By Marla Ann Duenwald Landt
My knees are at a crisp angle and my feet rest on the bench of the picnic table above Belt Creek as I sip my tea. Breakfast cooked over a camp stove is just the start I need. Graying initials carved in the wood tell of others who shared this public campground and who wished their memories to be part of it. I await sunrise over the Little Belts as my eyes drift upwards. There is no traffic, no office buildings, no air pollution, just my hiking boots and a plan to follow my frosty breath through the spruce, pine and fir this day.
I leave my campsite behind and begin the forest trail; I know that Stay-at-Home led me here, my home and yours. Peace is in the Little Belts on a path along Tenderfoot Creek leading to Memorial Falls. Stay-at-Home means distance from Virus and nearness to shelter. Here I am protected on the windward side of this ridge where my feet lead me forward. The swaying of the trees, though barely perceptible, brings quietude, until the abrupt call of a raven warns the squirrels, whitetails and chickadees of the intruder that I am. I watch her black wings take her soaring above the forest. I, not a virus, am the only threat here. Though an intruder, I am harmless to them.
The dun under my boots softly gives way as I hike between the conifers and rocks to meander upwards. The falls beckon me forward with sounds of flowing water and the scent of evergreens while the sun warms the air around me. The iridescent mist creates a rainbow over the creek. Fallen trees and jumbled rocks are the guardrail by this path. This shaded trail is worn from footsteps put down year after year by so many of us seeking the solace and quiet.
My pace is slow so I may savor the jagged shadows, the dotted sunlight and the murmurs of the wind. Following the trail, I reach the falls as the morning mist has lifted. Warmth in this open area is reflected from the stones, timeless in their presence. Perhaps later others will arrive, for now, though, it is just me, the majesty of this haven, and the reassurance that I am not only protected here, but renewed, and filled with the respite I need.