Visiting Dad

I was looking forward to having my eighty-nine year old Dad all to myself for a few days. Usually, when I visit Wyoming there is a lot of family around, but this time it was just my Dad and I. I have a fondness for my Dad that comes from my childhood.  I loved to play with my Dad, go places with him, and have new adventures together.  When I was in high school, we lived together, just the two of us.  I’m sure he has his own perspective about that period of time, but one thing I really appreciated about my Dad was that he trusted me, and he wasn’t always asking me all kinds of questions about how I was feeling.  As a teenager, that felt good.  We would just hang out.  One time he made me a birthday cake.  To this day, I still feel bad about that moment.  My Mom was usually the one to make birthday cakes.  One time she made me a four layer cake and when you cut into it you could see that each layer was a different color.  The birthday cake my Dad made me was a little lopsided and sad…kind of like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.  I don’t know why I couldn’t just appreciate the love and the effort…but I didn’t, and I was sad about my lopsided cake.  Now, my adult self really appreciates that lopsided cake and all the love that my Dad put into it.  

My Dad is easy going. “Easy Righter” was his nickname when he was young.  He is an extrovert and will be one of the last to leave a party because he’s having good conversation.  He is smart and knows a lot about our current world and the history of our world.  He is always reading interesting books and has written many interesting books himself.  I am proud of my Dad.  I think it’s amazing to have a Dad that was a professor and whose books can be seen when you walk into a Teton National Park gift shop.  He even included a couple of photos of mine in one of his books, so now you can see my photos when you walk into the gift shop.  I feel like he’s a little famous in Wyoming and has contributed such a great work of history for anyone who wants to learn about this beautiful place.  

During our visit we went hiking.  I love that my Dad can still hike. That has been a passion of his since he was young. He would hike in the Sierra’s, in the footsteps of one of his heroes, John Muir.  Backpacking and hiking was a big part of my childhood.  Recently, my Dad has been dealing with foot pain that has hindered his walking, so when we took a morning hike, it felt extra special.  He had discovered a mild trail that leads up to a meadow and a view of the mountains.  It was an October day so many of the aspen trees that lined the trail had already dropped their leaves.  There was a feeling of fall in the air and the ground was covered in yellow.  My Dad is struggling a bit with his balance so he busted out a very cool walking stick to assist him on the way up the hill.  

My Dad and Una (his three year old English Setter) walked ahead of me, steady and deliberate, while I stopped along the way to make photographs of the beauty around me.  My Dad waited for me at the meadow and we watched Una joyfully bound through the long grass.  The sun felt warm and we had the whole place to ourselves.  I couldn’t even hear any noise from the highway, just stillness and the sounds of nature.  My Dad scouted out a comfortable place in the long grass to lay down and take a rest.  While he laid in the sun, Una and I hiked a little further up the hill and I found a spot with a beautiful view of the Teton Mountain range.  Then I walked back down and joined my Dad, laying under the blue sky and soaking in the warmth.  

I surprised my Dad with a dark chocolate peanut butter cup that I had snuck into my backpack before leaving the house.  He was happy to eat this little treat out there in the meadow, surrounded by the grass, trees and mountains.  That brought back memories of the Thanksgiving we spent on a beach while backpacking in New Zealand.  For our Thanksgiving dinner we had salami and cheese and for dessert, “Minties,” a kind of mint taffy found there.  I kept trading him my Minties for his salami because he loved them so much.  

Once we had our fill of our Wyoming meadow, we made our way back down to the car.  I felt happy to have this experience with my Dad.  I am so aware of time going by and the fact that we won’t always have these moments together.  It was nice to be just him and I, to have him all to myself and to share an experience of being outside in the mountains like we have so many times throughout my life.  

I have great memories of the mountains.  My Dad taught me to fly fish (no other fishing is allowed in my family).  One time we were backpacking near a mountain lake and my Dad taught me how to sneak up on the trout.  I would try hard to blend into a boulder on the shore and then quietly cast my fly into the water.  I would then watch the trout approach my fly and decide whether or not to take the bait.  I would run around that lake not caring about the branches and trees.  One evening I returned to camp and realized I was bleeding and had scratched my leg on a branch.  It was just a scratch and it didn’t phase me, but I still have the scar.  It reminds me of the wildness of Wyoming.  

I wrote in my journal that in Wyoming I find my voice.  It is the voice of a girl that grew up wild and free.  Riding around town on her bike with friends, walking a “spy route” after school with Richard Hayes, eating peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, rafting down the Big Laramie River and skiing back powder runs at Medicine Bow.  That girl was fearless and adventurous.  She was curious about everything and loved new experiences.  

How grateful I am to have grown up with a Father who showed me the world and taught me about wild things.  No matter where I wander, Wyoming will always be a part of me and so will my Dad.  I am so glad we had a few days together to experience the wildness again in a small way.  These are moments to savor.