August Valhalla

In the cool mornings of youth
The finding of virtues call out like
A town crier in one's soul
In urgent tones to follow the journey upwards
Unto the mountains of wisdom from past ages
First taught in youth with images
Sometimes with experience of those lofty peaks
Expressed for me in a week spent happily in
Slocan's Valhalla range named from
Norse legends of the halls of
Slain heroes and home of the gods.

It was a surprise gift from Helen Butling
Defender of our alpine world
First woman on Gladsheim for me to second
I was just past my fourteenth birthday
For that early morning that began with meeting new people
The long drive to the trail head to begin
A nine mile walk in the heat of day
The early August foliage of devil's club
Looming over my head with stifling presence
Stealing the oxygen air until the halfway point
A forest glade with creek water, and rest
To banish my fatigue, cool my veins
Renew hope of the final ascent
Into the Mulvey basin
Surrounded by rugged mountain peaks
Crowned by Gladsheim
Home of the gods brooding over
The pristine valleys.

There among the alpine flowers
We pitched our tents in the
Fragrance of alpine trees
Stunted and misshapen from long
Winter's grasp with perfume breeze
Unique and intoxicating
Heaven's own garden beneath its dome.
But then there were the endless horseflys
Terror of my younger days
As I quickly learned to hit them hard
Learned it was best to punch them
Before they could take their morsel of flesh.


The art of rock climbing with the use of ropes
And in my case, elbows and knees
I was invited to ascend Gladsheim
In the care of a mountain guide
Both kind and sure footed
We started out through the midst of boulders
To the ridge razor backed with
Another valley whose mountain we could see
Aptly called the Devil's couch always watching
Never benign to those who would
Journey upwards to speak with things of heaven.

I can still see the sheer rock wall
Falling it seemed for miles
As I slipped yet safely roped
Scrambled with only a quick downward
Glance that etched itself in my memory
The vast possibilities of harm not
To be dwelt upon or given second thought
But only to venture onwards in relief
Gain the summit where at the top of Gladsheim
A cairn with names written to be added to
And survey mountain range upon range
Unknown by name to me reaching
Into endless horizon and mystery.
We ate our lunch in the wonder of
Creation's form and rested to begin
The long descent with me relying
On the soon to be worn out
Seat of my jeans.

I gained an unearned reputation
From my fellow mountaineers that day
For being a talented climber, fearless
Thus nvited to scramble the Batwing I ran
Into fear from not being roped into
Safe passage along small edges
Wavering dangerously in my own mind
Did my discomfort manifest itself I wonder.

And then midweek it snowed
All hiking ceased as large white flakes
Descended on the alpine flowers
The reds, blues and yellows
The purple and greens mixed with
Falling white that melted
Upon the ground as I
Walked through the small meadows
Amazed by the mystery of this beauty
Filled with joy in the whispers
The silent happiness in this lonely place.

The final mountain ascent of Asgard
Through swirling mists we
Carefully climbed into the clouds
Hurrying past us on urgent business
Perhaps the souls swirling from earth
Were passing by and then were left behind
As above the clouds we stood
Their thick cotton wool texture hiding the valley
With only the mountain peaks dark and pointed
Piercing this eiry stillness like lone sentinels
Guarding the movement of all time
As the clouds slowly rose to engulf us
Flowing into the vast unknown to
Treasure as memory.