Morning is precious. Morning is essentially private. Mornning is when we come to know ourselves in the world. No wonder then, that the inuiting all the morning’s possibilities, the heart rises at the thought of plans of a whole day in the wilderness.

There is something about the morning and morning work that demands a certain kind of aloneness. With the morning comes an ability to work into the day and the day’s work in our own way. It is in the morning that we can find the particualar contour that leads us to a particular door which opens to wilderness and the unknown. It is a door that gives us the sense of exploring the patterns that emege in our day according to our own nature rather than trying to squeeze ourselves and all that we do into an abstract box.

Rupert Brook Trout is a story teller

Henry Takasan fishing on the river

Rupert Brook Trout on the river

Whenever the light of civilization falls upon me with a blinding power, then I go into the wilderness. I go to the mountains. I go to the prairies. The wilderness and seas are places to hold me. I let the cities become a memory. I let the wilderness and seas take hold of me. The wilderness gives me good red blood. I become full of spirit. I soon behold all with a peaceful soul. There is something in the very name of the wilderness that charms. It soothes the spirit and guides me from darkness.

If adventure has a final and all embracing motive it is surely this: go out. Because it is our nature to go out, to climb the mountains and sail the seas, to fly to the planets and plunge into the depths of the oceans. By doing these things we touch something outside or beyond, which strangely seems to approve doing them. Going out extends our horizon and expands our being. I revel in a mastery of myself which gives an impression, mainly illusion, that I am the master of my world.