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[peternoahthomas]

A Beacon in the Storm

In the heart of pine-scented mountains, vast and evergreen, A rustic cabin stood, a shelter snug within. Inside, there dwelled a rancher and his cherished wife, Their love, a steady flame, to weather storms of life.

The winter unleashed its fury, a blizzard's savage might, Whipping snow like phantoms, dancing in the fading light. Silence, broken only by the cabin's lonely groan, As the rancher, a beacon of resolve, donned his coat alone.

His eyes, a steely glint that pierced the swirling storm, Burned with determination, to keep his loved ones warm. For lost within the blizzard's icy, chilling grasp, A tiny life lay trembling, a fragile, whimpering newborn calf.

Their foreheads came together, a silent understanding passed, Her eyes, like embers warm, against the icy blast. No sounds of words were spoken, yet a promise filled the air, A vow to face the storm, a burden they would share.

He buttoned up his weathered coat, the horse pawed restless at the door, Each gust of wind, a whispered threat, a challenge to explore. A final touch, a lingering glance, he mounted his loyal mare, And vanished into the white abyss, she mouthed a silent prayer.

By the windowpane she stood, a sentinel in the gloom, Her breath, a ragged rhythm, echoed in the room. Each tick of the clock, a hammer blow upon her breast, As minutes stretched like eons, stealing her fleeting rest.

The storm unleashed its fury, the wind a mournful cry, A primal fear took root within, a tear welled in her eye. The storm grew ever fiercer, and the trees began to moan, She knew she could not let him face, this tempest all alone.

Driven by love's fierce fire, she saddled swift and bold, Plunging into the blizzard's heart, her desperate search unfolds. Mounting strong, resolve ignited, her lantern's glow a guide, She rode into the white abyss, courage flowing by her side.

Her spirit, a burning ember, cast a defiant light, A beacon in the darkness, piercing through the night. Not fate would decide their destiny, but love's unwavering hand, As she searched the wild expanse, across the storm-swept land.

As frosty breath betrayed her, she called his name aloud, And in the distance, faintly, she heard a familiar sound. Onward still she pressed until, at last, she found her love, Huddled, strong, and steadfast, with the heavens vast above.

The rancher, battered and weary, held the calf snug to his chest, His strength near gone, a fragile hope was all he had possessed. Tears welled in his eyes for the wife he held so dear, She had found them, now safe from harm, banishing all fear.

Together, hand in hand, they braved the storm's fierce tide, Their devotion, a steady flame, forever their guide. Back home, within their cabin, they warmed beside the fire, Their love a fierce reminder of the strength in their desire.

For in this tale of ranchers, fate has a hold no more, The storm could not extinguish the passion they had forged. In moments dark and trying, love's light will guide the way, A bond that conquers tempests, to bring forth a brighter day.

© 2024 Peter Noah Thomas

[peternoahthomas]

A few years back, I embarked on a wilderness camping trip with my buddy Mike and a fascinating, but exasperating city exec. The journey didn't start as smoothly as we hoped, and boy, did it throw some surprises our way!

Mishaps and the untamed beauty of nature tested us, bringing our differences to the surface. Yet, amidst the challenges, we persevered, searching for common ground and understanding.

It's a trip we'll never forget, teaching us valuable lessons about empathy and unexpected connections. Click the link below to come along as we share our adventures and grow closer through the highs and lows!

[peternoahthomas]

More Than Mere Trees

In the depths of verdant woods, whispers dwell, Ancient trees stand tall, with stories to tell. A tapestry woven with secrets untold, The forest, a sanctuary for spirits of old.

Through dappled sunlight, gentle breezes stir, As melodies of nature softly purr. Moss-clad stones, witnesses of ages gone by, Guarding the wisdom that time can't deny.

In the heart of the forest, silence is alive, A hallowed hush, where wild creatures thrive. The subtle rustle of leaves, a sacred hymn, Echoing the harmony of nature's eternal whim.

Amidst towering pines and canopies above, A place where the spirit finds solace and love. The sunbeams, like leaves, gently cascade, Inviting us to wander through nature, unafraid.

In the footsteps of our ancestors, we tread with care, Respecting the balance, the fragile and rare. For the forest is more than a mere collection of trees, It's a sanctuary, a refuge, where the soul finds ease.

So let us venture forth, guided by poetic light, Into the embrace of the forest, an ancient rite. May we find inspiration in nature's embrace, And honor its beauty, while we leave no trace.

[peternoahthomas]

Cloudy Building

I thought this building looked interesting, so I snapped a pic. Only later, when I looked at it, did I see how it blended into the sky. I think it's pretty cool!

[peternoahthomas]

The road less traveled? 

