There is no “one-size-fits-all” for adventure. In fact, personal traveling style allows freedom for savoring an experience — especially the unexpected.
Preferring to wing-it, my husband and I were ahead of the curve because we had a specific destination in mind for vacation. We even had a driving route mapped out. Roadtrippers should be proud. My favorite sister should be too!
We packed our vehicle with essentials that would contribute to survival and comfort while in the great outdoors. Established in our marriage many trips ago was a “rule-when-driving” regarding music. Whoever drives gets to choose the genre. Yours truly hopped in the driver’s seat.
I appreciate the nostalgia and warmth that folk and country pop bring. Perhaps some tunes would fill our car with melodies that would get us to our destination quicker.
“Music can increase dopamine and our response to rhythm.” Driving for miles along seemingly endless highways, winding country roads and everything in between landed us in the Bighorn Mountains in north-central Wyoming.
The Bighorn Mountains extend from the plains and Great Basin area of Wyoming northward into south central Montana. The mountain range is about 150 miles long and 30 miles wide.
There are more than one-million acres in Bighorn National Forest. Plenty of room in wide open spaces allowed Daniel and I to view breathtaking scenery from the “ground up.”
We set up our tent and then donned our waders and boots, grabbed our flyrods, and headed out to hopefully hook and land a wild trout or two.
Flyfishing in small mountain streams is every angler’s dream. Although, calling myself an angler is really stretching it. The weather was perfect for an evening of flyfishing. I was super excited to explore nature in this way. We were told that there were no grizzlies in the part of the state we were in, so I wasn’t too worried about the unexpected.
Hiking deep into the wild pine forests led us to streams nestled in the thick of trees, sagebrush, and rocks.
Settling in a few hundred yards from Daniel, I tied on a dry fly, cast my line and waited for a fish to bite. I waited and waited and waited. You get the picture. Nada.
Nature calls. Excuse me.
Meandering out away from the stream for some privacy, I took care of nature and then headed back. Noticing that Daniel was breaking down his rod I headed over his way.
He said, “We are going to move on.”
“Okiedokie.”
Moving on.
Suddenly, Daniel looked at me and said, “Shhhh, don’t move. Do not move.”
Guess what? You guessed it. I moved. Quite abruptly, I might add. Daniel, pointing behind me whispered, “Turn around slowly and look behind you.”
“Holy cow,” no pun intended.
I did not expect to see what these four eyes of mine saw. Standing quite tall and staring me down was a moose and it wasn’t Bullwinkle. It was a cow moose and she was nursing her calf.
It was a beautiful sight and my initial immature thought was to take a few photos for show and tell. But this girl had no desire to see how photogenic Moosie was nor did I care to be part of a show. Sorry, no photos.
Evidently, I had invaded her space while I was taking care of nature. Momma was not happy and her “loud guttural growling” sound warned us that we had better move on.
I don’t know much about moose, but I do know that their antlers and hooves are used for defense against predators. I was a predator. Yikes!
I had no desire to be trampled and found on the forest floor with hoofprints on my back.
My flight or fight response emerged. I wanted to flee as quickly as my feet would take me.
“Turn around slowly and walk towards the path that leads to the road.”
“Do not run.”
“We have already spooked her.”
“Momma will protect her baby at all costs.”
Confident in my immediate dire prayer request for safety and the expectation of Daniel to get us the heck out of there, I gingerly turned and began to walk away. Thankfully, the bulky waders and boots kept me from an all-out sprint. I glanced over my shoulders a few times to assess the whereabouts of the giant.
I kept my flyrod in hand for self-defense. This girl was not going to go down without a good fight. My pride was at stake.
Safe at last. Breathe, just breathe. We were in the vehicle heading back to camp.
I am extremely grateful that my destiny for that particular day was to sit back and relax around an evening campfire. I spent some time pondering that unexpected experience.
I researched some facts about the nature of moose. They are the largest members of the deer family, with expansive antlers that can span up to six feet across. They are also the largest mammal in North America, weighing up to 1,600 pounds and standing 6 feet tall at their shoulders. The females, called a cow, are slightly smaller than bulls and usually weigh between 700-1,200 pounds. Still pretty darn big!
Moose are powerful and strong, yet surprisingly agile for their massive size. They are well adapted to cold climates, with thick fur coats that keep them warm during the winter months.
“The imposing size and resilience in the face of adversity have made the Moose a powerful symbol of strength and endurance. Its ability to navigate through deep snow and withstand the bitter cold of winter has been interpreted as a representation of perseverance and determination.”
I am keenly aware of my small stature and weakness, but my courage comes from God. His guidance allows me to navigate through “deep snow” and “bitter cold of winter” with perseverance and determination.
In Christ, I can face life’s giants head-on with strength and endurance. In my human weakness I receive strength from God to be an overcomer in the trials of life.
“God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer’s; he makes me tread on my high places,” Habakkuk 3:19.
Consider how you face the giants in your life.
Please, don’t get trampled.
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