Because it’s there

It’s thrilling to hike alone in bear country. I love grizzly bear stories, I chuckle when I think of Lewis, Clark and the boys running across the West’s biggest and baddest.

I imagine Clark exclaimed “Yikes,” or some scatological derivative.

On the other hand, it doesn’t take a bear encounter to make for a thrilling exploration of the wilderness.

I keep a clean camp, especially in grizzly country. I hang my food and bury my poop. Without-a-trace camping is good bear karma. I day-hike up on the ridges and survey the wilderness domain, take in enough vertical exposure to make it an adventure and dally on the glacier-buffed granite slabs and blocks and the perfection of the alpine world.

I let the wilderness soak into me and reset my bearings.

I’m careful bouldering and bushwhacking back to camp through endless talus fields and huckleberry patches. I pick the fattest, juiciest berries and exclaim for any bears, “Yikes! Berries of super quality, don’t you agree Meriwether!”

I sleep better at night knowing the wilderness is out there waiting for me. I appreciate its presence in the same way I find comfort knowing my old hiking boots are hidden in the corner of the closet.

I’m so fortunate to live in Idaho, with its high-speed wilderness access. I can be in my boots at the trailhead in a couple of hours, at a pristine lake surrounded by towering granite in a couple more.

I don’t usually see many people. RV’s don’t have access and motorcycles aren’t allowed.

Why hike and sweat up a steep trail with a 50-pound pack only to deal with bugs and bears?

The answer is the best-keep secret in America: Wilderness!