I thought I might share a journal entry from my latest adventure - TopicsExpress



          

I thought I might share a journal entry from my latest adventure with Stanley. Its a bit long, but it offers some insight to what we discover out there, the inspiration it brings, and how we are able to go alone and stay somewhat intact. I think some people find these adventures I go out on alone (with Stanley) a little weird. Well, maybe they are, but I’ve certainly never claimed to be normal. I wasn’t designed to sit behind a desk, and answering emails isn’t in my blood, but I do it because I believe in the difference I’m making in my community. I come from a not so distant past of mining, logging, soldiering, exploring, and wildlife conservation. My Grandpa spent most of his life alone in the wilderness and there is a calling in my soul to do the same. For four years, I fought fires across America. I saw the deep everglades of Florida burning at night. I got lost in the never-ending juniper forests in New Mexico. I hurt when I cut down mammoth redwood trees in big foot territory California. I walked through the largest living organism in America (an aspen grove) in Utah. I experienced wilderness in states all across our country that locals, 100 years old, will die not having seen. Maybe this is where I discovered my longing for solitude and my calling to “be” in nature. When I started BBP, I left this path, because I needed purpose in my life and maybe I had cut down enough trees. It was a hard decision, still is, but I don’t regret it because I saw an opportunity to create real change in a city I love, and I see that opportunity growing and becoming more important everyday. I am so proud of this decision and proud of everyone who believes and has made the same choice to create change at the Boise Bicycle Project. Tonight I am writing this journal entry with a #2 pencil that I am sharpening with a hatchet (I lost my knife somewhere in the White Clouds of Idaho). The same hatchet that I used to clean a fish I caught and ate just hours ago. I saw the fish swimming in the clear blue water a few yards from the shore. I cast my fly in front of its path, watched it swim up from the bottom to hit the line as it broke the surface like it was replying an enthusiastic “yes” to an important invitation. I reeled it in, took the hook from her mouth (found eggs in her later) and told her that tonight she was going to nourish my body, heal my wounds, and strengthen my muscles. After cleaning her, I did 100 pushups so I could feel and remember exactly where her strength would go. And I thanked her for doing this for me. So yes, I am weird and I do some things and go some places that most others would not think to go alone, but most of the time I really don’t feel alone. Of course I have Stanley, and he never leaves my side. Kind of like a very hairy scared toddler with incredible mountaineering skills. Really I am completely surrounded by life, and when I stop and listen I find myself communicating with everything around me. When I hear Eagles cry and circling around the inlet of the lake, I can hear them telling me where the fish are. When the wind is chilling my bones yet the sun is shining, I hear the chirps of Marmots telling me how to get warm by sunbathing on the flat rocks. The sounds of the Grey Jay (camp robber) tell me if I don’t clean up after myself that he’s going to steel my food as soon as I walk away from camp. And the Mountain Goats applaud my efforts to cover steep ground, but remind me of their vast superiority and politely ask me to leave them in peace. Perhaps being the only human around is not completely necessary, and there are moments of loneliness, but, for the time being, it fills a need and a calling to be in and experience my most natural habitat. It always refuels a fire that drives and inspires me when I return. Tomorrow, Stanley and I will leave and will look forward to coming home to our friends, family, and a soft bed. Returning to a job that never fails to inspire me is a treasure to have waiting, but the second we begin the hike out, a new longing to return will begin. And soon, back to the hills we will go. Jimmy Hallyburton 9/13/14 Upper Chamberlain Lake, Idaho White Clouds #ManStanCation part 2
Posted on: Wed, 17 Sep 2014 00:15:19 +0000

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