Not anymore. I went running on that road. =]:)

[peternoahthomas]

The Time I Spent Christmas Eve in Jail

Back in high school, a few of my friends suggested we chip in and go skiing for Christmas instead of spending it at home. No adults to tell us what to do. Wonderful! I got permission from my grandparents, and my friends received the okay from their parents. I mulled it over for days, not sure if I wanted to be away for the holiday, but I went. We were off to a ski lodge in the mountains two days before Christmas. We had two large rooms, one for the guys and one for the girls, with a connecting door. There were two queen-size beds and three cots in each room. We unpacked and explored the lodge and ski area. The snow was coming down hard, with big fluffy flakes blanketing everything. "Maybe we'll get snowed in," someone said. "Awesome," everyone said in unison. "Maybe we won't make it back to school until spring. Wahoo!" The place was beautiful. The multi-colored Christmas lights blinked everywhere, and a 12 foot high decorated tree sat like a glowing jewel in the lobby. We could see the trail horse barn through the windows, which had strings of colored lights and a giant green wreath over its doors. It was like something out of a picture postcard. I looked over at Cynch and smiled. Her name was Cynthia, but I called her Cynch. We grew up together and had become inseparable. I took her hand, and we walked outside. The air was so crisp, and the smell of pine was intoxicating. We looked out over the mountains, and I put my arm around her. She kissed my cheek and giggled as I gave her a hug. Cynch smiled, dusted the snow off my shoulders, and looked into my eyes. "I'm glad you came. I didn't think you would." "Me too. There was no way I was missing spending this time with you." I pulled her closer and kissed her, and sparks tingled up my spine.

We filled the rest of the day with skiing, laughter, and a few spills. I love skiing, but I'm never good at it. My friends find that entertaining! By evening we were all spent and ready to crash. The next day was December 24th, so we turned in a little early, and I fell right to sleep. I thought it was a dream. The ringing sound was so far away, echoing in my head, and then grew louder. Was it my alarm clock? After pounding the snooze button, the ringing continued. It was the phone. I looked at the clock, and it was 3am. I heard one of the other guys pick it up, and then I heard my name. No one calls at 3am unless something is wrong. My heart was pounding as I answered. The line was a mess of static and was challenging to hear. It was my Grandmother. "Peter, Grandpa had to go to the hospital. They think it was a heart attack." I felt frozen in place. "Can you hear me, Peter?" "Yeah, I heard you." A thousand screams ripped through my head. "I'm coming home right now." "No, Peter. The man at the front desk told me the roads were closed because of the storm. Stay there. I'll call as soon as I know anything more. I love you." "Love you too, Grandma." I didn't know if she heard me because the static on the phone was louder. I hung up, and my friends were now in the room, so I told them the news. Cynch pulled me aside, told me she was sorry, and asked if she could do anything. I grabbed her hands and squeezed. "I need to go home now… can you think of anything? If something happens to my Grandfather and I'm not there, I'll never forgive myself." I was having a tough time keeping it together. She put her hand on the back of my neck and then hugged me close. She always knew how to calm me down. I could almost feel her thinking, and then she said, "Let's talk to the man at the desk. Maybe you can use a snowmobile to get into town and hitch a ride from there." We got dressed and went down to talk to the desk clerk, but he wasn't any help. He said he couldn't let me use a snowmobile under any circumstances. We walked over and sat on a bench near the window. "Damn! I feel so cut off here. My Grandfather might be dying." And then I remembered the trail horses and got my not-so-brilliant idea. "Cynch, I'll take one of the trail horses down the mountain into town. I can ask someone

