Two hours into a movie my daughter and I went to last night, the lady sitting in front of us collapsed, in what seemed to be a heart attack. The movie was stopped and paramedics were called to help.

On the way home I told my daughter that eventually us all will go through something similar.

We may get sick, suddenly or over time, and there will come a moment when we start releasing from what we know, and move into what is next. Some say that light and loving souls are there to help us.

She told me to shutup and stop my rambling. Seventeen year-olds have the refreshing sense that they are immortal - one of the beauties of being young.

I don't figure it the same way at age 51. Although my backpacking and walking keeps me feeling young, I am pretty sure I can keep the same pace for only twenty years or so, if I am lucky.

When my step falters and I face the moment of release, my hope is that it may be similar to those good dreams I sometimes have while camping in the mountains, of space and freedom and dark forests amidst wildflower meadows, of sun on snowy peaks and the noise and clear white of rushing snowmelt streams.

Backpacker and mountain dog heaven without a doubt has to be something like this, like the places where we feel we are already there, even on this side.