Being like the alpine forget-me-not

We trekked stubbornly through an old use trail, or what we used to call in the Park Service a “desire trail.” Most of it had vanished over time, or was obscured by deadfall and head-high, defiant willows. Nevertheless, we persisted, leaping over streams and tiptoeing across bogs. Even though we had already hiked 9 miles and over three thousand feet to get to this place, we wanted to explore.

It was worth it. We had walked into a living heaven. Mountain goats necklaced the cinder slopes above us. A confusion of geologic types came together: lava, granite and marble. Carved by glaciers, uplifted by faults, sea rocks on the ridge: this was a dynamic and turbulent place.

And the flowers! The snow blanket was being tossed aside, making way for that brief time of color explosion. My favorite was the alpine forget-me-not, clumps of impossible blue among the rocks.

As I wandered among them, I pondered the improbable lives of these alpine flowers. They burst forth for such a short time, then drop their leaves and wait under feet of snow for the right combination of sun and season to live again. They are up against so much. How do they gather strength every year to do it all over again?

Of course, flowers don't have human desires (or do they? How do we know for sure?). But here in the alpine, it was easy to believe they do.

Alpine forget-me-nots are thought to represent perseverance, after all. They are said to inhabit a narrow window of elevation. You probably won't find them growing naturally at your house unless you live above 7,000 feet. You have to put in the effort to find them.

I'm not feeling overly resilient right now. I'm like the flower in winter-over mode, waiting, surviving. But times like these, in the mountains, the first people to be here this year, make it easier. In the meadow, by the river, among the flowers, those beautiful stubborn flowers, we memorialize our loved ones. I think to myself that one day I may not be able to do this, but today is not that day.

Our camp frosts overnight; Coco's water bowl freezes hard. Our tents are coated in ice. But we manage. Right now, we are as strong as we have ever been. As resilient. As fortunate. And beautiful, although we may not always believe it. We are human alpine flowers.