Sunday November 6th. We're in
Wallowa County, Oregon once again. Enterprise, held between the peaks of the
Wallowa mountains and the depths of Hells Canyon. It feels like there's a bunch to tell about the past couple of months, but it's probably best to start here and now. We're at Rick's, and when I walk in the door these days it feels like a home. Put the kettle on, let the chat trickle, sort the kids, the instant warmth in familiar smells, knowing where the floorboards squeek. And Rick and I are with Freya and Kai, now 6 and 4 and a handful of days, while Becs is out and about in the hills. We dropped her off at Buckhorn Lookout on Wednesday, pack square above her head. Too much pasta I reckon but we'll see. She even had to leave her beloved binoculars, worried at the weight and the ways she hoped to take. We all looked down from the Lookout at rim after staggered rim of the north-south valleys that build up to Summit Ridge and the falling beyond, Hell's Canyon, 9,000' odd from the highest point to the twisting Snake. Then I took the kids off to fry bacon on a fire while she headed down. She's due back this coming Wednesday, and today the snow came, so I'm glad that she took my sleeping bag which is by far the warmest of our bunch, and hope she still managed to get a fire glowing to keep the stars company. I must pop out and sniff the air before bed.
But before then, just a few recent photos. These are of the last hike that the two not-so-little people did as 3 and 5 year olds. At Rick's you wake up each day to granite, the Wallowa Mountains right above you. They're always calling. And we seized on blue sky and late snow to climb right into them over four days. Not a soul. Fierce tight fires in the icy nights. Quick dips in alpine lakes (all four of us, it's catching). And Eagle Cap, at the heart of the wilderness. It's just over 9,500'. And here are the no-longer-so-little folk on their horses (take a stick, not any old stick) en-route ...
Six words on F 'n K right now - alive, rooted, together,
Sunday November 6th. We're in Wallowa County, Oregon once again. Enterprise, held between the peaks of the Wallowa mountains and the depths of Hells Canyon. It feels like there's a bunch to tell about the past couple of months, but it's probably best to start here and now. We're at Rick's, and when I walk in the door these days it feels like a home. Put the kettle on, let the chat trickle, sort the kids, the instant warmth in familiar smells, knowing where the floorboards squeek. And Rick and I are with Freya and Kai, now 6 and 4 and a handful of days, while Becs is out and about in the hills. We dropped her off at Buckhorn Lookout on Wednesday, pack square above her head. Too much pasta I reckon but we'll see. She even had to leave her beloved binoculars, worried at the weight and the ways she hoped to take. We all looked down from the Lookout at rim after staggered rim of the north-south valleys that build up to Summit Ridge and the falling beyond, Hell's Canyon, 9,000' odd from the highest point to the twisting Snake. Then I took the kids off to fry bacon on a fire while she headed down. She's due back this coming Wednesday, and today the snow came, so I'm glad that she took my sleeping bag which is by far the warmest of our bunch, and hope she still managed to get a fire glowing to keep the stars company. I must pop out and sniff the air before bed.
But before then, just a few recent photos. These are of the last hike that the two not-so-little people did as 3 and 5 year olds. At Rick's you wake up each day to granite, the Wallowa Mountains right above you. They're always calling. And we seized on blue sky and late snow to climb right into them over four days. Not a soul. Fierce tight fires in the icy nights. Quick dips in alpine lakes (all four of us, it's catching). And Eagle Cap, at the heart of the wilderness. It's just over 9,500'. And here are the no-longer-so-little folk on their horses (take a stick, not any old stick) en-route ...
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