2008 Summer Journey

[GypsyRR]

To avoid using up any more space here - if you care to read continuing reports from the Summer Journey, you can pick up here:

Roamin' the Rockies

or on my website here: Wanderings - Archives

they are not finished yet, but are going up as I finish each one. Thanks for reading.

[Dr. Strangelove]

Oh, Kristi, please reconsider.

This is much more the gentleman's and gentlewoman's board.

John

[iowabeakster]

So you're done posting here?

In that case, I was just holding my applause for the end.

[Ves]

Excited News Announcer: So, Kristi, what are you going to do now that you've navigated most of the midwestern states and practically become a nomad?!
Kristi: I'm going to Disney World!
Kristi: Wait, I can't go to Disney World... to many damn tourists! I'm going to Alaska!

Looking forward to the report...

[GypsyRR]

Already been to Alaska.


I will add this entry just because it was such a cool thing that happened to me. And perhaps when I write about my final ride in Colorado - which was very memorable. But then I'm done ............. I think. Hasty decision maybe. But I've been busy with this hurricane thing. And without electricity now for a week - with no promise of it coming back anytime soon. I escaped to Dallas today!!

__________________________________

Always hesitant to write some of my more abstract/metaphysical/spiritual musings, I've put off entering the following experience in this thread. But it was so magnificent, I wanted to add it to the chronicles. So, with computer battery running low, sitting in a dark house in a storm torn neighborhood, remembering Greys River, I wrote the following. Now that I have wifi for a few days in Dallas, I can finally post it here with photos.

Warning again: If you don't like abstract musings - skip this post.



Throughout, my summer odyssey has been syncopated with synchronicity in events, of which I have shared only a few. But something occurred while camping at Greys River that still leaves me in awe. Although the occurrence was more magnificent than my words or photos could display, I want to share it regardless, and hope that it’s significance is not diminished by my inadequacies to rightly depict the event. I have been hesitant to tell the story, because I know quite well that there are those who would mock the incident and rob it of any dignity it deserves by calling it mere coincidence. I cannot prove otherwise, but if it were mere coincidence, then listen to this most unusual ‘coincidental’ event and marvel at the incredible odds of it happening again in my lifetime, or yours.



Having just spent four days camping in West Yellowstone at a state park, while waiting for the power steering to be repaired on the truck, I was excited to be able to camp again in the wilderness; this time along Greys River. I followed the river for several miles before choosing this particular place to camp. My criteria for a good spot? Ease of in/out for truck and trailer. Near water. Secluded. Trees.





Arriving at 6:00 pm, I started to set up camp as soon as I had the truck and trailer situated. Behind the trailer was the path to the river.



In front of the truck was a small exit route from this camping area that led to Greys River Road.




Across Greys River Road was a steep hillside. I am not good at guessing the height of a hill/mountain, but looking at it in comparison to the mountains that surrounded the area, I would make the uneducated guess of 700 feet. I guess that counts as a hill and not a mountain in that area? Here you can see it. I am standing in front of my truck. You can see the path out of my campsite to the side road that leads to Greys River Road. The hill of which I speak is in the background. Altitude 700 feet? If you look very closely, you will see one lone tree at the top and in the middle of the hill across from my camping spot.




I first noticed the hill and the one lone tree while unpacking my camping gear and getting the JetBoil ready to fix some dinner. Although there is nothing particularly special about the hilltop, it caught my eye and caused me to pause. Solitude has taught me to listen to moments that ‘catch my eye’. Noticing the tree, I said to myself, “That scene would be perfect now if a deer or elk was standing in silhouette beneath the tree.” I made note of the fact that I said that to myself, because I actually believed it caught my eye for that exact purpose. In fact, I was so assured, that I smiled out loud to myself as I looked down at the JetBoil kit to start setting it up. I just sensed that this was going to be another one of those moments of synchronicity and a kind of sacredness and harmony with nature that continually confirmed to me on my journey that I was making progress and did not need to doubt the significance of my travels. The sun was beginning to get heavy on the horizon though, and I feared the light would be insufficient. Besides, the distance was so great, I knew that even with a 200mm lens, the quality of the picture would not be stellar. But this was not about a photo. I knew that.

All those thoughts circled my mind as I continued unstacking the compartmentalized JetBoil stove. Finishing the stove set up, I lifted my eyes to the horizon. And sure enough, a mule deer (doe) was standing under the tree just as I had spoken to myself. I laughed out loud and just said, “I knew it.” I immediately headed to the cab of the truck to get my camera gear. I opened the door, chose the 40D, left the 24-70mm lens on it, fearing that the deer may move before I had a chance to get the 200mm lens affixed. Camera in hand, I stepped from behind the truck door ready to shoot, but in the interval of time, she was gone. My heart and confidence began a cascade to the stoney ground.

