In previous posts I’ve mentioned how thankful I am that my parents shared wilderness with me when I was a child. They started even before I could walk, carrying me into the Rocky Mountains on their backs. As I grew older we ventured together onto mountain peaks and into old growth forests, and I’m so grateful for the things I found there—the smell of rain on unspoiled earth, the whispering of summer wind through aspen leaves, a sky so black and full of stars that it swallowed me—most importantly deep feelings of peace, connectivity, and meaning that will stay with me forever. Thanks Mom and Dad!
This weekend things are coming full circle. I’m heading to the Eastern Sierras with my parents, my wife, my two boys, and a loveable knucklehead of a Catahoula Leopard Dog—three generations and a mutt exploring John Muirs’ Range of Light.
I hope my kids continue finding the things I’ve found in the mountains over the past forty-odd years—the feeling of wind in their hair while standing above the world on some craggy granite peak, the joy of diving into a clear mountain lake, the perfection of a field of wildflowers… their souls.
I’ll post highlights and pictures when we get home. Until then, happy trails! Get mud on your feet!
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