Finding Unexpected Secrets

I found an interesting quote in a magazine recently.  It is attributed to Roald Dahl, author of James and the Giant Peach and other children’s stories, (actually, I am not a fan of Mr. Dahl’s books, but I like the quote.) Dahl says, “Watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.”

It occurs to me that one of the reasons I love camping is that physically being surrounded by God-made beauty and listening to forest sounds of wind and bird and scolding squirrels gives me the opportunity – no actually, forces me – to watch what is around me with glittering eyes.  Karl and I have been in the mountains for nearly a week.  Yes, we are ‘glamping’ in some ways because we have a cushy trailer with a soft bed, hot running water and 12-volt electricity.  I can use my computer and I have a phone signal (but no Wi-Fi which is why I didn’t post this blog on my usual Monday!). But even though we have these luxuries, we choose to cook our meals on an open fire and embrace the forest as much as we can.  We do some hiking and we ride our ATVs back into even less frequented areas of the national forest. We try to take full advantage of the offerings here.  So what follows are some of the greatest secrets the Medicine Bow National Forest (Mary Jane, we went up Cow Creek Road just outside of Encampment to the mountains!) has chosen to share with our glittering eyes this week:

• We rode our four-wheelers to a secluded lake high in the mountains. As soon as the engines were off, silence enfolded us. The silence of the forest isn’t really silent, though, and as we sat on the shoreline and allowed our ears to attune, the wind began a quiet symphony.  The bright green disk-shaped leaves of quaking aspen trees make a kind of clicking rustle as the miles-tall lodge pole pines provide a bass note hiss.  The melody then is taken up by bird songs echoing across the water.  Every once in a while the tambourine-like shimmer of a chittering squirrel joins in. Then, a small brook trout jumps, the splash and ripple add to the melody. An occasional small gust breaks a tiny wave against a rock and the sound is like the tinkling of a cymbal.   Then comes the climax of the piece.  Overhead, we’ve been watching a golden eagle soar in the air currents.  He (all eagles seem so regal and so strong I think of them as he…) dances a ballet with the air and we watch as the mid-day sun creates a shadow dance partner on both hillside and water below. All at once the eagle cries out. The sound is both lonely and haunting. I feel the breeze on my arms where goosebumps have risen.  I am aware of how my heart pounds at the dance and the music and for just a moment I become part of it, outside of myself and joined to the beauty and the peace.

South Spring Creek Reservoir

• I am riding my four-wheeler behind Karl, our usual. He passes a spot where a group of new pines, maybe six feet tall, are growing tall in the sun. Karl continues on. He doesn’t see, but I do, the buck deer that is on the opposite side of the narrow stand.  The deer reacts to Karl’s passing and runs several feet and stops to look back.  I pull the brake on my bike and we come face to face.  Eye to eye about twenty feet apart.  He is tall and reddish brown, his ample antlers still covered in soft velvet.  We connect for a tiny moment, then he bounces over a bush and disappears into the trees. I thumb the throttle of my bike and catch up with my husband, a little richer than I was.
• We stop for a rest one afternoon and to look at a little creek.  Something catches my eye.  It looks like someone has potted a yellow daisy in an old tree stump.  Up in the forest?  Not possible!  I investigate.  Sure enough.  Someone planted a beautiful flower in an old tree stump.  Cool!                                                                                        
• We are hiking. We’ve ridden in this area before so we are comfortable with leaving the road and trekking through the forest.  We are armed with water, my camera, and fanny packs containing survival essentials just in case we get confused and lost (that happened to us once before we had the packs, and it was a ‘bit’ scary!). The day is warm considering the altitude, but we leave on our long sleeves to discourage the mosquitoes. We climb a good hill, keeping the sound of a small creek to our left.  I can’t stand not to see it, so we move left and watch as the water plays and jumps and runs over the rocks and limbs. I take pictures of the small waterfalls and feel the certain and special joy that only running mountain creeks bring me.  Eventually, we move on.  The forest becomes quieter as we gain a little distance from the stream.  The hillside crests and we come to a clearing.  I can hear a sparkling sort of sound. It isn’t the sound of a brook, different somehow.  We investigate and find a spring. Water bubbles out of a small rise in three distinct places.  The earth around the spring is full of flowers and tiny green leaves.  I flip my ball cap backwards, put my knee on a rock and put my face to one of the fountains.  The water is icy cold, surprising. A long drink leaves me with a pleasant, slightly metallic taste in my mouth.  I have just taken communion.  Communion with God and with the beauty and blessings that still can be found in this fallen world.  Karl takes off his hat and takes a drink.  No words can describe the moment.  No words are needed.  After a couple of pictures are snapped, we join hands and continue our hike.  Loved. Blessed.

Our little spring…the picture can’t let you see the bubbling water or hear the sound it makes…

Karl takes a drink from the spring.

• Karl is sleeping. It is near midnight, and the moon is three-quarters full. I slip my crocs on stockinged feet and wrap myself in a soft blanket, then I ease myself through the door and step outside. There isn’t a breath of wind tonight.  The squirrels and birds are sleeping. The world is truly silent, forest music has faded into a tranquil depth.  I walk around our camp, then settle into a chair. My eyes, on the sky, drink in the shimmering of stars and planets.  Not as many are visible tonight as sometimes, thanks to the blazing moon, but there are still plenty.  I talk with God. With words and without, I praise and worship the One who created all this. From nothing. Because of His unending Love for us. Perhaps this is the greatest secret and most sacred Truth that Roald Dahl or donna coulson or anyone else can find.