Another Birthday Come and Gone

"Time flows like a river and it seems as if each of us is carried relentlessly along by time's current."

-Stephen Hawking

Millcreek Canyon

Jonathan Livingston

Of all the people I owe a debt of gratitude, my high school cross-country coach is perhaps the greatest. Though I think I was a bit too young to grasp them at the time, I have kept the visionary concepts he introduced me to as a young runner with me all these years. At the time, I found them fascinating, but at bit "out there" at the same time. However, now with a bit more life experience, maturity and knowledge at hand they are being making more and more sense. Especially as I continue on this spiritual journey I started nine months ago.

Looking for some reading material to accompany my cross-country camping trip before I left Wisconsin, I came across my old copy of 'Jonathan Livingston Seagull.' I was 14 when Coach Conway first had us read this book -- chapter by chapter -- before practice each day. 20 years ago. The words are still the same, and the book is still incredibly inspiring, but the message is so very different now.

"We can lift ourselves out of ignorance,

we can find ourselves as creatures of excellence and intelligence and skill.

We can be free! We can learn to fly!"

-Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Great Salt Lake, Antelope Island State Park

Still Snowing

Set off to do some hiking in the mountains and was thwarted by a snow storm:

Welcome to Utah

I have arrived!

I have come here to see if I think I could live here for the three years it would take for me to get through the Master's of Architecture program at the University of Utah.

I have also come here to establish residency before I enter the Master's program because that's just good financial sense. Assuming I get into the Master's program that is. If I do not get into the architecture program, then I am here to rock climb, hike and ski, and I am perfectly okay with that.

Grand Teton National Park

Magic

Sat on the banks of a still frozen Jackson Lake and watched the most spectacular sunset over the Teton Mountains.



I can feel the Viking blood coursing through my veins tonight!



Best campsite yet.

Heading South

You have now left Yellowstone National Park...

...and entered Grand Teton National Park.

My Bear Encounter

Wandering -- stupidly -- by myself up a little-used and quite worn-down path, I came across a mule deer, lying in the trees, chewing on some grass. Inch-by-inch I crept closer, trying to get a good photograph. The deer stared at me warily, occasionally stopping the incessant mastication of grass as I would take a step closer, then resume chewing when I again appeared frozen in time. I had snapped a few decent photos and ever pushing my limits took one step closer. With a start, the deer leaped up and quickly whipped it's head around (which incidently scared the crap out of me).

I stared at the deer for awhile, and sensing its fear and my increasing uneasiness with the now quite alert deer close at hand, I slowly backed away. The sun was already setting and I still had quite a way to drive to get to my next camp site, so I figured missing out on the rest of the trail was no big exchange for a few extra minutes of light, not to mention not getting mauled by the rack on that deer.

My small disappointment soon disappeared when I headed back down the trail and saw a couple of things I missed on the way up: "Huh, animal carcass." ==click== "Hey sinkhole." == click == "Hey, bear... wha? Oh crap, bear!" Had I not just read not to get too close to carcasses because bear are very territorial and will protect a carcass? And here I was just moments before getting up close and person with one for what? A photo of rotting animal flesh? Why? Why should I feel compelled to take a photo of a rotting animal carcass? And yet I did. At least I now knew the mystery of the startled deer. But now I was alone on a trail with a bear in tow. Dummy.

In this photo I am cowardly hiding behind a pine tree praying I am downwind and the bear has not seen me or heard my heart thumping loudly through my chest.

Fortunately, the bear either did not see or hear nor smell the fear pheromones that had to be wafting off my body or was just completely uninterested.

Eventually I made my back to other civilized life (in tact) and watched the bear graze from a relatively safe distance in the company of others. Like my high school cross country coach used to say, "You don't have to run faster than the bear, you just have to run faster than the guy behind you."

Lesson learned. Safety in numbers. And speed.

Bison on the Hots Springs

Mammoth Hot Springs

Yellowstone River