Wickiup Plain
by Gail Denham

Backpacking, our family group arrived
at Wickiup Plain, not far below South
Sister Mountain. It was March and snow
lay along the edges of the plain.
A trail cut through the grassy expanse.

We set up a tent, and soon a hot fire
heated water in a huge, blackened coffee pot,
for our noodle soup and tea.

The sun slid lower in the sky; the mountain’s
white covering glowed. We donned coats
and crowded closer to the campfire.

Though the wind comes from down
the mountain, it wasn’t freezing, yet, but soon
chill breezes sent us to our sleeping bags.

That night, we all slept in the “Grand Hotel,”
the label of a huge yellow tent. Our long
hike that day eased us to sleep quickly.

By morning, ground moisture had seeped
through the tent floor. Snows had barely
left our camp area. The fire felt marvelous
after a chilly night.

We realized the faint tinkling we’d heard
as we woke had been a small band of donkeys
with their herder, on the trail. I still regret
not being able to photograph that parade.

The tent bottom was soaked–our bags damp.
Definitely time to move on. Yet leaving that
majestic mountain, its white glaciers still tinged
pink, and exiting the wide plain was hard.

Packed up, we hiked down the trail the way
we’d come, our heads turned for a final look.



 

Return to: