It was just days after 9/11. One of the few flights back on schedule, and he took it to Bozeman. Yeah, he felt uneasy after the attacks, and a few days of thinking that life would always be different. Phone calls to a handful, assurance, and then out of here to find a blood brother and cousin intending to rendezvous in the Lamar Valley in N.E. Yellowstone.
Free upgrade, the Explorer was useful as it was cold and the snow still flying. He had secretly planned on three days ahead to himself, and that is what he got, himself. Not a bad place to be alone, as the depth of things to see and do is extraordinary, and he was able to set pace and interest level to appease who he knows best, himself.
When you’re alone there are no excuses. There is no covering the truth. Your efforts, fear, and motivation are transparent for your other half to see, and take humor, sorrow, or in some cases embarrassment, in. Is this really you? Are you really only going to hike back this far? Are you tired, or disinterested, or just lacking someone to show off for? Are goals something we make, accomplish, and satisfy for others, or do they in fact not exist when we are alone, our efforts rather just becoming steps forward or backwards depending on our current feeling, mentally, physically, and spiritually. Who can say really?
He remembers thinking that he sensed that he was fairly safe from terrorist threats up in these mountains. He thought that, if needed, he could make Jeremiah proud, if he had to hide out during a real invasion, red dawn style. What about those he loves back in the target zones?
He cast his fly out into the swift current of the river and let it drift and churn into the target zone of spawning rainbows. He supposed that all living things have targets on their backs, some knowing, others unsuspecting, of their time and number. Until then, enjoy!
