From The Top of Willamette Mountain

Theres no reason to be excited, except!!! for the fact that we're all going to HELL

Traditionally incorrect

Dottie. Goats Eye View.

A tradition, in the “traditional” sense of the word most likely would be used in an activity, athletic or non, that has been repeated several times over, and often throughout multiple generations. An activity that the group and or party feels has become part of their family or heritage. And so, to call this a “tradition” might NOT be everyone’s obvious choice of verbiage when it comes to the topic at hand, seeing as how it is only the second time that this alleged “tradition” has been repeated. But BY GOD!!! I am calling it a tradition!

Colby and I, late Thursday night, decided that our second ascent up Mount Timpanogos would be the following morning. He had no work that day. And I was ready for an adventure. And so early that next morning we met up at my house. I packed a couple of PB& Jelly sandwiches, water and some carrot sticks into a backpack and we headed to the trailhead that would eventually take us to the top of the Mountain. We couldn’t have asked for a better day. The weather was spectacularly overcast and we spent the next three hours racing up the face of one of the greatest hikes I have had the pleasure of knowing. The magical “MOUNT TIMPANOGOS”. We made it to the top and took it in. The magnificent beauty that was placed upon our eyes can never and will never be able to be portrayed via photos and or videos. The AWEseomeness of it all quickly consumed my whole inside. I was there. On the top of the world. With my blood. With my brother. Experiencing the essence of “being alive”. I was and am grateful for it, for him, for the moment, for life.

The beginning.

Blood Brothers. Mount TIMP.

Signing a LOG of names. Rememberance.

A slight snack of sleep before the departure back down the mountain.

After spending a good amount of time at the summit we started the hardest part of the hike…..the dissension. Because of the length of the hike, our knees began to feel the pressure of the push and the pull. Instead of pounding each foot into the trail as we headed down the 7 mile dissension we began to keep a nice steady jog. It felt much less strenuous on our joints than walking and before you knew it we had made it half way down. BUT WAIT!!! What is that we see? A female moose three feet off of the trail. The creature was massive, inhaling giant amounts of shrubbery right before our very eyes. It was a quick sneak past her and we were in the clear. No harm done. We finished our jog down the trail and made it safely to our petro filled vehicle. We got back to the valley and decided that swimming was a must. The day had been rigorous and there wasn’t a thing in our minds that sounded better than jumping into a large body of water in which we could TAKE IT ALL IN.

And so we did. We spent the next our and a half in the breezy afternoon by the poolside, talking about this and about that. The bond grew stronger. I could feel it. Family. It is “IT”! And we, we HAVE IT.

The next day arose and it was Onion Harvest day. After feeding all the animals I spent a good amount of time digging up all of our yellow and purple onions that we had cared for over the past 90 (rough estimate of time) days. I hung them over the fence to dry and quickly moved into planting the second set that I hope to have harvested before the icy cold fingers of winter step in and put to sleep the growing season of 2012.

Harvest Clowns. Onion.

That night we were to have a festivity of sorts. It would be the first ever JAMES KUBB TOURNAMENT. Couple from around the city had been invited to join in on the festivities. The tournament started at 7pm that night and the couples had arrived bearing gifts of food and friendship. There was homemade bread, goat cheese, hummus, and other knick knacks of wonderment. The games began and it was a heated tournament. The sun slowly sank beneath the west mountains and the night was beginning. On the radio Willie Nelson sang “Poncho and Lefty” there was only goodness that surrounded Willamette MTN that night. The night went on and on. There was dancing and goat herding, late night ladder ball, and the best conversation that any man/woman could ask for. Here is to my friends, my brothers, my sisters and my lover. TO the best of life.

Table Dancing. Willamette MTN, Utah. 2012. LIFE

People are people.

We are life and love.

It is here. It is now. It is forever.

It is ALL we have.

joshua fred.

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