WHERE STONE AND WONDERS MEET
A friend and I walked the John Muir Trail in early fall. 27 days of slow escape, discoveries and memories along the stones of the Sierra Nevada. This is our story.
It started just a thought, a line, a dare,
To walk the path shared by the ghostly bear.
One plan, one map, two hopes before the trail,
Two packs, two souls, one dream that would not fail.
From hues of blues, warmer colors in tone,
The peaks would blush before the sun had shone.
Then light would break, a spell both soft and fleet,
To guide our steps where stone and wonders meet.
The morning broke with cold without a spark,
The tasks begin, the tents fold in the dark.
The load was much, the sleep was never deep,
Yet every dawn, the mountains stirred from sleep.
Each one his pace, for this was not a race,
We climbed through snow, the passes time can't trace,
Through forests deep, and forded rivers blue,
By mirrored lakes, in search of something true.
We braved the weight, the cold, the white-out sky,
And whispered, friend, "Nankurunaisa"!
Then on again, for treasures nature's kept,
For freedom found — yes, this is why we trek!
By lunch we met beside a stony bend,
Shared trail-worn jokes, a tuna, thoughts to mend.
Among the pines, we met both youth and sage,
Each one a chapter on a fleeting page.
As dusk burned red across the edge of night,
One wrote the day, the other chased the light.
Ten thousand games of dice the cold away,
Then in to sleep beneath the Milky Way.
One day we reached the rooftop of the land,
No crowds, no noise, alone and toast in hand.
The cold was sharp, yet magic filled the air,
A rare moment found beyond all compare.
We left at last the trails that shaped the soul,
With friends made true and memories made whole.
The mountains fade, been twenty-seven moons,
A whispered vow to chase new dreams — and soon!