His entire life Kurtis had been
considered a bit strange. After all, he talked to animals and
treated them as though they were as good as humans. He opposed every
damn, every dirt bike trail, every road, every building . . . he
opposed anything that would make those mountains more accessible,
more enjoyable or more beneficial to humans. He was a pain in the
proverbial ass. After all, save the environment is okay for a twenty
year old until it starts getting in the way of human enjoyment and
comfort, then one has to grow up and realize that that sort of
ecological nonsense just gets in the way of progress. If you want to
see animals we can always build zoos. If those mountains were going
to bring in some real money they had to forget that Wilderness Act
shit, start building hotels, roads, dirt bike trails and other
attractions. They also had to get rid of bears and mountain lions so
people didn't have to worry about where they went.
This way of thinking kept Kurtis in an
almost constant state of upset. He didn't care what people thought
of him, but he was beginning to feel totally alone in the struggle to
save the wilderness. He seemed to lose one battle after another.
But this day Kurtis had won. He had
stopped a resort from building a road up the side of a mountain and
building a hotel on top. Of course there would have to be the
necessities - water, sewage, electricity, gas, internet, telephone
and television. The local community was irate. They had been told
that this hotel would bring lots of money and jobs to their town. Who
gave a dam about picas and other animals. They could go somewhere
else. Kurtis had convinced the judge that he should uphold the
protection of the wilderness.
Kurtis had been in the city several
days to attend court. His celebration was to hike up the mountain as
soon as he arrived home. Some locals, returning from the same court,
went to the local bar to drown their sorrows. Anger turned to hate
which turned to revenge.
When Kurtis came down the mountain he
first saw the smoke. Then he saw the fire. Hateful people had set his
cabin on fire. Kurtis stood in silence watching all of his earthly
belongings burn. He knew what he had to do.
For some reason the arsonists had not
bothered his old truck. In the back was his pack. It had all of his
camping and survival gear in it. He loaded the 3 liter bladder with
water from the well. Next to the well was Kurtis' storage shed under
which was his root cellar. Here he gathered dried fruit and
vegetables, rice, a large bag of tea, dried fish, a bag full of herbs
and spices, eight large cakes of Tamamuhara running food, some flour,
sugar, a box of salt, a small cook stove and a fifth of Big Horn
Montana Bourbon. "Medicinal," he thought to himself with a
sad smile.
Once loaded his pack stood a good 10-12
inches above his head with his sleeping bag tied to the underside of
the pack. He didn't want to think about how much it weighed but this
was survival. With a sad last look at his burning home he hoisted the
heavy pack on his back and headed back up the mountain.
He only went a couple of miles that
first evening before bedding down for the night. The next day he
hiked up to a back-country lake favored by fishermen. There was a
campground at the south end of the lake where he camped the second
night. It was September and fishermen were not going to hike this
far into the high country because of the chances of snow. Kurtis
used the fishing line from his survival kit to catch a small mountain
whitefish. The night before he had just drank water and nibbled on
some Running Food. This, by comparison, was a banquet and he went to
sleep satisfied.
The next morning Kurtis studied his
topographic map. These mountains were his home, but he had to give
some serious thought to where he should go to be the safest and
farthest from humans. His attention was drawn to a cluster of small
lakes in a hanging valley high up Great Eagle Mountain. They were
8,400 feet up the 10,326 foot mountain. There were no trails for
miles and if someone did decide to climb the mountain they would
approach from the south west and he could go undetected. He was
going to go up the side of Harkin Mountain to the saddle between
Harkin and Great Eagle. Then the slope around the east side of No
Joy Peak would put him on a steep but not too difficult to traverse
slope down to the hanging valley.
Harkin Mountain was 8,264 feet and he
would have to climb within 300 feet of its summit. No Joy Peak was
8,690 and he would have to go within 500 feet of its summit. If he
could make good time he would probably stop for the night in the
saddle between Harkin and No Joy.
The valley was heavily wooded for an
elevation of 5,200 feet. Kurtis followed the creek that he knew came
down from an unnamed lake just below the saddle. It went due south
from his campsite and then turned up a narrow valley to his south
east. It was easy hiking but Kurtis knew that was only going to last
for a few miles. He would have to start up the side of Harkin a good
mile or so before the lake. If he didn't he would be faced with a
sheer wall.
