I left the house at 8:30 yesterday to take Molly to her acupuncture appointment.  I stopped at Suzette’s Organics for a matcha latte. The barista asked what I was up to today and I told her Molly had an acupuncture appointment. Her eyes got big and her face fell as she asked how Molly was doing. She said she thinks about Molly way too often. 

I don’t even know this woman’s name yet she thinks of my dog regularly.

Molly and I arrive at the funky strip mall on the highway not quite in any town, just “in limbo” as I used to tell my kids when they asked where we were on our drive to Missoula. Most of the doors had no business names on them. Brett told me to go to the third door. There was a quilt shop and what looked like a religious place, maybe a strip mall church. Molly and I were early. I opened the tailgate and set up the ramp, put on her one booty to protect her foot and helped her out of the car. She three leg walked dragging the bad leg that would occasionally get tangled up under her. We walked to the back of the building where I told her to pee and she did. We walked the sidewalk in front of the businesses waiting for Linda to arrive. There was a Harley parked on the covered sidewalk in front of the quilt store.  A big burly man with a goatee and leather vest walked by us and commented on how much better Molly is doing. I agreed. I had never met this man I thought as I watched him walk into the quilt store. He knew my dog and knew she was doing better.

Six weeks ago. Brett, Molly and I were on our afternoon walk up Tin Cup. Planning on doing our loop, when Molly started missing a step with her left leg. Then she started dragging it. I heard it first; the sound of her paw dragging on the dirt road. We walk in the forest and Molly always runs free. She doesn’t even wear a collar. Eventually she started walking behind me struggling more and more to use her left leg. Her paw started buckling under or knuckling as we later learned was the term. I realized she was not going to be able to walk home. We were maybe two miles from the house and I told Brett I would run home and get the car. And I did. A run walk in my hiking boots. We got her home and called the new local vet in town. They said they could see her in five minutes. Away we went as we live five minutes from the vet. They took X-rays and could not determine what was wrong. Gave us some options and sent us home with a bottle of ibuprofen. They said she would have to get an MRI to really know what was going on. The nearest pet MRI being in Bozeman or Spokane. Possible surgery after they determined what was wrong and even that might not be the fix. He said to call in the morning if she got worse.

Damn

Next morning; Molly couldn’t use her right leg either. Her whole back end was paralyzed. We called and went back to the vet. Brett carried our 85 pound yellow lab into the vet.

They gave us options again. None of them sounded promising. We took her home. Brett started researching for alternative solutions. He found a holistic veterinarian north of Hamilton. She was able to take Molly that afternoon. It was Friday. Molly and Brett were there for three hours. She did chiropractic work, acupuncture, cranial sacral therapy, laser therapy and prescribed homeopathic remedies. She requested to have Molly’s x-rays to be emailed to her. She set up another appointment for Monday as Brett carried Molly back to the car. Linda send her laser home with Brett to use over the weekend. The next day Linda called and said she would come to our house on Monday so that we wouldn’t have to move Molly. Linda also told us to stop feeding Molly dog food. We’ve been cooking for her ever since. 

Molly saw Linda again at her office on Friday that week after the house call. Brett had set up a chiropractic appointment for himself on the way. Brett’s chiropractor asked him what he’d done and he explained to her what had happened to Molly and he’d been picking her up and carrying her. Mandy asked where Molly was, Brett told her Molly was in the car. Mandy said; “Bring her in, I’ll do her first”. After that Mandy set up another appointment for Molly on Monday morning; before she opens. That night Mandy called Brett and said Monday was too far out; come in tomorrow and she’d meet us at her office on Saturday after her swim at the gym. I asked Brett how much Mandy was charging for Molly’s treatments. He said, nothing. She won’t take my money for Molly. 

A couple of weeks later (after rolling up our rug, laying down a full box of pee pads, setting up a number of different sleeping options including the water proof baby bed mattress) Molly started using her right leg again. This was a very hopeful sign and a huge improvement in getting around even if it was off balance. Her final bed set up in the living room was a river mattress (poco pad) and Brett slept on the couch so he could help her out when she need to pee/poop in the night. She was stuck on her little island in the house as she could not maneuver unbalanced on three legs on the hardwood floor. 

Even though she still doesn’t have use of the left leg yet, she has come a long way and she is improving. She now sleeps through the night, eats well, pees and poops outside on her own, and is happy. We’ve laid yoga mats on the hardwood floor and she is able to get around the house now and sleeps in our bedroom. We’ve built a ramp for her off the front porch and a portable ramp for the car. I’ve started making Molly burgers that are full of deer meat, grains and vegetables that I prepare and keep in the freezer. 

Molly goes to another vet for physical therapy that Brett, who videoed the session on his phone, then does with her twice a day. That vet had Molly fitted for a custom made boot that we will pick up Monday. 

One night Brett was on the floor with Molly and I asked what he was doing. ”Acupuncture on her bladder meridian”.

Molly takes 12 different supplements to help with her healing. I’ve had two people tell me that when they die they want to come back as mine and Brett’s dog. 

Our active yellow lab has lost all muscle on her back side and and she now weighs 65 pounds. Her lean hips should help when she does get that leg back. 

What’s my take away on all of this? It’s a big one. And a slap in my whole foods, plant based, vegan ass!

Food. What the heck have I been feeding my animals? Why did this societal rebel fall so easily victim to the belief that animals should eat processed, un-fresh food, shelf stable, out of a bag (or can) with very little variety, food? I’m so frustrated with myself. Ease? Convenience? What the fuck? Our animals ate our food until the 1950s. Commercialism flipped the switch. Now everyone thinks dog food is the best especially the expensive stuff from a high end pet store. Why? How can that be better than fresh homemade food? In the 50’s we invented wonder bread, boxed mac and cheese, hot dogs and dog food. This morning Molly had a burger that I made last weekend and froze. I take them out as needed, thaw them and she loves it. The burger includes deer meet, rice, spinach, peas, carrots, celery and oatmeal. I added a slice of homemade bread and some leftover lentils, smashed it all up and she loved it. 

The book I’m recommending is “The Fresh and Flexible Meal Plan; The Easiest, Most Nutritious Way to Feed Your Dog and Cat” by Jan Allegretti. If you have an animal, I highly recommend reading this book and re-thinking how your animal is nourished.

We have so many people cheering for Molly. All of her practitioners, including Brett’s chiropractor who won’t take our money but sure appreciated the nice bottle of wine, the holistic vet who offers to do house calls in her old Volvo, the matcha latte barista, the quilting Harley guy, the people that work in the vet offices, our families and friends, co-workers, the pet store owner who let us return our unopened bag of dog food, the neighbors who don’t recognize us when we’re out walking without Molly. Molly Girl has lots of good energy coming her way. We are grateful for it all. Go Molly Go!

More book recommendations and adventures (with Molly) can be found at Wild About Books. Click follow. 

For you long time loyal Wild About Books followers, you may recall that my all time favorite author is western Montana resident David James Duncan. You may also recall that my number one and number two favorite books ever are his novels; “The Brothers K” and “The River Why”. If you have not read these I highly highly recommend them and thank you to my long time friend Deborah for introducing me to this author and his books.

