Gathering the fullness of life

Chasing down the Muse

The loud calling of an owl wakes me from mountain-saturated

dreams. I slip out of the tent hoping to catch a glimpse of his

spinning gold eyes, but I cannot discern the owl’s ruffled feathers

within the sea of pine silhouettes. The sky, however, is a gift

difficult to describe. A million stars blanket the indigo darkness.

Redfish Lake spreads out before me, glasslike in a windless air, a

perfect mirror of the iridescent lights. Which is water and which is

sky? Only the soft gray of mountains that ring the lake mitigate the

continuous shimmer.

To celebrate my sister Claudia’s birthday, we’ve traveled across

two states to camp in the mountains. She’s another of Laguna’s

finest, transplanted along with scores of other locals, to the Sun

Valley, Idaho area.

Her request, to join her and fiance, Jim, at the lake, was too

sweet to pass up. Redfish Lake lies cradled in the Sawtooth National

Recreation Area between Galena Summit and Stanley at an altitude of

about 6,600 feet. We’ve claimed a wide stretch of beach bordered by

two stream outlets as our campsite. Mornings are filled with hot

coffee and lovemaking at the water’s edge, snug in our tent.

In the woods, no two days or two nights are the same. There are

marked subtleties in temperature, wind, cloud and sun coverage. The

same is true at home, but too often, we are sheltered in our houses,

our cars and businesses, and have lost the art of experiencing the

climate. Plugged into radios, televisions and computers, we gain our

filtered experience from the broadcasts, and deal with what the media

deems “important”events. In the wilderness, stories told to one

another, shared readings and song are the food for conversation and

exchange. Observations replace consumption and we start to hear again

our real voices.

We have a chance to remember who we are -- and to ask questions of

ourselves that require reflective spaces to answer. Answers come

slowly. The “busyness” of back home is difficult to shed. Steve and I

climb to Alpine Lake, five and a half miles from Redfish with a

2,500-foot elevation gain. Our efforts are rewarded with a clear

jewel surrounded by a glaciated granite fall just at timberline. A

young woman dangles a fishing pole hoping for dinner’s catch, and at

the far end, four male hikers bathe. Their laughter fills the

otherwise silent space.

Dragonflies dance -- love sparring in the crystalline air --

curled purple and black tails spun together in a wheel-like shape.

Large gossamer wings whir as they frolic and tumble. A female lights

on Steve’s backpack and lays eggs in the webbing. My goal, as always:

to carry the freshness and insight from the wilderness -- the call of

the owl, dance of dragonfly and rush of stream water -- into my

daily-ness. And in doing so, to keep life richer and ever so full.

* CATHARINE COOPER can be reached at (949) 497-5081 or

[email protected].