The peace of wild things

Joan renewed her Wilderness First Responder (WFR) this past weekend.

As such, we did a day hike/packraft this past weekend, minutes from our home, and I did an “S24O” also nearby while Joan took her class.

Times have been interesting for many of us in Moab lately—the administration’s decisions impact directly or indirectly many people here in town. We are no exception with literal neighbors losing their jobs, Joan’s hours changing, and the uncertainty even impacting me as a local Moab person.

I rarely get sick. This year? I’ve lost some weekends, Joan, as well.

Not fun.

But the public lands still offer some respite.

We decided to do a quick day hike and packraft along the Colorado River.

A chance to see what we could see along a place not as easily accessed, get in a pleasant few hours of rafting on a spring day, and see our town from a different vantage point.

Packrating, again, lets us enjoy the familiar differently.

The day made me think of Wendell Berry’s well-known poem –

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives might be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

For a day, we forgot about what was happening around us.

Further seeking peace, I went for a quick overnight trip.

I went into the canyons near our home.

I found a quiet campsite near the creek, pulled out my book, and caught up on some reading with the red cliffs above me.

The wind picked up quite a bit over the night. I packed up early and reached our truck just before the rain came.

Over the weekend, I also saw signs that long after the current shenanigans occur, the land and those who cherish it will endure.