The climb up Harkin Mountain took
Kurtis the better part of two hours crossing the broad steep
mountainside back and forth looking for the best route. He had
broken out of the tree-line by 6,400 feet and was ready to start
south just below the mountain peak at about 7,200 feet. The saddle
was in sight shortly before it started to snow. Kurtis knew that, if
it continued to snow, visibility would fall and footing would become
treacherous. It was time to make camp.
According to his Casio Pathfinder, it
was mid-afternoon and he was at 7,360 feet up. The landscape was
barren and rapidly becoming a blanket of white. Kurtis found a large
bolder and pitched his tent on the leeward side as close to the rock
as he could get. That would provide him some protection from the
wind. Snow on the tent would actually add some insulation.
The previous nights had been cold and
he had built a fire. This night was different. He was not going to
try to build a fire in the wind and he didn't want to use what little
fuel he had for the cook stove. Result - he drank cold water with
his running food.
Running Food is a super-nutritious
mixture that is still used today by the Tamamuhara Indians who
literally run through the mountains of north-central Mexico. Kurtis
knew that he was getting the nutrition that he needed even though his
stomach did complain about not being physically full.
Kurtis peeked out of the tent. There
was a wall of white. He had made a good decision. His sleeping bag
was rated at minus twenty degrees. He took off his outer layer of
clothes inside the sleeping bag and put them by his feet so that he
would have warm dry clothes when he got up.
In the high Rockies about the only time
you can count on there not being snow is the month of July and maybe
some of August. Otherwise snow is almost as likely as rain at lower
elevations. Kurtis slept soundly and awakened early, as was his
habit. He noticed the quiet. He could tell that the tent was
covered with snow.
Kurtis made a small vent by pushing the
snow away from the tent door and lighted his portable cook stove to
make tea and give him a bit of warmth. After the tea and Running Food
Kurtis bundled up, struck camp, and headed toward the ridge where he
would drop into the hanging valley on the east side of Great Eagle
Mountain.
He did not have far to go,
distance-wise, to get to the ridge, but he had at least a 1,330 foot
climb unless he went a bit farther east at a lower elevation and then
worked his way back at that same elevation. The first four to five
hundred feet were tough in the snow and the grade was getting
steeper. Kurtis decided that he had plenty of time so it would be
much safer to go along the north flank of the east-west ridge
protruding from No Joy Peak and then return west on the south flank
of that ridge at close to the elevation of the hanging valley.
Just the distance of this detour
required several hours resulting in him not arriving above the lakes
until mid-afternoon. The detour had actually saved him from a
seriously steep descent. Coming across the side of the ridge at about
7,200 feet he found that he had to descend a less steep slope and
only had to drop about 160 feet.
Kurtis found a large outcropping near
the largest lake that looked like a giant tooth. If he built his
shelter on the east side of this tooth it would afford him protection
from wind as well as avalanches. For an avalanche to actually hurt
him it would have to drop from the mountain, cross the lake and a
wide open area then bring down the giant tooth. Besides the fact that
there were no signs of avalanche chutes Kurtis figured that the
massive tooth; which was 30-40 feet thick, 200 feet wide and 80 feet
high; would withstand just about anything an avalanche could dish.
There was no more than 150 yards before the edge of the hanging
valley and a 400 foot drop into the valley below.
For the fourth night of Kurtis' exile,
he set up camp on the leeward side of the great tooth. A short
distance away there was a fair stand of aspin and white mountain
pine. Kurtis dragged enough wood from the stand to the tooth to make
a small shelter. He rolled a number of large snow balls and made two
L-shaped walls which, up against the tooth created three walls and a
door for the shelter. He used the wood he had collected to make a
roof. He put a tarp on the roof and then another layer of wood.
Inside Kurtis set up his tent. Near the stone wall he started a fire.
The smoke went up the wall and out the small gap Kurtis had made for
this purpose.
