'It doesn't get any better than this'

My favorite episode from the 1990s TV series "Northern Exposure" was when Holling and Maurice traveled deep into the Alaskan forests to bury Bill, an old hunting buddy of theirs who had died.

While reminiscing about Bill, Holling tells the story of when he, Maurice and Bill were caught in a bitter cold snowstorm in which they couldn't see their hand held in front of their face. Trouble ensued when Bill got injured, they lost a mule and they killed a horse for survival.

"Winds howled like Joshua's trumpet all night long. An avalanche broke within 300 feet east," Holling said. "Then morning came. Maurice got a fire lit, we ate the horse's liver. I was dressing Bill's wounds. And he looked at me and he looked at Maurice and then he said, 'Boys, it just doesn't get any better than this.'"

Now I'm not one for high adventure involving mountain climbing, fast trekking or deep-sea diving. Nevertheless, I've had moments when I couldn't imagine things getting any better. These moments tend to occur in pristine, serene and inspiring outdoor settings.

Many years ago, Steve Foltz, a friend of mine from Oregon, Wisconsin, and I were sitting on a dock on a remote lake just outside the little outfitting community of Armstrong, Ontario. Our float plane was loaded and ready to take us to meet the other four members of our group who had left on the first plane. Both aircraft were bound for a secluded lake off the Palisade River in the heart of Wabakimi Provincial Park for a weeklong canoeing, camping and fishing adventure.

Although we were in Canada, it was a hot day. The pilot was packing the last items for the flight and said he would be ready to fly in about 15 minutes. The last item to go on the plane was a cooler of Molson beer packed on ice. While sitting on the dock, my friend reached into the cooler and pulled out one for each of us. As we toasted and drank down that Canadian nectar, I thought to myself, it just does not get any better than this.

On another summer adventure backpacking along the Greenstone Ridge of Lake Superior's largest island, Isle Royale, our small group of six set up camp for the night. My brother-in-law Mark Williams and nephew Josh were with me on this trip.

We were close to an enormous rock ledge that ran high above the landscape and overlooked Lake Superior and the distant shoreline of Canada to the north. We spent the evening on the ledge watching the sunset. It was a memorable moment, sharing with family and friends one of the most spectacular water and landscape views ever. It enriched our evening and added value to our lives. It doesn't get any better than this.

There was also that perfect day for a hike on Mount Rainer near where my brother Darrell and his family lived in Tacoma, Washington. On that weekend, Darrell and I packed our gear and drove to the White River Campground where we pitched our tent and set up camp. We then grabbed our daypacks and spent the morning hiking up the mountain toward Inner Glacier. We were not planning on ascending the glacier. Our goal was to reach it and then turn around to descend back to camp.

Wildflowers dotted the alpine landscape. The sky was clear and the temperature was perfect for our hike across a few snowfields. Just shy of Inner Glacier, we stopped to have lunch on some rocks. While sitting and eating lunch with my brother, a group of three mountain goats were having lunch as well not more than 75 yards away. To share that experience with my brother, whom I see only once a year, was, well, it doesn't get any better.

On another occasion, specifically the annual family camp out at Wells State Park in Upper Michigan, my younger brother, David, and I were the last still awake after long night in front of the campfire. Usually, my two brothers, brother-in-law, a nephew and a daughter keep the night fire going to 2 a.m.

That particular year I recall David and I closed down the evening even later. He and I were reminiscing and retelling jokes. With a beverage in one hand and his once-in-a-blue-moon cigar in the other, David took a puff, looked at me and said, "A good drink, a great cigar and excellent company. What more could a man ask for?"

For two consecutive summers several years ago, my wife, Liz, and I took camping trips across Canada. We traveled east to west, visiting Hull in Quebec where my grandmother was born and spent time in Montreal where some ancestors of mine had owned downtown property in the early 1800s.

One of our favorite locations up there was Lake Louise in Banff National Park, nestled among the Canadian Rockies in Alberta, Canada. Liz and I pitched our tent at Lake Louise Campground along the Bow River, put on our daypack and hiked a trail that led to the lake. It was a short hike of about 2.5 miles. When we came upon our very first view of Lake Louise we both froze in our steps in awe. The sight of that aqua blue body of water backed by a wall of majestic mountains left us breathless. "Liz and I were mesmerized by its beauty," I wrote in my journal. It was truly a spiritual moment for both of us.

Then just this past May, I lead a group of 18 college students on a weekend backpacking trip in northern Wisconsin to teach a Leave-No-Trace Trainer course. With perfect weather and beautiful surroundings, I slung my backpack over my shoulders. I was standing next to a student named "Monica." I looked at her, smiled and commented on how perfect the day was with the dark blue sky marked with a few puffy clouds, dark green pine trees that jetted across the horizon, and perfect temperatures with a mild breeze. Monica smiled back and said, "It doesn't get any better than this."

When have you found yourself saying what Monica said to me? I'm suspect it's happened. But if not, I recommend that you get outside this summer and hike, backpack, canoe, kayak, bike or camp. You, too, will soon find moments when you truly doubt "it can get any better than this."