Early last week, I took Mark (and Fremont) to the upper trailhead of Hulls Gulch in the foothills above Boise. They had never been there, and I wanted them to experience the trails during the winter (I plan to take them back when the snow melts for a totally different experience).

Still quite a bit of snow on the trails, I had to be careful not to slide down the ravine. (I did, however, slip down once and flew head first into a snow-covered bush, but no harm done.)  I did manage to get in a beautiful 5-mile run while Mark and Fremont hiked the clearer sections of the trail.

Every time I run in Hulls Gulch, I experience such a sense of serenity. Usually the only one on the path at that time, I am surrounded by the vastness of nature and feel a true connection with the natural world. A couple of times, I have seen coyotes crossing the trail or running up the side of the mountain. It is quite a moving experience.

Normally, I run without my glasses, but on this particular day, I had my glasses on, and I was able to read a couple of the poems that are posted on the trail. I especially liked “Coyote” by William Stafford:

My left hindfoot
Steps

in the track of my right
forefoot

and my hind-right
foot

steps
in the track of my
fore-left
foot

and so on, for miles—

Me paying no attention, while
my nose rides along letting
the full report, the
whole blast of the countryside
come along toward me
on rollers of scent, and—
I come home with a chicken or
a rabbit and sit up
singing all night with my friends.
It’s baroque, my life, and
I tell it on the mountain.
I wouldn’t trade it for yours.