As Kurtis ate his meal of fish, rice
and green tea in his modified igloo he thought about his self-imposed
exile. To this point he had been driven by pain and anger - no, more
like excruciating pain and rage - and focused upon escape and
survival. He hadn't really taken the time to think about what he had
done. He had made a decision without considering the consequence. He
had just known that he could not stay among people. He hadn't thought
about how and/or if he could survive. He just knew that he could not
survive among people. He had spent his life trying to protect the
wilderness that is so essential to life on this planet while also
trying to help people enjoy the wilderness without destroying it.
For people to attempt to kill him and
destroy his home because he saved them from a disastrous decision was more than he
could take. He had proven that the hotel would destroy the ecosystem
which meant that it would destroy the wilderness which provides the
livelihood for every person in the town. He had proven that the hotel
wouldn't bring money or jobs. They were contracting the construction with a company
five hundred miles away that didn't give a shit about the people in
that town. When the hotel was built the professional staff were all
coming from other company hotels. The only jobs any local people
would get would be as waiters and chamber maids - seasonal work at minimum wage and no benefits. Kurtis hadn't been
against the idea of developing a park or wilderness preserve where
the local community could be rewarded by jobs and revenue for protecting the mountains.
But while Kurtis had won in court, greed and human arrogance had won
his community. This was just an example of the larger problem. It
was just a single cell in a terminal cancer. Kurtis concluded that he
no longer had any fight left. He was totally burned out. He did not
just think he had done the right thing, he was sure of it. He
would probably not survive the winter but he determined that he would
rather die in the loving arms of the nature he had loved and fought
for for so many years than survive in the hell created by his fellow
humans.
The fifth morning of his exile, Kurtis
awakened to a cold, crisp day. The sun was beginning to show above
the horizon as he rekindled his fire and made a simple breakfast of
dried fish and tea. After his breakfast he started looking for a spot
to build a permanent shelter.
The snow crunched under his boots as he
walked along the giant tooth looking for the ideal spot. As luck
would have it, he found that spot almost immediately.
Despite the snow, Kurtis could tell
that the contour of the ground came almost straight out from the
boulder for ten to twelve feet and then dropped sharply about five
feet before leveling off. This natural shelf could be the foundation
for a modified sod house. Kurtis figured that he
could dig his living area in this shelf and then he would only have
to do a few rows of logs to give him head room. He already had a
vision of his new home. Digging into the earth would provide lots of
insulation and make it easier to heat.
All Kurtis had was a camp shovel. It
was going to be a long hard job, so he got right to it. The first
thing to do was to clear away the snow. He started moving the show
to the west side of his project where it would act as a wind break
using his shovel and folding canvass bucket. Moving the snow took
him all morning. By noon he had cleared an area big enough to dig a
ten by twelve whole. He wondered whether or not he was taking on a
bit too much, but he could always stop and make do with a smaller
cabin or dig further and enlarge it.
It was warm for noon in the high
country. His thermometer said that it was 58 and the sun was
shinning. Kurtis decided to take a little time to fish in the nearby
lake and by one o'clock he had caught four nice mountain whitefish.
To save time he packed the fish in the snow to save for dinner, ate
some running food and went back to his digging.
By the time the sun was about to
disappear below the western horizon one could see a distinct outline
of a cabin. It was a simple rectangle about ten feet by twelve feet.
The front wall was a good three feet thick. This would not only be
good insulation but good support for the logs that would complete the
cabin and hold the roof. Kurtis decided that he would build the
fireplace in the spring, if he survived the winter, because it was
going to take more time than he had before winter set in for good. He
would just have to use a smoke hole and build his fire on the floor.
Kurtis cut some large branches from
trees that he had selected for the log cabin portion and lay them
over his work. This way, if it were to snow, he would be able to
clear the area just by pulling away the branches.
Kurtis was happy with the progress he
had made. He lighted his fire before he lost the last of the light
and prepared himself a feast to celebrate. As he watched his fire
slowly die, he sipped some of his Montana bourbon and considered his
situation. He had spent most of his life in the mountains but he was
realistic enough to know that his chances of surviving the brutal
winter of the high country was not good. He knew that the
temperatures would drop well into the negative numbers. If he didn't
finish his hut and fill it with food before winter's grip, he would
have no chance of survival. The strange thing, he thought to
himself, was that he never doubted his decision to come here. He
never worried about surviving. He knew what he had to do to survive
and he would do his best. He was where he belonged, and, live or die,
that truth would never change.