for a ride the rest of the way." Cynch jumped up and said, "All right then. Let's go." I got my stuff together, sneaked out to the stables, and chose a horse. He was a friendly beauty, and I still remember his name. It was Jock. I led him outside. Cynch was waiting. "Can you help me up?" "No. I can't take you with me. I don't want to get you into trouble. Besides, when they notice the horse missing, you can tell them why I took him and where I went." I could tell it upset her, and she was angry with me. "I knew you would do this. I want to come with… but fine. You call me right away when you get to town. Promise? Please don't let me sit here and worry." "I promise." Putting my arms around her, we hugged tight. I didn't want to let go. "I love you, Cynch." "Love you, Peter, but I don't like you right now." She had a pouty lip thing going on. I got up on the horse and looked back at Cynch. "I'll just have to work extra hard to get you to like me again then." She giggled, and it made my stomach tickle. "I'll see you soon." I heard her whisper as I rode away, "Be careful, and don't forget to call." It was light out by the time I got to town. I miscalculated how long it would take before anyone noticed a missing horse because a police officer was waiting for me. "Get down from there and come with me. What the hell do you think you were doing?" I knew the officer. I'll call him Officer Mike. He was a friend of my Uncle John's. "Mike, Grandpa is in the hospital. I was desperate and had no other way to get to him." "I'm sorry to hear it, but you can't just take a horse like that. Who do you think you are?" "Mike, you don't have to call Uncle John, do you?" The last person I wanted to know about what I'd done was Uncle John. The man did not like me, and I wasn't too fond of him either. If I'm being honest, he was imposing and ornery and scared the crap out of me. Mike smiled out the corner of his mouth as he led me to the station. "He's already on his way." I wanted to puke. Once inside, he led me to one cell and shut the door. "Your Uncle doesn't want you wandering off now. The owner of the horse isn't pressing any charges, but he wants to have a talk with you in a few days." "How long do I have to stay in here? I need to call my girlfriend at the lodge. She's worried." "Until your Uncle gets here. Sit tight. Your girlfriend knows where you are and why you haven't called." He walked back out to the office. After a while, I heard the phone ring, and then footsteps. "Peter, that was your Uncle, and he won't be able to collect you until morning. He asked me to tell you your Grandfather is better, and it was a mild heart attack, but he should recover fine. John wants you to stay here tonight." "I thought I wasn't under arrest? I have to stay in here all night? Come on, Mike. Let me out of here, please. I want to see my Grandpa." "Can't do it. You'll be fine here. I'll bring you some dinner. There will be an officer here all night if you need something, and I'll look in on you later too." He was about to leave but turned back and looked at me with concern. "You should think about what you did. It was wrong. What if you would have hurt the horse, or worse? What if you froze to death out there? Would your Grandfather need something like that right now?" "No, he wouldn't. I am sorry, Mike." He turned and walked out, leaving me with my thoughts and worries. I wished I could talk to Cynch. After dinner, the day's events caught up with me, and I felt exhausted. The bed looked rickety, so I sat down on the floor and went to sleep. I had awful nightmares. The night seemed endless, but morning came, and Uncle John picked me up. We didn't talk much during the drive. I was still miffed about being locked up in jail all night. He broke the silence first. "What are you going to tell that man? The owner of the horse." "I don't know. The truth, I guess. I'll just tell him the truth and hope he understands." "That's a good man, Pete. The truth is always best. Most of the time, anyway. What will you tell your Grandpa?" I

sighed and squirmed in my seat. "Don't know. I will disappoint him. He'll think he didn't raise me right or something. I'm not a thief. I panicked and didn't think it through." Once at the hospital, I ran up the stairs and hightailed it to his room. He looked great for having just had a heart attack. It relieved me no end. "Merry Christmas, Grandpa! I gave him a gentle hug." "Peter! Merry Christmas. What are you doing here? I thought you were skiing." "Grandma called and told me what happened. I had to come and see if you were all right." "But how did you get here? We heard the storm was bad." I knew I couldn't keep it from him forever, so I took a deep breath, "I need to tell you something, Grandpa. I did somethi —" Uncle John interrupted, "The kid was with me. I would have gotten him here sooner, but I had a work thing crop up yesterday, so Pete stayed with a friend. I picked him up this morning, and here we are." He looked over and gave me a wink. Grandpa studied us, his eyes darting from me to my Uncle, and then he laughed. "You two have a secret, and that's okay with me. I think I'm getting out of here today, and I'm just glad you're here." I glanced at Uncle John and smiled. Sometimes, just when you think you have someone figured out, they surprise you. Most folks have things buried deep within them you can uncover if you take the time to look. I found kindness Uncle John had hidden there all the time. We got along much better after that. Oh, and Cynch forgave me too! =]:)

[peternoahthomas]

sparks

when life seems hopeless and despair has grabbed hold and kept you there inside the blackest places known you feel scared and alone

search within, look deep inside a tiny speck of hope implied will grow so slowly then collide with helpless thoughts that try to hide

it shimmers, swirls, burns like fire picks you up and takes you higher lifts you from the pits of hell and suddenly, you can tell

your spirits brighter than the dark you are a flash; you are a spark that bathes the world with golden light a lighthouse shining in the night

with your spirit that has grown you sense a presence yet unknown you squint to see, and then you're shown you have never been alone

a sea of radiant, brilliant sparks they glow and pulse, leave their marks upon your tattered weary soul they help to make you feel whole

so when the darkness has a grip around you, helpless feelings slip the light that's in your soul defends the sparks are all of us, your friends

[peternoahthomas]

Dark and Stormy Night

I was lying in bed, trying to get over that cliché I just wrote for a title, when I heard a strange noise. Through my groggy haze, a thumping noise, kind of like how a heart sounds. A cold chill tickled through my body, creeping its way up my back, feeling like a hundred little ants crawling on my neck.

I grabbed tightly at my blanket. My knuckles going all white. I couldn't actually see my knuckles, of course, cause, dark and stormy night, but I know they were white.

Then the thumping heart again. No wait, not a heart. More like footsteps. Footsteps coming up the stairs outside my room. My mind raced. It can't be, I'm in my house alone, and no one else has a key. How can someone be coming up the stairs?

I silently cursed all the idiots who convinced me not to keep a gun in the house. I quickly came to my senses, though. It's not like I would've had the gun under my pillow anyway. Too uncomfortable and lumpy. Sorry idiots!

One last thump, and I could tell that whoever or whatever it was, was standing or lurking outside my door. Everything was eerily silent. Had I imagined it? Then a slow knock on the door. WTF!? A knocking murderer? A polite burglar?

