Two summers ago, I camped in Badlands National Park. During the night, two thunderstorms rolled through, the lightening brightening the tent so much I could see every single detail and the thunder was so loud it shook me to my core. I lay there taking in the sheer power of the storms and marveling at the way weather could make me feel. I awoke early that morning to hit the road and while packing the tent, a pack of coyotes began howling on the ridge overlooking our site. They were communicating with others outside their group and it was enchanting.
In August, I backpacked up in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. On the shore of Waptus Lake, I was alone. Or at least there were no other hiking parties set up within earshot. Late in the night, I awoke to hear a wolf howling over the mountains. Shortly after another from the opposite direction answered him back. A chill passed through me, but not from fear. But rather it was a sharp reminder that I was in their territory; I was the visitor and that I should always remember and respect that. The next morning, a disgruntled bear roamed the opposite lake shore, voicing his opinion at our presence.
If you never stop to listen to the sounds around you, you miss an integral part of experiencing the world.
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