* * *
The next few weeks were beautiful,
clear and rather warm for the high country. It was always cold at
night and there was occasional snow, but, for the most part, the
weather was making Kurtis' building and food gathering actually
enjoyable. He tried to alternate activities so that nothing went
totally undone.
Kurtis was able to make great progress
on his hut. He had made a sled out of tree branches and a tarp that
allowed him to take a lot more earth out of the hut per load than
with his canvass bucket. That saved a lot of time. By the second week
of October he was putting the roof on his hut.
The lakes near Kurtis' camp were filled
with fish. He tried to fish a bit each day, smoking and drying his
catch. Going down to lower elevations he gathered cow parsnip,
glacier lily, pine nuts, white pine needles, golden rod and even
found some berries - huckleberries and wild wax currents - that had
been missed by the bears. Most of the huckleberries were actually
dried on the plant but Kurtis was going to dry them anyway. But he
realized that this wasn't going to be enough. Perhaps if he had had
an entire summer he might have been able to gather, dry, smoke and
prepare enough food for the winter, but these few weeks were not
enough. He had to go into "civilization" and buy food.
Carefully covering his work and packing
his backpack, Kurtis descended into the Gibson valley south and west
of his camp and followed the creek several miles until he came across
a clearing where there was a small cabin, out-house and barn. This
was the home of Stanley and Mabel Sturgous. Stan and Mabel were
wildlife researchers and had lived here for about eight years while
they studied the Elk. They were good friends and people whom Kurtis
could trust.
Mabel was a short , petite woman whom
one would not guess, from her appearance, to be a strong and highly
skilled back-country trekker and researcher. Somewhere in her
thirties, she stood only five feet tall with long bright red hair.
The look on Mabel's face when she opened the door was one of shock
and great relief. "Oh, my god," she almost screamed.
Leaping forward and throwing her arms around Kurtis, "Stan!
Stan! It's Kurtis" she called.
Stan was Mabel's physical opposite. He
was a good six feet, four inches tall and had to stoop to go through
the door. His salt and pepper hair fell down his back in a pony-tail
almost as long as Kurtis' and longer than Mabel's. He was several
years older than Mabel but he didn't look it. He stepped out of the
cabin and enclosed both Kurtis and Mabel in a big bear hug.
"My god, man, we thought you were
dead," he exclaimed. "The sheriff searched the woods for
miles around your cabin for you after they found it burned."
"Did he put on a good show?"
Kurtis asked.
"What do you mean?" Mabel
looked puzzled.
"I didn't really get to see the
faces of the people who torched my cabin," Kurtis explained,
"but I'd bet you almost anything he struck the match."
As they entered the cabin Kurtis
continued with the story of the hearing and his self-imposed exile.
The sheriff, he continued, had a lot invested in the hotel. He had stood
to make a fortune. Bribery. Bribery which Kurtis could prove but didn't mention in court.
"What can we do to help?"
asked Stan.
"I need supplies. I've stored
away fish, plants and berries but there just isn't time to put away
enough to get through the winter. Would you be able to buy supplies
for me?"
"Of course," the couple said
in unison.
"In fact," said Stanley, "you
can use Clarabell. Then you can take a lot more to your camp."
"That would be wonderful!"
The Sturgous were good friends.
Kurtis made a shopping list and waited
while Stanley and Mabel went to town in their old pickup. It would be
several hours. Kurtis passed the time reading the Sturgous' notes.
They had been tracking some elk whom they had tagged the year before.
The tags were GPS. The University of Montana tracked them. Stanley
and Mabel spent their time sitting in the mountains with powerful
spotting scopes watching the animals. Understanding the behavior and movement of the animals along with their life cycle was crucial to understanding and protecting the health of this ecosystem. Protecting the health of the ecosytem also effected the amount and quality of water that nourished the farmers in the valley. Their work was vital.
