Where Eagles Hunt On Foot

Four Moms, five daughters, twenty back country miles, (more for those who went on the Crow Mountain Adventure!)  Five days, four nights.  Just us gals doing our thing, solving our own problems, understanding that we are strong.

There is no better way than spending time in the back country to find oneself.  I see it in the young gals, the daughters.  One nervous about going across the country to college, taking on a new season in her life with confidence. One very secure in her Lakota Sioux heritage, knowing who she is at age 16, who carries rocks, climbs trees and reads books. Two sisters I have watched grow from cute curly haired children to confident young teens, pitching tents, cooking dinner, taking care of themselves. My own daughter who does not realize she struggles in life with her disability of Down Syndrome, who works twice as hard to get the miles as the rest of us.  These gals, confident in themselves, are strong, problem solving, fun loving, and with each step we take up the trail, more connected than they know to these mountains. 

Sylvan Lake

Five days and four nights we travel. Testing our bodies abilities.  The mountain gives us no warm up. We move uphill.  We camp at spectacular lakes, fish, explore, rest, close our eyes and breath the pine fresh air. We eat dinners under the rain tarp watching the lightning shows and cringing at the thunder bouncing off the mountains. I collect water off the drips for dishwater.  We have become part of the landscape.  It feels right for all of us. 

We take time to slow down.  Hiking only a few miles to the next lake and camp.  We let the girls lead.  Let them find the trail.  It is all about choices.  Left or right, go back or go forward.  We find camp with plenty of time to fish, explore and take in the view.  Again we eat under the tarp as the evening thunder storm is on us.

Crow Lake

Day four we say goodbye to the curly haired sisters and their mother. We will miss them.  They will hike out back to the trail head we started on.  Back down the mountain.  They have more adventures waiting them.  The six of us left will continue UP to higher ground.  Up to part of the world I have never been to.  Off the grid. Off the beaten path.  We discuss where to camp. We are almost at tree line.  Being caught in the open for our afternoon thunderstorm would not be good.  We decide to go up anyway.
 We can always come back down if we have to.

Our packs

We break out of the trees on to the beginning of the Red Lodge Creek Plateau.  As a collective group, our cameras come out. We stand in awe.  We are on top of the world. Three hundred and sixty degrees, a complete circle of view.  We see where we started that day, we see across the mountains into plateaus that we thought were high in elevation.  We see mountain peaks at eye level.  My sister offers a tidbit from my dad, a memory. Something that he said more than once in reference to a destination for a hike. It describes this place perfectly.  “This is where Eagles Hunt On Foot.“  We feel so                                                          high even the eagles have no need for flight.

We find the most amazing camp. A sanctuary in the trees at the edge of the plateau.  The trees offer a bit of comfort, shelter from wind and rain we think will come.  It stays nice.

After dinner we as a group walk out on the plateau.  The view has not changed.  We cannot get enough of it.   I lay on my belly and photograph the multitude of flowers.  Flowers fill my lens.  I look up and the view fills my lens.  We climb a hill face west and watch the sun set.  Watch how the light changes highlighting different peaks and valleys.  When the sun is at the horizon we sit in the moment.  I for one do not want it to end.  The world is perfect in that moment. 

Day five we linger in camp just a little longer than we should. There is a feeling of sisterhood.  We had the sun and the mountains to ourselves last night.  We six have the memories. Cameras, photographs do not share the moment well. You could say our hearts were beating together with the mountains.

Alas, we must decide to move.  Real life awaits eight miles away.  We climb to the top of the plateau, stay on the edge for a long time and then start to drop off the top of the world. It is hard to hike, my eyes want to take in every view, every flower, every small stream.  Over the edge we drop off the side of the mountain.  Back into the trees, into an old burn, back to meeting people.  It feels uncomfortable to have my private wilderness invaded by others.   Eventually we see the parking lot.  We traverse the side of the mountain, switch backs for two or more miles until we touch our car. 

This trail we hiked out on, Camp Senia, is named for a collection of very old cabins near the trail head. All saved by really brave people who diverted the most recent forest fire from burning down hundreds of years of history.  It is named for one of my Grandmothers friends.  I feel my grandmother smiling from heaven.  We have brought our daughters back to their roots.  It is not a circle but a spiral. Each generation we continue to teach, grow, love and through all come back to our heritage of the Beartooth Mountains.