After an evening of sharing at my “no book book club” my other long time friend Scyntiya started the audio version of “The Brothers K”. In the words of Scyntiya; “This book will cause me to never enjoy another novel; the writing is so exquisite. It’s like falling in love, the feeling will leave and you’ll never have it again”

Last month, after two decades, David James Duncan released his next novel. It took him 16 years to write. I’m a quarter through it and believe it is a master piece and will place my number one and number two favorite books of all time down one notch.

For the second time in my life I attended a David James Duncan event. He managed to fill the whole first level of the historic Wilma theater in downtown Missoula with his cult like followers and a few people who scored some free tickets at work or accompanied their mom (thanks Hannah) and had no idea the philosopher, poet, humanitarian, environment loving, talent that they had stumbled upon.

The event was an interview then a reading accompanied by a two musicians including a steel guitar player. With my new signed hard copy of “Sun House” in my lap, I listened to every word.

When I wrote my novel “Lucida Sans”; my goal was to write like David James Duncan. To dive deep into each character’s personality and let the characters tell the story. My novel and David James Duncan’s novels, in a nut shell, are the writer’s philosophies as told by fictional characters.

In his interview, Montana Public Radio’s Loren Korn asked about David James Duncan’s many characters and how they evolved throughout the book. David’s reply was that he tried to manage his characters and put words in their mouths, but they would not allow it and took on personalities of their own.

I so related to this comment. While writing my novel, I would walk into a coffee shop or brewery with my notebook and pencil not knowing what my characters would do until I walked back out. They wrote the story, I was just the transcriptionist for them.

I started his book that night of the event and realized this is not a night time book. I don’t want to read this as I’m winding down to sleep. “Sun House” is my morning book. It has taken the place of journaling and “The Sun” magazine. “Sun House” and a yerba matte morning. My alert and well rested novel. I’m reading it slowly, letting the words and characters be absorbed in my brain cells, my skin, my being. Every line is poetry. Every line is to be contemplated. A thought provoking book that is marked up by my underlining and exclamation marks. A book that I when I finish, I may flip back to page one and start over as even in my alert reading time, I know I’m still missing so much.

“Sun House is one of the greatest imaginative achievements I have encountered in a lifetime of reading.  Page after page brims with invention, mirth, knowledge, irreverence, and deep wisdom. I know of no one who better captures the beauty of the natural world or the ineffable experience of transcendence… David James Duncan transports the reader into a world more radiant and vivid than this one, or rather into a world just as radiant and vivid as this one, if only we attended to it with the heightened awareness his tale urges us to cultivate.” 

–William deBuys, author of The Trail to Kanjiroba: Rediscovering Earth in an Age of Loss

To be fair, my life philosophy and David James Duncan’s life philosophy are at the center of a Venn Diagram. We are, in the words of David James Duncan, “spiritual littermates”. I mean, he didn’t say that about me; it’s just a line in his book that I’ve stolen forever. You, blog follower, may not connect with his writing as I have. And, as I discovered in my book club, which recently evolved to the no book book club, this is to be expected.

Here is one of my underlined examples from the book.

…why I prefer high-mountain backpacking to skiing. In backpacking, the suffering endured as you climb sensitizes you to the gorgeousness when you arrive on high, and your elation lasts and lasts. In skiing, a mechanical lift crammed with party-hardies ratchets you to elevation in minutes, only to turn around and in seconds, undo all the elevation gain you didn’t suffer to achieve, so that way too soon you’re DOWN and the only cure for elation deflation is to get back in the party-hardy line, pay the piper, ratchety-ratchet back up, and bouncy-bounce down again, up, down, up, down, wanka, wanka, wanka.

There is no Lisa adventure to accompany this book recommendation. The book is the adventure. Nearly 800 pages of David James Duncan. I am in my happy place. Thank you David, I’d love to have you join my no book book club one evening in Darby, Montana.

I highly, highly, highly recommend David James Duncan’s newest novel “Sun House”. More fun book recommendations and adventures can be found at Wild About Books. I invite you to share and follow my blog.

I have to pull it out.

You have to pull it out.

Do you want to walk out like this?

No. You have to pull it out.

We have to move you to a dry spot. I need to be stable.

Give me your hand.

I can’t lift my arm.

I was packed and ready at 8:30; twenty minutes early. I moved my backpack out to the mudroom. I moved Molly’s backpack out to the mudroom. Checked the time. 8:31. I moved my pack outside. I moved Molly’s pack outside. Time?……Still…….. 8:31. I’ve stopped time.

Heidi pulls into the driveway right on schedule. I throw our packs in the back of her truck. Juno jumps out to say hi to Molly. Several minutes of yellow lab mayhem. We all jump back in and head to the trailhead which is only two miles from the house. My favorite trail starts two miles from my house.

We meet Heidi’s friend Rebecca and her two cow dogs; Rags and River at the trailhead. By 9:15 we are headed up the trail on a very overcast morning and 62 degrees. Perfect hiking weather and unusually cool and wet weather for the first of August. An all female crew. Three women and four dogs.

Rebecca is an ultra trail runner. In June she ran in a 68 mile trail run race. But this was her first backpacking trip. Even her dogs have run over 20 miles in her training runs.

Heidi is an endurance cyclist. She did a 200 mile solo ride one day this summer. For fun.

I have a desk job.

My trail name is “pacemaker” as I’m in front and set the pace (at least, that’s what they tell me is the reason why that’s my trail name). This ensures that the two ultra athletes behind me stop and smell the bark. Have you ever stopped and smelled a Ponderosa Pine? Put your nose in the crevice of the bark and you are filled with the scent of pure vanilla with a hint of maple syrup. Smells so good.

Heidi’s trail name is “polar plunger” as she always takes a dip in the water when arriving at camp. No matter how shallow or how cold. A full body plunge even if it only lasts half a second.

Rebecca’s trail name came from this weekend’s hike; “tent stake” as her tent stakes looked like something that you would use to secure railroad ties. Which is a better trail name than the last person we took backpacking with us; “cheese curds”. She packed in two packages of cheese curds. She also packed them out since she didn’t eat them until the drive home. Careful if you come backpacking with us. Never know what we’ll give you for a trail name. You will earn it though.

Nine miles in and we set up camp. A lovely spot on the creek with waterfalls and wide open views of the mountains on two sides and the drainage we had just climbed below us. You can see the notch in the mountain across the creek to Kerlee Lake. A steady climb that we will not attempt this trip. It’s an early dinner of various backpacking meals. Rebecca’s not too happy with her generic choice and shares the last bites with the dogs.

The sky looks threatening and we have all put on our rainflys over our tents. Rain is in the forecast for the whole weekend. A rainy weekend of backpacking beats a sunny 90 degree weekend for this writer. I’m in my happy place in so many ways. So peaceful. And so many big ripe juicy huckleberries. Every pee squat is multitasked with huckleberry snacking. We were surrounded.

It was too warm for a fire, which was a good thing since campfires were not permitted in the middle of our normally hot dry tinder box summer time. Both Heidi and Rebecca took a dip in the cold creek. It was 6:00; we had brushed our teeth, hung our food in our various bear proof methods when the dogs started barking and ran to meet the other hikers that had arrived at OUR camp. And; to 6 month old Juno’s delight, there was another puppy with them. Six of them and one puppy. We tried to scare them off. “We have FOUR dogs”. Problem was; there was no other place to camp for several miles. And it was 6:00. We had neighbors for the night and Juno ran over every chance she got. She was as excited about the neighbors as much as her mom was…….um……fucking pissed about the new neighbors. We sat around our non existent camp fire and shit talked the new neighbors. They were clearly not ultra marathon runners. We trail named the group of them “moon-pies”.

