I think that the hope of a new season begins there, when I start to see the sky begin to lighten in February before the 76 comes. I invariably dream of all the fantastic places I have been - The Wind Rivers, the Madison Range, the Collegiates, the San Juans, and I start to imagine the places I might go this summer backpacking with my two dogs.
Those trips invoke such strong memories that I can smell the freshness of morning air in the mountains, see the dogs ahead of me on the trail, or standing at the edge of a cliff studying the valley below. I recall picking up the scent of a herd of elk that moved on before our arrival, then seeing their tracks in the mud. I remember happening upon the mountain wildflowers that are my favorites - twinflower, Linnaea, in dark Spruce-Fir Forests, Old Man on the Mountain, high on alpine ridges, Heartleaf Arnica, on cushiony forest floors. I recall the happiness of total exhaustion at the end of a mountain day, and the taste of my simple meals of rice and tomato soup, trail mix and chocolate bars.
It feels good to know that I am healthy enough for another active season of backpacking. I have prepared for it, carrying a weighted-down pack on my early morning walks with the dogs, all winter long. I have tried to maintain the shape I got in last June through August.
It will be worth it, when I again get to sleep in the cool air under thousands of stars, or come across a Calypso Orchid near my wilderness camp.
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