I could hear the knob slowly turning; then, the door creaked open. Through my squinting eyes, I could see a dark silhouette. Then a click and the blaring light shining in my eyes.

"It's morning, Peter. Come on down for breakfast."

With perplexed confusion, I sat up in bed, "What are you doing in my house, John?"

"What? Your house?" He laughed. "It got late last night, and we decided you should stay in town. Remember?"

"Oh...um...Yeah right! I just had a dream. I'll be right down." Whew!

Happy Monday!

[peternoahthomas]

Hope for a peaceful winter

Winter has come a little early to Wyoming. The temperatures are already dipping below our comfort level, and the snow has blanketed the ground. There is a beauty in winter, unlike any of the other seasons. The landscapes and trees look magical when they are frozen, glistening, and sparkling as if the stars came down and dusted the earth with their twinkling light. Nature paints a canvas of snowy white and delights us with her frigid creations.

Sometimes winter makes us feel lost and alone. Darkness comes sooner, and the nights last longer. The wind howls like a demon, and the cold scratches you like a thousand tiny icy fingers. You wrap yourself up in a blanket and cover your head, trying to hide from the loneliness and dread of another endless night.

But you aren't alone. Not really. If you are reading this right now, you aren't alone. We are here too. Please, take this little bit of friendship and let it warm you. Let it bring you some hope and some peace. And the only thing we want in return is your friendship too. We are so glad you are here. You make us all smile, and we feel warm again.

And even though it seems so far away, the promise of Spring's happiness is glowing, shimmering in your soul, melting away all the tormenting winter gremlins. Hope for a new beginning lies just underneath the powdery snow and within YOU, every day. =]:)

The photo is from James Christopher Carroll's wonderful book, The Boy and the Moon. You can see it here: https://amzn.to/3nd8KSR

[peternoahthomas]

Autumn is my favorite time

I hike up the ridge to my favorite overlook in the park and ease out close to the edge. I sit and dangle my right leg over the rock face and lean my back against a boulder. This has been my “chair” since I found this spot in early spring, and I’ve been coming here ever since. I adjust my hat to keep the sun out of my eyes and gaze out at the trees and the meadow below me, its expanse stretching out like a green, lush carpet. I spot the familiar herd of elk grazing by some bison and glance over at a nearby river to see how the beavers are getting along. They’re as busy as ever.

Everything looks pretty much as it has all summer, but something feels different now. There’s a change coming. If you know what to look for, you can already see it happening. And as you breathe in with your nose, you can smell it too. The crisper evening air mixed with pine and fallen leaves remind me of vanilla, cloves, and cinnamon sticks. And the damp, musty scent of the fallen leaves after a rain smells like… a box of chocolates. No, I’m not kidding. It smells like a box of chocolates. Really.

Keep reading

[peternoahthomas]

My Grizzly Bear Story

I can still hear my Grandfather's words carried by the wind through the trees, whispering to me, "Leave the wild animals in peace, Peter." 

He always taught me, by example, to respect people, the environment, and all wildlife. "Keep a safe distance, not only for your protection but to protect the animals. Never feed wild creatures; you think you're helping them, but it will do more harm than good."

And yet, there were a few times, though not many, when he would soften his rules,  just a little, and do something that surprised me.

he time we were on our way home from town in the dead cold of winter and happened to take a back road, we usually never drove down. We came around a bend, and there was a giant moose, caught and struggling to free its antlers from a barbed-wire fence by the roadside. The moose's efforts looked hopeless.

We walked over for a look-see. Grandpa didn't let me get too close. Barbed wire was digging into the poor animal's head, some blood dripping into its eyes. He was snorting, and the wire cut deeper with each attempt to free himself. I was worried Grandpa would shoot it to put it out of its misery, but I should've known better than to worry about that. 

"Go back to the truck, Peter, and get inside. I'm not sure how this fellow will react, and I don't want you to get hurt."  

I looked up at him. "But Grandpa, I don't want you to get killed." I lowered my head, looking at the ground, and whispered, "And I don't want you to shoot the moose either." 

He patted my head in that familiar, reassuring way and guided me back to the vehicle. "I'll be fine, Peter, and you know I won't do anything to hurt the moose." He smiled down at me. "Now, hop in the truck, so I know you're safe." As I sat down in the passenger seat, he reached in and took his work gloves from the dashboard, tussled my hair, and shut the truck door. Then he gathered his wire cutters from the toolbox in the truck's cargo bed, and while talking gently to calm the animal, he moved back to where the moose was struggling.

Watching from the truck and wiping the fogged-up windows with my sleeve, I wished I could help too. That man must have pulled and tugged on that wire for almost an hour. I was only about eight years old, but I was so proud even at that young age. I could tell that the poor moose was relieved for the help because he didn't resist Grandpa when he was untangling its antlers or when he'd gently push the moose's head lower to get a better angle to cut the wire.

