Sawtooth Mountain Range

July 29, 2014

 

As we leave Boise, Pamela’s phone falls out of her back pocket on the front lawn of Dan’s house. Todd finds it and calls me. We make arrangements to meet at Glacier View campground in the Redfish Lake area. Then we lose phone service. All we can do now is trust in the timing of things. And leave notes. The campground, every campground in the surrounding Redfish Lake area is full. And I can see why. It is fucking incredible here. Idaho is gorgeous. The most incredible expanse of jagged mountain range serves as the backdrop to a swimming lake. The temperatures are tepid and the nights chilly. After a search for a campground we stop at the Visitor’s center. They forewarn that most, if not all, sites will be full and the search will be long. So I call the Redfish Lodge. Perfect timing. They just had a cancellation so we are the lucky recipients of the last, random motel style cabin room. I book the room and then second-guess my decision.

I look at Pamela and say, “Maybe Todd already got here and got a campsite. We should at least check Glacier View.” Pamela wants to walk to Glacier View to so I put on my walking shoes. We move through the campgrounds, Pamela says, “Todd Martin?” over and over. He isn’t there so we stop by the camp managers station. An older gentleman in a ranger shirt says, “If you want to find a campsite for tomorrow, you need to get there early, like 7am and wait online. The manager over at Sockeye lets you wait on line.”

I am pleased to know I made the right decision buying the lodge room. We write a note on a random scrap of paper and post it to the Glacier View campground sign. We hope Todd will see it. On our way out of the campground we hear the rumble of a loud motorcycle, and see over the brown and purple walking trails the outline of a motorcycle rider. “Is that Todd? That would be crazy.” Pamela and I look at each other and grin.

“It is Todd. Totally.” Pamela says satisfied.

“Because you chose to walk, and I bought the room, we all ended up exactly where we need to be. It’s divine timing.”

Todd rounds the corner, his bike expertly packed. A small American Flag hangs off of the back. I do a funny little jig in the middle of the road and he slows to meet us. With bugs smashed on his face, he smiles huge. And follows us back to the lodge room.

We unpack and get into our bathing suits. We sit on the lake’s edge and sing songs for hours. They do handstands on the beach. I join them against a sign. I’m working on the courage to go up into a handstand and stay there without the support of a wall. We play like children in paradise, marvel at the height of the mountains, and giggle about nonsense. At night we “dress up” in our Sunday best and go to the Lodge for dinner and a drink. As we wait outside, a boy about 16 comes up on a unicycle. “Can I try?” I ask and giggle as I try to mount the wiggly thing. The owner of the resort comes up to us and tells his son, the uni-cycling kid, to give me better directions to how to get up and try it. In a dress, I laugh and get off of the bike. The owner, a wrinkled faced man with small eyes smiles and says, “Well, you gave it a good try. Do you want to see the bats?”

“Yes!” Todd, Pamela and I round the corner. From the corner of the lodge rises squeaks, creaks, bat conversations. As the night falls upon the day, the bats begin to shoot out of the corner. Quickly, one at a time, they peek their tiny heads then shoot out like a rocket. Some get stuck in the nets and struggle to make their way free. I laugh, duck my head each time one fires out of this bat cannon. Amazed and amused, I stay to experience the bats for a while. Pamela and Todd go back into the bar. When I get back, I greet my bar neighbor and he begins to talk. He is definitely a talker. I don’t know how to bow out of the conversation so I settle in and enjoy it. Pamela and Todd excuse themselves and they are gone for what seems like a long time.

Divine timing. Todd leaves the next day and Pamela and I split for the day. I decide to go horseback riding and she wants to walk. On her walk she hears someone call out her name. It’s her old friends Nora and Lara from New Paltz. Pamela jumps in their car and hikes. Divine timing. They stay with us at the campground and our two teams of travelers join together.

Divine timing is serendipitous. Divine timing brings you to discoveries you were not expecting. It is the perfect collision. These moments—meeting Todd at the right moment near the campground and Pamela meeting Nora and Lara randomly in the middle of Idaho—are reminders. They are great teaching moments. There are great lessons to be learned from those we connect with through divine timing. When these moments of diving timing occur, I listen and to pay attention to what comes up for me. There are great lessons are hidden in the cracks of these meetings.

Nora and Lara are kindred spirits; a reflection of the path Pamela and I are on. Lara is a yoga instructor. They are both world travelers. They are both single, young women on another adventure in the great outdoors. They are smart, spirited, and really kind. We talk about how some people believe they need a romantic partner to travel with, to settle down with, to be able to go on this incredible journey. We don’t. We are kindred, soul sisters on the adventure of a lifetime. We won’t wait to follow our wanderlust. We are strong, powerful, independent and a whole lot of fun. Our meeting because of divine timing helped to solidify the spirit of the adventure, to see this path ever more clearly. I am grateful for them.

We practice yoga in the morning on the slat of concrete surrounding the campsite picnic table. Then we hug and part ways. They are headed west to Bend, Oregon and we east to Yellowstone.