Rule Number Three

Rule Number #3: Listen Carefully

I hear the water roar before I actually see anything. I can hear the movement in the distance, even though the trees have cloaked the running current from me. And from what I’m hearing, this Second Stream is not even a Stream. This path of water could really be considered a River. My ears contemplate the power that I cannot see. But when my vision catches up to my hearing, and the Stream sits in front of me, I am not surprised. I know that I have a problem on my hands, because stepping across this bed of water will not be easy. Sparsely placed rocks protrude from the water’s surface. My stepping points are few and far between. I develop a plan by standing in front of my obstacle and mapping my trail. And then I move carefully, and precisely. I pick my way across the water and land upon the other side. I move soundly, with balance and confidence. I have to be this way in the backcountry, otherwise I will fall.

The Third Stream lay just beyond the Second, although unlike her predecessor, she is docile and calm. She’s a small trickle in a thick forest of trees. She ‘s dainty, and sweet, and she’s calm, and she makes me stop and admire her. I breathe the smell of her moisture into my nostrils. There‘s a distinct smell in moisture that’s sharp and holds true. There’s a chill that cannot be replicated. The smell mixes with the smell of the trees, whipped up by the wind on a nice, crisp afternoon. And I know that I’m in Heaven, if there is such a place. I stand with my big pack by the small Stream and I admire her. In fact, I fall in love with her.