This will be the the first of seven installments enjoy…………………….
Dusk had struck an eerie quietness upon the craggy landscape which sprawled out before me. The steep, winding canyon, once alive with the gentle glow of the afternoon sun, was now gray and lifeless. A persistent breeze, which carried the faintest odor of wood smoke curling up from the trapper’s cabin in the valley below, once a nuisance, was now downright uncomfortable. I was reminded that, although the sun’s rays had been calm and soothing, old man winter would be visiting soon enough. I shifted restlessly on my rock which served as a perch and ruffled my insulated coat. It was time to call it an evening. A good warm fire would be a welcome as well as some rest for a pair of eyes weary from a day’s glassing of every bench and rock outcropping for mule deer.
Fortunately, as camp wasn’t far and soon I had the fire crackling and popping, aided considerably by a few live embers that were left from this afternoon’s blaze. It was a relief to lean back against the piece of tamarack that served a makeshift headrest. Before long I found my gaze lost in the flames, remembering the many times I had come to this spot. When I was younger, the object of my desire was always a sway-backed old buck with massive, gnarly antlers. A goal I fell short of more times than not. Now, with some years under my belt, I found my purpose changing. I’d come here to see if the little groups of does still frequented the same draws they used to and I wanted to walk the same trails I had when my legs felt like steel. In a world where nothing, it seems, is ever guaranteed, I had come to these Idaho mountains to find something familiar and reliable. Time may have changed me, but not this place………………………………….