the reflecting pool

About the Book

This book is a celebration of life as seen through the eyes of a man who spent two astonishing, often difficult, and always formative years as a “mountain man” in the Rocky Mountains of Idaho and Montana.

Here are the words of a man who has done what few others have chosen to do in modern times, who has experienced life differently, deliberately, primally – forced to consciously recognize his utter dependence on everything and everyone around him, eventually realizing that everyone and everything in life is a teacher, a master, a guru – if only we open ourselves to the learning.

A person’s view of things changes fundamentally after spending months eating little other than rattlesnakes, ants, and mice; dry-camping high on mountainsides on pitch-black nights pierced by the shrill unearthly shrieks of rutting bull elk; facing the  perils of rivers, trails, weather, and wild animals while utterly alone and without the benefits of modern technologies; living without electricity, refrigeration, radio, TV, telephones, newspapers, computers, iPods, music, news, libraries, medical aid, 911, cars, motorcycles, bicycles, running water, toilet paper, extra clothes, grocery stores, groceries, or anything else you yourself couldn’t make, grow, forage, catch, or kill by your own hand.

Perspectives change.  Beliefs change.  People change.

Here are the thoughts and words of a “mountain man” reflecting his own unique, personal experience of life.

About the Author

My first real exposure to mountains and forests came when I was hired as a hiking instructor for a boys' summer camp in the mountains of North Carolina after my freshman year in college.  The next year I spent ten weeks on the Appalachian Trail (primarily in Maine and North Carolina) writing and studying botany "in the wild."  I was hooked.

The following year I found that I could no longer abide being shackled by the conventional wisdoms of our culture.  To the dismay of all who knew and loved me, I dropped out of college and headed for the mountains.  I caught a train cross-country to Montana, then hopped a bus southbound skirting the Rocky Mountains.

I arbitratily picked a spot, stepped off the bus and walked into the mountains with only my backpack, machete, and knife (no food!) to learn what the mountains offered to teach me – or die trying.

After a few months on my own, I heard about an old mountain man still living on the “River of No Return” in the Rocky Mountains of Idaho.  His name was Sylvan Ambrose Hart, but everyone called him “Buckskin Bill.”  A book was written about him called The Last of the Mountain Men.  I sought him out as a mentor and had many unforgettable experiences with him over the coming months.

After two years I returned to “civilization” a changed man.     During those two years the few people who knew me simply referred to me as “Mountain.”

Spending those days, months, and years in the mountains infused me with a different awareness, a different view of life, a different “Mountain” spirit that has remained with me ever since – regardless of the place.