Heidi was worried that puppy Juno would wear herself out and decided that the two of them were going to the tent to read. We all followed suit. The water falls and creek noises drowned out the voices of the neighbors. I watched them set up camp and eat dinner from my open rainfly.

We were up by 6:00 the next morning. One of the neighbors had set his tent up on the trail. We had to walk right by it with our orange cat hole shovel and zip lock baggie of toilet paper. It’s also where their puppy slept; or not slept as we tried to be stealth like as possible on our way to take care of business.

Breakfast done and packed for our day hike up to Tin Cup Lake and beyond and our neighbors were still asleep.

It had rained a few times through the night. Even though it wasn’t currently raining we put on rain pants and a rain coat. We were going to be soaked walking through the wet brush. The sky was still gray. The temps still felt warm. We stopped to take off layers as soon as we stared.

I’ve hiked Tin Cup Trail more times than I can count, but this was my first time to Tin Cup Lake. The lake has a dam at its outlet. The dam was built in the 1930’s, back when the whole state was being turned into irrigation ditches in order to water the hay fields in order to feed the cattle through the winter. Montana has lots of creeks and rivers but the vast majority of land is arid. It’s a high dessert with less than 11 inches of rain annually. Most of the high mountain lakes I’ve hiked to are scarred with dam building and the items needed to direct the water or operate the dam or just unneeded junk still laying around. It is unfortunate that the wilderness act did not take effect until September 1964, (a month before I was born). All of these dams are grandfathered in to the non mechanized wilderness areas. It is fortunate that we had the foresight to have a wilderness act, unless of course, you are native American, and have been displaced from your home because it is now a “wilderness area”.

We continued to hike above the lake, a lake that was truly spectacular once you left the dam. As we climbed we found ourselves deep in a cloud and little to no streams to fill our bottles. Our bellies were growling for lunch. “This spot looks great”. We stopped and fed the dogs, prepared hot tea and had a hot lunch. There was no view in the cloud as we pulled out our dry, warm, puffy clothes from our bags. It was a delightful lunch. Lunch is my favorite time in the forest. There’s nothing to do but enjoy the outdoors and eat and drink. So relaxing. By the time we got back to the lake we were in shorts and tank tops as the sun peaked through the puzzle pieces of clouds. The creek crossing that day was over a tree, no need to remove our boots. Even the dogs took the tree and they don’t wear boots. There ended up being a three person four dog traffic jam on the log. Molly started backing up instead of going forward. She inadvertently knocked off one of the cow dogs who fell four feet into the creek like a sack of potatoes. The traffic jam turned into a mad scramble. Pacemaker somehow had ended up in the back of the pack and got to witness the entire cluster. The dog was unharmed and stood in the creek trying to figure out what everyone was running to as if he’d missed something big happening. We bushwhacked our way back to the trail (logs don’t tend to fall over a creek AT the trail). We took a quick inventory of the fallen dog, no limping, no anything, just a normal day hike.

As we got closer to our camp, Heidi starting sending messages to the universe to please make sure the Moon pies had packed up and left and took their puppy and their in the trail tent setter upper with them.

It worked the camp was clear of moon pies and no one else had showed up either. Yet.

The sun was shinning back at camp. We were able to hang up our wet gear. My boots and Rebecca’s boots were not going to dry for a very long time. Heidi still had dry feet. It was a beautiful night and the weather forecast on Heidi’s Garmin InReach said no rain, just clouds. Looking at the sky though it looked as if we were the last section of blue sky as we were being attacked from all sides by very dark ominous clouds. We’d hike about 12 miles that day. We sat around our cold campfire ring and quizzed Rebecca on her ultra trail running while we boiled water and waited for our dinners to rehydrate. I contemplated why we still sat around the fire ring with no fire. I had everything ready to run to the tent and eat and get Molly out of the rain, but it never rained, as forecasted on the InReach. We stayed up late, 8:30 maybe. Just as we all got into our tents to read the rain started. Then the thunder and lightening. The thunder echoed up the canyon making it sound even more intense as it got closer and closer to us. Molly started shaking and tried to get even closer than we already were in our one person tent. It rained and rained and rained. You couldn’t even hear the creek over the sound of the rain. I really wanted to go pee and have a handful of huckleberries but I was pretty sure Molly would follow me and then I be sleeping next to a wet dog. I waited.

The next morning was clear and beautiful. Every time we were prepping our meals and eating it was clear and dry. The final meal of the trip was no exception. After breakfast we packed up our soaking wet gear into our packs and were on the trail before 9:00 wearing our rain pants and raincoat for the seriously wet brush. Rebecca’s shoes were so soaked she wore them as she crossed the first creek crossing of the day. Half way out we stopped at a huge boulder, I mean like football field big, where the creek flowed over, dropping and pooling along the shape of the rock. We ate the rest of our food for lunch and took a nice break, none of us wanting the trip to end. Heidi went fill up her water bottle one last time. The rain from the night before made the whole rock slick. I watched from above as she slipped and fell to all fours. My first though was she’s going to get her boots wet too. She stayed there. Gave a wave. It took me a full two seconds to realize this was not a wave of all’s good. She stayed on all fours not getting up. I ran, or more walked fast with Rebecca on my heels and all four dogs right behind us.

What hurts?

My shoulder. I heard it pop. I think it’s dislocated.

Then we’ll have to pull it out.

Have you done it before?

No. But I’ve heard about it.

We moved to a dry spot on the rock where the sun was shining. We could see the deformed shoulder poking out of her shirt. I picked up her arm. I gently pulled. Nothing. I pulled more. And just like that. Like her body knew what to do. Her arm pulled back from me like it was attached to rubber bands and you could hear it as it set back into the proper spot. I looked like I was going to pass out or throw up or both. Heidi’s facial expression looked like she had just come back to camp with the Moon pies gone and said, “it’s back; it worked! You did it” as she started flinging her arm in all directions to prove the successful wilderness re-located shoulder procedure worked. We threw our packs on our backs and headed down the last 4.5 miles to the truck. Another successful adventure.

More great adventures as well as great book recommendations can be found at Wild About Books.

Good news! I’ve figured out how to start the backpacking season even earlier. This is exciting as there is not a very big window in western Montana for backpacking. You have to wait for the snow to melt to get in the high country and then you have to wait for the creeks to lower so that they are crossable. Then there is bug season and sometimes smoke and fire season in the later summer. If you don’t jump on every opportunity and extend the season you can see that summer will pass by and there will be no backpacking to be had.

If you recall, Heidi and I took advantage of some bonus summer-like weather last October to hike up Boulder Creek for a couple of days and our water bottles barely froze up over night. This year we went out in May on the Salmon river one weekend and the Selway River the next weekend or as we like to call it “our church”; Frank Church to be exact. The Selway Bitterroot Frank Church Wilderness Area. A playground in our backyard.

Our Selway trip plan was to hike into Scott’s Camp nine miles in; base camp there; a side hike the next day and back out on the third day. We came out on day two.

