Monday, Aug. 13, 2007 @ 3:37 pm
Southern Chilcotins 2007
I've been to the top of the world and back, I've seen lightning and rainbows, and I've begun a new job.
I feel like I've just woken up from a nine-month hibernation. A sprawling sleepy period of ____. Do you feel like you've made the best of your time? I ask you the same thing. There's probably not much you would have done differently.
One week I'm here: laying on my back on an alpine ridge, watching Daniel fly his kite, letting the heat from the mountain warm me from below, the sun warm me from above. Pushing further than my body knows, the weight of my pack, gravity and thin air. I can out-push any of them. Sliding down scree slops, following a contour line on a map. There is no trail here.
The next week I'm dressed in a top hat and tails. A wool cape with brass buttons. Smooth paisley vest. My black leather riding boots polished up nicely. Driving Gus around the city streets of Victoria, through parks and lakes, the waterfront, and old houses. I feel a century too late, a lost time traveller, sharing my stories.
It's like all of my training with horses has led up to this. That this was my predestined fate: to come to Victoria and fill this job, because I'm perfect for it.
I ride Patrick bareback, trotting now, moving well forward because I'm balanced and confident. His soft back smelling of citronella, dappled fawns dart in and out of the forest.
I jog home along the ocean bluffs. Orcas move in a pod offshore. A puff, and then the smooth pull of the dorsal fin through the surface of the ocean. You swim there quietly, just meters from my dark, cool bedroom.
I've woken up only to find that I'm living in a dream.
Daniel and I on Windy Pass
Wildflowers near Warner Lake
Trevor's Tent, in El Dorado Basin
Daniel Kite Flying on Sheba Ridge
At Adrienne's Wedding