The Magic Remains

One of the hardest parts of leaving Idaho for Vermont in 2021 was believing I would never again visit any of the cairns I built in the Payette National Forest to memorialize the lives of Maia and Meadow, my two Alaskan Malamutes who helped me explore wild forest places after we moved to Idaho in 2005.

My weak but best solution at the time: taking with me several stones collected from forest walks over the years and piled in my garage. I always intended to build a cairn for the girls at my house, but never did. So I moved the stones to Vermont where I did build the girls a cairn. I also brought their remaining ashes and placed some under that cairn.

That would have to do.

Until… my circumstances changed, for the better, and I was able to return to Idaho in December 2024. I disassembled the girls’ cairn, repacked the stones and moved them back to Idaho. Soon I will build a cairn at my new house, one that memorializes not just the girls, but also Finn, who passed in early December 2024 at the age of seventeen. He was a good boy.

The forest was covered in snow when Conall, Chann and I arrived in Idaho just before Christmas 2024, so visiting those old cairns would have to wait for the following spring and summer. Still, simply knowing I could visit them made me happy. I was excited to see them again.

As the snow melted, Chann and I began venturing into the forest to visit cairns. I hated leaving Conall home, but he’s ten now. Both his knees have partially torn cruciate ligaments. Conall’s no longer able. It’s Chann’s turn now.

If I were to start the process of building these memorial cairns all over again, I might choose locations closer to the trailheads😊

Chann and I visited three cairns early this summer: two on Brundage, and one on Goose Creek. All were where I’d left them, with maybe one or two stones fallen off their tops. My heart swelled with happiness when I found each of them. I quickly made repairs, added some of Finn’s ashes, and took photos.

Chann is not as good at posing for photos as Finn was and Conall is, but we try.

“I love you. I miss you. Thank you,” I said at each cairn, now including Finn in my thoughts and my mantra. “We’ll be back.”

That left the most significant cairn: Ruby Meadows. Where the girls and I saw the wolf in 2006.

Here’s an excerpt from the first chapter of my book, Wild Running: Lessons from Dogs, Wolves, and the Natural World (A Memoir):

MAGIC

Running trails in the forest, my dogs and I see a wolf.

In the wild.

Maia, my older Alaskan Malamute, sees him first. She stops, turns, and stares through the trees behind us. I see her tail drop.

Then, following her gaze, I lock eyes with the wolf.

Time slows. The wolf stands among the trees, just sixty feet away, directly facing us, watching.

“Maia, stay,” I whisper, although she doesn’t seem inclined to move. Meadow, observing Maia’s body language, turns to look through the trees as well. Her tail drops as she, too, looks directly at the wolf. Telling her to stay, I grab the short loops of climber’s rope attached to their collars. Meadow’s posture surprises me. She’s usually fearless, her tail a plumy flag of confidence when encountering people, dogs, wildlife.

This wolf is new. Different.

Confident that neither girl wants to approach the wolf, I look up again, directly into the wolf’s eyes. My heart pounds. I barely breathe.

Sunlight on the wolf’s face brings his amber eyes alive. I sense his intelligence, his curiosity. His thick coat resembles Maia’s, black-tipped gray, but with brownish tints throughout. He’s tall, his long, skinny legs distinguishing him from a Malamute. Relaxed and still, he stands confidently, ears perked, bright eyes studying us.

If there are sounds in the forest, I don’t hear them. The world has telescoped to this small patch of land inhabited only by me, my dogs, and a wolf. Nothing else exists.

***

I may never experience another magical moment like on that beautiful and quiet morning, but by revisiting the spot where the girls and I saw the wolf, I get to relive it in my mind’s eye. It remains vivid, a life-changing experience, one I would never have witnessed but for Maia’s keen awareness.

Given the deep meaning of the wolf encounter, to me as well as the girls, I knew after they both died in the summer of 2013 that I wanted to memorialize them there, build a cairn in their honor and leave some of their ashes. Doing so would help my broken heart mend while also cementing our shared sense of awe and wonder at seeing the wolf.

For that reason, it was important to me to build the cairn in the same location we three stood that morning, watching the wolf with quiet fascination.

It was Finn who accompanied me to build the “wolf” cairn and leave some of the girls’ ashes, a mere week after Meadow’s passing.