We parked the car at the Paradise Campground on White Cap Creek in Idaho, loaded up our packs and walked to the trailhead which is also the put in for rafting the Selway River. We passed a bear hunter coming out on horseback just before the trailhead. We stopped to talk and he warned us to watch for rattlesnakes, they are bad this year. I’ve done the entire 56 miles of the Selway River Trail three times and have seen a few rattlesnakes, but just like all of the other wild animals I’ve come across, they don’t want to have anything to do with me either and usually slither off the trail or give a warning rattle that they are there. The one big difference with this short in and out backpack and my through hiking the Selway was that I brought my yellow lab Molly who has not had any experience with rattlesnakes.

We continued on into the large cedar lined trail. Huge cedar trees shaded us on the first few miles of the trail. The trail was in good shape with little to no downfall to climb over. About three miles in we crossed a large creek. There is a log crossing just above the trail, not an ideal log when you are carrying 25 plus pounds on your back, but a log and still quicker than taking boots and socks off and wading through the creek. I extend my trekking poles as long as they will go and use those to balance myself while doing a high wire act on this uneven wet log. Heidi and Molly are in front of me. I hear voices on the other side. Heidi tells the voices to wait as she reaches the other side of the creek as there is a rattlesnake at the end of the crossing log. Everyone hangs out for a moment as the rattlesnake continues on its way. We bush whack our way back to the trail to find a man and his 10 year old son and a dog all wearing backpacks who are heading back towards the trailhead. They tell us that they were going to stay out longer but they’d seen seven rattlesnakes and just couldn’t take it anymore. They were going to find another trail.

At this point I’m thinking ‘what is the universe trying to tell me?’ I blew it off. It was a long drive in here, we had planned this, the weather was perfect…….

We kept hiking.

Here’s the weird thing about rattlesnakes, they give that rattle to warn you, but it’s not something that registers quickly in your head like a car horn. It takes several moments to first think ‘what is that’ and then panic that you are being warned by a rattlesnake to back off. The river is roaring on one side of the trail and I’ve been trying to make as many vibrations as I can to give my own warning that we are coming through.

At about mile 6 I hear a rattle, contemplate what that sound is, panic as I’m now right by the rattlesnake and run on a narrow, rocky trail with my 25 pound plus backpack and Molly close on my heels not exactly sure what is happening but sensing that we need to hurry as scenes from the movie “True Grit” run through my head.

Heidi is behind watching this event play out. By now the rattlesnake is more not happy and looks right into Heidi’s eyes and rattles a “dare you to pass me bitch” rattle. She doesn’t. She talks nice to the snake, says she’s just passing through, the snake slithers into the rocks…..Heidi prepares to pass…….but it’s a trick….the snake comes out the other side of the rock and rattles again. Heidi makes her move and trots by apologizing profusely for being in the snake’s habitat. We all continue to walk and only a minute later Heidi shouts out “GO GO GO”. Me and Molly do our backpack run down the trail not sure what’s going on behind us.

We’d walked right over another snake crossing the trail.

This was becoming very nerve wracking.

The weather had changed, we could see storm clouds headed our direction. The temperature dropped as the rain started. We stopped to put on our rain gear and the weather seemed to make the rattlesnakes take shelter and we did not see another one the rest of the day. We got to our camp and I was soaked. My last year boots had lost there water proofness and I felt like I’d walked through a creek sloshing in my wet socks with every step. These boots were never going to dry unless the sun came out.

We set up camp in the trees and collected some wet firewood. The camp was very shaded and cool and we didn’t expect to see any snakes in the area, which we didn’t.

After dinner and some journaling we got in our tents for some well earned sleep. It took a while for me to fall asleep and as soon as my body slid into a peaceful slumber my brain flashed a picture of a giant rattlesnake and I startled into full awakeness. Full blown awake. Like I’d had coffee for dinner awake. I tried to read. Tried some deep breathing exercises.

This was when I started some loving kindness meditation for the rattlesnakes. They were just being snakes. I’m sure the less than one pound legless, armless reptile was way more scared of me.

May you be happy rattlesnake, may you be safe rattlesnake, may you live with ease rattlesnake

I had to just lay there and wait for sleep to return, which it did. But while I was laying there I was thinking about getting out, just pack up and hike out the next day. But we’d planned this. We took a day off of work. It’s a long drive in. We LOVE sleeping in our tents and eating our backpacking meals. The weather was perfect. I’d carried in all this damn dog food.

The next morning we get up and start to get things prepared for hot drinks and some breakfast. Made a fire with the damp wood. Set my soaked hiking boots by the fire. Heidi commented that she’s not sure she has enough fuel for the whole trip. I commented that I’m not sure I have enough fuel for the whole trip. If you know me and Heidi you would know that this would be totally impossible for both of us to be low on fuel. We pride ourselves on having everything and just the right amount of everything and nothing extraneous. We are two of the most prepared people you will ever meet. Some or maybe more than some, might call us anal. If one of us was short on fuel it would be ok, because the other of us would be able to make up the difference.

The universe did not want us to stay out another night.

The weather was going to be cooler and overcast for the day and hot and sunny the next day. We deduced that cool and overcast would be less rattlesnakes and hot and sunny would be more rattlesnakes.

Decision made.

I gave Molly a second breakfast and started packing up my tent. We walked the nine miles out and saw zero rattlesnakes. Could have been the cool, overcast weather, but I believe it was the loving kindness meditation. May you be happy. May you be safe. May you live with ease.

What is our book selection for this post? On our ride into the Salmon River where we backpacked before this rattlesnake trip, Heidi told me she was reading a great book called “Outlive”. I smacked her on the arm and said “YOU ARE NOT”; as I was reading the same book. The book I’m recommending is “Outlive” by Dr. Peter Attia. This book is about rethinking the medical world as we know it and using preventive tools early in life to live not just a long life but a life worth living. Heidi’s take away quote from the book which is actually a quote from Paul Coelho;

“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about unbecoming everything that isn’t really you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.”

I heard a podcast with the author who said he started the book with the belief that nutrition would be the most important thing to a long healthy life, but after writing the book he changed his mind and now believes that movement is the key. Maybe not running from rattlesnakes on a narrow rocky trail with a backpack on kind of movement but just moving. Get out there and move everyone.

More great book recommendations and adventures can be found on my blog “Wild About Books“.

If you find someone who shares your insatiable desire to be in the forest among the trees and creeks and wildlife; listening to the river and birds; jumping back to the sound of a rattlesnake; trying to stay up late enough to enjoy the stars; someone to talk to about similar things and share ideas about life and death and spirit guides and food; that person is a gift from the universe that is not to be taken for granted.

I’ve known Heidi for 15 years but it wasn’t until we started backpacking together that we connected in a way that does not always happen in someone’s lifetime. The miles we’ve put on together, the night’s we’ve sat up by the campfire dressed in our puffy outfits, the cat holes we’ve dug, and the excitement of planning future trips are all part of this magical connection. We would stay out every day all summer if it were possible. The healing and recharge we get from spending several days in nature, carrying everything we need on our backs, never seeing another person, hoping that at least one of our styles of bear proofing our food works; this is our happy place.

