Writer’s note- This hike was taken in September when the fires in the western states covered southwestern Montana in a haze of smoke for weeks. 

The road to Beehive Basin twists through the ski resort town of Big Sky with its condos and moderate dwellings to high above the resort and into the land of the 1%. Million dollar homes are partially in view from the road, either obscured by the dense trees surrounding them or the gates that keep the unwashed masses from getting close. It’s not the famed Yellowstone Club, the nearby elite enclave whose list of members includes Bill Gates and Justin Timberlake, but these folks are doing just fine.

I park the car in the sole available spot at the Beehive Basin trail head and see the shadowy figure of Lone Mountain peak rising in the distance. The smoke from the western fires turns the area’s majestic mountain ranges into outlines on the horizon if they are visible at all. The parking situation confirms the purported popularity of the spot, even on a hazy afternoon. The summers here are short and the number of warm, sunny days left to enjoy the outdoors is getting shorter. The people here love their outdoors, smoke or no smoke.

At a total distance of five miles, the out-and-back with moderate elevation gain works for the current conditions. The haze isn’t noticeable on reasonable hikes but can affect you on more difficult ones. I’ve seen it worse here, a few years ago the air was so smoky the simple act of being outside was unpleasant, much less a strenuous hike. I throw my backpack over my shoulder and make a bee-line for the trail, passing a group of fifteen hikers and five dogs as they gather at the start of the trail. Looks like a fun group to be a part of, but a lousy group to get stuck behind.

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The hostess directed people to their seats at the dining table, her husband among a few of us guys caught up in a football conversation in the living room. Everyone was answering her “It’s time for a game!” call albeit slower than she wanted. It was easy to get caught up in conversation that night, we were in Dallas visiting friends for a evening and my girlfriend and I rarely left the friendly confines of Denton. Including us, there were four couples present, some we had known longer than others but all we considered good people. Our usual meeting spot of tailgating and attending University of North Texas football games traded for a casual hangout and game night at one of the couple’s new Dallas home. The guys would have been okay with the usual routine but the ladies enjoyed the football-free environment and the lack of grumpy attitudes by the men after another Mean Green loss.

We were a half hour into whatever game we were playing when my girlfriend (who ended up being my wife, then my ex-wife, then back to being a friend) said “Honey, do your Sean Connery impression!” which took me off guard and immediately stopped down the game as everyone looked my way.

“Yes Rob, let’s hear your Sean Connery impression,” Jason said from the other end of the table in a way that sounded more set-up than honest interest.

As I cleared my throat all hands were placed on the table and heads turned in my direction in a seemingly coordinated act of politeness. I officially had the floor. I exhaled a deep breath before beginning my blasphemous attempt at executing the Academy Award winning Scot’s marbles-in-mouth sounding accent.  “Impression? It’s not a fucking impression, this is the way I talk. Now excuse while I go fuck the prom queen.”

The table did a collective head shake with a few seconds of fake laughter for good measure. My girlfriend squeezed my hand under the table and smiled at me in a subtle gesture of semi-approval. I remember thinking it was okay but I could do better. Voices murmured around the table for a few seconds before the hostess tried to restart the game.  I don’t know why I did what happened next but in my defense the wine had been flowing heavily all night. More in my direction than theirs it turned out.

I continued on talking in the Connery voice. And on. And on. Not only did I continue the impression but I began to comment on everything in the voice. “This is a nice house but it’s no fucking castle!” And when the table eventually went silent……I carried on. I went from Bond quotes, to The Rock, to Indiana Jones, and throwing in my own comments in between. I even went Sean Connery speaks Japanese from Rising Sun. “Arigato gozaimasu,” sounding more drunk American than a Scot speaking Japanese (which in reality should sound hilarious, in the movie Connery speaks Japanese with more American accent than Scottish).

I could tell the table had had enough. The affirmative hand squeeze under the table changed to a disapproving slap on the knee when the wife in the married couple hosting the get-together said “Okay, that’s enough Rob.” But I couldn’t stop. When I stayed in the impression the wife pushed away from the table and stormed towards the living room. Startled but unable to break character I called out to her. When her husband chased after her I couldn’t stop. When another couple left the room I couldn’t stop. When my girlfriend left to join the growing group in the other room I couldn’t stop.  Soon the large dining table was empty except for Jason sitting at the end, head shaking, slyly smiling yet looking at me disapprovingly.

“Guess that wasn’t funny?” I asked in my own voice, as much rhetorical as directed at Jason.

“Oh, it was funny. I couldn’t laugh, but it was funny. You couldn’t let it go could you?”

I resisted the urge to answer in the demon voice and gazed around the room, still wondering what had just happened. Still unsure what I had done. I leaned towards Jason.

“Did I just ruin the party?” I whispered.

