Selected Lyrics
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Selected Lyrics |
In 1979 I spent six months walking from Mexico to Canada following the Continental Divide. One clear mountain morning as I hiked along the very crest of the Centennial Mountains (along the Idaho-Montana line) this chorus started rolling through my head. It kept me company for several hundred miles, and one night in Glacier National Park the verses poured out. The song describes a day in the life of a backcountry walker, from sunrise to sunset.
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Well, you get up in the morning, shake the dew off of your mind,
As the sun pours like honey through the ponderosa pine You're livin' every moment as if you've just arrived, Because you know what it means to be alive.
The crystal morning is broken with a cooin' of a dove
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The mountain lion is one of the most fascinating creatures I've ever seen. Unfortunately they're running out of the elbow room they need to continue their existence. This one was written in '81 in the Santa Rita Mountains of Arizona after following a lion's tracks for a mile through the snow.
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Now the subdivisions knocking on the mountain's every door
And lots of folks are going where they never walked before. The king's domain is shrinking like a cloud torn in the sky, The writings on the wall that's why you'll hear him cry.
Lone lion runs and the lone lion cries
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| In '82 I walked the length of Utah and spent about a week hiking over the beautiful Aquarius Plateau. One day as I climbed up Griffin Top I came across some huge aspens with dates carved into them dating back to 1898. The one that really set me wondering though, was "Edgar Griffin - 1918". |
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Were you young and green and restless, or were you crusty growin' old
Was your beard as white as silver, had you stories to be told. Did you laugh at the wind? Did you smile at the sun? Did you curse the drifted snow? Who were you? I'd like to know.
Who were you? And what trails, what trails have you seen?
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| There's no excuse for litter. Laziness, ignorance, and a basic disrespect for the Earth all contribute. It took me twenty years of thinking about it, and one night in Great Falls, Montana with a bottle of Yukon to write it. |
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The most beautiful spot in the whole wide world and the people come to see,
Cameras are a-clickin' and tongues are a-tickin' and everyone agrees, It's a special spot and it should be saved, this they all believe, But when the sun goes down and they all go home, this is what they leave:
Cigarette butts like a carpet of dust and they're scattered all over the place,
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| The Great Divide Basin in Wyoming is a wide open, rather barren land; a hot, trying place to walk in the summer. But if you're walking north, a few days of hiking will bring you to the banks of the prettiest little river you ever did see, the Sweetwater, a river that lives up to its name. |
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Wild space will feed your mind, mid-day sun will burn you blind,
your boots will leave their story in the dust. But the night will bring a chill and later snow I know it will The seasons here ain't nothing you can trust, Then comes the day you can't go on, but you top the hill and start to run There she goes a-singin' through the dust.
What waters are these that flow through the barrens,
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| One hot spring day in the desert of New Mexico I had the misfortune to hit three dry water holes in a row. As the day died and I lay back under a juniper, I had one swallow of water left in my canteen and was ten miles from the next possible water. I was worried and anxious until the magic of the place took hold, and I realized that it simply didn't matter if I was out of water. The important thing was that I was there. This song spilled out that night in about twenty minutes. |
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As a desert day dies someone paints all the skies, as the sun goes down in a blaze,
The shadows are riled, and colors run wild, they leap 'cross the sands where you lay, And as the lights start to fall, the coyotes they call to this world that is yours for a dream, Something grabs hold and it's deep in your soul, It's good and it's strong and it's clean.
Come out with me on the desert tonight, and we'll greet the stars as they rise,
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| In April of '84 some friends and I spent eight days skiing through the Bechler region of Yellowstone Park. Is was an early trip to heaven and great inspiration for a song about winter in Yellowstone. |
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Well we've come here like pilgrims to see if it was true
If the Earth here could change like in a dream, And we've wandered down the canyons through the lodgepole and the spruce To find the world of geysers and of steam.
I feel like I've found some new magic,
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| I spent four years, between 1980 and 1984, laying out and hiking a new trail from Mexico to Canada called the Grand West Trail. It led me through a variety of terrain (mountains, deserts, canyon lands, plains, and forests) and gave me a wide spectrum of color to brighten my life. I'll always think of it as my Rainbow Trail. This song was written in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. |
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It led me to the mountains, in the snow I froze my feet,
Then it dropped me to the desert, I nearly died from the heat, It led me through the canyon, there's only one they call the Grand, It made me feel so small, but I came out a bigger man.
I've been followin', followin' the Rainbow Trail,
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| The coyote is an old friend of mine. I love the way he carries himself and there's nothing like his song on a still desert night. When I see him loping off through the sagebrush, or hear him joining me in a song to the moon, I can't help but feel a little coyote blood flowing in my veins! |
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Now me, I was born in a windstorm,
And the points of the compass they call, And if I didn't go when them high winds blow I wouldn't have nothing at all.
I'm just a half-blooded, pup of a coyote, howlin' away my days,
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In the Fall of 1980 Tag and John Rittel were hunting up Arasta Creek in the Scapegoat Wilderness of Montana. They chanced upon the remains of an old rifle and nearby, a rock with a terrifying story carved into it. The writing was dated 1881 and seemed to have been written over a period of a couple days. Among other things was written:
"Jo Baker - Griz Kilt Me God Help - I Hurt Bad Lig Chewed And Is Rot - Bar My Com Bak - My Rifel Is Brok In To - My Ribs Brok - O Holi God Let Me Die" . The last line on the rock reads: "I Her Dam Griz She Com Bak". The rock is on display at the Rittel's Blacktail Ranch near Wolf Creek, Montana. |
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Joe Baker was his name, and I guess the story's plain,
What Time had left us here beneath the sun, Cause all that we got, is some writing on a rock, And an old rusted, dusted, busted gun. |
| It's still out there. You can hear it on the mountain wind, feel it in the stillness of the desert, and taste it in the freshness of the wild places still left. Get out and experience it. Take a friend. The spirit will never die as long as there are those who love and respect the wild Earth. |
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Daddy, what ever happened to the old buffalo,
I know they don't roam here no more, Because at school today, they say they've gone away, But no one ever says just what for. Listen my son, I'll tell you how the west was won, How the herds fell to the big needle guns, But the ghosts of them herds still pound o'er the earth, And their spirit is still on the run.
Yes, their spirit is still on the run,
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