We’ve dialed in our gear, found our favorite dehydrated meals and pretty much could be ready to go in an hour’s notice. We used to ask how much each other’s packs weighed, it’s basically the same every time now. Twenty-five pounds maybe twenty- six. Neither of us are talkers; unless we are backpacking. It’s amazing how much you can talk on a fourteen mile day. I mean; unless you’re chilling out in a centuries old cedar grove, then you are speechless. Lying on your back soaking in the energy of the earth, staring up at the understory of foliage in the shade of giant trees as they cradle you underneath the dirt with their roots. Listen carefully and you can hear the tress communicating with each other. Having someone who appreciates the beauty of where we are and what we are doing makes your life spiritual. People take psychedelics to have our experiences; to see the world so clearly, to have a tree wave at you while you squat next to it to pee. I hear colors and see sounds. It’s all there for the taking. No need for mind altering substances. It’s there. Open your mind. It’s all there.

Heidi is fifteen years younger than me. She’s an incredible athlete. If a rattlesnake bit her calf it would bounce off as if it had just tried to bite a metal pole. Heidi is a sponge for knowledge, constantly challenging herself on the names and identification of trees, wildflowers or constellations. She has a big heart and a sensitive soul and a shield to hide them both from those who she has not yet gotten to know on a level in which to expose that vulnerable side. A stoic armor over a soft warm person who wouldn’t hurt a wild mushroom.

She likes it when I lead. I’m slower. She’s able to focus on the surroundings going my pace. “Syringa!” I’ll hear from behind me when she spots the Idaho state flower. To be clear; when we are climbing switchbacks to a high mountain pass, Heidi is in the lead and has left me in the dust.

I told Heidi last fall that I’ve enjoyed watching her mature. Originally she was more focused on the destination instead of the journey; the physical strength instead of the mindfulness; the feat instead of the adventure. Now we’ll stop, set up our chairs (only one pound) and make a cup of tea in the middle of the day on the middle of the trail and watch and listen.

Heidi has taught me a lot. She’s taught me to journal daily. She’s taught me that a good night sleep beats a glass of red wine any day. She’s taught me to honor and respect and take care of my body. She’s taught me to listen; and I don’t mean the kind of listen where you impatiently wait your turn to give your opinion or experience about the subject. I mean really listen and ask questions and be curious; she listens with her whole body . And she’s taught me it’s ok to set boundaries. We share books, have walking book club, share podcasts and brag about what we made for dinner. We talk about food a lot. We struggle with small talk, parties, assholes, loudness, bad food, disorganization and insincerity. We are both introverts. We love our husbands and our pets, farmer’s markets and gardens, our parents and our siblings and the Apple TV series Ted Lasso. It is the first of March and we are already dreaming of crawling into our sleeping bags and sleeping on the forest floor.

I’m going to let Heidi, unknowingly, pick the book recommendation for this post. She texted me last week;

“I’m reading a book right now called “An Immense World” by Ed Yong. It’s fascinating. It’s about how animals sense the world. I think you’d enjoy it.”

I replied; “Yes, I recommended it to you…..”

Heidi: “What?????? I remember now. That’s so funny. When I saw the title in the magazine it sounded familiar. That’s clearly why.”

“An Immense World; How Animal Senses Revel the Hidden Realms Around Us” by Ed Yong. I have not read this yet, but it was on Barack Obama’s book list for 2022 and Heidi recommended it too which is good enough for me; Barack and Heidi.

More book recommendations and adventures can be found at Wild About Books.

The Rings

Brett said we couldn’t get married until we had rings.

Hummmm…..that took some time. We’re not really into normal stuff, so it’s not like we would just walk into a jewelry store and pick out a diamond. No. We are more into riding a bus in a foreign country where we don’t speak the language and hoping they were honest about the rings not being from China; because; we were not in China.

The guy at the front desk at our all-inclusive resort just north of Puerto Vallarta said the bus ride was easy. First, he tried to sell us a timeshare and then gave us instructions for the hour bus ride to downtown Puerto Vallarta. We waited at the bus stop in front of the resort and gave the driver the exact change. There were a lot of stops which was why the trip took an hour. Finally, the driver pulled into the entrance to the bus garage, opened the door, and told us this was the end. We looked back and there were no other people on the bus, so we got off and walked downhill assuming that would be the direction of the beach. We walked the ‘malecon’ where there were men outside of every business trying to sell us everything from timeshares to burritos to tequila. Not really into shopping we quickly found a store that had matching silver rings. Brett did his negotiating magic (he’s not a negotiator but he’d read you should, when in Mexico; negotiate) and we came out with the rings. Task done. Next, we found an awesome place for lunch that was completely vegan. As we got up to leave, the owner told us she was bringing dessert out of the oven, so we stayed a little longer.

The bus ride back to the resort was not so easy. We stood at a bus stop that someone eventually told us was not a bus stop anymore to go over two blocks (this was in Spanish with lots of hand signals). We got on a bus headed in the right direction but didn’t know how much to pay and the bus driver didn’t have change and we didn’t understand each other anyway. And clearly, all the other tourists were in a taxi or an Uber as we were the only white people on the bus. I started to get off the bus and a man dressed in a big robe took my 100 peso bill and broke it into change, but I still didn’t know how much to pay. Another woman picked out the money from my hand to put into the slot. Then the guy with the robe started preaching to the people on the bus and then broke into song. He walked the aisle singing and people put money in his hat so I did the same with the leftover change he had given me. Eventually, the bus driver looked at me and Brett at one of the stops and pointed to the door. We got off. Now we’re on the highway at another bus stop and don’t know what bus to take next. The buses fly by and you have to flag it down if it’s the right bus. Someone else flagged one down, I got on and asked “Nuevo Vallarta?” and he said no. And it just kept happening. I started walking down the highway. Brett followed, it was hot. Our fingers were swelling around our new rings. There were multiple lanes of traffic rushing by as we crossed the highway and there we saw a taxi, sitting and waiting for customers. He dropped us off right in front of the resort.

The Marriage License

We went to the courthouse in Hamilton and asked the person at the window for a marriage license. She pointed us to two chairs and said it would take about 30 minutes. First she took our IDs and typed up our information. She apologized for the questions up front and then went on to ask us all the important questions you need to ask for a marriage license. .

“Are you related?”

We replied with weird faces; “no”.

“Are you intoxicated?”

We laughed. “No”.

“We’ll start with you” she said looking at Brett. “What’s your father’s name?”

“Max”

“What’s his middle name?”

“Max” She looks up from her computer. “Let’s back up; father’s first name?”

“Carl…..but he goes by Max”

“Where was your father born?”

Um…..Minnesota, no….North Dakota…..wait….where is Rapid City…..I should call my brother”

“Counting this marriage how many times have you been married”

“Twice”

First name of your first wife?”

“Oh jeez! I don’t know…..give me a minute…..I’m pretty sure it starts with a J”. She looks up from her computer and I have the feeling she wants to go back to question number 2 and ask if we’re intoxicated.

“It will come to me; let’s keep going…I’ll call my brother…….Joni!…..I knew it started with a ‘J’; I told you I’d get it”.

“What was her last name”

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t know this was going to be so hard, I’m calling my brother.”

Brett dials his brother and looks at me; “I think it was Mitchell”

I shake my head and say; “YOU were married to Joni Mitchell?”

The woman looks at us again and says; “this might take more than 30 minutes.”

“What year did you get divorced?”

“Oh……let’s see….in the 80’s, yep I’m sure it was in the 80’s;”

Eventually with the help of Brett’s brother and some computer research from the county employees about Brett’s first marriage we were able to get our marriage license and go have lunch.

