This was the view from the back of our tent. We got to fall asleep to it and wake up to it the following morning…
People ask why I put myself through the mental and physical torture of backpacking, and why I subject myself to it every year over and over again. I usually smile and say, “There is a sense of accomplishment at the end that is a high I’ve never gotten from anything else.” Sometimes I say, “Because the mountains are home.” I’ve even been known to respond, “That time restores me far more than it wears me down.”
Those are all truths.
But, this is truth too: There are moments I’ve experienced that may never been experienced by anyone else, ever, because you can’t drive to it, there is no video of it to watch, there is no way for you to have experienced it unless you had walked the same trails as me and stood in the same places at the same time.
Is that selfish of me to want to keep those moments to myself?
I’m okay with being selfish. Though, I guess I have shared this picture with you now, even it does not compare to having been there, felt the dew coming in to settle on the golden grass, heard the nightly breeze as it slowly came tumbling down from the high cliffs, watched the sky fade to black only to be brightened again by more stars than we have numbers for… Yes, I’ve shared this photo. But, really, I haven’t shared anything at all.