When we last set aside this journey I’d made it to Michaux State Forest, just west of Gettysburg, after having escaped the evils of the Pennsylvania Transitcondom, formally known as the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I’d drove, hiked, scrambled, and finally ensconced myself in my hammock a good quarter mile from any place another human might appear.
Continuing that line of thinking I spent Saturday night and Sunday morning loose in the moonlit forest, reading, writing, hiking, and meditating.
Having had a little taste of the world without humans I wanted much, much more, but I still have some responsibilities. I discharged those by staking out the vacant upstairs room at Ragged Edge, a coffee shop in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Email was answered, cell phone, camera, and laptop were charged, and I was again ready for blessed isolation.
I must say that I’m quite sad the cool cast iron "Ragged Edge" entry guard didn’t show better in this photo of their front door:
I went back to the area where I’d had the pleasant afternoon hike and nap, but instead of the crowded summit I chose a location not far from the intersection of pavement and the forest road with a large clearing and a firepit.
The moon was coming up and the batteries for my GPS and headlamp were charged, with my shake to charge backup light available as well. I’d met up with a biologist who specialized in bears earlier in the day and he’d assured me the nearest ones were at least twenty miles to the north. I could leave my bear bell and pepper spray behind. Given the clear skies, moonlight, and the area I’d chosen being bounded by a road and a noisy stream it was likely I wouldn’t even need the lighting options to find my way. This proved to be the case, but not for the reasons I’d initially envisioned.
I arrived in disorder and faced deepening dusk. When you cram everything into a little car and you’ve not developed patterns of use it always takes a while to get your stuff located and get it lined up for what you intend to do. I started stripping my day pack for a night run; lights, camera, water, and little else. As I was hunting down things I’d need I found a tube of fire paste which I had just acquired and never used, so I decided to give it a try. I gathered up what wood I could find in the area, put down a six inch bead of the stuff, and struck a match. As advertised it’ll light damp wood ... but the label says nothing about keeping it going
I tended the fire for a long time, bundled up in long johns, jeans, two sweat shirts, and my Dickies jacket. The early evening was still fairly warm but I knew I’d need it before too long. I sat, listening to the forest, watching the fire and the rising moon, and counting each breath using my mala to keep track. After some time, an hour or more, I developed the urge to lay down, and gave into it. The deepening chill woke me some time later and hints of rain were in the air, so I retreated to the back seat of the car rather than dragging out my sleeping bag.
My retreat proved to be quite strategic, as I awoke at 5:00 to rain drumming on the roof of the car. I listened for a while, wondering if I should go out in it, when it magically cleared on my behalf. I took my trekking pole and my headlamp, but I didn’t think I’d need the light. I was quite the stalker in my youth and it only takes a bit to get back into the mode of it; I move quite silently, as far as westerners go, and the skill to avoid being blinded by an unseen branch is a natural motion to me.
I don’t think I’ve had a more perfect morning. The predawn light was just bright enough to allow me to move slowly. Not an encumbered slowly, but a "River walking around Firefly" slowly, for those of you who’ve seen the series. If you’ve not had the pleasure, Summer Glau, a dancer as well as actress, plays River Tam in the series and there are frequent scenes of her gracefully moving about the ship, symbolically expressing her relationship to it.
I wasn’t kidding about dark – this was taken forty five minutes into my stroll.
I finally found a very nice limestone boulder on the edge of a deep pool in the little stream, and I sat down to wait for enough light so I could photograph it. The rain returned, magically texturing the surface in a way I could never hope to capture, but it passed quickly. I cranked the setting all the way up and finally scored this shot in the decreasing morning gloom.
I roamed for a mile or two, just drinking it all in and trying to extinguish my thoughts as I did so. Buddhist believe that cognition, or one’s internal dialog, is another sense along with the five we define in western culture, and like the other five it is something to be starved of stimulus so that one may "see" more clearly. I’d recently acquired a copy of Eckhard Tolle’s Entering the Now and his words were much on my mind in the moments in which I was not still. Tolle’s teachings are nonsectarian, but they’re 100% Buddhist in terms of his focus on emptiness and impermanence. I was initially a little bothered at the media cost for things I thought I already knew and practiced, but I do believe I’m glad I picked it up last week.
I found a nice, little stream that had only just found its voice due to the rains.
And on its bank I pitched my hammock, settling in for a little more scribbling and another chapter of James Howard Kunstler’s The Long Emergency. If you’re not acquainted this is a good book to help you grasp the implications of peak oil.
I first learned of peak oil by following Jerome a Paris’ lead and visiting The Oil Drum; discussion of Kunstler’s book is quite common, and the author himself will occasionally post a short note within the daily Drum Beat.. I spent maybe a month there, realized the gravity of the situation, and I packed up to move away from the city and back to living with my mom in the little town of my childhood. Once there I discovered I lived twelve miles from the best wind energy program in the country and my transition from telecom engineer to renewable energy project manager was set in motion.
Street, Main, Bucolic:
Vestas V82 wind turbine owned by Iowa Lakes Community College:
I managed a page of chicken scratches and a chapter of the book when I got that itch again. I couldn’t see much of the sky for the forest but the sudden temperature drop told the story; the sprinkles were just starting as I reached the car.
I didn’t want to burn the gas and I didn’t want to leave the forest, but being cooped up in the car wasn’t an option. Caledonia State Park was a few miles up the road, so I headed there in search of a shelter house. The temperature dropped ten degrees in as many minutes and the rain closed in, leaving me trying to edit the previous Walkabout entry in between wearing gloves to warm my hands.
I finally relented around 9:00 and turned the car towards Gettysburg, seeking gas, a place to clean up a bit and change, and then time at the Ragged Edge to publish the previous Walkabout entry and write this one. The day continued, the world made more pictures, some of which I captured, but in many ways humanity began to close in on me. I met a bodhisattva in the usual fashion, by finding him walking along the road posing as a mentally ill tramp. I gave him a ride and I received, in exchange for half of my stock of food, a tiny sliver of his accumulated wisdom. I’d have fed him whatever the case but I was quite grateful for the lesson and I’m going to maybe have a go at sharing it with you in my next Walkabout entry.