I came across this poem by Rudyard Kipling this evening and I thought I'd share it with the people that follow our travels.....and I combined it with some pictures I took while camped high up in the mountain forests. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.....
The Explorer.....Rudyard Kipling
"THERE'S no sense in going further - it's the edge of cultivation,"
So they said, and I believed it - broke my land and sowed my crop -
Built my barns and strung my fences in the little border station
Tucked away below the foothills where the trails run out and stop:
Till a voice, as bad as Conscience, rang interminable changes
On one everlasting Whisper day and night repeated - so:
"Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look behind the Ranges -
"Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!"
So I went, worn out of patience; never told my nearest neighbours -
Stole away with pack and ponies - left 'em drinking in the town;
And the faith that moveth mountains didn't seem to help my labours
As I faced the sheer main-ranges, whipping up and leading down.
March by march I puzzled through 'em, turning flanks and dodging shoulders,
Hurried on in hope of water, headed back for lack of grass;
Till I camped above the tree-line - drifted snow and naked boulders -
Felt free air astir to windward - knew I'd stumbled on the Pass.
'Thought to name it for the finder: but that night the Norther found me -
Froze and killed the plains-bred ponies; so I called the camp Despair
(It's the Railway Gap to-day, though). Then my Whisper waked to hound me: -
"Something lost behind the Ranges. Over yonder! Go you there!"
Then I knew, the while I doubted - knew His Hand was certain o'er me.
Still - it might be self-delusion - scores of better men had died -
I could reach the township living, but ... He knows what terror tore me...
But I didn't... but I didn't. I went down the other side.
Till the snow ran out in flowers, and the flowers turned to aloes,
And the aloes sprung to thickets and a brimming stream ran by;
But the thickets dwined to thorn-scrub, and the water drained to shallows,
And I dropped again on desert - blasted earth, and blasting sky....
I remember lighting fires; I remember sitting by 'em;
I remember seeing faces, hearing voices, through the smoke;
I remember they were fancy - for I threw a stone to try 'em.
"Something lost behind the Ranges" was the only word they spoke.
I remember going crazy. I remember that I knew it
When I heard myself hallooing to the funny folk I saw.
'Very full of dreams that desert, but my two legs took me through it...
And I used to watch 'em moving with the toes all black and raw.
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