Thoughts on Twin Springs

[hambone]

Oh! Once again the tentacles of society had wrapped a stranglehold upon my frame and spirit. One too many idiot-act witnessed from too close had driven me to a numb anger and strange disconnect. I had had enough and desperately needed to flee this manufactured place. At the grocer’s I couldn’t distinguish between sliced ham and canned olives but somehow made it thru the carnival shelves with enough provisions for an Arctic Month. With a heavy head I pointed southeast with bright hopes for this cloud to be extinguished. I would be traveling solo for this trip. It’s important to experience connection with one’s own half; ultimately it’s all we ever have although we do our daily dance with ghosts with names. I was feeling remorse to be without my comrades, but as I was eloquently reminded “shit happens” so I directed no hostility towards their better natures. Instead, I drank fully from the cup of freedom, so little tasted in our geared world.
These mountain roads, these forever free places seem to slip from our grasp like so much sand. They’re never easy to get to these days of artificial barriers and psychic discord that we must swim through to escape the undertow. Don’t forget: George and Rebecca were once free and in love with everything before the claws of empty materialism locked them into their falsely verdant plastic-palace. Each water-filled pothole is merely a signpost telling of the true nature of our Ship of State, each ripped apart forest and mud-bloodied meadow screams volumes. But, destruction and rebirth are more than mere laws to guide; they are everything in this reality we co-create. Otherwise our world-pores would become clogged with so much spent discard. Fires, carnivores, mold, radiation doing it’s invisible dance; they all free us from the stack of so many carcasses so we may venture forth as the new sun drips from the next horizon. But what to make of oil upon water events? Of shredded trash bedecking grand old firs like so many grotesque streamers? Of the very flesh of the earth ripped open to gleefully display her bleeding orange? Yet somehow this is all To Be, for someone to bare sad witness and fill our souls with the coldest empty day of deep winter. However maudlin, it is important to spend time dwelling in these supposed unfortunate acts for they define the divine. Sometimes it’s what we don’t do that defines the purity of our hearts and the strength of our better natures. We are all in this together.
Dodging these potholes and snaking through these stained but magnificent acres I am soon delivered to my place of rest: a cathedral of noble firs doing their part to recycle ancient basalt lava into dirt and a host of other simple elements. The gentle wind makes the impossible storied branches dance and scatter the jeweled drips from our fond celestial orb as it slips silently westward and down. Untold multihued mushroom caps burst and pop madly through the dense brown duff and leaf litter, only to spread their spores so the snaked miles of invisible mycelium can continue to grow and feed upon what other organisms have deemed waste. Interesting how that works, nothing is wasted in a closed loop beyond imagination. Soon, the stars slip from the shadows. The moon beams like a gleaming pumpkin faced child eager to still seek each new mystery. Each tree joins with the dark to form a net where secret nocturnal affairs take place. What is foreboding is merely a matter of perspective; each creature has been equipped to exist in a very defined set of circumstances.
I am quickly at peace in this place. I am a sponge for all this peace dripping like a thousand Mexican altar candles, flickering and holy by act alone. A man can smash or caress, there alone lies our painful fate. Somehow, the world is born anew each moment.
We, as humans experience failure in every pointless act, because ultimately every act is pointless. It’s impossible to exist as master in these places of constantly unfolding miracle, impossible to hold onto our fragile empty selves in a land were we are smaller than the most insignificant mouse. We exist in various states of denial to dull the knifepoint of pain that randomly stabs us through the loss of something special. Hal remarked how different our world would be if each peak were topped by a shaman silently praying, instead of miles of forested ridges, empty but for a few noxious-spewing mechanisms. But it is all choice: how deep are we willing to look into our pain and insignificance? How will we use these blood lessons after the silent teacher has lectured?
History is just a Japan wind over Nebraska.

“Nothing in nature will harm us if we are not scared and treat her with respect”
-Tom Brown Jr.

My Illinois days and hot Virginia nights haven’t prepared me for this place. But for the first time, perhaps ever I did not feel like an invader into this land. It was really just a matter of intent, to make a stand against my own fears and inadequacies and to realize that I simply belong here and nothing will hurt me if I radiate peace. This changed everything, I felt as peaceful as a monk in a 100 year coma, simply by exercising free will. Strange things began to happen: a tiny mouse stared me down, absolutely fascinated. The world opened up, just for me. Tiny birds flocked and landed right next to me. Maybe it was just a matter of looking, I don’t know. As the sun drifted across the sky like a balloon I roamed the hills alone, seeking history down old trails, looking for magic tied into the rocks and soil. I like old maps - they exist as a snapshot in time, telling of what was considered important during that brief flex in the flux. In 1915 the “Plaza” as this brief flat is called was quite the place to be, an intersection of ancient cross mountain routes, lush springs for man and beast, and the beginnings of the U.S. Forest Service administration including a backcountry ranger station complete with wood stove and crank telephone. 100 years later, all is gone and insignificant except for the old trails. Why they still exist is a mystery in this age of petroleum powered everything; why walk?
An immense fire blackened these ridges around 1900 as by design. Evidence still remains, many blackened stumps peeking out thru the underbrush, and trees no older than 100 years. But again by design a new forest had taken hold, using the same molecule-seed that has drifted on the winds for untold ages. In time it will again be ancient and exhaling, but for now is content to be an adolescent stretching it’s new limbs.
And then, in a blink it’s time to go. My spirit may be forever laced through the ferns and moss covered rocks, but I too am human and must be among my own kind to participate in the damage, splitting so many atoms and dumping so much noxious juice into an unwilling biosphere. Where do we go? How do we stop this machine that threatens to eat us whole? One thing is certain – it is dreadfully fearful to witness a race lose its connection to our source. Unless each of us makes the effort to connect with the natural world we are doomed to eat ourselves whole, like the symbol of the snake consuming it’s own tail in a loop. Twin Springs or Hackensack, it doesn’t matter much in the end. All I know is there is a shortage of reverence in our most holy of places, and we our burning the very bridges that lead to our freedom. All I can do is to encourage every man woman and child to spend at least a day fully aware in a sacred place, and let the lessons speak to you without words. Then, take this basket of fruit home and offer it to your friends. And don’t forget to eat a peach yourself.

