CD Burning and Seasons Turning

The year presses steadily and ruthlessly forward. The seasons cannot seem to decide what they want to have happen. Over a month ago we had a blanketing of snow, today it is 60 degrees and sunny. As I was leaving the post office a passed a cluster of oldies discussing the weather and commenting on these Chinook winds. One of my favorite things, as I travel the Hi-Line with the cattle or just for fun is finding that each town has some sort of little diner or cafe, and if you visit these places at the right time on the right day, you bear witness to the gatherings of the locals. It is fun to hear the things which concern them and which bear enough weight for discussion. I suppose I have inherited my propensity for eavesdropping from my mother.=)
In the great metropolis of Havre, some 28 minutes away, lives one of my friends from when I was first here, Liz. She recently had a birthday and I made her a CD. It was an old scratched CD and I took a match to the back of it and burned patterns into the casing and pasted some neat magazine clippings into the hole in the center. When she opened it she was initially excited, "you made me a burnt CD!" she exclaimed happily. Then she took it out and inspected it further. I must admit that I am sitting here in the library laughing as I recall the evolution of expressions on her face. Then she just looked at me with this blank, flat expression. Of course, I laugh now but in the moment I felt rather uncomfortable and sad that she did not like my art. Yes, I burned her a CD, no it was not what she had anticipated. Oh well, now I am compiling a collection of music to put to a disc and then plan to trade it for my artwork back from her. Some people just process differently, I suppose.
Driving in to town today I was escorted for a distance by a Bald Eagle. It drifted along beside the suburban for a moment before turning to look at me and then caught an updraft and was gone. I said, "thanks for coming by," and tilted my hat to its majesty and the good omen which it bore over my endeavours for the rest of the day.
Speaking of endeavours, I continue to prepare for the PCT. The most exciting news at the moment is that one of my high school buddies and Philmont ranger friends, Tyler Griffin, has decided to do the first month on the trail with me. He is well qualified as being burly and hairy enough to keep me safe from any Mexican coyotes who may be wandering the same California desert hills or coolies. He is also of a pleasantly temperate nature and should provide a good balance to my more...vehement temperament.
While my father does not believe Tyler can be counted on as reliable, I am endeavouring to turn that lack of faith to my advantage by goading Tyler with, "well my dad says..." and he is responding, as I hoped, with an even greater commitment to come.=)
I continue to work my way through the guide books, planning resupply points and considering terrain. The largest factor for which I cannot plan is the weather. It will be a matter of watching how the winter progresses throughout different areas of California so that I know whether to be prepared for an atmosphere in which it is more of a pressing challenge to find water, or to have to clamber through snow banks. Only time will tell.
As I finish up the first 700 miles or so of the trail, it will lead me high into the Sierra Nevadas. Along this stretch lies the John Muir Trail and certain lengths which are purported to be some of the most beautiful hiking in the continental US. However, as I would be arriving there in Early June, and the snow will still be thick at that elevation and the streams will be high and dangerous to cross, I have asked a friend who lives in LA to come pick me up. We will spend a few days enjoying his beautiful city and I will resupply and probably have to switch out some gear. He will then drive me further north, dropping em off at the northern lengths of the Sierras, where I will pick up and continue North bound, God willing, to the Canadian border. From there I will venture back down to the Nevadas and do those as the final segment of the trail, when the streams are less swollen and the snow is less prohibitive.
The planning is fun and tedious. I am often overcome by the need to just shut all the stupid books and go wander around outside, because that is really what I want to be doing. I know this is an important phase in such an undertaking, and I really do need to focus my attention and do my best but there is just nothing like getting out there and actually doing it.
Such a sentiment overtook me rather strongly a few days ago and I got into the suburban and went and picked Liz up. She showed me the way back into the Bear Paws. The girl has a passionate distaste for the cold and so was not often willing to wander too far from the car but we did make a few small forays across rickety, old wooden bridges and up to icy waterfalls. I threw icicles and tried to drop heavy rocks onto the pond but the ice was of that unsatisfying, slushy mixture and so the rock chucking was less pleasing than the icicle hurdling. Then we stopped at a campsite and I made a pleasant little fire and we munched on Smores and talked about whatever it is that women our age talk about. Now, two days later, I have washed myself and all my clothes but when I open my purse of shift something in the car, the smell of campfire wafts up and it never fails to make me smile.

Happy Holidays and warmest regards to you all.