My training log entry from that day:

7-29-13: Run: 7 mls w/Finn @Ruby Meadows to leave offering of both girls’ ashes where Maia showed me the wolf back in 2006; cold to start but no humans around so lovely, quiet, beautiful, a little haunting. Built cairn in spot the girls & I stopped to look at the wolf and laid ashes in front of it.

Despite the Ruby Meadows cairn’s significance, it was several years before I went back and took photos. I got Conall at eight weeks of age in early 2015, and it was another year before he was running those distances. Plus, it’s a dusty ATV trail in summer, requiring careful planning to find solitude.

I finally revisited the Ruby Meadows cairn in 2019. Both Finn and Conall came with me. By now Finn was eleven and longer runs were taking their toll, but by slowing our pace, he did well. It had been six years since Finn and I last visited, and this was Conall’s first visit. I had trouble finding the precise location.

6-24-19: Run: 7 mls w/boys on Ruby Meadows trail, visiting girls’ cairn (needed to rebuild a bit but found it!); so pretty, phlox, lupine and violets alongside trail, not too dusty, no one else there; Conall a bit nervous, just like Maia was when we saw the wolf so like to think a descendant of that wolf was watching us today.

Conall was four years old with lots of forest trail miles under his paws, so his nervousness was unusual. I kept looking through the trees, hoping for another wolf sighting, but nothing. Not even a deer. Of course, a wolf could easily stay hidden, watching without letting us know. That’s what I chose to believe was the cause of Conall’s unease.

In August of that summer, the Nethker Fire burned through the area, including the campground where the trailhead is. I worried about the girls’ cairn, about the trail and that section of forest.

The boys and I went back the next autumn. I was shocked at the extent of the burn from the previous summer’s fire. We started our run through blackened, decimated trees but quickly discovered the fire had burned primarily north and west; the forest on both sides of the trail, which heads south, remained thick with green trees and shrubs, just as I remembered.

9-30-20: Run: ~8 mls w/boys on Ruby Meadows trail am, easy but steady pace; last day before rifle season starts so took advantage of great weather; quiet & peaceful, no one encountered although FS truck parked at trailhead; found girls’ cairn on way back after two missed attempts on way out, which is how it happened last time; rebuilt cairn & took photos; so good to find it, say hello to the girls.

And then, in July of 2021, the boys and I moved to Vermont.

***

8-8-25: Run: 7 mls w/Chann to visit girls’ cairn and add Finn’s ashes; lovely morning, cool (43F to start, 53F when we finished 2.5 hours later), few wildflowers this late; 4 dudes on dirt bikes but talked to one in pkg lot before we headed out trail so they slowed when they saw us and were friendly/respectful, Chann wasn’t wigged by their loud noise. Looked for cairn early, then saw tree with blaze and there it was, mostly intact; lifted largest stone and placed Finn’s ashes on ground encircled by smaller base stones.

Chann was restless as I took photos of the cairn, the surrounding forest, the trail. He wanted to keep heading out; he was thoroughly enjoying himself and all the new scents. I felt great, too. Rain a couple days earlier meant there was no dust, a real plus. But I’m slowly rebuilding my running endurance and speed, so I knew we should head back.

“I love you. I miss you. Thank you,” I said to the girls and Finn as Chann and I starting our return to the trailhead. “We’ll be back.”

Less than a mile later, Chann stopped to sniff a large pile of canine scat in the middle of the trail. Now, I’m positive it wasn’t there on our way out because Chann wouldn’t have bothered to stop to sniff scat twice (once each way). Plus, I would have noticed such a large pile smack in the middle of the trail since I’m slow and oh so careful about my footing to avoid a trip and fall. I inspected the scat closely, surprised none of the dirt bikes had run over it, but again, it was a significant pile, easy for them to avoid.

There was lots of animal fur in it.

Wolf scat?

Too large a pile to be left by a coyote. Larger even than my Malamutes typically leave. There were no other dogs on the trail that morning.

I like to think a wolf was watching me and Chann as we ran through the forest, just as that extraordinary wolf did when I ran with Maia and Meadow in 2006, just as Conall seemed to sense during our visit to the girls cairn in 2019. This time, though, rather than making itself visible to us, or remaining hidden, it left its calling card where both Chann and I would find it.

We’re still here. We see you. Welcome back.

What a magical, wonderful place is this forest I get to call home.

Feature photo: Chann on the Ruby Meadows trail August 8, 2025, the bright morning sun filtering through the trees, just as it was the morning Maia, Meadow and I saw the wolf.