The Ceremony

We had six people to coordinate. Our long time friends; 1. Jennifer; who happens to be a Justice of the Peace; 2. Don; Husband of Justice of the Peace who doubled as the photographer; 3. Deborah;Witness number one who doubled as the best woman; 4. Mark; Witness number two who doubled as the best man.

The wedding party was super excited about this ceremony. They were hugging and smiling and singing wedding songs.

The Lunar New Year; January 22, 2023, 5:00 pm; there is snow and ice on the ground, it’s about 20 degrees and the sun is going down. There is no way that this couple was going to get married inside. We were going to get married on the neighbors property with Little Tin Cup Peak in the background. To be clear; the neighbors property is just property, no house, no people just land and land with a view. Perfect.

We repeated the parts we were told to repeat and pronounced husband and wife. Whoop! Whoop! Let’s go have dinner and watch some NFL playoff games.

Two books to recommend with one theme. “Breathe” by James Nestor and “Breath In Breath Out” by Stuart Sandeman. Both of these books are about the seemingly effortless task of breathing, yet how breathing is the very thing that we should work on for our health and wellness. “Breathe” is more scientific and “Breath In Breath Out” more practical. I’m currently reading “Breath In Breath Out” for the second time and taking notes. Just reading the books makes you breath more deeply and slowly and through your nose. I highly recommend both of these books and marriage. More great adventures and book recommendations can be found at Wild About Books.

“OHHHH……is that Salmon Bread?”

My analytical, literal brain spends several seconds contemplating what this question means……… Salmon bread? Bread with salmon? Lingering over the question and the long pause makes for an awkward moment….a common situation for me. “What ARE they talking about?” my brain asks.

Finally, I answer “yes”. Yes, this is yummy salmon bread just as it hits me; Salmon bread not salmon bread. As in Salmon, Idaho; Odd Fellows Bakery in Salmon, Idaho. It is fantastic and a highly sought commodity in my circle; particularly the 80 mile seed loaf. It’s so amazing; you’ll never be able to eat any other bread.

It’s great for sandwiches, toast, french toast or just ripped free-handed apart from the loaf and eaten plain in the car after picking it up resulting in your spouse freaking out that our bread has been attacked by a rodent. No….no; just me driving with my knees and ripping bread apart on the way home; no rodents involved.

It is a bit of a trek to drive to Salmon, Idaho for a loaf of bread, even if it is the best bread ever. No worries. My ‘drive through’ winter farmers market gets a delivery most weeks. Not every week, not even on a regular basis; this is the rural western United States after all; we have different priorities. Sometimes it snows and everyone goes skiing instead of making bread. Or sometimes all of your friends are going to spend a day floating the river; it’s easy to flip the sign to closed. I appreciate this business model and remain a loyal customer even when they are too busy enjoying life to make bread for a Hamilton delivery.

Did you say “winter drive through farmers market”? In Montana? Yes; it is amazing as well. Each Tuesday I receive an email from The O’Hara Commons that the market is open. You can order online from Sunday until early on Wednesday for a Thursday pick up. Lots of great items to chose from. Potatoes, beets, winter squash, kale, chard, carrots; kimchi, sauerkraut and kombucha; herbal salves, local coffee beans, lentils, farrow, chickpeas, barley and homemade soups from Homestead Organics and sometimes a large selection of baked goods from Long Fellow Bakery. All local. This is also a wonderful business model that connects local businesses to customers during the long winter months when most of your business must depend on locals. I love it and highly recommended shopping there if you are living in the Bitterroot Valley, Montana.

O’Hara Commons Mission Statement: Utilizing and developing available resources to benefit community through education, resource sharing and demonstration gardens in a manner which builds local economy, promotes healthy food options and develops regional self-sufficiency

On Thursdays from 3:00 to 5:00 you drive through the driveway of O’Hara Commons where you check in, drop off your empty jars that you picked up in a previous order and pick up your CSA (Community Supported Agriculture; another genius business idea). Then drive around to the back side where a member volunteer brings you your order all boxed up and ready for pick up. Super simple. COVID friendly and actually it was COVID inspired. I love all of the COVID inspired businesses and work arounds that are now common place.

Sam is the inspiration of this business and the smiling friendly face that usually greats you dressed in her skirt, leggings, puffy jacket, stocking hat and muck boots as she directs traffic and calls into the house for your order. She is an inspiration and a woman full of goodness. I watched her stop in the Walgreens parking lot and unload a box of food to a mom sitting in her car with a handwritten sign asking for help.

This week I picked up bread, a gallon of squash soup, potatoes, onions, spinach, and a jar of Tim’s Tomato Sauce. My heart is happy to have all of these local goods in my fridge. Tea, did I mention tea. And I’m trying to get my daughter’s friend to sell her frozen dumplings there too. And chapstick. No need to shop nowhere else. You should just go to the website and place an order on Sunday.

No Salmon bread this week though. Now if you’re like my friend Carol (who gets mentioned in this blog more than anyone else), you have a pick up planned while the Salmon Bread driver is coming through on her way to the drive through farmer’s market. It’s like some kind of drug deal happening, Subaru hatchbacks raised on the side of highway 93, cars zooming past, bread and money exchanged and they both drive away after the deal.

In the summer months you can enjoy an actual Farmer’s Market every Wednesday afternoon on the lawn of the O’Hara Commons. You’ll find an ample supply of local produce and even a pizza cart and live music. And Salmon bread, the longest line at the market.

Now if you’re on a hike with me or cross country skiing and we stop for lunch, you can ask; “Is that Salmon bread with homemade hummus and kimchi and spinach from the O’Hara Commons drive through farmer’s market’? I’ll say; “why yes…… it is”.

Looking for a book to read while you enjoy that sandwich? I highly recommend “The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot” It is an emotional roller coaster and well worth the ride. Thank you Carol for the recommendation.

More great Montana adventures and book suggestions can be found at Wild About Books.

The mosquitos were relentless. The sun had baked us like a microwave from the inside out. We were coated in a think film of sweat and dirt. The climbing was endless. We had 25 pounds of gear on our backs. I could feel the start of a migraine. I was excited to strip off my clothes and walk into the cold mountain lake; our destination. The mosquitos were excited for that as well.

The lake water was cold, almost too cold. We walked in 6 inches of muck sinking with each step, struggling to keep my flip flops from being eaten by the mud beneath the water. The struggle led to me falling in which was probably the only way I was going to get all the way submersed. The cold took my breath away. I headed back to the shore and attempted to get dress as fast as possible before being eaten alive.

We were in our happy place.

What is it about the outside, nature, the physicalness, and the social bonding with humans and dog that not just trumps the uncomfortable aspects, but creates a desire for more?

It’s winter now, a time to reflect on a wonderful season of backpacking and plan for the next one. I’m sitting in my favorite writing spot, Big Creek Coffee, having a golden milk steamer with oat milk. It’s 20 degrees out, the inversion of fog frozen on the bare tree branches. I have my stocking cap on inside. People are studying, drawing, visiting and collaborating. A group of grey haired women have their seed catalogs open as they plan their gardens. The buzz of humanity enjoying itself is where I like to write. The golden milk soothes my sore throat.

The Selway River, Bear Creek to Bryan Lake, Little Rock Creek, Watchtower Creek and Boulder Creek.