And finally, my Grandfather's hard work paid off. The moose was free. I bolted out of the pickup and joined Grandpa, hugging him, and we clapped and whooped it up in celebration as the moose ran until it reached a nearby ridge, standing tall and proud again. I was standing tall and proud, too; proud, I had a hero like Grandpa in my life. 

And there was the time he nursed a red-tailed hawk with a crushed wing back to health, spending many an evening feeding and tending to the raptor, with me watching over his shoulder or sneaking around in the barn when I should have been sleeping in my bed. I would peer over a hay bale, being as quiet as possible, watching Grandpa's gentle hands care for the hurt animal.

We named the hawk Hank, and I think we both grew way too attached to him. In my mind, I can still see the joy on Grandpa's face when Hank could spread his wings and fly again. I see the tear running down his cheek when Hank flew out of sight, out of our lives, like an angel soaring over the mountains, free once more.

Grandpa's ways taught me that if you can keep an animal from suffering if there's no hope for the animal left to its own devices, and if you can help the animal without putting yourself or others in danger, there can be exceptions to the rules.

Of course, nature doesn't usually need a hand. It knows what to do, and sometimes, though tempted to interfere, I remember what I learned, and I don't cross the line. But it's a thin line, a slippery slope. And you might have to decide in haste what to do when your mind, full of ideas, might not be as unclouded as it should be. Stepping in and changing the natural order of things is wrong. I know this. But a person's heart can get in the way if you aren't careful. And my heart did get in the way, and I endangered myself, and worse, one of my best friends.

I don't know how my Grandfather would have felt about what I did; I lost him several years before this, but I like to think he would have come around to my way of thinking when all was said and done. Oh, he would have lectured me—no doubt about it, but I think he would have understood.

And that brings me to the story I want to tell you today. It's the story of what happened to a good friend and me six years ago while on a hiking/camping trip in the mountains. I debated whether to write it as I did something careless and without due diligence, and I wouldn't want to encourage someone else to do the same. "Leave the wild animals in peace, Peter." With all of that being said, here's my bear story.

"What was that?" My friend Scott wrinkled his nose as he looked in my direction. "That didn't sound good."

"It sounded like an animal crying out, but I couldn't tell what kind. Could you?" He shook his head. I looked back in the direction the sound came from, hoping to hear it again, but I could only hear the breeze whistling through the pine trees and an occasional bird singing. "It was nothing." I finished helping Scott unpack the tent, and then we got busy setting it up.

With the final stake pounded into place, Scott stood up and brushed the dirt off his jeans. He squinted one eye, shading it from the sun with his hand. "You mind looking for some wood? You're better at that than me." He grinned.

"Oh, sure. You're just afraid of what lurks in those dark, spooky bushes. I got your number, man." I sighed. "All right, I'll be back in two shakes. Then you can get the campfire ready in case we need to make a rescue fire when those monsters come calling." I nudged his shoulder as I walked by and laughed at his expense.

After searching through the brush, I found some twigs and branches that would work fine and slowly made my way back to camp. I noticed a plump piece of wood on the ground and bent over to grab it as I walked along. I stood up, admiring the piece of wood and not paying attention to my surroundings, when Scott jumped out from behind some bushes and yelled at the top of his lungs, wigwagging his arms like a wild man. I must have jumped 10 feet off the ground, wood flying everywhere. 

Scott was laughing and rolling in the dirt, pleased with himself. "Oh! So I'm the one who's scared of what might lurk in the bushes, huh?"

"You son-of-a-bitch! You scared the bejesus out of me. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I was bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

He said nothing; he couldn't because he was laughing so hard. And then I lost it and started laughing too. I had to admit I deserved it, but not before wrestling him to the ground and throwing his hat up in a tree. He looked at me, pretending to be annoyed. "Now you know better than to touch my hat, son. You're going to pay for that!"

I waved my hand in front of him. "I already paid for it. I just lost ten years off my life."

He pondered that for a moment, smiled, and nodded his head. Scott stood, stretched, and reached into the tree for his hat. And then, there it was again, that awful sound echoing off the mountains and across the valley. It was a scream, definitely an animal in distress. I bolted to my feet and looked at Scott. I knew it was a bear, and so did he. Scott flashed me a look. That look. The one right before telling me not to get any crazy ideas. But it was too late for that. I was born with wild ideas.

"Come on! Let's grab some supplies and go take a look." I turned and raced back towards our campsite. Scott is right on my heels.

"Peter, stop!" He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me around to face him. "What the hell are you doing? You aren't seriously thinking of going out there. It's a bear. A big. Fat. Hungry. Angry bear."

"I don't think it's angry. It sounds like something's wrong. I will only take a quick look, I promise. Aren't you curious?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no! Don't do this. You always do shit like this. It will only end badly."

There's something I should tell you about Scott. We grew up together, and he is like my brother. He is older than me, so he looks out for me. He's like my Jiminy Cricket, the voice of reason. But we enjoy getting into trouble together, so we already know he's coming along the entire time he protests.

