Montana’s Bob Marshall Wilderness is a gentle, unfamiliar world to me. Never in my wildest dreams have I seen mountains so stoic or rivers so clear. The bellow of a cow elk is a foreign sound to me, and the silhouette of the osprey outcompetes any bird in Wisconsin. Though I am amazed by the unscripted beauty here, I can’t help but shake the feeling that I am out of my element. There is so much that I don’t know, even though I am sure this land has the patience to teach me. It’s easy to get overwhelmed and feel like a fraud when you are surrounded by so many complex systems, but you can also take a step back and search for something you do know. There’s comfort in recognizing something. It’s like getting invited to a big party where you don’t know anybody, and just as you are about to leave, you bump into your old coworker. Suddenly you have someone to share stories with, and perhaps they’ve given you the courage to talk to others. Although my journey has only begun, I’ve encountered a lot of unfamiliar land. I’ve also run into a lot of friendly faces, and I’d like to introduce some and share our stories.
Although I am a stranger to the Rocky Mountains, I am familiar with the glaciers that sculpted them. How cool it is to see real-world examples of the damage and impact that the massive ice sheet left behind. I can see the bowl-like shape of a cirque and actually trace its drainage with my eyes. I can see the snow-covered horns of some of the alpine mountains and visualize the ice sheet carving them. But best of all, while backpacking the Sun River Trail, I can see the giant fjord, or U-shaped valley, and realize the pictures in lecture don’t do the scale justice. It’s beautiful. I am amazed by how easily I am transported back to my favorite geology class by just seeing these examples in the field.
It’s like I can see Allison, my Glacial professor at UW Milwaukee, presenting these features right in front of me, and I can hear my friends Sara and Hannah cracking jokes about who knows what. And just like that, without expecting it, I feel a little bit of home all the way out here in the wilderness.
The next day, I saw some simple river rocks that gave me that same soothing feeling as the mountains did. Before I left, I remember having a conversation with my girlfriend Lillian about these beautiful rocks her grandfather gave her from Glacier National Park. Perfectly round with vibrant blues, reds, and greens. While hiking, I had entirely forgotten about this interaction we had (carrying 50 pounds on your back tends to get you thinking about other things). Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I found a winding path of the rocks that matched her description. I was skeptical at first, but then I realized my proximity to the park. I then noticed that these same rocks were in the river next to the winding path. Maybe this string of rocks is an abandoned channel of the neighboring stream? It was a logical guess in my mind, for the smoothness of the rocks and the cracks in the mud indicate a fluvial system. All of these thoughts and connections happened within the span of a minute or two. Perhaps these stones are entirely different from what I think they are. I’m ok with that. From just a simple glance at these river rocks I was able to imagine an origin story based on my knowledge. From just a simple glance, I was reminded of my person I have waiting for me.
In my family, the game of Euchre is a rite of passage. From what I’ve heard, my dad’s side of the family used to host big games and took them very seriously. I remember learning this game for the first time in a shack in the middle of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It was my younger brother’s golden birthday, and we rented a small place so he could look for a specific rock. Somehow, this Midwestern card game has found its way to the Rockies. It’s hard not to think of my first time whenever I play. This time around, while teaching Euchre to my newfound friends Althea and Olivia on the ground of our campsite, it’s hard not to think of teaching this game to my roommates Jack and Ian. Admittedly, it seems these new friends understood it faster than my roommates did. This game, no matter where I am, will always feel familiar to me.
The farther I get into this course, the more unfamiliar my surroundings will become. That being said, I know I will get more accustomed to the unfamiliarity and better at applying my knowledge to the landscape. And I will continue to search for connections to my personal life. I may not need it to keep myself grounded, but what’s the harm in a little extra comfort? So I’ll keep my eye out for the quaking aspen that reminds me of Milwaukee’s Lake Park, and I’ll be looking for the deer that cross through my grandparents’ window. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll find something at home that takes me back to this wonderful time in the Bob Marshall Wilderness.