Ode to Judith -- Changing Times

Hiking with Judith -- Odessa Lake 2012

It is hard to imagine going into a snowshoe season in the Rockies without my companion of twelve winters to venture with me into roaring winds, lightly falling snow, giving me a hand when I can't quite make the step up, sliding down the hills from The Loch or Emerald Lake, and marveling at the beauty of a snow-covered landscape.  With Judith with me on the trail, I would go forward when otherwise I might have stopped.

The Loch, a favorite snowshoe hike, has a steep climb near the top, and on more than one winter hike, I have faltered, but with Judith's encouragement, have taken one more step forward, dug in, and gone on to the top.  The photos above and below are from our hike winter before last when the sun and the deep snow combined for one of the most stunning hikes ever.

Going foward when I might have stopped--that has been true for many of life's passages over the last twelve plus seasons of hiking and show shoeing.  Her amazing listening ear, her patience when it seemed as if I was going through the same inner-journey turmoils that I had going through years before (and I was, only on a deeper level, which she understood--though it must have been tiresome). 

Celebrating beauty even when the ledges were slim and the snow was falling so that seeing ahead wasn't easy reminds me of gratitude, even when life doesn't seem so good.  We stood in RMNP's Glacier Gorge parking lot many times when the wind threatened to blow us backward.  We would remind each other than once on the trail, the wind wouldn't be so strong.  Again, a lesson for life, that when we stop on our paths during a tough time, that moving ahead, even ever so slowly, will ease the angst.  That is a reminder I need right now, when I don't know what comes next. 

Judith was there years ago when it seemed that many of our hikes required me to walk through fear, sometimes fear that required stopping until I could gather the strength to go on.  She never waivered.  We have gone places I likely will not go again.  As she leaves for a sea-level life for the next four months, she will return to Estes Park for a while, but hopefully for her sake, she will be able to live where sleep and breath come easily without the aid of a mask.  That is the plan Judith and her husband are making, the adventure they are setting off to pursue.  I wish you well dear friend.  I will think of you often, but especially when the wind is cold and the steps ahead hard.  I will borrow from your courage and strength and go forward.  Enjoy the warmth, the sea and the beach--and sleep well!