the wild must win in the end
Here I am pushing 60-years of age. I like to say I am older than a deck of playing cards (typically 52 playing cards) – plus 2 jokers.
The Northern Mountains and Forests are My Aces.
Be that as it may, no matter the conditions I face, no matter the trials and tribulations life throws at me – or the rigors of The Great North Woods and rugged mounains – it doesn’t matter.
Where youth has strength, age is equipped with endurance. The ability to endure is a great power indeed.
Sunny and well fed or stumbling in the snow and rain with empty stomach and exhausted body, I am here, I am alive doing what I love in the land I have come to know so well.
I completely accept and love the difficulties. The rain and snow, the risks, the rewards. I am happy wherever I am and whatever fate finds me.
We Know How it Must End – It Ends Badly
We know our ultimate fate. From that knowledge there can be great strength.
As Robert Service puts it in his poem The Heart of the Sourdough:
I have clinched and closed with the naked North,
I have learned to defy and defend;
Shoulder to shoulder we have fought it out —
yet the Wild must win in the end.
THE WILD MUST WIN IN THE END
Aut viam inveniam aut faciam
I will either find a way or make one
- Hannibal 218 BC
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