Dream(s)

At one of the many turnouts off of Canaan Loop Rd, high up in West Virginia's Tucker County, there is a campsite. It's along Red Run, one of the color-coded tributaries of the Cheat River, one of the East's last remaining untamed river systems.

Let's go there with nothing to do, for days.

In Northcentral PA's Allegheny National Forest, near Merienville, is a seldom visited tract of grassland serviced by a gated forest road. It's called Buzzard Swamp, and I was introduced to it by a friend in the summer of 2015. A few miles in, at the far end of a pristine lake is a campsite under a lone, giant sycamore.

I want to pack in, sit down, and find some time, just us.

On the pristine streams like Indian Creek, not too far away from home, are pools that, at low water on a beautiful July afternoon, are isolated and idyllic. Nobody for miles. Big gulps of fresh forested air and crystal clear water trickling across the bedrock. They're on the small creeks and on the tributaries of the big rivers. They're easy enough to get to for a day trip and hard enough to get to for crowds. It would be just us.

Let's sit in it and breathe it in.

Dreams like this are challenges because they represent a paradox to me. In theory, I want to soak up as much of a unique natural setting as possible by just sitting, observing, and being present. Being mindful. Then, when I get the chance I typically don't. I run. I climb. I swim and paddle and jump and swing and dig. Then, if I have time, after I've exhausted myself, I relax.

But sometimes it eventually happens. Come along and see.

In the summertime, the water's warm and clear in French Creek. In the evening, in the low sunlight, you can lay belly-down on one of the many shallow, rocky shoals. If you lower your face to the water and look upstream you can watch the continual approach of water as it swirls around you on its gentle downhill journey. If you're lucky the water reflects a pink sky and setting sun above the pines. I like to lie still until the riffles subside to a flow state. It might be the most relaxing thing I've ever done.

Will you come and do it with me? Can I show you? We can jump off the rope swing first if that makes any difference.

I'll do the things you want to do, too. I love a matinee and really enjoy sushi. I'll play chess and build Legos. I'll draw you pictures to color in, try the dance moves you just learned, cook your favorite meal, and watch you learn karate. I've been known to enjoy the beach.

Let's dream together. In a flash we can have treehouses designed, built, and lived in. Rivers floated, trails navigated, and bastards knocked off. Then, just being there. The only thing common to these dreams are the characters, and then let's really do it.

Let's find some good weather and toss top-roping gear, a chess board, a few books, and camping gear into a canoe and float Smokehole Canyon over a week, really slowly. I think there are some crags back in there worth exploring. Let's do that lying down in the water thing there, too.

Let's lash cedar logs together and pole down a stream, fishing, talking, thinking, and not much else.

Let's make a plan to have no plan for a few days, in Montana. Just us. The family.

Then let's do that same thing in the Adirondacks.

You're in for a trip, because I'm no different than anybody else, always dreaming. And like anybody else I try to make those dreams come true.

Or am I different? Are we? I often wonder.