Hannah Ashley Dr.

Erin Dietel-McLaughlin Multimedia Writing and Rhetoric 7 September 2012

The Bighorns
It has always been there. Generations before my life, before all of the ranchers, even

before the Native Americans, that land has always been there. Shaped by the harsh winters, windy autumns and wet springs, it has taken a millennia to grow into what it is today. The Bighorn mountains in Wyoming offer acres upon acres of rolling foothills that ranchers take their sheep and cattle to graze during the summer. I am so fortunate to be a part of this land. My father is very good friends with a man who is part of a large, ranching family in Wyoming. Although none of the family members became ranchers themselves, they kept the land, and built a simple, yet comfortable cabin, nestled in the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains. They invite family and friends to come up to this place of solace. I have been to this cabin many times.
In order to get to this place, rst my father rents a huge SUV. We have to drive two hours

on a dirt road lled with huge, sharp rocks that stick out in various angles. We creep slowly along this road, up and down foothills, for about two hours until we nally reach the cabin. The cabin has no internet access or cell phone reception. Electricity is only provided when the generator is running (which is usually only at night). It is a cozy, small space that always smells like fresh pine. There are lots of comfy futons, a soft carpet, a cozy kitchen, a huge stone replace and a gigantic deck that overlooks towering foothills. We would cook many good meals, play cards, read and talk. Most activities within the cabin took place during the evening.

During the day, the outside was my home. Ill always remember being seven, watching the big kids hike up the foothill that lay across from the cabin and beyond the river. And I can still remember when I returned two years later, I forded across the icy river, bushwacked my way through the sagebrush, dragged my feet up the steep incline of the foothill, to nally reach the top. The adventures got more and more thrilling as the years passed. I climbed some of the steep, tall cliffs that always seemed to taunt me from across the cabin. One day in June, My mom, sister and I hiked to a snoweld that sparkled like crystals hidden on the top of a foothill. I would take my little dog hiking to the foothills behind the cabin. There were no trees, so wind would constantly blow and my dog would sniff and search for the pesky marmots that always seemed to get away. One year, a wildre came nearby, leaving a once proud wood to nothing but charred bark and ash. I hiked to see the burn sight. I was greeted by a stunning eld of the richest, deepest violet blue that I had ever seen. Lupines had taken over, leaving a trail of amethyst up and into the foothills. And of course, there were the nights. We would always bundle up in many layers, and gaze at the stars. Never in my life have I ever seen stars like these. The diamonds would ll the midnight sky to the point where their glowing light would almost block out the darkness.
The beautiful thing about the cabin is it never seems to change. I can always nd familiar

rocks, trees and paths. It can also provide new adventure too, like new hikes, new plants, and new wildlife. If I needed it the adventures allowed me to forget my worries, but the silence and calmness of the landscape always provided me with a chance to reect on my life. Every year, no matter how worried I was about my past or future, the cabin always provided a calming retreat. I could always rely on hiking onto the top of a foothill, sitting on a nice rock and look at

the mountains in the distance, giving way to a massive sky. I could always just look around me and absorb the ancient peace and calm of the mountains.
Whenever we left, and no matter how old I was, I could always feel my heart sinking into

my feet, and my chest ll with hard lead. I would spend the hours in the car as the rocks turned to dirt, dirt to gravel, and gravel to pavement thinking about all that I had seen, heard and witnessed. Despite the empty void that was swelling in my heart, I always decided to replace that void with joyful memories. I carry the Bighorns inside of me, wherever I go. During a hectic day, Ill try to remember the rustling of the wind in the birch trees, sunlight shining through the leaves, the lupines, the massive, azure sky, the owers that looked like they have been painted by a sweep of a giant paintbrush, and of course, the foothills and the mountains. I can keep this peaceful place forever with me, to try and remember the calm and happiness that I will always associate with the Bighorns.