A lot of people assume we are fantastic hikers, able to scale any peak before lunch and get through giant deserts with half a cup of water. Perhaps it's because we find ourselves in the wilderness for most of the year, or maybe it's because we look rugged and unstoppable.
The truth is we are ridiculously slow hikers. We stop every few meters to look at a flower or a strange bug we have never seen before. Or maybe we bob our heads up and down to see if the angle between the wildflowers and the mountains in the background improves by getting lower. Sometimes we just stare out at the vast wilderness before us. And sometimes we are just tired from carrying so much camera gear.
The buzzing was incessant. It hadn't stopped for the last two miles, and my patience was wearing thin. One last bite on the neck set me off - I reached to my side and unhooked the bear spray, intent on turning the cloud of mosquitoes into a barbecue. But Dhvani stayed my hand and pointed at my side pocket. I had forgotten about my bug net. That would work, too.
One of my uncles, a career photographer, once told me that anybody could take a pretty picture - you just have to go to a pretty place. A great picture, on the other hand, requires work. You have to portray the scene from a different vantage point, and make it into a story. And if it's a detail that most people walk right past without noticing, that makes it all the better.
Glacier is a great place to go if you like very long hikes through colossal valleys. It's easy to be overwhelmed by its size. For this trip, though, we wanted to focus on the details. What is life like for the critters of Glacier? What struggles do they face every day and every year? What stories can we tell that most people miss by not slowing down?
Dhvani came out of the general store with a large cup of soft serve, grinning ear to ear. It turns out the place is self-serve, and the price is flat so long as you can fit it all within the cup they give you. I started giving her some pointers to maximize the amount of ice cream she could get next time, but instead she challenged me to do better than her. Challenge accepted. The next day saw me walking out with a pile of soft serve as high as my forearm is long.
Some of the more subtle stories come to life with the magic of a single picture. I prefer photography to video for this reason - capturing the right angle, lighting, and moment can evoke much more wonder and appreciation if done well. I ask that you look carefully at each of these photos and put yourself in the scene with the subject. Look closely to make out the little details. How can a butterfly look so much like a dead leaf? What are the ground squirrels telling each other across the scree? What does the wind feel like to the eagles as they soar through the valleys? You'll develop a stronger sense of appreciation for nature this way - I certainly have.
I yawned as I got out of the tent. It's always tricky to get out without making noise, and I knew Dhvani would need another hour or so of sleep. I crawled out from under the outer tarp as carefully as I could and zipped it back up slowly behind me. Only then, having turned around again, did I notice the dozen or so people standing in a half-circle around our campsite. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and searched my mind for a good reason for them to be here. One of them pointed in front of me, and turning, I found myself face to face with a moose cow carefully observing her calf eating the tender leaves right next to our tent. I nearly fell back into the tent myself, knocking over water bottles and lanterns inside. All I could muster as Dhvani looked up at me quizzically was, "M...Moose. There's a moose."
I hope you get the chance to hike slowly on your next adventure. Let everyone pass you, stay quiet, and pay close attention to the sounds and flow of nature. Wildlife comes out of hiding once the commotion of busy boots and loud gossip settles down. Who knows what stories you will discover?
