Thoughts on Wilderness and Repentance. Part 1

By Andrew Slaton

Ellen and I, along with our two dogs, have experienced change as the only constant during the past seven years of our National Parks Odyssey, and it never gets easier. Every setup and teardown, new obstacle, financial gain or loss, and every relationship gained or lost comes with its own challenges.

How we react, or more importantly how we respond, ultimately determines how we grow. Taking responsibility, at least for our part, is the first step. Over time, we evolve, sometimes for better, sometimes not. It is not always our instinct to take ownership.

Image © Andrew R. Slaton

Still, I can say from experience that there is joy among the challenges. Much of what I have learned comes from my wife, who is wise beyond her years. Here are some reflections as I look back over the last six months, from the fall of 2022 to now.

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I am never quite sure what kind of autumn colors we will get here in the Rockies. Many claim to predict the intensity of fall colors, but those predictions often feel as unreliable as “end of the world” forecasts. If there is a reliable method, I have yet to find it.

This year, the colors were expected to be underwhelming. Yet, as I write this, I am surrounded by vibrant yellows and oranges blending into soft greens. The aspens shimmer in even the slightest breeze, and the season is only just beginning.

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Grand Teton National Park has become our go-to fall destination because it offers some of the most compelling autumn landscapes anywhere. While I have not explored many other regions during fall, these mountains resonate deeply with me, so here we remain.

The transition from summer to fall always catches me off guard. It feels as though the season disappears in an instant, a sentiment shared by nearly everyone, year after year.

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Image © Andrew R. Slaton

The trailer floor feels colder each morning as I wake before sunrise. After seven years on the road, the novelty of trailer life has worn off, and we have settled into a rhythm of nomadic living.

Yet the sense of wonder remains. It shifts over time but never disappears. I often feel overwhelmed with gratitude for a life I could not have imagined, shared with a partner who complements me in every way.

Where does this joy come from? Is it freedom, financial stability, or something deeper? I have known both hardship and comfort, fulfilling work and jobs I disliked, companionship and loneliness. Life will likely bring those challenges again.

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Image © Andrew R. Slaton

Today, I am in the Absaroka Mountains of Wyoming, within the Shoshone National Forest. It is a place of contrasts, where serene landscapes coexist with rugged terrain and unpredictable wildlife. Solitude can shift quickly into crowded trails, reflecting the growing popularity of these places.

Over the years, I have discovered many favorite locations, though none are truly mine. As more people find these places, the solitude I once cherished becomes harder to find. I understand this is part of a shared experience, yet it is something I continue to grapple with.

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Image © Andrew R. Slaton

Recently, friends from our former life in Texas visited us for a backpacking trip. We explored a favorite alpine lake that had once been completely secluded. This time, every available campsite was occupied.

I found myself frustrated, reacting to the growing popularity of these remote areas. While I had to confront those feelings, they were real. Change is inevitable, even in the places we hold most dear.

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“In nature, there are neither rewards nor punishments, only consequences.” This year, I have started to feel the weight of time more than before. Whether it is physical fatigue, lingering illness, or the unpredictability of the wilderness, I find myself more aware of my limitations.

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Image © Andrew R. Slaton

One morning, I woke before dawn feeling a sense of melancholy. I turned off my alarm and went back to sleep, only to wake later with renewed energy and perspective.

I spent the day fishing and exploring, eventually finding a quiet stretch of water where the world felt still again. Moments like these remind me why I continue this journey.

Image © Andrew R. Slaton

The hours passed easily as I caught fish and took in the surroundings. Later, as storms gathered in the distance, I grabbed my camera to capture the shifting light and dramatic skies.

As the storm approached, we secured camp and waited it out. The intensity of the buildup far exceeded the storm itself, which passed quickly. In the mountains, this is often the case. The anticipation can be more powerful than the event.

Image © Andrew R. Slaton

Over the years, I have been continually struck by the beauty of nature and the sense that something greater is always present. It feels only fitting to close this reflection by sharing those thoughts with you.

© Andrew R. Slaton

Original Publication Date: March 17, 2023

Article Last updated: May 01, 2026

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