I grabbed some rope, our climbing gear, bear spray, and a few other things I thought I might need and stuffed them into my pack. "I won't be too long. You can get the campfire going, so it's ready when I get back, and we can cook some lunch. Sound good?"

Scott was nodding his head, yes, but his expression was saying no. "Oh, fat chance. Like I'm going to stay here, and then when you don't come back, I can wonder where you are or what happened to you." He sighed and shook his head slowly. "I'll grab my pack. We'll only check it out and then leave, right?"

"Sure, sure." He didn't look convinced, though. He shook his head again and talked to himself under his breath while getting his gear. I pretended not to hear and turned my head so he wouldn't see me smiling.

We headed off in the direction we thought the sound came from, and as we moved up along the ridge, we heard the scream two more times. It got louder, so we knew we were on the right path. It looked like an old hiking trail long since abandoned and allowed to grow over. Even so, it made our hike much easier and faster. 

We reached the top of a hill, and then the trail made a steep descent down the other side. It was tough seeing too far in front of us because we were in a dense, forested area. We made our way through the trees, and finally, I could see something beyond. As we came through the tree line, we stood on the edge of a deep ravine. We both stopped and stared, unable to speak for a few moments and unsure of what we were seeing.

Scott spoke first. "Oh, damn, Peter. We have to do something." He turned and looked at me, waiting for a response.

I couldn't speak at first but croaked out, "Yeah, but how?"

We both looked across the ravine. A ledge about 10 feet below the opposite side had a tiny cub, pacing back and forth, crying and grunting for its mama. She was above him, trying to peer down where her baby had slipped onto the ledge below her. The drop from the shelf the cub was on was steep. Too steep for man or beast to survive a fall. Mama bear kept a safe distance from the edge for the time being, but she was getting more agitated and desperate as we watched in horror.

Scott put his hand over his eyes, "Oh jeez. If big mama gets much closer to the edge or tries to get down to the cub, they're both gonna fall. Neither of them will survive. Any ideas on how we can help?"

Oh, I had several ideas, but none of them seemed doable. I hashed it out in my mind for another minute or so. "Well, we have two options as I see it. We could backtrack and work our way around to the other side of the ravine and lower a rope, snaring the cub and pulling it up." I scratched my chin as I pondered. "But that would be tricky because mama bear would likely think we were a threat to her cub and attack us."

Scott looked across the ravine, then back at me. "Yeah, I don't like the plan where we have to get mauled by the big, mean bear. I'm afraid to ask, but what is the other idea?"

"Um, you see that enormous boulder on the left side of the ledge? Can you throw your rope around it?"

"Yeah, I think so. It will take a few tries, but I think the rope is light enough." Scott made a noose on one end of his rope, twirled it around, and let it fly. The little cub didn't pay much attention, which was a break for us. The rope missed its target, but it went over the boulder after a few tries, and he pulled it tight. "Now what?"

"You can let your end of the rope drop, then we use my rope on this side to climb down to the bottom of this ravine, make our way across to your rope, and climb up to the ledge, unseen by mama bear."

Scott looked at me like I was from Saturn. "No, really? There is a bear cub on that ledge. What are you suggesting? We carry it down to the ground and let it go?"

"Not exactly." I cleared my throat nervously. "Um, we climb up to the ledge as quietly as possible so we don't scare the cub. Then we grab it and lift it over our heads to the ledge above and hope mama bear grabs him and pulls him up the rest of the way."

His mouth dropped open. "No way! That is the craziest idea yet." He turned his back to me, wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and faced me again. "Seriously? How will that even work? My idea to carry it down is making more sense to me."

"Let's try. If it doesn't work, then we'll do it your way. I'm just worried that if we try to take the cub down, it will start crying, and mama bear will leap onto the ledge and fall… onto us."

He put his face into his hands and rubbed his cheeks, then wiped the sweat off his neck with his bandanna. "Oh, hell. I can't believe we're going to do this. How do you talk me into this stuff?" He looked at me with wide eyes and shook his head at me again. "Oh, shit. Let's get it done." 

We both put our gloves on, and Scott tossed his rope down. It was hanging from the boulder on the other side below the ledge. I tied my rope around a thick tree trunk on our side and let it drop into the little canyon. I eased myself down first, and Scott followed. Once we were on the ground, we made our way to where Scott's rope was dangling.

Scott looked at his rope, then up to the cub's ledge. "Damn. That's a higher climb than it looked when we were up on top. Are you ready for this?"

"Yup." I pulled on the rope to make sure it was secure. "Okay, I'm going on up."

"Wait. When you get up there, how will you keep that cub quiet until I climb up?"

"I hadn't thought of that. Do you have anything to eat in your pack? I don't think I do."

Scott rummaged around in his pack and pulled out some saltine crackers. "Think he will like these?"

