I’S NOT RELATE TO SETTLERS OR OUTCASTS
I find myself in a different state of mind. This time I’ve drifted far from what I know.
From the wests of Montana I drifted south to Picabo, Idaho, where I’d meet a man and his wife. They wrote me from Arkansas hearing of my travels and wanted their photograph taken. I’d-a traveled vast country and spoke of my business to folks all over the states but I’d-a never made it to Arkansas. So to say I’s obliged to meet them in Idaho would be an understatement. From Picabo I then ventured to Wyoming. On the way I ran into a gal packing her horses from the most southern states. She’d been riding for almost four months by then. I took her photograph and started north. The day after I met that gal again. I guess I’s a lazy start when it came to wake with the sun.
Jackson, Wyoming was my next temporary town. I stayed across the valley from the Tetons for many nights. A fellow photographer came to visit me on the mountain side during my time of rest. On my last day of rest, I came down from the mountain and met a mighty-nice young Texas cowboy. Our meeting was just through passin’ and I’s thought I oughtta take his photograph since he was obliged to stand for me. I then wandered into Jackson and found a dim street lamp to post up to for the night. The morning came too soon. The streets filled with many passer-byes and salesmen. T’was time I found peace in another valley.
As I’ve spoke before, I have traveled many-o-miles and spread the word of my business. With that, I’ve had many folks write me, some by a familiar name, others - strangers to the obis. On this particular day I had a young man write me from a small town in Northern Utah. That land was nothing but new to me. But I thought since he showed his interest in my work I’d travel yonder to him. After I passed beneath one sun rise I came across country the locals called the Bear River Range. There the hills were filled with outcasts and predators. The valley below carried traffic of young settlers and once again, salesmen. The first night I stayed on the outskirts of both settlers and outcasts ‘cause I t’was not one to relate to either. I kept to myself. The second day I scurried past the chaos of town square to a quiet bank on Bear Lake. There I took my first wash of the month and dared to swim a bit farther than my capabilities. I was not much of a water bug, more so a rock thrown into a current. Afterwards I found a clear stream I coud freshen’ my attire, where I’d meet a lovely lady by the name of Miss Karen. An eastern woman who was too kind. She loaned me a quarter for a meal and told me the stories of the valley. Not soon after our meeting I carried on down south to the Monte Cristo Forest.
The land became stern to my horses’ feet, and the sun was something close to dreadful. By nightfall I was quick to rest. In many cases, such as this one, men married to the night will write to me with words that’ll change your moments perspective. Think maybe there’s a possibility to some sort of stability, but each time I find myself alone at last. And so that was the case with Mr. Northern Utah. But I take each day as a new opportunity and since I’s came this far, I might as well see what this scornful land had to offer. By my third day in the land of unknowns, I traveled far to the other side of the state. I found myself in a different world. The ground beneath turned to a parched white and the horizons around me dissipated.
The Bonneville Salt Flats. No water to dampen my throat, no food to ease my horse, no man to unease my mind. Was this death? Or was this peace? Two things I then found are quite similar in feeling. I sat with nothing. Nothing but God to talk to. I took my time there to think back on my travels thus far. I thought to myself, “As I continue down this road of unknowns, I find myself in a different state of mind. People come and go, the sun will rise and fall, and the world will continue to spin as you stand stationary to it.” I used to think that was chaos, now I think it’s some sort of serenity. I thought I was running from the past but now I know I’m just chasing my destiny, whatever that may be. This life I’ve chose has already shown its solitary to be difficult, but without loss there would be no lesson. Until I find that tomorrow holds the answers to the questions I don’t yet know I seek, I’ll continue down this path.
My last day in Utah, I retraced my tracks to the outskirts of Salt Lake City. There I’d meet the photographer that was kind enough to meet with me across the Tetons just the week prior. I photographed him and wrote of his story. And just like that, I’s to head back north. After a few sunrises of travel, I wound up in a valley just short of Salmon, Idaho. I slept under the stars on the base of a ravine that once was known in a different life as Nicholia, Idaho. Now nothing but dust of a once booming civilization laid beneath my boots. My time in Idaho was short and sweet. The next mornin’ I stopped in Salmon for a proper meal, where I’d run into distant but familiar faces. With a biscuit in my pocket and a cup of coffee in my stomach, I continued north to the Bitterroots. I’s hoping to make it back to familiar country with familiar faces for the Fourth of July. And I did just that. By the latest day of June I made it to my destination and decided to post up for awhile. Not too long would I stick around, because I’ve found that people yearn for connection more when there is absence. So I’m never willing to stay in one spot for too long.
