Yellowstone
Conciousness plays games sometimes.
My work team pulled into West Yellowstone for the second time in 3 weeks. We were headed to the backcountry inside the park to perform research on the forests within. Tomorrow we would set out with bags prepped for four days in the wilderness. Today though, we were staying in the entrance town of West Yellowstone. I pulled out my bingo card; we were close to identifying all 50 state license plates already. That night I lay awake and a strong street light illuminated the folds of a sheer curtain pulled across the window. The bed was strange, but it would foster my dreams for the night. In the dark of the early morning I awoke to feel the strangeness of the room. Darkness hung thick in the corners of the ceiling and back wall. I felt eyes upon me and a strange prescience tugged at my conscious mind but I willed the specters away. Not tonight. I rolled over and once again entered the shrouds of sleep.
Three days later we were camped along Maple Creek in the northeastern portion of the park. The day had been a strenuous hike through many miles of lodgepole pine blowdown. I striped down and climbed down the bank into the creek and the water enveloped my body with cold teeth. The sun was low and strong in the sky and a breeze caused the trees to sway in great motions above me. There was a door here, hidden in the dense brush pressed against the streambed. Maybe past the bend in the stream. Consciousness collected to a point. Curiosity expanded the bounds of perception. I looked around at the ripples of the water and the movement of the bushes and the play of light in the trees. Once again I was called to the stream. Yes, the stream was the entrance. The path led down to the bottom where distorted light played traces on the rounded stones below. A long breath and I swam down to the bed. A strong current pulled my body and sharp cold pressed fire into my skin. I opened my eyes to the cold and looked into the deepening blue downstream. Again, a strange prescience pulled at my consciousness and I saw that blue open into the dark expanse of a midnight sky. I saw the black orb hanging like a collapsed star below the iron sky of a thunderstorm. I saw myself rooted once again on the sandy slopes of a dry and living desert, anticipating the rain.
My lungs burned and my eyes ached from the cold and the gate closed before me. I lifted out of the water to the breathing world once again. Trees swayed in the wind and sun played on the leaves and I was in a stream feeling the cold current rush around me once again.
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We hiked along the slope of the mountain and the low morning sun glanced through the dense undergrowth around us. Wildflowers of blue, yellow, orange and white pressed close against our pants. Dew hung heavy and soaked our boots and pants. The air was cool and mellow. Phoebe huffed along behind us with careful steps and heavy breath. Her face was pallid and shining with sweat. We stopped to wait. A massive Douglas Fir rose up on the slope next to us and the branches hung low and gnarled above our heads. Fire scars traced up the base of the trunk. Caleb pointed out that the leader was broken off and lying on the ground nearby. I walked around the trunk tracing the bark with my right hand. The steep ridges of the bark formed like paper topo lines. I rounded the backside and stopped. The grass before me was flattened down into a large circular bed. Off to the side against the trunk of the tree was a large pile if scat filled with hair and berries. Bear scat. Phoebe crested the ridge and gaped at the indentation. The bed was 7 ft in diameter. Caleb stood behind me and to the side, scanning the conifer forest above us.
“We should be careful,” he muttered. Phoebe shuttered.
We continued along the slope heading northeast towards the ridge. The grassy slope transitioned into a dense lodgepole regime. The ground was covered with down materials. Low branches reached out to claw us as we pushed through the dense understory.
Suddenly a gust of wind pushed up from the valley and set the lodgepole into deep sways. Dew rained down softly from the overstory. I froze. The tracks of something large traced through the woods beyond two small trees. Why hadn’t I seen those before? I backtracked and studied the ground but the tracks were no longer visible. I walked forward again and the tracks came into view and the two small trees framed their passage like doorposts. Caleb and Phoebe were ahead of me now. I heard Caleb call out an exploratory “hey bear”. I hesitated, then passed between the trees. The forest became suddenly quiet and shadowed in deep blues. The tracks moved off to the west leaving deep indentations in the soft forest floor. A chill came over me and rose up my back to the nape of my neck. I looked back to see a brighter forest framed by the two small trees behind me. Another “hey bear” drifted out like an easy breeze. I felt the current again washing me forward and deeper in. A great rush. I turned from the entrance and slipped into the gloom.
