Chasing Minnows

Finding joy in the simple life

Beauty Lake in the Northern Absaroka Wilderness

“Have you watched the most recent season of Stranger Things?” a friend recently queried over coffee. “No,” I replied. “Well, how about Top Gun: Maverick, have you seen that? she queried again. “Nope,” says I.

“Ozark?”

“Nope again. In fact, I don’t subscribe to any streaming services anymore. Don’t even have cable.”

In curious tone she probed, “Well, what exactly have you been doing then?”

“Chasing minnows,” I answered before sipping my dark roast. Her expression demanded an explanation to my rather counter cultural behavior, so here it is.

I live in northwest Wyoming, so merely stepping out on my back porch and looking out over the majestic landscape appeals to the soul more than anything that’s on Netflix.  To sit inside cocooning on the couch while “the mountains are calling” is to waste an opportunity to, as Thoreau says, “suck the marrow out of life.” So, I quit all those garbage streaming services aiming to purge my mind of pop culture noise and rediscover my soul under the Big Sky of the northwestern Rockies. Consider it a Zamboni of the heart; a juice cleanse of the soul; a deprogramming; a clearing out of the detritus built up from years of grinding away at a job I hated in the noisy and congested I-95 corridor of the northeast. Taking a page out of John Muir, I wanted to “go into the forest to lose my mind and find my soul.”

The mid-Atlantic wears on a person.  The breakneck pace, congestion, and hard charging attitudes of city folk contrast starkly with just about everything in the northwest Rockies.  Living here necessitates decelerating, appreciating beauty, and showing kindness to others.  Wyoming is the forgotten America. My subsequent purging of consumerism has included a return to a simpler life filled with good books, easy conversations, and incredible adventures.

There are no distractions in nature.  God’s creation is raw footage.  What we see in nature exists as it is, without CGI or special effects.  Unlike TV, video games, and social media, nature is honest. She doesn’t put on airs.  In the shiny screen of the two-dimensional world most things have been edited, cropped, digitized, etc.  It’s difficult to discern what’s real anymore, so spending time in nature cures the affliction of consumerism and restores our eyes; it readjusts them to what is authentic. Nature never gaslights.

Last weekend while hiking in Yellowstone with a friend we selected a trail that meandered deep into grizzly bear territory.  There were warning signs at several different points along the 5-mile trail near the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone, and lots of fresh bear scat so we were hyper cognizant of our surroundings.  In our state of heightened awareness, we heard every stick that snapped and every tree that groaned.  We became keenly aware of aberrant smells and routinely scanned the landscape for bear activity.  How ALIVE we felt! Our survival depended upon harmonizing with nature.  During the last mile of our hike, we had to ascend a steep rise, unable to see over its crest.  I had my 10mm drawn in the event of a surprise encounter with a hungry boar or a defensive sow with cubs.  To our amazement a massive golden eagle swooped low to the ground not 20 feet in front of us followed by a ginormous grey wolf who was in hot pursuit of that magnificent raptor.  Our presence startled the wolf who took off running towards the dense brush, but once he was at a comfortable distance, he gazed back to size us up before disappearing into the forest.  What an absolute thrill to experience such a scene on a beautiful July afternoon.

A solitary excursion into the back country of Grand Teton National Park yielded a similar feeling back in May.  The snow had finally melted enough to hike a choice trail and temperatures would be in the high 60s with brilliant sunshine.  On the back loop of Paintbrush, I encountered a group from Oregon stopped on the trail, bear spray at the ready.  A beautiful sow grizzly with two young cubs crossed the dirt path just in front of us, quite disinterested in our activities.  She gave a nod as if to say, “Good day to you folks” and guided her cubs deep into the brush of Grand Teton away from human curiosity. All parties then departed to continue our respective journeys, but I paused for a moment because I thought I heard drums beating nearby. Perhaps I was hearing echoes of the Nez Perce or Shoshone? Did I (accidentally) ingest a forest mushroom? Stopping to listen more closely, I discovered the drum was indeed the beating of my own heart. Can’t get that feeling from Netflix.

Beartooth Butte reflected in the stillness of Beartooth Lake

Back to chasing minnows.  There’s a trail in the Beartooth wilderness that has become a mainstay excursion for me.  It’s one of my favorite places to haunt because it’s quite remote and not many folks know about it.  Additionally, it’s only accessible from June to early October due to snow and on a very warm day the temperature might reach 70. The views of Beartooth Butte and the Falls are exquisite; sublime even.  This year the Beartooths saw record snowfall on Memorial Day weekend, with up to six feet of snow on the Beartooth Pass.  As such, spring run-off was exceptional this year.  So exceptional, that my favorite trail was consumed by the lake that it parallels.  Not to be deterred, I stuck to the trail despite having to wade through 45-degree shin deep water. What made this so entertaining was watching the minnows dance at my feet, seemingly racing me to the water’s edge; I Lemuel Gulliver, and the minnows the Lilliputians.  They were so plentiful that I could have scooped them up in handfuls. Had not the trail beckoned me, I would have frolicked with those snippersnappers all day.

These kinds of experiences echo the sentiments of 19th century poet William Wordsworth who wrote:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

We are too much with the world, and too little with nature, indeed.  Oh, the prescience of Mr. Wordsworth.  Had he lived today, I’m inclined to think we would exchange books over a cup of Earl Grey. 

So, what have I discovered in returning my heart to the nature of which Wordsworth writes? True elation that is other worldly because it comes from delighting in God’s gifts to us.  The psalmist wrote, “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4). Under the Big Sky freedom is visceral and it’s very easy to feel God’s presence. Why? Because in nature there’s nothing to separate us from Him. He is there in the smell of sagebrush, in the snort of a bison, in the rush of rivers…and even in the chasing of minnows.

Not all who wander are lost…