URBAN AND OTHER WILDLIFE

As I said at the time …

We had enjoyed a glorious summer afternoon of swimming and canoeing at Pawtuckaway and, leaving the state park, we stopped by a tranquil reflecting pond to take photographs of a large beaver lodge. With my girlfriend behind me as while walked the frequently used trail at the edge of the woods, I heard her voice just as we were coming upon a grassy stretch: “Hey, this is a marshy area and that’s where SNA …” I half turned to reassure her that she wouldn’t see a snake, it happens very rarely in the outdoors, unless you’re really looking for them; consider how few times I’ve seen them in the wild and how far I’ve explored. But when I caught her expression the same moment I heard a slithering in the grass ahead of me and whipped my head about to see the last half of a vigorously moving reptile flash across the pathway a half dozen feet ahead, I wasn’t surprised when I heard her say, “I’m getting out of here. I’ll meet you at the car.” Actually, my biggest surprise was in how rational see was being, considering the depth of her fear. This is the same woman who, several weeks earlier, had nearly ripped another friend’s arm in half with her paralysis when a similar situation arose at Walden Pond. I’ve never before been with anyone who can call snakes from their lairs.

A week or two later, as we were walking about, looking for a restaurant in Boston’s Back Bay, I noticed two little critters playfully wrestling on an ivy-lined entryway to a church. Thinking they were chipmunks, I said, “Oh, look,” and as she turned her head, I saw in that fearful slow motion that they had long tails. Rats! Before I could divert her attention …

END OF THE EARTH

The mythologies of Greece are easily countered by those of India, China, Tibet, and Japan in the Native tales of the Olympic Peninsula and the coastal tribes of the Pacific Northwest.

Sit down by the fire, then, and listen. Some of the voices are millennia old.

~*~

For a free copy of the complete American Olympus, click here.

Olympus 1

NEW VALHALLA

The Olympic Peninsula of Washington State is a world of its own. About the size of Delaware, it has few settlements apart from its Native American tribes. Its remote coastline is gorgeous. Its forests are thick and varied and receive some of the heaviest annual rainfall in North America. Its central mountains include hot springs and glaciers. There’s a U.S. Navy base on the eastern edge along with an artist colony and ferry connections to Seattle.

Listen closely and the underlying mythologies shape a new understanding.

Here is a place where East meets West in its own nature.

~*~

For a free copy of the complete American Olympus, click here.

Olympus 1

OFF ON THE PACIFIC CREST TRAIL

Have to admit to some envy for a young acquaintance who’s off to hike the Pacific Crest Trail.

It’s a strenuous trek, backpacking the 2,663 miles through Washington, Oregon, and California – the Western counterpart to the older, iconic Appalachian Trail.

And it’s bound to be a totally different experience than he had on the AT.

I became acquainted with Samson as one of our lifeguards at Dover’s indoor swimming pool. And now he’s away for the summer, starting just a few miles from the Canadian border and heading south.

He’s promised to update us on his blog, Samson PCT. (PCT is the in-name for the trail. FYI.)

Here’s an invitation for you to follow his progress, too.

Not bad for a kid from a little north of New York City. My, oh my!

ARID SHADOW

The conditions that created the desert where we lived created what was sometimes called a “rain shadow.” It was ironic, actually, considering that we got far more sunlight by living on that side of the Cascade Mountains than if we’d been in, what, the rain glow?

Sometimes, though, it seemed to dry up all of our emotions, too.

A journey into the murky places of endless fog, mist, and rain, in contrast, could do wonders in the soul.

~*~

Olympus 1For a free copy of the complete American Olympus, click here.