Secret Worlds

Today is my dad's birthday.  He would have been 85.  Had he lived to see our new home in Idaho, I know he would have loved it.  For several years, he looked forward to coming here with us, and the fact that he passed away shortly before we moved here is a source of regret that doesn't fade away.  But my regret is tempered by a profound gratitude to him for having instilled in me a deep love for mountains, forests, and wild, untamed places.

From the earliest age I can remember, he took us on hikes and campouts in the woods, and when we were older, we took summer vacations at the Circle 8 Ranch (now the Pine Butte Ranch) in Montana.  He and I took several trips together into the Bob Marshall Wilderness, spending days and weeks on end backpacking in some of the wildest country remaining in the lower 48 states.

Me at the Circle 8 Ranch on the outskirts of the Bob Marshall Wilderness in 1976.

Coincidentally (or perhaps not, at least subconsciously?), I picked a book off the shelf this morning that I have had for several years but had not yet read: "The Secret Worlds of Colin Fletcher".  Author of "The Complete Walker" and other books about backpacking and wilderness travel, Colin Fletcher was once considered a sort of unofficial "guru" of backpacking. His books were very influential, and contributed greatly to the growing popularity of wilderness backpacking in the 1960's and 1970's, the decades when I was growing up.

This book is not about the technical aspects of backpacking, nor is it a guide to any place in particular.  In fact, Fletcher took great pains to disguise the actual locations of the places about which he wrote. Each chapter is an evocative portrayal of a walk in some remote and special place, with vivid descriptions of the natural surroundings and, most importantly, of his state of mind while traveling to and through it.  It is, more than anything, a "why-to" book about wilderness travel.

The Secret Worlds of Colin Fletcher

As I read the first couple of chapters by the fire this morning, I found myself transported back in memory to similar scenes from trips with my dad, in particular to a couple of exquisitely situated campsites deep in the Bob Marshall Wilderness where we fished for trout and had just the kind of profoundly relaxing days and nights that you travel into the wilderness to experience.

I have a couple of framed photos of my dad on my dresser, so I see him every morning as I am getting ready for my day:

The photo on the right is from a day hike to Lake Solitude in the Grand Tetons in 1975, when I was 16. The one on the left was taken during a side trip from our base camp to fish in a nearby river during one of our several trips into the Bob Marshall Wilderness.

Although time has somewhat eased the pain of losing my dad, I inevitably have a wistful feeling when I think of him, as he never got to see our new home here in the mountains of Idaho.  But whenever I think of him, and especially each day when I see him in these photos, I am very thankful for his having taught me to love wild places, for the experiences we had traveling through them together, and for the confidence he instilled in me to be able to go out and travel through the wilderness on my own.

Happy birthday, Dad, and Happy Thanksgiving.

Mood: Thoughtful
Music: Silence