I'm reminded of a solitary trek I made from Kintla Lake, now 30 years ago but still bright in my memory. At one point I made a decision, arguably ill-advised, to leave the marked trail and venture north into a trackless section of the Boundary Mountains.I recall how difficult it was to find a clear and easily navigable way upward, and I'll never forget the exhilaration I felt when finally I crested a high, open ridge from which I could take some compass bearings.
Behind me were the Kintla Creek lakes and the landscape through which I'd already passed. Canada lay ahead, with British Columbia in front of me and the southwestern corner of Alberta to my right.
Taking bearings gave me my position, but it didn't chart my course -- that was up to me. All I knew for sure was that I wouldn't be turning back. I pressed on, down-slope and northeast, making my way toward the international border.
Today, standing on a metaphorical ridge, I look back at the path that brought me here over the last 12 months. By any measure it was damned tough going, with dry washes and dead ends, uncertain footing and more than a few falls.
I've arrived at this vantage point weary yet still strong, aware of life's gifts and inescapable joys, and my family walks with me.
The trials of 2008 are behind me. I'll carry the year's lessons but drop its burdens, pressing on into new territory, both unknown and unexplored.
I have my bearings. As for 2009, all I know for sure is that I won't be turning back.