It started with our annual trip of backpacking the Selway. Six days, 56 miles, five of us started at the trailhead, but only three made it to the finish. The weather was perfect, more clouds, rain and cooler weather than previous times. The days were still long, but we had added in a layover day this year. A day off between two 14 mile days. The weather and the lay over day were game changers and noted in journals for the next time.

Rattlesnakes, a black bear mom and two cubs, Osprey; just to name a few who shared the days with us.

The trail is sometimes down by the river and other times climbs high above for amazing views of the drainage, surrounding wildnerss area and the rapids. The Selway is known more for its world class white water rafting than hiking. We arrived at our camp on the evening of day two at Moose Creek Ranger Station and Moose Creek Air Field, a back country landing field.

There are camps along the airfield, but no water and camps on the river that you have to share with the rafters. I can’t tell you where we camped because we were sworn to secrecy by Ranger Ronnie, a seventy plus retired ER Nurse, who now volunteers as the Moose Creek Ranger and hosts the trail crew that stay on the property.

Serendipity. Jen arrived first and had arranged this secret spot that had drinking water, a fire pit, a stack of split wood and even a dilapidated old outhouse. Heidi and I arrived an hour later where Jen was set up to watch for us and take us to our special camp. It was late and we had not seen Amy and her daughter Mattie, since we left them that morning at camp. Amy and Mattie were well equipped with new gear that they’d never used before. They shared a tent and other supplies to make their packs lighter, but Amy still had the heaviest back of all of us. It’s a tough lesson your first time out of what to bring and what to leave. Heidi and I set up our tents. I went to relieve Jen and ran into Ranger Ronnie. She was out walking the area with a jelly jar of red wine. Amy and Mattie arrived while I talked to Ranger Ronnie. It’s two days before the summer solstice so daylight is not an issue, but arriving into camp at 6:00 pm is not ideal.

Amy walked up to us in a make shift cast and sling. She had fallen and broken her wrist. It was swollen and fifty shades of purple. We had to get her out. There were some pretty good drugs and tequila to help Amy get through the night. We used a Garmin “in reach” to text Jen’s husband, Ravi, and see if he could fly into Moose Creek the next day to get Amy. The weather was not conducive to flying due to the clouds and rain, otherwise Ravi would have already been there with fresh fruit and cold beverages. But now he had to come in or call in a rescue helicopter. Ravi sat at the Hamilton airport all morning waiting for a window, it’s a twenty minute flight up and over Lost Horse and along the East Fork of Moose Creek. At 11:00 he landed next to our camp. He brought wine, beer, big apples (you really miss the fresh fruit on a long backpack), and a bubbly water and salty chips for me. One bottle of wine and some apples went to Ranger Ronnie for her help communicating with Ravi on the satellite phone and nursing our patient and just because. We packed up Amy and Mattie into the plane which was too small to haul out their backpacks too. The next morning the three of us continued our trek, a fourteen mile day to Bear Creek.

Some may look at this as an unfortunate adventure. We did not. There were so many good omens. So many serendipitous series of events. One broken wrist was not the focus. People helping, good attitudes, raiding Amy’s backpack after she flew out, visiting with Ranger Ronnie after dinner, cool rains, and the healing energy of the forest. That was the focus of the adventure.

What are we reading? I’ve read so many good books, but right now I’m reading a great novel “The Rose Code” by Kate Quinn. An historical fiction during World War II. A team of code breakers, making the best of a difficult situation with good people. Humanity is good. It always has been. It’s our focus that needs work. Fun book to get lost in. I highly recommend it.

It’s 4:30 pm. Time to leave for yoga class. I’m not a regular at this class, just a fill in. My friend who hosts the class at her house had texted me earlier in the day. Her husband had SARS and there was a space available. I thought he was sick. Turns out he was at Search And Rescue training (not sure what the last “S” stands for).

It is a clear, sunny day as I drove up my soggy driveway, making ruts in the snow melted wet dirt, up to the road. My road doesn’t have as much sun as the driveway and was still snow covered. It was like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride meets a self driving car as the snow ruts would take over guiding me in a zig zag direction. You must be an aggressive driver in this situation in order to not drive off the mountain. No sight seeing or dilly dally-ing. Drive like you mean it…….. at least until a white tail deer or two jump across your path, at which point you must stop and take note if more are coming; leading to both deer and car being in the same place at the same time. Not a good situation for either. I watch the other deer who have not crossed, they watch me, I watch them, they watch me. I inch forward and continue down the hill as they patiently wait. My aggressive snow rut driving continues for several minutes before I’m stopped by wild turkeys meandering slowly down the road. They hear my tires noisily rolling over the half frozen snow, look back, clearly annoyed by my invasion. They cross in an obligatory fashion as more and more and more come up from below the road. It is a large family. A rafter of Turkeys. They live in the neighborhood. Finally I make it to where the pavement starts. No more rutted dirt and rutted snow. This is where I meet Julie. She is already there having had a similar driving experience from her side of the neighborhood.

We take Highway 93 to Rye Creek. Back to the dirt, snow, ice mix. It is slow going. We pass Mule Deer, the bigger cousin of the white tail, grazing on the melted south facing hill side. Elk are probably watching us too, but we don’t see them. It is seven miles to our turn at North Fork of Rye Creek. At just past the junction of Rye Creek and North Fork of Rye Creek we come to our friend’s driveway. We park at the bottom with the yoga teacher and wait for our shuttle up the driveway. The driveway is exactly one mile in length, 500 feet of elevation gain and has five switchbacks. Jen shows up in her UTV; Utility Terrain Vehicle also know as a side by side due to the fact that you sit next to the passenger, like a car, instead of behind the passenger (like a motorcycle or horse, or ATV; All Terrain Vehicle). Just to keep you up on all the acronyms, as I don’t want you to think I have SARS or something. The UTV is meant for two people. We manage to make it a four person UTV. Behind the cab is a two foot bed (like a truck bed, not a bed bed). I sit in the bed. It is a five minute ride up the driveway in the chained up UTV. If it weren’t for the two by four screwed to the floor of the bed I would have been on my ass in the driveway with no one hearing me over the noice of the UTV; it is that steep. I’m surrounded in the two foot bed with yoga mats, yoga blocks and yoga blankets as we all bounce when going over the metal water bars periodically placed in the driveway to keep it from washing down the mountain during the spring melt. One yoga block bounces out of its bag and almost off the back before I catch it and tuck it safely back into its place. The start of the ride is cold. North Fork of Rye creek is a narrow drainage that sees little sun. As we rise up in elevation, the sun peaks over Trapper Peak and adds some warmth or at least the illusion of warmth. Finally we reach the top of the driveway and load our yoga gear into the house, set up our mats and it is now 5:30, time to start the 75 minute yoga class. I’m fifteen miles from home and left an hour ago.

Yoga is delightful and practically worth the adventure to get to it. There are five of us participating as well as a four year old and a four month old. They don’t get it.

