Dale Valade

I first saw the film “Jeremiah Johnson” when I was only 9 or 10. I would be willing to bet that I have seen that film at least 50 times since then. I never grow weary of the story, nor the lessons to be drawn from it.

After ruining the hunt of a grizzled old trapper named Bear Claw Chris Lapp, the nearly starved Johnson is directed to Lapp’s cabin for food. Seeing the predicament of his fellow man, Lapp takes Johnson under his wing after Johnson proves his mettle on a grizzly bear. Throughout the film, Lapp repeatedly exhorts, “Mountain’s got its own ways.”

Just what are the ways of the mountain? They certainly aren’t the ways of men. There are no saints, heathens, races, classes nor any preferential or prejudicial treatment. There are no shortcuts or “get out of jail free” cards. The only laws the mountain has to obey are the laws of the universe.

Gravity, for example, is a universal law. Like it or not, you will have to deal with it. Age, physical abilities and personal skills are the only cards in your hand that matter. But even those aren’t a constant. You get old, you get tired, you forget. Such is life.

I figure myself for being in good fighting shape for the most part, but like nature always does, the mountain had to remind me of some things this year.

After hiking 10 miles in a wilderness area with some hunting clients one day, we had to make an even longer trek the next. We left the truck at about 8 that morning, having spotted some elk just below a canopy of freezing fog from a great distance away. For whatever reason(s), I felt very poorly and tired from the day before but still went along to help.

By about the fourth mile, it was taking all I had just to keep up. The fatigue, impending illness, climatic temperature, and rough country all were taking their toll on me. One minute I was sweating like a politician on Judgment Day, the next I was shivering so bad that I trembled. The elk we pursued seemed to continually extend the distance whenever we were getting even close to the outer limits of what anyone could consider rifle range. Anyone who says that the game animals have no chance has obviously never been hunting.

At one point I fell behind as another guide and the clients continued on. I thought to myself after petitioning for some divine providence that the mountain simply does not care if we get an elk or not. The mountain does not care if I were to lay down and die right where I sat, and that was the cold, hard truth. A client took a long shot just before dark which resulted in a miss, and then we hiked back to the truck. In all that day we covered just a little over 15 miles over a variance of 2,800 feet of elevation.

After dinner that night I showered and went straight to bed. My clothes were all wringing wet with sweat. Blistered feet, sore muscles and severely chafed nethers were the only participation trophies I had to show for my efforts.

And that mountain which was there long before I was even an itch will still be there well after I am gone the way of the earth. The mountain is not on my side nor your side; it doesn’t take sides.

That, my friends, is the way of the mountain — survival of the fittest, making good decisions and every once in a while you just might get lucky, but you can never, ever count on that.

What lessons has the mountain taught you? Write to us at shootingthebreezebme@gmail.com and check us out on Facebook!