Fearless Faith

One of the first lessons learned by novice backpackers and hikers is to avoid putting oneself in danger. Trailhead signposts of recent past in the Mt. Zirkel Wilderness area underscored the concern by declaring “Mountains Don’t Care.” The warning truthfully lays it out for those who believe themselves above such concerns. Even the most experienced outdoors persons can get caught unaware when changes surrounding them turn ugly. It’s not only about wildlife, but also weather and more than a little common sense. It takes awareness and watchfulness to declare a backpacking trip successful. The fact that you are most responsible for yourself is invigorating and a high of sorts. We returned from our excursions more alive, confident, and positive.

However, like most everyone else, we learned a few things the hard way: the balance between necessity and backpack weight and comfort, pitching tents too close to streams, and forgetting to hoist our food stores in a high tree to discourage bears. Fear drove us to observe the no-food-in-tent rule. After the first night or two, we discovered how important it was to not be too eager to fold up tents of a morning. Letting the tents dry out made for better sleeping the succeeding nights. It did not take long to adopt an ethos of low impact camping. We were not the first to come this way, nor would we be the last. It was always a pleasure to come upon a well-tended camp left in pristine shape by those ahead of us.

The danger we sometimes overlooked involved the possibility of a tree crashing down on top of our tent. Known as deadfalls, these mostly dead trees are often no match for mountain winds, especially at higher elevations. It was a trade-off, shelter versus deadfalls. We discovered that being alive the next morning trumped a tree windbreak composed of deadfalls.

One need not camp to be cautious regarding deadfalls. Our high plains offer plenty of wind, and stingy annual rainfall discourages even the most drought tolerant trees. After seventy some years, according to tree growth rings, a row of hackberry trees has finally succumbed. High winds, not unlike those in alpine environments, have reminded us how many deadfalls reside in our shelter belt. Blustery thunderstorm fronts this week increased the number of trees to cut up after being toppled. I no longer mow under the remaining deadfalls except in the calmest of weather.

Deadfalls are present in our considerations of faith. They represent traditional ways that we have known our whole lives. They don’t change much from day-to-day, and we prefer not having to worry over anything new. Meanwhile, the tree is not as sturdy or pest free as we would hope. Acknowledging that realty is the first step in opening us to new varieties of faith that will accomplish all that the previous trees did, and then some. Yes, be careful where you pitch your tent. Yes, be aware of potential deadfalls. Yes, remind yourself that mountains don’t care. And come home energized, ready to tackle life in all the best ways. Hike into the remote places of your heart and bolster your faith above and below ground, leaving a pristine camp for those who follow.