FOLLOW THE LEADER My first snowshoeing trek was neither what I anticipated nor desired. I’ve snowshoed the easy mile out to the labyrinth and back, but this time I was going on a real hike with four other people to a popular site called Monkey Bear Falls. We didn’t make it. Slowed by fresh snow and my clumsiness, we cut the hike short to return to the village by dark. I was surprised when a couple days later, Leah asked in her beautiful North Carolina accent, “Wanna make another try for Monkey Bear?” You can tell at first sight that Leah, tall, lithe, age undeterminable, is an athlete. On our return from the thwarted Monkey Bear quest, she’d headed up the road in what was her normal gait and was soon out of sight. Her offer to accompany me on a second try was generous to the max. We started out with two others, an eight-year-old and her mother. They intended to go only the first mile and then turn back. All along that mile, the eight-year-old was intent on smelling the bark of trees, up close and personal. Ponderosas, she insisted, smell like vanilla. It was slow going as we took turns sniffing. When we parted, the mother handed me a peppermint drop, which I put in my pocket. “Imagine,” I said. “After three days of being stranded in the wilderness, when the helicopter comes to rescue us, I’ll be able to say ‘I never would have made it without that peppermint drop.’” “If that’s your vision of what’s ahead, Ah’m not going with you,” Leah protested. “Ah’m jes’ sayin’.” We laughed and kept going, Leah first. She has leadership credentials as a former coach, a minister (United Church of Christ), and a couple years as a back-country guide in Colorado. Traits of a good leader include not only seeing clearly the trail ahead but understanding the abilities of the troops who are following. Without appearing to slow down, Leah moved at my speed. At one point she stopped, pointed to a tree whose drooping boughs created a small cave next to its trunk. “Now, if we were stranded, there’d be a great place to hang out,” she commented. Jes’ sayin’. Fresh snow had obliterated the trail. Occasionally, Leah would stop, gaze about, then move on with assurance. I had no idea where we were, but I felt double-insured following the trail of both a spiritual leader and back-country guide. Finally, she stopped and said she couldn’t be sure of the trail from that point, and maybe we should hike somewhere else, where the trails were better defined. We spent four happy hours snowshoeing and talking. I felt as if I were losing an old friend when she left for home a few days later. “Ah guess Ah’m just not meant to see Monkey Bear Falls this trip,” she grinned. And maybe I’m not meant to see the falls until summer, when I can find my own way.
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