"Are they stale like usual?" I smiled and nudged his arm. "Should do the trick. Although I'm not experienced in bear snacks. Too bad we don't have a pic-ah-nic basket." I said it in my best Yogi Bear impression, which wasn't good.

He smiled back, but then his face went all serious. "Just don't you become a bear snack."

I unbuttoned the top of my shirt, put the cracker pack against my chest, and buttoned up. I tugged on the rope again just to be sure. "Here goes nothing." I grabbed the rope with both hands, and my feet landed on the side of the cliff. I slowly made my way up the cliffside, steadying my feet against the rock and not looking down.

Once at the top, I peered up over the ledge. The cub was on the opposite side with its paws against the rocks, looking toward mama, but he soon caught my scent. I lifted myself up and sat on the ledge. Baby bear looked over at me, wide-eyed. Getting the saltine crackers out was more difficult with leather gloves on; I crumbled some and placed them on the ground. He sniffed the crackers and began licking at them in the dirt, following the trail to me. Then he did something I wasn't expecting. He grabbed onto my leg and hugged it tightly. I could feel him trembling against me, and his soft whimpers broke my heart. I petted him lightly with my gloved hand and spoke to him softly, trying to calm him the best I could.

I glanced down and saw Scott on his way up; thank goodness! I tossed more saltines, and the little guy released my leg and went for them. I needed to keep the cub's attention on them instead of my rope climbing buddy. 

I reached down and helped pull Scott up the rest of the way. We sat for a moment and watched the cub licking at the crackers. Now the most challenging part grabbing the cub and lifting him up. I was terrified he would scream and bring mama bear down on us. To be safer, both Scott and I kept one hand on the rope in case mama bear dropped in on us.

Now mama bear knew we were there because she was becoming more agitated. She was pacing back and forth, and then that blood-curdling scream pierced the air again. I whispered to Scott, "We need to do this fast before she tries to come down here." He nodded. 

I placed more crackers on the ground. Scott reached out and grabbed the cub, pulling him closer. That caused it to cry out and try to pull away. We realized we needed all four of our arms and hands, so reluctantly, we let go of the rope. 

Scott stood up and moved close to the rock wall below the ledge, putting his left hand around the cub's snout to keep it quiet and keep it from biting, his other hand on the cub's belly. "Okay," he whispered, "now help me raise him up." I put my hands on either side of Scott's; he let go of the cub's snout and placed that hand next to mine. 

We hoisted the little bear above our heads and stepped to the area below mama bear. We looked like a weird statue or sculpture, two figures offering an animal sacrifice to the clouds. As much as we tried to stretch, we came up short. We couldn't get the cub high enough for mama to see it. I looked over at Scott's now red, agitated face. "I guess we should have tried this without the bear first, huh?" He rolled his eyes and puffed out a sigh.

We put the cub back down, and I dropped some crackers to calm him…the bear, not Scott. Then, mama started getting nervous, pacing back and forth and some tiny rocks, dust, and dirt pelted off our hats from above. Scott shot me a desperate look. "Any more bright ideas? Now would be a good time to have one."

I was out of any bright ideas, but I had a desperate one. "Do you think you can boost me?"

"Sure, I think so. We better hurry." He picked up his backpack, placed it below the ledge, and then got on all fours, his knees resting on the pack to cushion them. 

I picked up the little cub, walked over to Scott, and stepped up onto his back, lifting the cub above my head. The little imp didn't like this and wailed and squirmed; I had to grab tightly to his fur, which didn't help. Mama was grunting and snorting, and more rocks and dirt rained on us from above. None of this was going like I had imagined.

I could hear mama bear's claws clicking and scratching on the earth above me. Her fur grazed against the sagebrush. It sounded like dried straw cracking and rubbing together. She smelled like the dusty mountains in Autumn, all sweet and grassy, littered with leaves that have yellowed and dried out and then gotten wet from the rain. You know, like wet dog hair.

The cub tried to get away from me, and I'm surprised it didn't try to bite me, but it never did. Thankfully, I had the gloves on, though. I toyed with tossing the cub up onto the ledge, but if he fell back down, he wouldn't survive.

I looked down at Scott. "Can you lift just a tiny bit? I'm almost there."

"Oh, sure. Why not? I can do this all day!" Was that sarcasm in his voice?

I moved my feet up by his shoulders, and he dropped his butt lower, bringing his upper back a little higher. I stretched up again, standing on my tiptoes, and moved the cub as close to the ledge as possible. 

I heard a loud sniff, then a snort, and I felt the cub push down against my hands and then get lighter. He was gone! I pulled my arms down fast, looked up, and could see part of mama bear's front leg and knew she had him. I dropped to the ground with a thud, tripped, and landed on my back.

The sun flashed into my eyes, and then bits of dirt pelted my face. Scott had tipped over when I fell, so we were both looking up at the ledge, and mama bear was now looking down at us, her eyes piercing and steady. Terror flashed through my body like lightning, laying there frozen, scared to move, fearing it would entice her to jump down and chase us.

