I was awakened the other morning by the tremolo call of a loon. The campground was on the north side of Dicky Lake and a restricted area for nesting common loons is on the south. And later that afternoon, on the east side of Lake Koocanusa, I listened attentively to the murmurs, gurgles, sighs and occasional short squawks of a Steller’s jay. I also heard nuthatches and welcomed chickadees to my shady retreat. For the first time this summer I saw hummingbirds—calliope. The photo of Dicky Lake shows how smoky it is—and this was a good day! Yet it is too smoky now to take a photo of Lake Koocanusa.
Lake Koocanusa, not a native American word, was the winning submission to name this lake completed in 1972. The lake, built to prevent flooding and provide hydro power, is 90 miles long (about half in Canada and half in the United States) and required moving a railroad line and one town—the other towns were inundated.
I thought that I was beginning a life untethered—a nomad, but I am continually being asked for my address or where I am from. Not that living for 30 years in Jackson was a burden or undesirable, but I feel like I am starting something new and claiming Jackson as home is a very thick cord tying me to the past.
And about that past—I used to paint and draw–a lot. For decades I even had a whole room housing all the supplies and equipment and past accomplishments of that life. And almost never touched it. I brought with me, even with limited weight and space, enough stuff to use to teach classes! But I did pull it all out the other day and actually began the process of re-learning how to draw and paint.
The worst of my camping sites? The thousands of flies that I couldn’t escape. The best? Was a peaceful, lakeside site under Ponderosa pines.
When I sold my house I had to find homes for so many rocks and bones and sticks and treasures that I had found as I hiked or boated or wandered around. A bit worried right now because today I picked up a rock and brought it back to Kairos with me.
I was very excited to finally be on the west side of Glacier National Park! I have been traveling in a land mostly devoid of public lands and thus of the really appealing campgrounds or forestlands. I was anticipating being back in areas where I had dozens of choices where to go. Initially I had to plot out where I COULD stop and spend a day or two, now I would be free to wing it more or less. But I did sit down and look at some of my options: which roads did I want to follow, what places grabbed my attention. I jotted down a rough, malleable list for the immediate future and then tackled my backlog of emails. There I found one from my friend Gail that lamented the fact that all the places she has been considering as potential new homes sometime in the future were all burning! Whoops—I’ve been too disconnected obviously. Sure enough, the routes and spots I had picked to visit for about two weeks were smack dab within 3 large areas of fires . . . I’ll deal with it next week.