As soon as class is over we don our coats and muck boots (boots designed for muck)(muck=half melted snow and ice and mud). And Jen grabs warm blankets for the ride down. Julie volunteers to ride in the bed this time which is an unfortunate choice and a fortunate choice. Unfortunate as in the sun is down and it is colder. Fortunate in that we are going downhill, so she is leaning against the cab the whole way and not having to put her knees in her chin with her feet on the two by four in order to stay in the bed as I did. I ride bitch (middle seat) and have to have my head in the wind shield as there is a gun rack in my back. The UTV is not enclosed, the windows are zipped to the open night air. We are frozen solid by the time we reach the bottom of the driveway. Julie and I jump in her car and get the heat blasting. We drive back to my car. I pull into my garage at 7:30; get the fire roaring in the wood stove, make hot chocolate and read my book. What am I reading? Always a loaded question. I’m reading “Cracked Pots”, the sequel to “The Clay Girl” by Heather Tucker; “Sapiens A Brief History of Humankind” by Yuval Noah Harari and “The Healed Empath” by Kristen Schwartz.

I’m not going to recommend a book this post. I’m going to recommend a series on Netflix, I’m going out on a limb here, but I enjoyed this series so much that I want you to try a season and see what you think. This was recommended to me by my children and it took at least a whole season to have a relationship with the characters, but then we were family. It is a comedy with heartwarming life stories. There are six seasons and I just watched the last episode. Then I watched the documentary about the making of the series and how this sleepy unknown sitcom became an award winning series. I’m recommending the Netfix series “Schitt’s Creek”. Try a season.

More great adventures, and recommendations can be found at Wild About Books.

Hooray! We are celebrating our one hundredth post here at the Wild About Books Blog World Headquarters in Darby Montana.

I have a very special celebration book recommendation for you, I’m so excited!!!

But first, let’s reminisce:

August 4, 2014 was the first post; over seven years ago, and it was just a short introduction into something I had no idea how it was going to play out.

I had to teach myself how to use WordPress; took two online classes. WordPress has progressed a lot since then and I need to take another class. “The Invention of Wings” was our the first book recommendation. The original intent of the blog was to be a bookclub in which others could contribute. It then evolved into a venue for me to recommend books and to write about life in Montana and other adventures. As my long ago friend Bannister Allen used to say “If you don’t have adventures what do you talk to people about”. Adventures don’t have to be epic backpacking trips. They can be as simple as going to the grocery store or post office, especially in small town Montana.

Every day is an adventure; every friend a king.

Seventy two people follow my blog. You can follow too by clicking on the “follow” button to ensure that you never miss a blog post ever again. A number of these people I don’t even know. I have not figured out how to make money with my blog, but probably not possible with only 72 followers. Really not the point anyway. I started writing seven years ago hoping to write myself right out of my current job.

Haahahaha.

I’ve gotten lots of comments on my blogs, 90% of them from my mom, which are all appreciated. My favorite comment was from Heather Tucker:

“Thank you for the ‘spectacular’ review of The Clay Girl. I’m delighted you ‘saw’ that the book was more about everyday heroes: a few good men, kind teachers, loving aunts, sisters, a solid friend… than about the abuse.

A little imagination, creative work and a companion that will roast brussel sprouts for us is how we survive and thrive, isn’t it:)“

I read that comment and had to google the name of the person who wrote it. Turns out; it was the author of “The Clay Girl”. That was super exciting.

My proudest moment of the blog was when I wrote a letter to Barak Obama and then actually printed and mailed it to him “Dear Barack“. Four months latter I got a hand written reply from the White House; “Reply from the President“.

By far the most viewed post was “The UPS Man“. That one is worth reading again.

Quick note to the reader; you can click on the blog titles in this post and it will take you to the original post in a new tab in case you want to read it.

I’ve been a guest speaker several times in the Darby High School senior government class to discuss my blog and always read, out loud, my “Last Call for the Grover” post. Adults pooping in a can seems to get 18 year old’s attention, even if they don’t act like it.

The post most likely to make you cry “Guest“. The post most likely to make you smile “Wedding Week“. One of my favorite adventure posts was “Canoeing the Missouri” and snowboarding with my buddy “Burton Deja Vu Flying V“.

And now for the big news. Our 100th post book recommendations. Yes, it is two books. One by John and one by Jon. Both Darby, Montana residents. Both friends of mine.

First, I want to thank John Phillips for being my inspiration to get my ass in gear and start writing again. I realized that we both have a lot of Montana stories, some in common, that need to be shared with the world. I also realized that John’s book is a collection of stories, as my blog is a collections of stories. I plan on working on my second book, which will be all of these blog posts. Maybe John will help me get that together.

After reading John Phillips book, I know why he is such a recluse, holed up in his house on a mountainside with no phone. Now I understand why, when John Phillips comes into town to workout at The Right To Bare Arms Gym, he wears his dark sunglasses on the elliptical machine. The whole time John Phillips has lived in Darby, he has been collecting anecdotes for his book. And everyone is fair game. From our town marshal, Larry, to haircutting icon Hope, to Right to Bare Arms trainer, Heidi. Mostly John tells stories on himself. Sometimes I think he must just set himself him in ridiculous situations for the story alone as no one can be this, um…….well……. let’s just say……read his book. It is a hilarious rendition of small town life in rural western Montana and the people and animals that live there. John can sound a bit pretentious and maybe somewhat cynical, but that is his style and it just adds to the book. Although, some may take it as a slam to their community and character, hence, the dark glasses at the gym. At times in the book, you may feel stuck while contemplating his obscure and dated analogies, but persevere, shake your head and keep reading. And I guarantee your vocabulary will improve by the end of the book. My first book recommendation for our celebratory post is “Four Miles West of Nowhere” by John Phillips. (If you are closely related to me don’t buy this book as it is waiting for you under the tree.) I truly enjoyed this book and highly recommend it.

Jon Turk makes his second appearance in Wild About Books blog. I’ve already recommended his book “Crocodiles and Ice” in a previous post. Jon says he lives in Darby Montana, but this 75 year old is actually a nomad. He never sits still. His travels and adventures are a life this writer dreams of. He moves with the seasons, choosing to live in a ski town in Canada for the winter, mountain biking in southern Utah for the shoulder seasons and back in Montana for the summers. He has been nominated by National Geographic as One of the Top 10 Adventurers of the Year. “Crocodiles and Ice” was about his time circumnavigating Ellesmere Island in a sea kayak. His new book, which is the second book recommendation in this celebratory post; “Tracking Lions, Myth and Wilderness in Samburu” is about his time in Africa. Jon’s books should be read with a highlighter. There are many good lines worth noting. Jon’s travels are conduits to spirituality as I believe all adventures are. Jon’s writing makes you love the earth and its people, makes you believe in humanity and makes you want to care for it all. And then it takes a reality turn and makes you question our ability to care for the earth and its people. Jon takes a hard look at the climate crisis. His book is a plea for everyone to wake up and take responsibility for our selfish use of the earth and its resources. I’m only half way through as I write this, so I’m not sure of the final trajectory of this book, but my friend Carol says it is a wonderful ending and Jon’s best book yet. Like John Phillips, Jon is one to tell stories on himself as he stumbles through the harsh terrain of Africa with his new friends and guides. So many sentences in Jon’s book are not just a statement to move a story, but a life lesson worth contemplating.

“My fear and my weaponry are not only unnecessary; my fear has been creating an emotional and situational environment that might create danger and require fear.”

I highly recommend John and Jon’s books, and not just because I know them; they are both really good books.

Thank you followers and readers and commenters of my blog Wild About Books. Thank you for reading my posts even with the typos and grammar mistakes. Thank you for letting me use you as my audience as I practice my writing. Thank you for accepting my thoughts and sharing my adventures.

More great book recommendations and adventures can be found at Wild About Books. Click the link and hit follow.