a full moon and a moose.
a full moon reflecting on the water and a moose
these are 2 lasting images from my night spent camping along the shores of Lost Lake Slough up Kebler Pass - right outside of Crested Butte,
Why was I camping alone you ask?
Where was Amy and the dogs?
Well if you’ve been listening to our podcast you might know.
(psst. thats a shameless plug for the podcast. go check it if you haven’t!)
But since vanlyf started for Amy and I, we’ve been wanting to be intentional about taking time apart from each other. Always being in the same working/living/eating/sleeping/writing/musicplaying/yogaing/videogaming - you get the point right? -space might not always be what’s best for us a couple. Taking time to be intentionally apart from each other, working on our selves, helps us flourish when we’re together.
Hiking solo was immediately one we both wanted to institute over the course of our traveling schedule and I threw out the possibility of even backpacking solo - something I’ve never done much but always wanted to get into doing more. (I did take a backpacking class in college for a PE credit.) It also helps that we’ve been storing all of our camping equipment in the back of the van under the bed, in case any opportunities were to arrive for use.
We are always inviting people to come camp/vanlyf/hang with us in the places we go.
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And I’m pitching this to you, right now.
Yes, you.
Come.
You don’t even have to bring anything. We have a tent, sleeping bags, therma rests, food, etc for you to use.
The (tent) door is always open. seriously.
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I saw this open door and I chose to step into it myself and take the tent out for a night backpacking.
With the turn of September, we made a tentative (always and forever tentative now) travel schedule that would keep us on the move but also well paced and with time for centering and catching up built in over the next few months.
The first place we decided to go was Crested Butte for some off-grid exploration and escape before what we were calling the “Grounding Tour” kicked off, of staying in a string of places we had been before and knew well.
We drove up Kebler Pass and landed next to Lost Lake, one of three different beautiful lakes in the area.
After spending a few nights in a very PNW-esque forest, going on several hikes around and between all the lakes and ridge lines, I decided that the last night I wanted to go backpack in to a spot we came across hiking around. It honestly just presented itself to us as we meandered the strange trail.
It was down in a clearing just past a meadow and right on the shores of the lake but still surrounded by pines.
Ashes of fires long past in an old rocky fire pit was the only thing left in the clearing.
This was gonna be the spot.
Another bonus that further cemented this spot was the fact that it wasn’t too far from our van which was parked down the road from the campsite where the trailhead that lead here started.
We don’t exactly have correct backpacking equipment for carrying more than we would have for just hiking on us.
So I literally had to go backpacking. As in, multiple backpacks, backpacking.
I loaded mine down with our tent, some books, and food. Put the therma rest, warm clothes, and water in Amy’s daypack.
And had my sleeping back strapped on and hanging to one of the the packs straps.
I didn’t even bring a pillow.
So the not-so-long-hike-in to the spot was a really good bonus in fact.
Hoping to upgrade some of these in the future.
I made it to the location and set up tent right around 5pm and went on a hike around the lakes for the evening.
Amy had taken some solo time earlier that day and had hiked the trail around the lakes with Kona.
On her hike she had come across a moose. There had been signs posted everywhere about moose being in the area and what to know if you stumble across one, which is exactly what Amy and Kona did.
They slowly backed away, and went on. Exactly the right move.
Anticipating seeing a moose on the trail that evening, I was surprised when that wasn’t the case.
I explored the in’s and out’s of the trails, climbed up to the view the waterfall and sight on top the ridge, walked down streams, and still did not see the (800-1200 lb) animal.
Making it back to my campsite, the sun was setting in a golden daze across the lake.
I took off my shoes and shirt, stuck some beers in the rocks along the shoreline to keep them cool, and let the warmth from the setting rays guide my meditation through the evening.
The sun slowly sank, and the atmosphere immediately got 20+ degrees cooler prompting a run to my tent to put on the rest of the layers I had brought for braving the evening and then back out to the shoreline to watch the water ever so softly settle to stillness as blue hour transpired to twilight.
The chill of the air increased. The waves slowed their flow. A brilliant great dragonfly, with his four wings hummed across the water and landed on the rock beside me.
My mind brought up the lyrics of Ziggy Marley’s song, “Hey Miss Dragonfly, I see you look at me with your beautiful eyes. You must be wondering what type of creature am I.”
As I looked into her multi faceted eyes, I wondered the same.
