A Most Memorable Wilderness Experience
The crisp morning air was heavy with the pine aroma as I entered the backcountry, my boots sinking into the wet earth. The sun was just beginning to rise, golden stripes crossing the horizon, and there were only the distant hawk’s cries and the constant crunch of leaves beneath my feet as I traveled. I always loved the idea of the wilderness—a pure world where nature reigned supreme, but I never quite realized its power until that weekend in the Cabinet Mountains.
It was a trip I’d been waiting for months—the mountains, my dad, and me. We had one goal in mind: hike deep into the woods, camp at a secret alpine lake, and spend a few days fishing, walking, and off the grid from society. As we pushed deeper into the wilderness, the world receded behind us, replaced by giant cedar trees and the quiet hum of the natural world.
The first day was one of wonder. At sunrise, a bull elk crossed our path, its breath foggy in the cold morning air. We also noticed bear tracks along a raging creek and watched a family of otters play on the beach. The deeper we traveled, the more I felt like I was coming home—like I was entering a world that had been waiting for me my whole life.
We built a small fire that night and listened to the wind rustling through the trees. The sky above us stretched out endlessly, dotted with a million stars, their light unblemished by city lights. I slept in my sleeping bag, gazing up at the universe, and felt something I had never experienced before—a deep sense of peace as if I had become part of something much greater than myself.
The following day, we trekked to a ridge where the world lay before us. Down below, the valley spread far and wide, with rivers snaking like veins of silver through the trees. Standing at the edge, I felt a blast of wind, and suddenly I remembered the raw, untamed force of nature. Then and there, I knew why the wilderness had to be preserved. It wasn’t a place—it was a feeling, a sense, a reminder of the way the world was before we shaped it to fit our needs.
On our final morning, we woke to the distant call of a loon calling out over the lake. The water was glassy, reflecting the massive peaks that rose above it, and for a moment, everything was still. As we were packing up, I lingered for a moment, looking around one last time, trying to take in every last detail—the pine smell, the chill in the air, the almost sacred quiet. It struck me: this journey had changed me. The wild had taught me patience, appreciation, and the necessity of preserving these wide-open spaces for everyone to use for generations to come.
Stone is a graduating Senior from Clark Fork Junior/Senior High School. They submitted this essay for FSPW’s high school scholarship contest. Stay tuned for more winning essays from students across Idaho and Montana.