[spiffy]

Very nice my friend. I have a story for you over a campfire that I think you will appreciate.

[hambone]

Yeah I miss campin with ya, Elk Lake Creek was very special.

[Elwood]

Very ~ Very Nice Hambone, thank you for telling your story. Did the trash you guys cleaned up tell a story also? I always was interested in the old bottles and cig tins we would find in the off road trips. Sometimes even indian artifacts. Seems as if good camp places go way back. It is sad to find disposable diapers and styrofoam along with broken glass in the fire ring. Thanks for doing this and Im injoying Tom Brown Jr. book you suggested. Makes me want to take a hike on the mountain, that is after it gets below 100, been scarry hot for many days.

[hambone]

Kung Fu brand ramen noodles, assorted plastic jugs, a ripped apart stuffed cow, a million 1/2 decomposed rubber bands, broken glass, beer cans, 2 bloated cans of refried beans...not a pretty sight. Also took down a bunch of rope tied around various trees.
A carload of moronic loud mushroom hunters disturbed my peace. I overheard: "what a mess! what a shame! It wasn't like this last year!" and they got into their truck and drove away without picking up so much as a gum wrapper. Typical in a society of takers.

[turk]

I love cleaning up a campground and it always puzzles me how people can just use them as receptacles for their trash -- McDonald's packaging, plastic cap rings, cigarette butts (hey, use the fire ring to toss those you pigs!!!). It usually takes about an hour and the place looks pristine. Where is that place you went Hambone? In relation to 26 or 224.

[hambone]

Straight west of Hambone Springs and built at the same time by the CCC. Very similar camp, springs and trails nearby. You would have loved the million different mushrooms and the noble fir forest, I think they are very special trees that need a lot of water. beautiful...
http://terraserver-usa.com/usgsentry.as ... Y=1564&W=3

[turk]

Nice. So you camped out Jimmie Rodgers style? How's that hollow log? Good to hear it went well. I should see that place. Ever see the talisman you designed out of the sticks the log and the can or whatever you used? Remember ?

[hambone]

It was still there, a year later! It had fallen over but I reassembled it...Not bad, survived 5 feet of snow.
Cool summer, was able to camp at all 3 of the Abbot camps. It was also good to be able to clear those places up a little bit, and do some trail work.
You still comin out in October?

[turk]

IT lives! One way or another I will be there -preferably transported via the bus Betsy (or Bessie). I predict I will get lost and run away and have a great time if that preference is granted by the Hobo Godz.
Hey, cool name for a rock-n-roll outfit!

[hambone]

I like Bessie, like Bessie Smith. Wasn't she from Chicago?
Be good to be in the wildey-ness with ya. I'll try to get a couple days off depending on when. Week of Oct. 8 is out due to work krap.
I still can't believe how many mushrooms were popping up there. And the vine maples were just starting to turn red. Autumn arrives like a smooth runaway train with the engine shut off.

[turk]

Bessie it is. I wasn't familiar with Bessie Smith but she appears to be one of the greats. I'll remember the name. Speaking of which, just heard some recording of Pygmy Women Initiation Rites in Africa that sent chills through me. Was on the (actually is on) one of the Voyager Spacecraft in case an extra-terrestrial life form comes across it. Very wonderful recording which I was glad I heard.

[Westy78]

Nice reflection there Hambone. I think maybe the way things worked out this last weekend was meant to be for you. Call it fate or the way this mysterious universe works, whatever. You found something special out there and that most likely wouldn't have happened if not for you being alone to contemplate. I've lived here my whole life and not found that kind of peace and inner meaning to this beautiful land we call home. You found the ultimate connection. I say congratulations to you. May your findings lead to happier days.

[hambone]

Thanks man. Yer right: I was bummed you guys couldn't make it at first, then I started having such a great time it didn't matter. It was so nice and necessary to have so much peace. Hmm happy tho, I'm not sure that's entirely possible!
We found an abandoned road next to Squaw that someone had reamed out, very beautiful back there too, meadows, marsh, old growth...I would NOT be against going back there before the snow if yer up for it.
I think you have more of a connection here than you realize, a lot of that stuff if beyond words and hits you from the BACK of the brain..you spend more time in the forest than anyone I've met here.