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One day, a lifetime in the Bob
By Radd Icenoggle
Indian summer sun reflects through the doghair lodgepole pines into my shoulders. The wind-stunted aspens have turned a flaming golden, an omen of the end of backpacking for the year. One last meal of bread and cheese before bearing my abode for a week. Sun warmed pack strips greet my shoulders as the load conforms to my pack.
Laces tightened, bellies full as we start on the well worn trail that follow the west fork of the south fork of the Sun River in the Bob Marshall Wilderness. At the first bridge, we meet a pack train of dirty, but smiling guests of a famed packer. They tell us stories of bugle crazy elk and old bear sign in the meadows some 6 miles ahead. This conservation has definitely heightened my anticipation of this evening.
Countless hooves and boots of the season have pulverized the trail into a layer of fluffy soil and scattered rocks. The swirling dust of the trial is pierced by the haunting laughter of a Red-breasted Nuthatch. These denizens of the forest are the acrobats of the bird world, hanging upside down from a branch and launching into flight from that position. Along with the white flashes of Dark-eyed Junco tails, the woods are a display of avian color on a green canvas.
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