So let’s talk about that hill a little more, because as luck had it, this week we encountered it a bit more literally.
It’s getting to be late in the hunting season. Where I’m from folks are already thinking about ice fishing and getting through the holidays. I moved to a place where the hunting season lingers a little longer. More time to touch the earth and escape lights that shine too bright and a bit too long. This weekend we headed to the mountain in search of elk.
We started the morning glassing from the truck in search of a herd moving to ground we could hunt. I was with my sweetie’s father, clutching to a warm mug of coffee in search of some hope. It wasn’t long before we spotted two big clusters of elk getting together as they made their way up the mountain in the early morning, just before the sunrise. We jumped in the truck and headed to the trailhead. Before long we were marching uphill.
In life and on the mountain, all to often it feels like you’re always going up, working against gravity, against what’s comfortable. We paused between upward marches to catch our breath, both of our lungs recovering from lingering colds. “It’s always up,” Neil said. It seems that way sometimes. Always up, never down. Not for long anyway. As we worked our way against the grain, it was peaceful, quiet, out of the wind, but still out of the elk. We finally made our way over the hill and found our elk on the wrong side of the property boundary. We waited, worked a little bit ahead, and waited some more.
This hunting season has already been special, everything until the end is bonus time. There’s meat in the freezer from a nice deer and plenty of birds waiting to be cooked. This part of the season is full of moments waiting at the base of a tree for just a little more opportunity. It’s good to count the blessings you have. I’ve been lucky to have some great conversations lately, with old friends I don’t get enough time with. It’s good just to breath the fresh air and feel connected with the earth.
As we sat I thought about the hill, the one we climbed this morning and the one I’m seeking a path over. What does it mean? What’s the goal? Where does the path lie? Not sure of those answers quite yet, but we’re going to keep those thoughts active and keep wrestling with the problem.
In the meantime there’s more season to be had. After all, it will be Crash’s last campaign in the blind. Turning 11 this summer, my old dog has just enough tricks to see the season through. Luckily there’s birds moving in and we’ve got a few plans coming up.
Neil and I sat on the side of the mountain for quite a while, talking some and quietly hoping. After a good while it appeared the day would not be ours, not here anyway. We made our way back and finally, down.
Dover & Jax 