Category Winding Trails

Away to the west of the Chetco-Illinois River divide, in a dark, wooded section of the Little Chetco canyon, many years ago, when the hardy gold seekers of that day were back there reaping a golden harvest, a sturdy little one-room cabin with an open lean-to attached to one end was built beside the trail not far from the river.  It was always called the “Emily” cabin.

More and more, if we get our hands on the right kind of literature, we read of the importance of physical exercise in building up and maintaining good bodily health.  The muscles, it seems, instead of resenting any additional burden imposed on them in the name of good health – within reasonable limits, of course – respond by performing some chemical magic that gives us a pleasant feeling of well-being and general fitness, a feeling that is conspicuously absent after prolonged periods of inactivity.

A long time ago I discovered that a good laugh acts as a sort of tonic, both physiological and mental.  I mean the kind of laughter that bubbles up spontaneously from the very depths of one’s being.

And then it happened.  My typewriter had scarcely regained its normal , temperature after clacking out a bevy of cutting remarks about how old man winter was playing dirty tricks on skiers in general and the poor resort owners in particular when the furious old frost-whiskered demon came snorting in on us, revenge bent.

It just isn’t nice when people lose their temper and say such nasty things about the poor weather man when that harassed individual, I’m sure, does his honest utmost to furnish us with his best guesses concerning what may be in store for us weather-wise.

If there’s anything worth comparing with a forest trail winding off into summer-drenched hills it would have to be the snow-covered forest roads of winter leading mysteriously away into those same mountains and canyons.