By I drove up to the Unit 410 country on Thursday evening and set camp at the high trailhead. Clear sky, temperature dropping into the twenties overnight, the aspens in the drainage fully turned — that particular yellow that seems to produce its own light. I cooked a simple dinner on the camp stove: rice and beans from a bag, some jerky, coffee that was too hot and then too cold before I drank it. The kind of eating you do when eating isn't the point.
Elk season is its own calendar within the calendar. I've been hunting these same mountains since I was fifteen years old, first with Patrick and then alone after he couldn't make the elevation anymore, and the familiarity of the country doesn't reduce the experience — it deepens it. You accumulate seasons the way the mountains accumulate snow: each one building on what came before, changing the landscape without erasing it.
I was in position Friday morning before light, in the timber above a meadow that the elk have used every October I've hunted here. Cold enough to see my breath. The quiet of early morning in the mountains is a specific silence — not the absence of sound but a sound of its own, a frequency below hearing that you feel in your chest. I was there for an hour before anything moved.
A cow elk came out of the timber at the far edge of the meadow at about half past six, then another, then a third. No bull. I watched them graze for forty minutes and didn't move. Some mornings the gift isn't what you came for. I drove home Friday afternoon with the truck empty and the feeling of a person who spent a night and a morning completely present in a beautiful place. That's not nothing. That's almost everything.
The manuscript: the October chapter is running to its natural length now, which is longer than I planned and shorter than the feeling. Sarah Olenick says to let each chapter find its own size and worry about balance in revision. I'm trying to trust that process. The book is ten weeks from delivery and I don't have any of it, and also I have all of it, somehow both at once.
That Thursday night dinner — rice and beans from a bag, eaten by headlamp with the aspens glowing yellow in the last of the light — is exactly the kind of meal I want to be better without being fancier. I’ve been mixing up this enchilada seasoning blend for a few seasons now and it packs flat into a small zip bag, weighs nothing, and turns camp food into something that actually tastes like you meant to make it. You still eat fast and you still drink the coffee too late, but at least the bowl is worth scraping.
Enchilada Seasoning
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: about 3 tablespoons (enough for 2–3 batches)
Ingredients
- 2 teaspoons chili powder
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (adjust to taste)
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
Instructions
- Measure and combine. Add all spices to a small bowl and whisk or stir together until evenly blended.
- Taste and adjust. Dip a fingertip and taste. Add more cayenne for heat, more cumin for earthiness, or more salt as needed.
- Store. Transfer to a small airtight jar or zip bag. Keeps at room temperature for up to 6 months. For camp use, pre-measure 1 tablespoon per serving into a small bag before you leave.
- To use with rice and beans. Stir 1 tablespoon of seasoning into cooked rice and beans along with a splash of water or broth. Heat through and serve. Add a squeeze of lime and some jerky crumbles if you have them.
Nutrition (per serving, approximately 1 tablespoon of seasoning blend)
Calories: 18 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 3g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 290mg