M is for mountain, and marriage, and metaphor

Please don't get eaten by a bear while off fishing, Mr. V. I mean it. It's our ninth wedding anniversary, after all, and I still like you, more than ever in fact.

That's why I got you this:

Bear spray - a traditional anniversary gift, no?

And then I promptly borrowed it, because hey, that's what partners do. After all, you don't want me to be a bear snack either.

I needed it because I was determined to hike the 'M' today.

Here's Bozeman and the 'M'. We live down past that dome thing. (I borrowed this picture.)

All the towns out here have got their letters - there's a 'W' in Winnemucca on a sorry little hill, a pretty odd 'J' in Jackpot - and everyone keeps telling me I've got to hike the 'M'.

So here I go.

The 'M' looked really close from the trail head, and the hike seemed really simple. I considered not even bringing my pack or my water, but felt naked without them. And good thing because provisions were needed. Turns out the hike was longer than I thought, and a bit more arduous. My lungs hurt a little; I got lost in the cloud of wildflowers; I ran across some weird bugs; I even had to stop for a bit. But I persevered.

Montage of wildflowers

Vibrant bug (The picture does it no justice)

When I finally reached the 'M', it wasn't really much to behold, just a pile of white rocks.

 

Reminded me of the saying on the wall at the climbing gym: 'From the top of the mountain, you can't see the mountain, so enjoy the journey.'

The view of the Gallatin valley - so wide and green - was spectacular. And the quiet trek gave me space and time to reflect on my experience of marriage.

The metaphor of trail as hike marriage got dusty along the way, but not the conclusion:

 Let's keep hiking, Mr V.  I'm loving the adventure.