Double Rainbow

Prologue

Yesterday, after a long hike hauling my gun, camera, and pack, I was relieved to finally arrive at my vehicle and pull the weight from off my back. After a quick bowl of granola I put the cooler and jug of water back into the Trailblazer, got inside and drove away. Inadvertently, I left my camouflaged backpack near the stand of trees next to the road.

Twenty miles later, after traveling down a slick and muddy road, I discovered my mistake.

Hesitant to return on the treacherous road with an impending storm, I continued my route to home and decided to return at first sunlight to pick it up. After all, very few people traveled that particular road, and most of them, I would guess, were honest folk.

My backpack had much of what I used to function during the hunt: water bottles, a sandwich, deer bags, bone saw, granola bars, flashlight, first-aid kit, camouflaged poncho, sweat shirt, a point and shoot camera, and phone.

Same place, next day

It is six-thirty in the morning and we have been traveling since five. I am with my sixteen-year-old daughter, Kaitlyn, and we have traveled almost sixty miles up the mountain, in hopes of being the first people here.

The headlights beam ahead on the road as we wend up the final hill toward our destination. Fallen aspen leaves litter the damp pathway. As we crest the final hill, I am relieved to know we are the first ones here. But my heart sinks as I scan the ground where I parked last night. No backpack!

“It's not here,” I tell Kaitlyn as I grab a flashlight and get out of the vehicle. With a small shaft of light I examine the ground again for any sign of my property. ¡Nada!

Knowing there is nothing else I can do for now, we gather the gun and everything we need to hunt.

Just like déjá vu, as we walk up the hillside, we spot two raghorn bulls on the skyline. One of them was there yesterday morning, but now I am excited that Kaitlyn can see them too. We stop and watch for a minute, but then continue our walk to the lookout point.

We nestle down next to a small pine tree and Kaitlyn rests the muzzleloader on her lap. The forecast said that this morning would have a zero percent chance of rain. Already, I can see a fierce pack of thunderclouds headed our direction.

Although we spot no deer in our little clearing, the gradual building of the sunrise catches our attention. The first object to turn orange are two puffy clouds just ahead, floating over the valley. In another minute, the thunderclouds that are headed our way change from dark gray to vibrant pink.

By the second, this sunrise is building and growing and mutating until it fills the entire sky with blazing colors! Kaitlyn and I are in awe at the magnitude of the spectacle. We are at 9,000 feet in elevation, surrounded alpine slopes and golden quaking aspen, and now, the sky is radiating like a wildfire.

As my camera is currently MIA, I am grateful that Kaitlyn has her phone, and she anxiously uses it to capture a few pics.

As the sunrise reaches its apex, a stiff breeze kicks in and we feel a drop or two of rain. Anxious to look-over another nearby hill, I signal to Kaitlyn that we get up and move along.

Back up the hillside we move, using agile movements over strewn rocks and broken branches that speck the ground. We move closer to our next observation point, but by now, the rain is beginning to come in pelts. We glance the hillside and see that there are no obvious animals and quickly decide it is time to turn around.

As we change directions, we look to the sky and spot a quickly forming rainbow that appears to be growing from the mountain. Before our eyes, the colors of the bow become as vibrant as any color can be, and then, a second rainbow forms above the first. The double rainbow, anchored to the ground on both ends, grows in the middle until it is completely linked.

Our hats, our hair, our coats are becoming drenched, but we don't want to go because this is one of the most amazing things we have ever seen. Not only do we feel on top of the world because of our high vantage point, but now with the rainbow, we feel as if we are in heaven!

Even the hills around us, covered with tawny-colored wild grass and wind-swept trees, are radiating a golden hue. The sky everywhere is a swath of pink.

Kaitlyn wants her picture with the rainbow, so we stop in the wet wind to get a shot.

They say in some eastern beliefs, that a double rainbow is a sign of good fortune. Sometimes it can be regarded as a good sign, as if heaven is smiling upon you.

We put the phone up, tuck our heads, and make a brisk walk back down the long rocky hill to the vehicle.

Epilogue

It has been almost two months since I left my backpack on the mountain. Every day, for a month after that, I hoped to get a phone call from someone who made the find. It was easy, right? My phone is in the pouch, with no password, no blocks. Just turn it on, call about anyone in my contacts, especially those with names like 'Mom' and 'Dad'! I even sent myself a text: “To the person who found my backpack, please call my wife's phone at this number . . .” Still—nothing!

Where is my double rainbow? Where is my sign of good luck? Where are all the answers to prayers that I have sent to heaven? One thought that kept reoccurring in my mind was the Buddhist concept of attachment. On this earth, we tend to grasp, or “attach” ourselves to all sorts of worldly possessions that in the long-run, don't matter. I don't pretend to understand the concept fully, but I can relate in a Christian context that there are really very few things that we carry with us to the next life—and a backpack isn't one of them!

So, I've got my wonderful family, and a beautiful world to live in. I enjoy health and freedom. I feel a connection and a faith with my Maker. I am at peace with most people I know, and although I'm not perfect, I feel blessed in many ways. This is my double rainbow. ♠