Written From The Shores of Bass Creek, Montana 2007

"Shit, you brought real corn?" he said as the last drops of spit and energy came rushing out of his mouth. The turbidity of the day stirred this gasping question into something more humorous- more entertaining than it would otherwise have been. It's day one (truly evening one as i write this) at Bass Creek in the Bitterroot, Montana and all i can see are the high mtn. cliffs, which are stone-gold and dark gray and peppered with dark green statues. And, as the sun dives into the mtn., the only thing i can compare the scene to are the Bierstadt paintings I've seen in art class. It's a luxury to see them.
Our day was highlighted by an arch-aching hike through the hills. My associates are Brian, Tim and Cameron- each one i know next to nothing about, except for hobbies and interests and that they now dig corn in the forest more than the same ear in the urbans.
I think Environmentalists are split- do we save this for future-use (so that silly willy teenagers like you and me can visit at will)
OR
are should our goal be to preserve this "just because" and so that we can say, "this is what it looked like 100, 200, 300 and 400 years ago"?
Well, I'm sure that I'm not the first to say we can do both- we can! We must!
And, keeping in mind the basis of the environmental movements of yore- we could and should hold dearly the belief that humans are not separate from nature. We are one and the wild is in us.
Like Lou Reed said. 'Take a walk on the wild side,' but in a slightly different context.
Today the four of us discovered that a package of American Spirit tobacco had slipped from my bag and it wasn't a god-awful thing like you might expect, but it was an opportunity. That's how we saw it. We pranced, slipped, galloped and jogged through the woods to find it. Like a pack of wolves. The trip and the method of movements were about as unnecessary as the plastic caps on milk cartons and i don't think we knew what we looked like, but it was one of the most instinctual things I've done lately. You see, we don't really smoke tobacco. Not even occasionally- none of us. So it wasn't addiction that fueled our adventure- that's what i mean to say, that's my point.
It was a chance and in the end, we recovered the parcel.
This is an incredible spot. We're in the forest at the hindquarter of a meadow, which lies smack dab in the middle of two gorgeous mtns. A creek runs to the left of me at le moment and i can hear Tim's voice (unparalleled by modern loudspeaker technologies) and the voices of the other two from the knook of tall grass I'm hunkered down in. These three are in excellent shape and they rarely stop for breaks. I couldn't figure out what was driving them so hard- i guess it wasn't time because we got into this meadow with plenty of it to set up camp and corn.
But their swiftness cause an all too natural reaction in my body. The only word i can think of to explain this is 'compensation'. As i trailed on behind them, i compensated the distance between me and the next to last tall figure in front of me. And, as the muscles I'd been using all summer (the 'in-shape' muscles lets call them) began to ache they gave way to what felt like new ones- I'll let you know tomorrow for sure when they're sore. In a sense i was naturally compensating for what was lost. These new muscles (I'll call them 'wild' muscles because of their birth in the forest) are just another weak example of what this Technologically Advanced (say some) species can discover out here with mother nature.
The weather here kept me on my toes. It seemed like the sun would rear its head from behind the trees at times- causing intense beads of perspiration to form within 10 minutes, and my back and shoulders to become wet. real wet.
But then a cool breeze would kick in and that warm feeling immediately gave way to one of shivers and the beads quickly whisked off my face.
Golly, I'm off to roast some Western Family marshmallows on machetes purchased at WalMart by my comrades.

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