to the creatures we share this world with.

Reflections

• What is your relationship with animals, either wild animals or a special few you have shared your life with?

• How have they affected your spirit or frame of mind in going about your day? Have they taught you? Is your perspective on the cycle of life and connections to “the family of things” affected by them?

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