The light grew ever fainter and now the remaining lines of the lake were drawn across by the pathways of bats in search of a wandering insect pulsing along the stillness of the water.
They streaked along in straight lines, dabbing upon the surface as they went.
I only had my iPhone on me at the time but these views were some of my favorites.
I had the realization as the darkest part of the evening was coming, that I had not looked back behind me for several hours to the shore I was sitting on with the sunset views commanding my attention for the time.
As I turned over my shoulder, the realization of knowing what was going to await my eyes hit me before even saw it.
There, standing in the shallows drinking from the crystal clear reservoir of the lake, was the moose. Full grown, male, with antlers stretching powerfully outwards and upwards towards the awakening starlight.
It took my breath away, and made my heart do a little leap. The exact scene will forever etched into the fabrics of my memory.
After I came down from the pure rush at the sight, I realized that I was fairly close to the moose, and we were both the only two out on the rocky shoreline that night. He could obviously see me as I could him.
While the original distance was of no threat, the darkness was getting ever darker and I knew Monty, as he was later to be known by Amy wanting to give every object animate or inanimate in the world a name, was going to need to find a place to rest, as was I.
We’re not nocturnal creatures, he and I, we knew that.
So he was gonna have to move some direction, and that direction happened to be right up the shore towards myself.
Trying to remain calm as I listened intently to his noises to determine his distance, I head him clamber back up the shore and continue towards me.
At this point it was almost impossible to see more than a few feet in front of yourself as only a pale light on the edge of the western horizon remained, and the moon (which was set to be full) was still a few hours from touching the alpine lakes with it’s gleam.
I suddenly heard the sound of hooves in water. And slowly, and cautiously peered into the darkness behind me looking for anything. By the sound of the water, he was close.
I could barely make out the white fur that climbs up their legs standing in the shallows just an inlet over as the only part of him I saw.
He was still coming this way.
At this point, I figured with how dark it was getting, my safest point was off the shoreline- seeing as my silhouette against the water might be visible still.
As I sat down on the rocks with my back into the bushes and trees that separated my tent site from the shoreline, I heard the bellow of Monty right. through. the. trees. in the tent site.
My heart stopped again now. The land for the camping site jutted out into the lake like a peninsula. My worst fear was that Monty would deem my tent site as adequate for his rest as well. It was some of the most level ground around.
But as I slowly inhaled and exhaled, waiting for him to make a move, I heard the bellows and gruffs slowly keep moving along the path.
He bellowed a few more times, at different intervals another 50 or 60 yards down when it all went quiet again and I guessed that he had found his bed for the cold night.
I gave it a few more hours, and watched as the full moon rose over behind my head and reflected its light in dead still waters of the lake.
I headed to sleep around 11 with hopes of waking up to watch the next day start the same way this one had ended - watching the reflections over the lake. I also knew that I was bound to see my new close proximity camping buddy, Monty when I rose as well.
My alarm went off at 6:30. I quickly changed pants, bundled up in my hoodie and beanie and went out to the shore.
The night had been one of the coldest I had camped in before. But my adrenaline and life was still flowing warmly through my veins.
As I stepped out into full view of the lake, there was Monty. At about the distance it had sounded he made his sleeping arrangements the night before. This time the light was ever growing bright with day rise, and I felt more at peace with my possibilities at avoiding close contacts with my new companion.
Luna was still in sight sinking below the ridges on the far shore and reflecting into the mirror of the morning lake. The sunrise touched the peaks of the range behind the lakes first. As the first rays touched the waters, steam rose off the lake creating an eery scene.
I watched as he would calmly step into the shallows to drink of the lake water and then turn to aggressively attack the bushes and trees along the shoreline with his antlers scraping off the coating of fur and skin that covers them as they grow.
We had learned a little about this process when we visited Alaska the year before. And the reason was right for it.
“He was over there shedding his velvet wasn’t he?” said Soda, a handle-barred mustachioed middle-aged mountain man asked me as I backpacked my backpacks back through the campgrounds a few hours later on my way back to Amy and the van.
“Yeah! That’s exactly what he was doing” I said, not remembering the exact terms of Monty’s behavior originally, but recognizing it immediately in the terminology of Soda’s question.
We shared a few more words, and then I journeyed on down the road back to the van.
But the images and my time with the moose, and the full moon will always be remembered.
🌊 caleb 🌊
Speaking of images. Here’s a bunch of random ones taken from the trip on my Canon MK IV:
