Holding a half pound of smoked salmon in my right hand, I stood in the grandeur of a lake bound by seven hundred foot rock walls. Through the crystal clear water of the lake I could see a single set of moose tracks left by an animal as alone then as I am now. People use the expression “breath taking” frequently, but have you ever really experienced it–I was witness to the beauty of creation and I felt it.
Earlier that afternoon I knew I was entering grizzly country when I heard the ring of bear bells long before I saw their owners round the corner of the switch back. Rather than bear bells, I only carried my smoked salmon and a liter of water. If they only knew the contents of my pocket, I wonder what those bell-totting hikers would think as they suffered under the heavy weight of their over-stuffed backpacks and shuffled down the mountain in their thick soled hiking boots. Their expressions revealed a judgmental assessment of my shorts, thin hiking sandals, and general absence of technical hiking gear. Without the sensitive nose of a grizzly they couldn’t smell the bear attractant in my pocket–if they knew, would they have walked past without comment? It was late in the day and we were walking in opposite directions on a trail that dead-ended at a lake seven miles from where the bear bell toting hikers and I were studying each other on the trail. After a full day of meetings I had started my hike at a time when these well-equipped back packers were finishing theirs. Conventional wisdom for backpackers dictates an early start for arduous treks; I was not exercising conventional wisdom.
I had never before had the opportunity to hike in the Canadian Rockies and I wasn’t about to let a session on oncolytic viruses keep me from an adventure. Even if it meant starting a fourteen-mile, round trip, hike at three in the afternoon.
As I approached, and then passed, what I perceived as the halfway point, I asked myself with every switchback in the trail, “Have I gone far enough.” But as Francis Beacon said, “You can not know how much is enough until you know what is too much.” Limits are defined by the extremes, and I had committed to live at the boundaries of life. Based on both experience, and the complete absence of other hikers on the trail, I was approaching the convention of “too much”.
The vision of the rock wall appeared as I rounded the corner of the last switch back, a few more steps and I saw the lake and the green meadow that lay before it. In the middle of the meadow was a lone rock and it seemed fitting that I should eat my smoked salmon on that solitary rock.
The sun set behind the rock wall and I headed back down the mountain with my heart full and my pockets empty. The down hill hike was fast and I reached the trail head, and my car, as the brilliance of the stars was apparent and the rock-bound lake became a vivid memory. Breathing hard from the elevation and rapid decent I unlocked my car door and got in–as I sat there for a moment–I knew the meaning of breath taking.