Gazing at the hilltop, glancing back to my camera, grasping for any remaining certainty within myself, I spoke aloud in the wilderness. “No. You can’t leave. You must come back. It was meant to be. You were suppose to be there for me. And although I don’t understand how I knew you would be there, nor what the significance of it is yet, I know that you must return.”


Now, I must remind you, as I have said before, that I have just enough Native American blood coursing through my veins that I recognized this exchange between me and the wild held significance. And I have just enough faith and belief in a spiritual realm that I don’t fully understand, to discern that there was something more happening in this moment than just a deer standing under a tree, posing for a photo. It seemed to me to be a sort of gift as well as a confirmation that my concept and cause for this circumambulatory course was noble and good. For that reason; for the sake of my journey; so that all my road running would not be in vain; I commanded the deer to return. I did not shout. I spoke in a subtle sagacious voice to a silent hillside. And then I waited. How long? Seconds. Just seconds!!!


But how do I describe that moment? Camera in hand, I stepped out from behind the truck door, squared my shoulders in confidence, looked to the hill, and slowly as if it were scripted, the deer emerged and took her place under the tree. I promise, the timing could not have been scored by hollywood with better precision. In my head, thinking about it even now, I can remember those seconds of silence after I commanded the deer to return. Deafening hammered out silence mocking my speech to a hillside. But they were only seconds. Defining hopeful seconds wherein I believe there was more happening ‘behind the scenes’ than I have understanding or words to explain.




And yet, the moment did not end with me raising a camera to click off a snapshot! No. There was first an exchange of stares. We made full eye contact. I know it. There was a red truck that came down Greys River Road about the same time. Both deer and I looked to the truck as it passed by, then picked up where we had left off in our stares. Neither of us moved. All I could do after a while was just say, “thank you.” She still did not move.

I raised my camera and began to take her photo. She moved only her head from time to time. The distance was great. A 70mm lens was too short. I went back to the cab of the truck, and brought out my 200mm lens. More photos. But I was not steady, so another trip to the truck cab for the tripod. More photos. She never moved from under the tree. My favorite lens is the 90mm. So another trip to the camera bag in the cab of the truck. More photos. And in my mind I began a wager with myself. “I bet she does not move until I am totally done taking photos.” I used each lens and every feasible setting. At that distance there is just not a lot of different angles I could have shot, but I did all I wanted and she never moved away.








Finally, after the last shot, I looked to the hill and said, “I’m done.” I paused. “Thank you.” I turned to retreat to the truck cab again to put the camera back in it’s pouch. However, I knew that when I lifted my head after laying down my camera, she would be gone. I knew it as strongly as I knew she was suppose to come back the first time. And so, shutting down the camera and carefully placing it in the case, I lifted my eyes. And assuredly, I watched the doe descend over the other side of the hill until she was no longer in view, and only the lone tree remained with me.




I do not have the skill nor the equipment to have made a masterpiece photograph of the moment. For that reason I continue to believe this moment was never about the photo. It was more.



I am no animist or pantheist or any kind of “ist”. I simply know what I’ve seen and experienced, and it has taught me that there is ‘way of the wild’ that should be respected. I’ve also seen much within nature that can, and has taught me how to thrive in harmony and peace within the day to day world in which I live and work. I fear that our sense of the great mystery and design within nature has been dulled by objectification, or perhaps lulled by complacency.


I thought of these lines by Elizabeth Barrett Browning after taking the photos of the deer that evening.

All Earth is crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God.
But only he who sees, take off his shoes.
The rest sit around it, and pluck blackberries.

[Ves]

I got goosebumps reading that... You can't write any more in this thread... that has to be the ending...

Already been to Alaska. ...

Hmmmm... did you write that up somewhere?

So, how about Costa Rica next?

[bruno71]

Gypsy,
Yes, words and pictures are often unable to translate our experiences. For the poet, the language itself is inadequate and their words are meant to transcend the limits of language in an effort to poeticize words in such a way that they are not entirely constrained by their material, denotative, and connotative properties. Sadly, as the cliché suggests, a picture is only worth a thousand words. How could that ever be enough? Thanks for a great write up and the courage to honestly share your experiences.
In his essay, "Pragmatism's Conception of the Truth," William James argues that, "Truth happens to an idea. It becomes true, is made true by events." Sometimes, (despite the claims of the absolutist and rationalist) that is all that is important. For all practical purposes, you conjured a deer. And, who can or should say otherwise? You may now add the appellation "Nature's Mystic" to your resume and wear funny hats.

-Bruno

[Sunbeemer]

Fantastic!
How'd you do it?