We crawled towards the side of the cliff wall so it would hide us under the ledge. We sat up and could hear her grunting, and she was moving. Scott looked at me with eyes that were as wide as mine. "Do you think she's coming down here? She wouldn't, right?"

"Holy shit, I hope not. Could we make it over to the rope?"

"You mean before the ledge falls? Not likely."

We sat there like a couple of bear snacks, panting, sweating bullets, and expecting mama bear for lunch. More dirt fell from above and made little pyramids on the ground. But she never came. She didn't sound distressed anymore, and her gentle grunts became fainter.

"Is she leaving?" I asked Scott.

"I think so. Sounds like they are moving away." He smiled with relief. He shook my hand. "We did good!" And then he laughed, laying back and wiping the sweat from his forehead with his glove.

"Let's go watch them!"

"What?" He sat back up fast.

"Come on. Boost me up, and I'll pull you up." It surprised me he didn't argue; he just stood up and followed me to the ledge. He made a step for me with his hands this time since we didn't have to worry about a substantial menacing bear. I pulled myself up with the aid of his lift, then reached down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up by my side.

We were standing on top of a steep hill, and below us, several yards away, was mama bear and the little cub. But there was another little cub with them we hadn't seen before. The three of them ambled towards the woods, the two cubs chasing each other and playing off to the side.

As they reached the treeline, mama bear stopped and looked back at us. Scott and I stood there, looking back at her. She didn't move or make a sound. She just observed us with her gentle, sweet face. I'm not sure why, but I raised my hand and waved as if to say goodbye. Scott looked at me and smiled. Then she turned away, and the three of them disappeared into the trees. 

Scott put his hand on my shoulder. We stood there, not feeling like moving for a while. With a gentle breeze tickling my ear, I could almost hear my Grandpa say, "Leave the wild animals in peace, Peter." 

And at that moment, I think he would have understood; as we watched those bears going home together again, they were now at peace for sure. =]:)

[peternoahthomas]

Morning Light

A beautiful, somewhat brisk morning. I'll need my snowshoes soon!

[peternoahthomas]

Slip slidin' away

And we made it! Now just a short climb, and then sliding down, down, down into the blue/green pool below. A very COLD pool! But it's so fun you only notice it's cold the first time. Yeah, that's it! That means you have to swim out, climb back up, and do it again and you'll feel warmer. Honest!

Thanks so much for coming along with me on this hike over the last few days. In reality, it only took us a little over an hour to get up there and an hour back. Maybe a little less to get back because I wasn't annoying my hiking buddy, stopping to take photos every few steps.

If you're in the Lander area, I highly recommend this hike in Sink's Canyon. If you intend to slide and swim, summer and early Fall is the best time. See you on the slide! =]:)

[peternoahthomas]

Across the wooden bridge

It reminds me of a tropical rain forest. It's so lush and green here, and it's almost impossible to see through the foliage. I wonder what could be on the other side? Could we be nearing the end of our little trip up the mountain?

It's a narrow bridge, but a sturdy one. It's a pleasure to walk on, and I like the sound my hiking boots make as I take each step. I can hear people laughing somewhere ahead, and the waterfalls bathe the atmosphere with ions and a soundtrack of soothing sounds. =]:)

[peternoahthomas]

A secret message tree

Still making progress along the trail to the waterfall, but I had to stop to look at this tree full of secret messages. Oh, the stories this tree could tell. It can't talk though, so you just have to read it instead! =]:)

[peternoahthomas]

At the lower falls

We've made it to the lower part of the falls. Is there anything as refreshing as the sound of rolling, churning water? How can you not smile while looking at a waterfall?So why are we so attracted to waterfalls? I have a theory. The human mind is very good at picking out patterns, and we use them to make decisions. We see and unconsciously use patterns all day long, and connect them to other patterns, and so on.

At first glance, we might think we see patterns in a waterfall, or even in the waves of the ocean, and soon our brains are trying to find and use these patterns to make connections. If you look at a waterfall, though, you soon realize it is impossible to predict which way the water will flow next, but your brain keeps trying to find patterns anyway, but it never will. This probably puts your mind at ease and into a meditative, free-flowing state. This makes us feel happy.

Oh heck, forget all that nonsense. Waterfalls are just pretty to look at!

Tomorrow I will do another post as we get closer to the sliding waterfall. =]:)

[peternoahthomas]

Getting closer to the falls

As we get closer to the waterfalls, we decided to stop here for a while to take in that amazing sky and the scent of wildflowers. Okay, and maybe to rest a bit too. The air is filled with the sounds of birds, some gathering and getting ready to fly south for the winter, others busily preparing for the colder temperatures to come.On this day, though, you'd never know it was Autumn, but for the yellowing leaves on the trees. The sun was warm, which was good because we planned on sliding down the waterfall into the clear, green/blue pool below. Tomorrow I'll post the next part of our journey up the mountain. =]:)