Out of my backpack, I pulled the small nylon sack that contained my tarp and began scanning the meadow for a flat place. My pack fell over and my pot and stove spilled out. I walked away from the mess toward a mostly flat, mostly rockless patch of meadow. Perfect. I pulled the tarp out of the sack and draped the rectangle over the grass and the tiny white and purple flowers. Before I pounded in a single stake I noticed a dead lodgepole about 50 feet (15 meters) away and 60 feet (18 meters) tall. Halfway up the tree split into a schoolmarm, one side bare and the other side impossibly supporting a mess of dead branches. The whole thing leaned generally in my direction. This spot will not do. I gathered the tarp and continued the search.

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