Last fall, my father and I went camping in the magnificent Gallatin National Forest of Montana. When we arrived at our campsite, we were greeted with these troubling signs:
I’d never seen two “watch out for bear” signs before. So what did we do? Well, after taking in the scenery and the absolute silence, we set up our tents.
Campers camp. Writers write. And bears scare campers, no matter if the bears are more afraid of you than you are of them. This is how it has always been.
Okay, the iPod classic is not a character in a novel, but it almost feels like a character.
I used to own a 160gb iPod Classic until the hard drive died. It was then I hurried over to my local brick and mortar store and picked up a 64gb iTouch. Nice device. It connects to the internet, allows you to surf, check emails, and purchase apps from the iTunes store. That’s not why I bought the device, though. I use it for music. The 160gb Classic I had could not connect to the internet, and that was just fine.
There’s nothing wrong with devices that do one thing.
There, I said it. Devices that do one thing usually do that one thing well. Devices that try to do many things usually do them half-assed. My iTouch cannot hold 160gb of music. Nor can you find the music as quickly as you can on the Classic. Plus, the battery life stinks. It’s nice for checking email in a pinch, but good luck browsing on it unless you are a masochist (I’m typing this on a 24 inch IPS monitor with a huge keyboard, so consider the context).
Yes, a smart phone can take pictures, play some of your music, stream content, make phone calls, let you scan items at the store (this always creeps me out, not sure why) but the thing it’s really best at is making phone calls. It’s inferior to a DSLR camera with a dedicated lens system. Storage space for music is limited, and perhaps worst of all, it never allows a person to detach from the internet. Do we need to check email when going for a jog or walking in the park?
There’s something to be said about devices that do one thing, and do it well. They have…character. And speaking of character, Neil Young is about to release a music-only player that utilizes 24bit audio files. It’s called Pono, and it might just be my next music player.
When you think about it, this is scary. Imagine having to carry a phone, a real music player, and a camera with a sensor larger than a mosquito.
I spent five days in the Crazy Mountains back in 2006, camping and hiking by myself. The “Crazies”(as they are known to locals) rise 7,000 feet above the Yellowstone River and the tiny town of Big Timber, Montana. The Crazies are an island range, running 32 miles north to south, and 15 miles west to east. They are a dry range, receiving less moisture than the massive Absaroka-Beartooth Range just to the south across Interstate 90.
There’s something about an island range that appeals to me, and I admit The Crazies continue to inspire my fiction. While not an official wilderness, they are still part of the incredible Gallatin National Forest. Unlike the Gallatin National Forest south of I-90, the Crazies do not have grizzly bears. This makes for better sleeping if one happens to be tenting. The Crazies do, however, contain wolverines, which are just as wild as grizzly bears. A hiker might encounter mountains goats, too, or the rare goshawk, which require old growth forests. A careful observer may also glimpse cougar, black bear, and lynx.
Every fall I embark on a road trip. This is not a comfort thing. I sleep in a tent, with a “self-inflating” (haha) mattress. I wake up at 2 a.m. to the sound of bears sniffing my tent. I wake up to moose farting after they decide to bed down next to my tent. A moose’s digestive system it not a pleasant think to wake to from three feet away. It sounds like muffled screaming.
Sometimes I go to California. Or the Northwoods. But most often, my target is Montana and the northwest corner of Wyoming. Places like Yellowstone National Park, Grand Teton National Park, and the Gallatin National Forest. I am drawn to this area because it is not strip malls. The ecosystem also supports grizzly bears, which no other place in the lower 48 really does. They are cantankerous beasts, disliking roads and development. In that way, we are the same.
I do not seek daily showers or pampering. I seek solitude amongst the wild beasts. When I’m in town, I’ll sample the nightlife, maybe stay with friends. But these are usually quick excursions, and it’s back to the national forest.
So why do it? The wild spaces are my church, my religion…things I can touch and see and feel. In my wake I leave unchecked strip malls and a sickly brown haze in the sky. It has to be this way.
Who knows where I’ll end up on this one. Maybe a simple national forest like the Chippewa in Minnesota. Or maybe Olympic National Park in Washington. All that matters is that it’s wild and clean. Because these last places are the actual rare jewels in 2013.
A dryer.
She came to him in the dark, between the windblown pine and aspen. For all he knew she was sent down from the mountains in a gesture of trickery. For nothing could be so beautiful, or move with such grace. As she approached in the forest gloom, he thought of scenes from long ago, scenes before he was born.
The wind splayed her hair across her face as she watched her soft steps amongst the pine needles. Beyond the woman, in the dark, Gallatin Creek murmured.
For a moment he could not tell creek from wind or bowing tree.
He wanted to call out, to ask her who she was and where she’d come from. He moved his lips but no sound emerged.
Then she spoke, her voice coalescing with the leaves. “We’re home,” she said.
“Home” is an excerpt from my latest work.
