Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Who knows? Not me. You're face to face with the man who sold the world.

Mister Hawk and I aren't getting along. Today on my run, he dive-bombed me, again, this time swooping from behind. Fortunately, I saw a large shadow and turned just as he was approaching. I unleashed a primal roar, which worked yesterday. It worked today, for a second or two... then he came around for another pass at me. I yelled again and he pulled away. Then he returned for another pass. I roared and picked up my pace out of there.

I need to learn how to tell him in Hawkish, "Listen, dude, I mean no harm to you and yours. I am just running along this trail, and I will soon be gone. Oh, and would you mind not clawing my eyes out?"

It was a good run, but we have had a little string of really hot days here in Bozeman. It has been hitting 93 or 94. It is not humid, like the midwest, so it is tolerable, rather than utterly miserable. Nonetheless, 93 is 93... and 93 is fucking hot, especially when you are chugging along for 6 miles.

We went downtown for lunch to a place called the Sweet Pea Cafe, which I believe India chose on the strength of its name alone. The sandwiches were good, and afterwards, we wandered into yet another natural food store next door.

It was worth it for this photo:

Then, we split up to divide and conquer: I tackled the purchase of some Chaco sandals for myself and repaired to the Leaf and Bean Coffee Shop to read; India conducted a fruitless search for a present for her dad.

I have been reading Bill Bryson's In a Sunburned Country, which chronicles his travels through Australia. He has a dry sense of humor, which he sprinkles liberally throughout his descriptions of the countryside and history of Australia. It is an entertaining read. I also enjoyed his book, A Walk In The Woods, which chronicled his attempt at the Appalachian Trail.

A few years back, our friend Uncle Jesse, a/k/a J-Ho, walked for a month or so across Virginia on the Appalachian Trail. I mailed him goodies and food to a couple waypoints. It seemed like a grand adventure. I would very much like to try the Appalachian Trail, or the Continental Divide Trail, someday. The simplicity and solitude of such an endeavor greatly appeals to me. If only I could clear the time from my busy schedule of day hikes in the Bozeman area. Ha ha ha. Truth be told, I am a bit hesitant to undertake a month-long hike, simply because our dogs are senior citizens, and I fear a prolonged absence. After all, Puck is 13 and a half, and Barney is at least 11.

Maybe later...maybe later.

There is something about hiking out here, under the grandeur of majestic peaks, amidst the vast, living, breathing forest, listening to the roar of the waterfalls and the babble of the streams, knowing there are moose, elk, wolves, and grizzly bears our there with you, well... Sometimes you'll round a bend, or crest a ridge, and before you will be a vista that just kindles your spirit. Maybe it is the view; maybe it is the hours of sweaty work it took to get there; maybe it is the silence; maybe it is knowing that you are not the top of the food chain anymore; maybe it is the lack of any hoopla, billboards, signs or any manmade attempts to enhance or draw attention to what lies before you. Maybe it is all those things. It makes you feel funny, like when you had to climb the rope in gym class. And I am by no means a religious, or even a spiritual, guy.

As Stephen, the wild Irishman in Braveheart, said-

Aye. I've come to the right place, then.

Will Danger requested some photos of my little neighborhood, and of downtown Bozeman.

Here is downtown:

Here is our little "pocket park:"

Our house is the yellow one.

When I returned from grocery shopping, the Big Sky cooperated for you, Will. A thundercloud moved through. It was a big, double rainbow, but by the time I got in with the groceries and back out with the camera, there was only one left: