Wilderness surrounded us today. Or so read the maps and charts but we did not need these written words to see we were in a special place.
How can one define wilderness? A thesaurus proclaims synonymy with wilds, rough country, backwoods, wasteland or boondocks. Wasteland, it is not. An explorer or hiker passing through might find it rough, wooded and far from cities as the rest of the synonyms imply. The dictionary describes a tract or region uncultivated and uninhabited by human beings or an empty or pathless area. Tracy Arm is definitely that. Legislative action has declared wilderness areas to be large tracts of public land maintained essentially in their natural state and protected against introduction of intrusive artifacts as roads and buildings. Their purpose is to provide enjoyment for present and future generations. We are comforted by that thought for what we experienced today is invaluable.
It is hard to determine what images each of us filed individually in our minds, what words each will choose to share the memories of mountains and valleys, snow and ice, wildlife and silence. But somehow each will include a picture of steep granite walls, scored by rock-laden ice and carved into U-shaped valleys. Over their faces ribbons of water poured from on high, coalescing into cascading streams or mist forming falls. At water level we drifted in small boats while blue glacial ice groaned, its craggy surface soon scattered on turquoise seas. Harbor seals rode their own private craft, their deep dark eyes staring in puzzled curiosity. The sun smiled upon our deck barbecue and the river of ice roared louder, casting building-sized blocks our way. At the gates of the wild, a black bear strolled upon the intertidal shores.
Sunset found us outside of Tracy Arm Wilderness but the place held no less wildness. A campfire on the beach provided a nidus for our newfound clan. In the forest behind and the seas in front the permanent dwellers in this land continued on, unharmed and undisturbed by the footprints we left or by the memories we carried away.
How can one define wilderness? A thesaurus proclaims synonymy with wilds, rough country, backwoods, wasteland or boondocks. Wasteland, it is not. An explorer or hiker passing through might find it rough, wooded and far from cities as the rest of the synonyms imply. The dictionary describes a tract or region uncultivated and uninhabited by human beings or an empty or pathless area. Tracy Arm is definitely that. Legislative action has declared wilderness areas to be large tracts of public land maintained essentially in their natural state and protected against introduction of intrusive artifacts as roads and buildings. Their purpose is to provide enjoyment for present and future generations. We are comforted by that thought for what we experienced today is invaluable.
It is hard to determine what images each of us filed individually in our minds, what words each will choose to share the memories of mountains and valleys, snow and ice, wildlife and silence. But somehow each will include a picture of steep granite walls, scored by rock-laden ice and carved into U-shaped valleys. Over their faces ribbons of water poured from on high, coalescing into cascading streams or mist forming falls. At water level we drifted in small boats while blue glacial ice groaned, its craggy surface soon scattered on turquoise seas. Harbor seals rode their own private craft, their deep dark eyes staring in puzzled curiosity. The sun smiled upon our deck barbecue and the river of ice roared louder, casting building-sized blocks our way. At the gates of the wild, a black bear strolled upon the intertidal shores.
Sunset found us outside of Tracy Arm Wilderness but the place held no less wildness. A campfire on the beach provided a nidus for our newfound clan. In the forest behind and the seas in front the permanent dwellers in this land continued on, unharmed and undisturbed by the footprints we left or by the memories we carried away.