Mabel and Stanley returned with a truck
full of supplies. It was too late for Kurtis to start back so Mabel
made a big pot of stew and cornbread which they all enjoyed with a glass of wine. Kurtis
tried to remember the last time he had eaten so well. After dinner
the three friends talked about the environmental crisis and Kurtis'
self-imposed exile. While there was more and more scientific evidence that humanity must return to its roots and make great strides in repairing the damage it had inflicted upon the earth just in order to survive, there were more vocal and unreasonable religious conservatives pressuring congressional representative to accept their denial on religious grounds clinging to their archaic anthropomorphic deity. Kurtis felt that he would totally lose his composure if he were to every again hear anyone say "the Bible says...." How could they risk the life and well-being of the entire planet based upon a four to five thousand year old book based upon myths and stories and written by people who hardly knew where babies came from nevertheless have any knowledge of earth science, chemistry, physics, astronomy, etc., etc.? Such people wanted to sell the wilderness for commercial gain and eradicate species in the name of their god and human comfort. Kurtis told Mabel and Stanley that each fight was getting harder and harder. He wasn't trying to save the earth for people. They were an invasive species. He wanted to save the earth for the sake of the rest of nature. He had finally decided that he didn't care if humans destroyed themselves, but they were going to either destroy the earth or do significant damage in bringing about their own demise. He did not know how people like John Muir spent their entire lives fighting for the wilderness without going stark raving mad.
Like Muir, Kurtis was a preservationist. A preservationist is one who believes that wilderness must be preserved unhampered and untouched by humans. Muir never argued that humans were an invasive species, but Kurtis wasn't sure that 'invasive species' was even a term or concept during Muir's life. He was sure that, were Muir alive today and knew about invasive species, he would agree with Kurtis' conclusion.
"You're obvious preaching to the choir," said Stanley, "but you have to admit that all species put their survival above everything else."
"That's quite true," replied Kurtis, "but other species eat what they kill. Humans kill for fun and kill unnecessarily. To hunt and kill a bear solely for the pleasure of killing it, stuffing it and standing it in a corner, is not survival. Purposely attempting to extinguish a species is not survival. Other species may not understand that they are a part of a delicate cycle of life on earth, but they play their part. Humans could understand but don't care to understand and do not play their part. When they spread out over every ecosystem and totally disrupt that systems balance, that is the behavior of an invasive species, not an indigenous species."
"Whoa," laughed Mabel. "We're on your side."
"I know," apologized Kurtis. "I know you are and I'm sorry, but it is getting harder and harder to try to explain to people that understanding this isn't anti-human. It is about the survival of the human species as well. Then you get nothing but blank, 'who-gives-a-shit' looks." Kurtis took a long sip of his wine and leaned back looking at the ceiling.
"I know it's hard," said Mabel. "But you are a great advocate. Most of the time those same sanctimonious, god-fearing, assholes are the ones who take away our funding when our research may well mean their prosperity as well as their survival. We're living off our retirement."
"Yeah," joined Stanley, "if we don't get some funding soon we may be bunking with you." They all laughed a hard and almost bitter laugh. It was only funny visualizing all of them living in Kurtis' small cabin. The rest was not funny. It was heartbreaking.
"You're good people," said Kurtis seriously. "I don't have much, but I don't need much to live in the mountains. I'll fund your work."
Soon the fire began to die and the three friends said good night.
* * *
The next morning Kurtis' supplies were
loaded onto Clarabell, the Sturgous' mule, along with a shovel, large
cross-cut saw, and some other tools. Stanley had convinced Kurtis to
let him come along to bring Carabell back. Kurtis gave Mabel a hug
and the two men headed north along the creek into Gibson Valley.
The supplies made life a lot easier for
Kurtis. It also gave him some hope that he would survive the winter.
He had brought five large containers filled with food, cooking
utensils, clothes, tools, nails and items to make his hut a bit more
comfortable. With the saw Kurtis was able to make a saw pit which
enabled him to make planks and shingles.
