Jim is knee-deep in grass. Celeste looks at it somewhat tentatively. Ahead of him, to the north, tower the Uintas. As viewers across the land share the view coming from Jim’s helmet, Chet Bradley speaks softly. “He could have chosen the historic way in from Kamas on the west side, or he could have followed remains of Indian trails that come in from the east side. He might have canoed part way in through Flaming Gorge, then picked an abandoned highway that penetrates to the high plateau, but he chose the steep approach, up from the town of Duchesne in the south. This will take him through the widest variety of ecological zones on his trip. He will proceed north up Yellowstone Creek to King’s Peak, and then come out heading west down the Provo River and Beaver Creek to Kamas.”
Jim fastens one of the beepers to Celeste. He’s about to mount her when he hears a faint hum coming from behind the gate. Over the top comes a floater with lenses and microphones bulging out every which way.
“Tinkerbell,” Jim mutters. “They got her fixed in time.” Jim mounts up and rides. Tinkerbell, another video- and audio-feed for the rest of the world to experience Wilderness 2053 with, flits around behind him.
Twenty kilometers from the gate, Jim camps in a large meadow. The ground is unnaturally flat. Satellite pictures show the area crisscrossed with rectangular variations in vegetation.
“You can’t see it from the ground, but there used to be a town here,” Chet says. “The wilderness restoration project has been very effective at wiping out all small-scale signs of human habitation. Only large-scale, low-contrast features such as roadbeds remain detectable, and only when viewed from a distance. Jim will be unaware of this former town’s existence unless he’s been checking his history maps.”
At camp Celeste finally shows interest in eating this long, green stuff growing up from the ground.
“Control,” asks Jim, “where was this horse raised?”
After a pause, his Wilderness 2053 contact has the answer. “She’s from Kentucky, one of the finest racing lineages there.”
“She acts like this is her first time seeing grass.” Jim comments.
“It may be. She was raised specially for this trip in a climate-controlled barn back in Kentucky, but I’m not sure just how she was fed.”
Jim continues scraping dried droppings from Celeste’s wilderness skirt. As he scrapes he thinks, “Christ, this horse has as little experience at this as I do! I spent my wilderness simulator hours on ATVs and flyers. Horse mode was too slow and unpredictable to be any fun. It wasn’t until I won the lottery that I even thought about anything slower. I was going to walk this trip, then six months ago my agent pulls a coup. He argues with Park Service that this is an adventure in the mountains of the Old West where horsemanship has a long tradition. It demands a horse. The media back him up. They remember the last couple of years: Trying to wring adventure from watching a middle aged earth-muffin admire wild flowers in Cape Cod National Seashore and an amateur entomologist stalk a dragonfly nymph. Then he wangled a deal with the horse breeders. Next thing I know, I’ve got a horse on my list of acceptable equipment. I remember the agonized look on Olson’s face as he tried to figure out how to fit horse riding into the schedule.”
The next day Jim enters the Yellowstone Creek gorge. The day is relatively uneventful. He rides and leads Celeste along an abandoned road west of Yellowstone Creek. The cool morning doesn’t seem to bother Celeste but by mid-afternoon she’s quite tired. They camp at a flat spot near Yellowstone Creek north of Park Creek. It’s only twenty kilometers from where they started but she’s wheezing and sweating and shows little recovery when they rest. He feeds her some high-energy pellets that were for later, when they were above the forest line, hobbles her in the field, and goes to the creek for some fishing.
It’s been years since these trout have feared anything but winter ice. Jim simply lowers a line with his state-of-the-art lure and the trout take turns snapping it up. He returns to camp and cooks the fish in a breadbox-size gas stove while the dung stove keeps the tent warm. He doesn’t really need to keep the tent warm yet, but what he doesn’t burn, he carries.
Jim naps and the sun sets. He wakes after dark and checks on Celeste. She’s feeling much perkier—the rest and familiar food are doing wonders. He takes time to study the Milky Way. TV viewers get an equivalent view from Kitt Peak Observatory in Arizona. The view from both sites is stunning, but working with the astronomical equipment allows the network to enhance the image considerably. Only a few amateur telescope geeks call in to complain that the stars are shifted too far north for this to be a view from the Uintas.