Jason laughed, quiet enough for only me to hear and rose from the table to join the others. He stopped across the table directly in front of me.

“Yeah, apparently so.”

He was right, I couldn’t let it go.

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I pass a large gentleman standing a few feet off the trail leaning against a tree and ask him if he’s okay. He’s breathing heavy and sweating profusely but after he nods and says something about needing to get in shape I continue along the trail. It is an unusually warm day, the air is heavy with smoke, and this moderate hike is a little tougher today. The trail is thick with hikers, most with dogs; the dogs meander through the thin brush and trees aside the trail while their owners meander on the trail. I can’t pinpoint the reason for my haste but I march at a quick pace dodging both man (or in this case, mostly woman) and their unleashed sidekick.

I’ve been told several times how beautiful the Beehive Basin hike is but it looks like I’m a month too late. The trail winds through patches of forest and into open fields of wildflowers but most of the flowers have wilted and are bloomless in the late summer sun. In an open part of the trail at the top of a hill I turn around to view the valley below and the mountains in the distance but while I see shapes and outlines, the details are lost in a sandy, brown filter. With the view both near and far lacking I resume up the trail.

Like most of the hikes around here ending at or passing through a lake, the water doesn’t come into view until you are right on top of it. I push myself up a short, steep hill and at the top the lake is less than fifty feet away. So are the people, lots of people. On the near side of the lake another large crowd of people and dogs have gathered and as I follow the trail around the small lake there are people dotted every thirty yards. Unlike Pine Creek Lake where the people at the lake were a welcome sight after a long hike in solitude, dodging people for ninety minutes on today’s hike has left me ready to find my own quiet space.

The trail passes the lake and inclines up a rocky hill overlooking the lake. I spot a lonely ledge and aim for it, the closer I get the more difficult it is to get to the ledge. After a few hand over hand moves up a large rock and then a butt-slide down another rock I reach the ledge. I sit with my feet hanging over the edge, the lake below in sight but the world beyond is hidden by an act of mother nature spawned hundreds of miles away. I guess she giveth, and taketh away.

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About eighteen months ago I fell in love for the second time in my life. Truth be told it was the first time I’ve truly “fallen” in love. My first love happened gradually over time. Sure, I’ve had crushes, even experienced the sort of attraction so intense you can’t stop thinking about that person. But I was younger then. Before life had me at the point where I was convinced that “falling” in love wasn’t possible anymore. Certainly not falling hard. Then comes along an attraction so strong it changes everything.  Changes the way you look at the future. Changes the way you look at the world. Changes the way you look at yourself. She changed everything.

At the same time it was slipping away almost as soon as it started. I could blame timing, I could try to blame a lot of things but the truth is I had become a person that someone special wouldn’t want to be with. I was a person I wouldn’t want to be with. I had grown negative, closed, unhappy, uninteresting (me, uninteresting? Yep) and worst of all I had lost my self-awareness. At least until it was too late.

I’m a fighter and as she slipped away in my mind I desperately wanted to convince her to stay. And it may have worked, but only for the short term. I had to fix myself before I could try to fix us. I convinced myself I could fix my ails in a short period of time. But unhappiness and changing oneself isn’t a quick fix, especially if your focus is on changing yourself for someone else, instead of doing it the only way it works- for yourself.

As usual I had trouble letting go. I held on tightly to the thought that one day I would win her heart. Sticking to the belief that when you find someone amazing you can’t give up, you can’t lose hope. Even as time passed and we lost touch I held on to that hope. For a long time it felt good even as I knew it was slipping further away.

Then one day you realize it’s easier to hold onto the hope than deal with the hurt. That letting go, letting go of her, while one of the most difficult things I’ve ever experienced is the only way to move on. I “see” her smile and “hear” her laugh and I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to give up. It’s a fight back and forth. I try to feel good about the time I got to spend with such an amazing person. I try to learn. I try to grow. I try to be a better person for myself in the happenstance that lightening can strike again. This time I try to let go before everyone has left the dining table.

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I take my time on the hike down, stopping to pet a few dogs and say hello to fellow hikers. On closer inspection, there are a few flowers still hanging on to their bloom and the haze seems less a nuisance and more part of how nature works. Life is born, then blooms, and sometimes you get burned only to re-bloom at a later time. But it moves on. Through the best of times and the worst of times it moves on.

Near the end of the trail is a stack of rocks constructed by people. One of those pyramid-shaped stacks often found on trails. It’s only a few feet off the trail and I don’t know how I missed it coming up. The pyramid isn’t complete and I grab a medium sized rock and kneel down to place it on the pile. I walk by these all the time along the trails but this is the only time I’ve ever stopped to place a rock on the stack. A wish comes to mind and after the rock stays on the pile I stand up and head down the trail. I think about all the times I’ve wished for something to come to me, but today I wish to let go.