July 21st. Heart of the Mountains, MT. I woke up the next morning out of a deep sleep. The air was cool. The stream burbled in my ears. The cedars swayed gently overhead. My world was safe. I got up out from under my tarp and walked to the stream to splash water on my face. Then I walked the perimeter of my camp, reverting to some natural desire to delineate my territory. I set my camp stove on one of the hearthstone's of my fire pit and boiled water for tea, which I drank slowly, listening to the trees and the water and the early morning chorus of the forest birds.

We climbed and climbed, weaving in and out along the folds of the mountains, moving up and in towards their central ridge. Patches of snow began to show up in the shade. The ground was dry and rocky and the trees small from exposure. As we got higher up, I began to see alpine meadows between the scree falls, bright green oases in the rock. I saw a herd of elk moving across. 

Eventually we got back on the little Honda. We drove to another vista point where we could look northeast up a canyon and then we started back down the hill. The ride down was a thrill, scarier than the ride up because I could just look straight down the slope and because Clyde was digging riding downhill. He was one hell of a dirtbike rider to have all that extra weight on the bike. The road was full of sharp rocks that hunt tires and I would feel Clyde jerk us from one rut to another and then I'd look down and see the glint of a rock tooth shoot under my foot. He had started riding as a kid and he just felt it. It was a pleasure to be on back. 

He nodded, closed his eyes, rubbed his knee, and let his head fall under the water. There was a young group up in the best pool. It's the hottest pool and it's also right near fast part of the river so the sound fills your ears as you soak. It was three guys and a cute chick in a bikini with some kind of Asian tree tattooed on her lower back. I wanted to be in their pool. It wasn't long after I thought that, that they started shouting. One of the guys hopped in the river and started trying to walk fast on the sharp stones but gave up. 

I asked them where they were going to stay that night. They didn't know. We hung around until dusk fell, bullshitting, jumping in and out of the cold water, and smoking weed. I asked them again where they intended to sleep and they said they'd probably just camp in the field up top.