Along the Trail

Along the Trail

For those of you who may have grown used to my ramblings about things that happened in other places long past, the following should offer something a little more contemporary.

After coming to southeast Idaho in 1967, my skiing
picked up considerably with discovery of the opportunities
that abounded in the region. My main focus was at Kelly
Canyon, where I became involved in patrolling a network of
trails that were being developed in the back country. These
activities expanded with the opening of Harriman State
Park. In regard to Kelly Canyon, where I limbered up my
arms on the old rope tow, a few experieces stand out.

In one instance, while skiing alone sometime back in the
1990's, as I was leaving the "Y" intersection a mile up road
from the ski area, a large bull moose ambled out from the
right side of the road not more than a hundred feet ahead of me..
I stopped and watched while he, seemingly unconcerned with my
presence, ambled across and into brush on the far side.
With those long legs and stride, he vanished into snow
as silently as he had appeared.

In another instance, as I was coming back down the
trail with a partner, we passed a mother moose and her
young'un resting in a shallow ravine in the snow, calmly
watching us as we slowly skied by not 30 feet away.

Another time, as my partner and I were sitting on a
log enjoying a sandwich above the "Y", a cow moose amb-
led just feet away while we held our breath in suspended

The ending of summer brings on another season
with its own sights and sounds that are more muted. Like
the ermine that is there and then fades into the snow. In
those days, as often as not, I was alone out there. A few
experiences have tempered that early abandon. As an old
friend I used to ski with would say, "Learn to pace yours-
elf and to recognize your limits." Learn to recognize that
"inner voice". It doesn't speak very loud.

Evan Tibbott