Re: Why do we return year after year ??
Reply #2 - 11/15/06 at 12:43:16 Quote   
This is (with a couple of changes) what I posted in 2006.  It is still how I feel.  I never went into the wilderness for my "church" or to "find God."  As a person of faith who spent her life in the church, leading choirs, working as a worship leader, being active with God's people in fellowship, I always felt closer to God in that setting.  For me, going to the outdoors was more about finding myself.  Learning who I really was.  Spartan1 helped me to do that.  Over 42 years of canoe-tripping, and even now, sharing the canoe country with our grandchildren, I learn more about myself, and more about the physical world, by being outdoors.  And for me, eleven years later, I find this little essay still rings true.  I called it, "The Silence".

Why?

The silence.

The sounds:

   loons
   thunder in the distance
   the white-throated sparrow
   waterfalls
   bull frogs in the bogs
   babbling brooks
   a crackling fire
   raindrops on the tent
   moose in October
   wolves
   red squirrels chattering

The silence.

The sights:

   lakes
   eagles
   clouds
   gulls
   reflections
   really old, really tall trees
   otters
   mink
   boulders
   moose
   bears
   pictographs
   loons and chicks
   common mergansers
   cliffs and waterfalls
   red squirrels and chipmunks
   dragonflies
   blown-down timber areas
   wildflowers
   a puddle of butterflies
   that flash of blue water at the end of a long portage

The silence.

The smells: 
   mosses and wild roses
   clean water
   a good smokeless campfire
   something I can’t describe; a special fragrance I always know     when we paddle down a creek or small river—like no other anywhere in my world
   the woods after rain
   pine

The silence.

The touch:

   lying on a warm rock in the sun
   swimming in a pristine lake
   leaning against an old growth pine tree
   making love under the blue sky
   feeling the paddle cut into absolutely smooth, clear water
   the beautiful wooden gunwales of our Bell canoe
   my camera in my hand when the perfect image comes into       focus

The silence.

The taste:

   cheese and crackers at the end of a long portage
   cool filtered water at the end of a long portage
   fresh eggs and bacon cooked over a campfire
   hot chocolate while sitting on a rock overlooking a cold, misty dawn
   Maker's Mark and (filtered) water by the dying campfire on a cool evening
   a perfectly toasted marshmallow

The silence.  Always the silence.