By the end of October the snow was
beginning to accumulate and signs of winter were everywhere. Kurtis
was returning from fishing and stood looking at his new home with
pride. Since over half of the height was earth it was almost
unnoticeable at a distance. The steep pitched roof actually had
wooden shingles. There were two windows just below the logs that
looked more like slits than windows, but they let in light. With the
saw, the saw pit and other tools he had been able to frame the widows
and make shutters. On either side of the door were long cords of
wood. A few of the cords were covered with tarps. The rest were
covered with branches to provide some protection from the snow.
Inside Kurtis had planked the floor and
lined the walls. At the east end of the hut was a stone hearth. On
both sides of the hearth fire wood was stacked to the ceiling. As he
expected, he didn't have time to build a chimney. There were other
boxes built into the back wall that provided storage. Two oil lamps
hung from the ceiling equal distance from each side and one hanging
above the food preparation area. There was a simple table and chair
near the hearth, a narrow table against the back wall for food
preparation, and a bed at the west end of the hut. Mabel had used
blankets to pack some of the boxes he had brought from their place.
He was still sleeping in his -20 sleeping bag but the blankets
allowed him to sleep on top of the bag if it wasn't too cold and they
added a homey, comfortable touch. They were also nice for sitting
around the fire at night. A journal and four books lay on the table
next to an oil lamp. One was the complete works of Jules Verne and
another was the collected works of Arthur Conan Doyle. The third book
was about surviving in the wilderness while the fourth book was
entitled "The Skills of the hunter-gatherer". The
wall above the food preparation area was covered with edible plants
and herbs. Since Kurtis didn't have containers for them, it was
easier to hang them.
As the snow began to accumulate and the
day-time temperatures continued to drop, Kurtis made constant
improvements on his hut in preparation for the days he could not go
out. He tried to go fishing frequently and eat fresh fish to
preserve his dried food supplies. He also made it a habit to spend a
couple of hours cutting and chopping wood. He didn't want to have to
go looking for wood in snow that would most likely be over his head.
The snow was too deep to dig roots even if he could make the now
dangerous descent into the tree-line.
Mosts people who think about spending
the winter in the wilderness never think about bodily waste. We still
poop and pee. If we don't, we're in big trouble. Kurtis had dug a
pit toilet well away from his hut. Excrement attracts predators and
while the bears were going into hibernation, there were other
predators and bears do sometimes get up during the winter. For
convenience he made himself a potty chair to go over his bucket which
he covered with a piece of tarp. He kept several large bags of sawdust from his building. Sawdust was a good absorbent and helped with smell. He would also put the ash from his fire and burned pine leave in the bucket and pit toilet to helpe to keep the bucket from smelling up the hut.
Long before
refrigerators people kept perishables in what is called a root
cellar. A root cellar may be anything from a simple box buried in the
soft garden soil after the fall harvest to a permanent and roomy
cellar dug into the side of a hill or in the ground near the house.
The best root cellar stays cold but does not freeze and was near the
house. Kurtis dug his root cellar right next to the hut.
As best as
Kurtis could calculate it was the second week of November when the
first big blizzard hit. He was glad that he had made his roof so
steep. It had taken a lot more time and materials but the weight of
so much snow would have crushed a less steep roof instead of sliding
off like mini-avalanches. Kurtis had carefully chinked and daubed
between the logs of his hut and the panels he had added later gave an
extra layer of insulation and protection from drafts. The hut was
actually warm enough that he could wear only a flannel shirt with his
wool trousers.
Kurtis felt good
about his hut and his preparations. He had worked hard. Now all
that could be done was to survive. Sitting at his table near the fire
with a large tin cup of hot white pine needle tea, Kurtis opened the
journal. He thought a moment and began to write.
Day seventy-three of my self-imposed exile. I can not go out
because of the storm. The wind is roaring around me but my huts is
standing strong. I have no idea when I will be able to go outside
again. To date I have been able to avoid using any of my winter
provisions. I still have a bit of fresh fish for this evening. Now
begins the ultimate test. I have done everything I could, in the
time available, to relearn survival skills that my species has long
forgotten and reunite myself with our true nature. Despite the hard
work I have grown to love my new home and feel quite comfortable. The
work is purposeful and rewarding. I look around my hut with pride.
