Ideas are easy. Even creative ideas. What’s hard is moving them to reality. To do that takes the courage to change something. Why does that take courage? Because . . .
Even in the dark with my eyes closed, I knew she was wide awake and staring at the ceiling. Don’t ask me how this happens but after thirty five years of marriage I just know things.
“Hey,” I mumbled.
“Hey,” she answered crisply. Confirmation.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes . . .” Her tone that indicated there was more.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” This time her voice had a smile in it and she pulled back the comforter.
This was a surprise to me because last night she wasn’t quite up to what we had planned today. Sometimes she gets anxious before one of our trips. But given where some of our adventures have taken us, it’s a legitimate fear.
This one took us over a mountain in the Smokies down a one lane dirt and rock ribbon with precipitous cliffs and no guard rails. We had to wait half an hour for a crew to backhoe the road back onto the side of the mountain after rain washed it out.
Was it worth it? One of my favorite days – ever.
The goal was elk. But at 6:00AM it was a fuzzy goal. As the morning progressed it only got fuzzier. Well, make that foggier.
I tried a new highway to avoid the trucks over the ridge cut where there had been a huge, flaming accident the night before. It may have been safer, but there was no Starbucks. Cold caffeine was the only option. Don’t laugh.
But the day got better.
By 10:00AM the sky was clear and crisp. The fall colors were starting to show. The dream was beginning to pay off. None of this could be seen earlier from the snuggly dark of our bedroom. We had just taken a shot.
When we finally reached the Cataloochee Valley there was not an animal in sight. A ranger filled us in on elk lore and assured us that it would be a miracle if we didn’t see a lot of them by late afternoon.
We decided to wait and tried not to think about going back on that one-lane, rocky road, over the mountain, in the dark. We took in the sights and didn’t think about the long drive back to our motel in Gatlinburg. Yesterday it had seemed brilliant to book the room at Jack Huff’s but now it was questionable.
All day we heard elk bugling in the forest up the mountains. All day we wondered if we would see anything. All day.
This is what adventure is about. The chance for something extraordinary. The possibility of creating a memory. The effort. The uncertainty. The wondering. We could have gone home with only an empty gas tank. It wasn’t genius on my part that made it work out.
But it did work out.
Words, pictures and video cannot explain the rush of a dominant bull elk, driven by the rut, staring you straight in the eye and bugling a hair-raising challenge. Taller than a lifted 4×4 truck, able to take on bears and win, I will never forget his focused stare.
You can learn about elk from wikipedia. You can look at photos or paintings of lush fields and blue mountains. You might even imagine the feel of the wind on your skin, the sound of the breeze in the grass and the insects’ hum.
But the nature you discover is forever your own.
The effort you spend, the time and money, the uncertainty of it all only adds to the value and rarity. Your experience will be different from mine or Lewis and Clarke’s or Daniel Boone’s or Sacagawea’s.
But you are equally an explorer.
You will see a day like no one else with a perspective all your own. Your feet will sink into God’s green earth. Your nose will catch the scent. Your discovery will be your victory.
And what you find there, only you can tell.
