Knowing one place well is a wonderful way to live. Being unable to travel doesn’t seem so bad to me right now. COVID stay-at-home has given me a gift: the joy of exploring my local trails more deeply by staying overnight. That has brought a deeper patience and a willingness to sit still and watch what is happening around me.
I’ve already been on more backpacking trips in the last three weeks than I took all of last year and I’m still working 5 days a week. That is because I’m staying local and just going for one or two nights. It is surprisingly easy to throw some food in the waiting pack and head to one of the trails I’ve hiked many times but never camped on.
Instead of spending a month of the summer hiking a trail I know well, I decided that staying home is best and that I would explore the places I could get to quickly from my house. I’ve been on three very short backpacks in the Comanche Peaks Wilderness and now am scouring the map for other trails in that wilderness to explore.* I suddenly feel like knowing the place that I live intimately is the perfect goal. My hand may have been forced by a global pandemic, but I’m not sorry. I’ve watched American Dippers dive into a river I wouldn’t wade into for fear of my life, found piles of fresh bear poop a mile from my camp, watched a mama and baby moose walk past, been swarmed by mosquitoes, and watched a lot of clouds float by. So far summer has been full of riches.
“Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That’s where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go.”
In the images here, I’m weaving on my lightest Hokett 4 x 6 inch loom. This loom, a shed stick, a couple needles, and a small beater along with a small bundle of warp and some cards with weft wrapped on them weigh less than 6 ounces. I also usually carry a Turkish spindle and some bits of roving or occasionally I’ll add some dyed fleece and a flick carder.
I started this little piece on a trip earlier this month up the North Fork of the Big Thompson river. Sometimes when I’m hiking alone, my heart feels very lonely, especially on the first night out. This particular night I was really mentally pacing and so I climbed inside the bug netting to be free of those mosquito nuisances and designed a small tapestry. As soon as I started warping the loom I felt better, more settled and happy to be there. I wove a tiny bit of brown handspun at Lost Lake, my next day’s destination. But I couldn’t find a good way to accomplish the design I wanted and so I left out the tree elements and just wove the handspun “background”. It served its purpose. I felt better. I slowed down enough to be in the moment, and I listened to a lot of birdsong as I wove.
Weaving at Lost Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park, Hokett loom, handspun. The fly fisherman in the background caught a trout while I was weaving.
Last morning weaving in a meadow before heading back to the car along the Big Thompson River.*** It was 100 degrees in Fort Collins when I got home and I definitely wished I’d stayed another night in the mountains.
Lost Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park
That piece was not finished so I took it on this week’s trip with Emily and wove some more. That trip was up the Poudre River, a Wild and Scenic River near Fort Collins which is also in the Comanche Peak Wilderness. I’ve hiked the Big South Trail many times over the last three decades, but I’d never stayed overnight mostly because the bridge over the Poudre is out at 7 miles (and has been since I was in graduate school here in the 90s) and I thought the trail was too short to be worth a backpack. I was wrong. It was a worthwhile experience. I did not see moose, but also did not see many people and did see some American Dippers diving into the raging river. What amazing birds!
With the possibility of travel largely gone for the foreseeable future, exploring the places where we live seems like something to settle into. I’ve become more interested in details. In watching and understanding what is happening in my back yard. And in spending the time to watch what happens overnight on the trails I have loved for decades. I’ll keep weaving and spinning while outside and that will prompt me to weave more while I’m in my own studio.
Picture gallery
And for those of you who are as enchanted by the wrapping patterns on the Turkish spindle as I am, here are a few photos. A few chickens and a moose might have snuck in there also. (Click for larger versions, hover for captions, arrows to scroll. If you get the blog via email you’ll see a long list of photos without captions and you can visit the gallery online HERE to see those.)
I also finished this weaving for Pride month that I talked about on Change the Shed several times.
Rebecca Mezoff, Pride 2020. Copper pipe loom in my own back yard.
What have you explored this summer so far? Tell us in the comments!
*The catch is that I live in Colorado and everyone and their brother is on the trails on the weekends, so I’m going mid-week. That means that if you’re looking for an answer from me in a course or via email, you should check my schedule on my website on the NEWS page. It also means that you may see me answering questions on the weekend. Don’t get too used to that! It’ll change when backpacking season is over in October.
**Rebecca Solnit is a wonderful author. This book is one of my favorites.
***Because someone will ask, this is a 4 x 6 inch Hokett loom, tiny tapestry beater from Threads Thru Time on Etsy, bobbin by Milissa Ellison Dewey of Bobbin Boy.