Barring injury, disease or animal attack, I feel confident that I
should not only survive but experience a magnificent learning
experience. Few humans, especially the contiguous forty-eight states,
get to winter on top of the world.
* *
*
It was mid-April. The snow in the
Gibson valley was almost gone. Mabel and Stanley Sturgous were
preparing for some spring expeditions into the back-country to try to
find some of the elk they had tagged the year before. As they
prepared they talked about Kurtis. They wondered whether he had
survived the particularly harsh winter. In their valley they had had
record snow fall. They could only imagine the amount of snow at over
8,000 feet up.
Ultimately they decided to combine a
back country expedition with a visit to Kurtis' hut, if they could
get there. They loaded a few extra food items just in case Kurtis
had run out of food, clamped on their snow shoes, hoisted their packs
and headed north up the Gibson Valley. Soon the landscape was solid
white in all directions.
After several hours of difficult travel
Stanley stopped and pointed to the hanging valley above them.
"Do you see that giant boulder
sticking up like a tooth?" Stanley asked Mabel.
"Yes," she replied.
"Kurtis' hut is up against that
boulder," said Stanley continuing their trek.
As they grew close to the hut both of
the experienced back-country travelers showed signs of dismay. They
didn't need to do more than look at each other to communicate their
concern. There was no smoke coming from the hut.
They approached and called Kurtis'
name. There was no reply.
They knocked on the door but there was
no answer.
Hesitantly they went in side. The bed
was neatly made and Kurtis' journal lay on the table. The fire was
dead and there was scarcely a half-cord of wood next to the hearth.
Having just opened the door and having been outside for so long they
could not accurately judge the warmth of the room. After their long
hike anything would feel warmer.
No words were exchanged. Obviously
Kurtis had not died of starvation or the cold, but there were many
other possibilities. They did not see any tracks near the cabin but,
if there were, they could have easily been covered by snowfall. They
stood outside the hut looking around when a figure appeared from the
direction of the lakes.
It was Kurtis. He waved. He had a
broad smile and held up a stringer of fish. His long braided hair
protruded from under the ear-flaps of his rugged Tilly hat and his
gray beard was bushy. He looked lean but walked toward them with
strength and confidence.
As he approached the Sturgous saw
another figure running toward Kurtis. It was a large black wolf.
Stanley started to raise his rifle. "No!" yelled Kurtis as
the wolf slowed and fell into step with Kurtis, "this is my
friend Omahkapi'si."
Seeing the strangers Omahkapi'si began
to growl and take a defensive posture. Kurtis leaned down, patted
the animal on the back as he spoke softly into its ear. The wolf
relaxed but remained vigilant as Kurtis ran the last few yards and
gave his friends a bear hug.
After hugs, salutations and a brief
explanation by the Sturgous as to why they were there, the three
friends and Omahkapi'si went into the hut. As Kurtis lighted a fire
he explained that he always extinguished his fire when he went out
since he didn't have a proper fireplace. He didn't want to find
himself without a home in the dead of winter.
Soon there was a warm fire and fresh
fish cooking on the grill.
"I saved this to celebrate
surviving the winter," explained Kurtis pulling a bottle of
Montana Bourbon from a storage box in the wall. "Now seems an
appropriate time to open it."
His friends smiled and laughed. It was
indeed a time for celebration. Kurtis served up a gourmet meal of
grilled fish on a bead of rice with a side of cooked plantain and
wild onion and steaming hot white pine needle tea. For Omahkapi'si
there was a large slab of meat on which the wolf chewed while lying
near Kurtis. The friends ate as they listened to Kurtis tell his
story.
It has been raining constantly for two
days. This is the beginning of day three and the radar shows a solid
mass of rain storm stretching from San Antonio, Texas to Huntsville,
Alabama. As it pushes northeast I'm sure that it is both helping and
hindering the efforts around Gatlinburg, Tennessee. As I look at the
radar I can't help feel sad for those folks. They need the
rain to not only extinguish the fires but to put out hot-spots. They
don't need the rain as they struggle to get to their homes and
dig through the debris to find whatever of their past lives can be
salvaged.
