Steve Frederick piles small rocks on top of one another along the edge of the ridge at Cedar Canyon Wildlife Management Area. Photo by Irene North.
The locals consistently complain the Great Plains is filled with a lot of nothing. Standing atop Cedar Canyon’s spacious butte, all I see is things to do. Crazy Horse walked here before me, receiving his vision nearby. We could have been friends. Steve and I have climbed the butte many times, traipsing along narrow paths carved by wildlife as the early winter snow crunches under our feet. The icy trail is covered by a canopy of evergreens. Its rough bark pokes through cheap dollar store gloves. We are mindful of the butte’s edges as the blustering, constant wind of western Nebraska takes every opportunity to blow us off our feet and plummets us to our death hundreds of feet below. A natural stone wall preserves memories of past explorations. Grooves of letters etched deep enough for fingers 100 years later to trace. The big horn sheep traverse a small ridge 100 feet above the butte’s base and disappear around a bend. Crazy Horse probably stood here, admiring their agility. They gallop gallantly as they ascend the side of a butte, bluff, or big rocky ridge. Steve wanders onto a large precipice and splays himself along its thin and narrow edges. Thoughts race through my mind of what I will tell Maria if he falls. He places several roundish rocks on top of one another. Standing proud as a peacock, he smiles. “That’s for the poor bastard who comes all the way out here only to discover I was here first.” Pronghorn busy themselves peering for predators while periodically munching on sweet prairie grass. Though our voices are a whisper, they echo in the canyon beneath us, confusing the pronghorn. Quiet conversation is abundant and bobcat prints plentiful – sometimes paralleling our trek, sometimes crossing it – as we embark on our return journey. There is no glitz or glamour on the Great Plains, no shiny objects dangling from bodies covered in shimmering tapestries. Conversations with Crazy Horse and the ability to think and breathe and be alone with one’s thoughts in nature is found in abundance here. The expansive prairie offers plenty of tales and time for introspection, peace, and solitude because, sometimes, nothing is the perfect thing to do.
Annie
It’s a beautiful description of being out in the wild, letting the wind, the sky, and the open space provide a sense of renewal. I almost felt the hot breeze on my face as I read it.
I used to like leaving cairns, but then my friend, an educator who has spent decades as an environmental educator, pointed out that a simple cairn changes an eons-old landscape, affecting the next person’s experience of being in the wild because they see a recent human presence. I haven’t made one since, and when I find them, if they aren’t actual trail markers, I knock them down so the next person can enjoy the area without being reminded that some human felt the need to leave their mark behind.
Bart Schaneman
Thanks for this. I’d love to be out there with you guys!