Originally shared on the late blog Stranded on Land

Bound for this first ever time with nature only

For three nights

And four days

We would walk

Bound for my first ever backcountry journey

To the High Sierra

The magical Sierra

Only ever having seen her from below

The wind was not far from perfect

The sun was kind

The water ran gently

Deer, coyote, grouse, and beaver

Came along

Stopping by

To say hello.

Snow,

How beautiful must this be under the snow!

We would daydream every day,

Not undermining the current beauty of the place

Not wishing we would’ve come another time

But still longing to return already.

Snow,

How beautiful must this be under the snow?

We walked and talked

To them

To each other

To the trees

Every new view a sight of wonder

Every wild fruit a mystery

Every mountain a sculpture

We couldn’t help but already dream of the future

When we would be here again

Before the same views

Painted with the palette of the wintertime.

THE WIND WAS CLOSE TO PERFECT

THE SUN WAS KIND

THE WATER RAN GENTLY

UNTIL, THE LAST NIGHT.

The sky began to overflow with clouds,

The clouds soon turned dark and grey,

The wind grew sharp and cold,

With haste we cooked and set up camp.

The rain was coming,

And clearly,

And fast.

We tucked ourselves in

So early,

So awake.

The first drops began to fall,

Turning heavier every moment,

Soon enough becoming ice.

Hail.

The echo was loud,

But it helped us sleep,

Only hoping in the morning

The perfect wind, the perfect sun,

Would come back to guide our final walk.

The morning entered.

To our surprise, the friendly wind returned

The sun came back

And there also, a shadow

Cast over our tent.

COULD IT BE THE WINTERTIDE?

COULD IT BE, YOSEMITE,
A DAYDREAM?

Last image credited to Roberto Flores.

Edited by Eunique Deeann.