The Trees Spoke To Me (Northern California)

Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.
~Kahlil Gibran

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.
~Herman Hesse

Trees give peace to the souls of men.
~Nora Waln

It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.
~Robert Louis Stevenson

Overview

Phase one, week 1 of my three phase, six week, sabbatical was spent in Northern California immersed in the Redwoods growing massively tall in close proximity to the Pacific Ocean and the Californian-Oregon border, hiking beneath the giant Sequoias residing in the Sierra Nevada mountain range closer to Nevada than the ocean, and a side jaunt to Yosemite to break up the drives into one long day and one shorter between the homes of the Redwoods and the Sequoias.

Other than the huge disappointment that was Yosemite, it was an inspired week, a week where two of the great trees, one each in Redwoods and Sequoias spoke directly into my soul. My only regret with the tree talking was not having enough time to absorb all their ancient wisdom. Hell, I had barely enough time with each to assimilate much of anything other than to dwell in a strong soul to soul connection that was at once completely overwhelming and utterly comforting, sending me flying into the skies while simultaneously anchored to Earth, freedom hand in hand with connection.

The Largest Tree in Illinois

All our wisdom is stored in the trees.
~Santosh Kalwar

I’ve been anticipating an encounter with the ‘largest’ tree in Illinois. Largest as measured by girth, not height. Why? I have no idea. It can have something to do with a correlation between age and size but there are major flaws in the arbitrary criteria. One species may grow exponentially faster than another either based on genetics or environmental conditions. The windswept trees nearing the peak of Rocky Mountain National Park, are short and slim because of their very short growing season whereas warm rainy climates provide for virtually unlimited growth periods, within the context of the specific genes. No matter the conditions a maple will never grow to the height of a Sequoia. The eldest trees in Southern Illinois swamps are more slender than the proclaimed largest, a Cottonwood living in North Central Illinois. I made the 100-mile, 2-hour trek from my Chicago home trek to the Cottonwood this past weekend, a drive instigated by a noisy block party starting with thumping music at 10am. I’m not opposed to outdoor music until it is so loud that I have a difficult time concentrating as it overpowers the covering music in my home.

Six Loons a Dancing (Mní Sota)

Then at night the general stillness is more impressive than any sound, but occasionally you hear the note of an owl farther or nearer in the woods, and if near a lake, the semihuman cry of the loons at their unearthly revels.
~Henry David Thoreau

It is that time of year when we escape Chicago for multiple days so the dogs aren’t overwhelmed by the fireworks that terrify them so deeply they literally vibrate with fear and hide in the bathtub. For the past two years, we escaped to Brodhead, Wisconsin, to a charming little cabin on a small lake. This year we waited too long to book the cabin and were forced to find other accommodations. We were not overly concerned. We had been talking about heading further North to some lake where we could find the quiet serenity we craved and one that boasted resident loons. Loons are gorgeous water birds with a haunting wail that defines the North Woods experience. The lack of accommodations sealed the deal that we would venture to a new locale either in Northern Wisconsin or Minnesota, eh.

The place we were contemplating in North Wisconsin was also booked so we shifted our search to Minnesota. We booked a converted Silo through Airbnb on a lake that promised both Loons and serenity. We were excited about the unique space sitting four stories into the air with a balcony that would give us a nice aerial view of the forests and sunsets. Unfortunately, a couple weeks before take-off, the owners had to cancel. Something about Airbnb suspending the Silo because their manager unexpectedly quit. Not sure why that would require canceling an already booked and partially paid for accommodation but canceled it was. We scrambled and found a place on Lake Sylvia not too far from the original silo. The trip would be 467 miles each way, an easy drive compared to our 1200+ mile each way trips to Florida and Maine early in the year. We have elevated our road trips down to art.

Two Plus One Types of Fun (Maine)

Your sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again.
~Joseph Campbell

Another road trip, this time to Maine with two ends planned. To see my second child, now married, and immerse myself in the wild beauty that is endemic to Maine that includes inland trees, the most densely forested of the US States at 89% forested, and an extensive, rugged coastline ranking it either fourth or ninth most coasted state in the country depending upon the measurement methodology. No matter the numbers, it is a gorgeous state to visit for those interested in wilderness exploration, sitting on the rocks watching the ocean swells, and scrumptious seafood including their signature and ubiquitous lobster rolls, a large marine crustacean once identified as subsistence food to only be eaten out of desperation and frequently pawned off on prisoners and the peasant class, now an extravagance amounting to 1.4 billion dollar industry in Maine.

It Happened Again (Florida #3)

The final day of our trip was painted around visiting the Everglades including the National Park. Never have my expectations for a National Park and reality ever been so wholly misaligned. I was thinking swamps and pythons and cypress and Spanish moss hanging like tentacles waiting to grab any human wandering too close as they escaped from marauding alligators. Perhaps even the Spanish moss and gators working in concert to ensnare hapless humans hiking unawares. Mostly though, the Everglades was blue skies tinged gently gray by pollution as was all Florida skies, long tall grasses, lots of birds, an alligator or few, and scattered hammocks consisting of larger trees, including the oldest Mahogany in the United States.

As expected, it was hot and humid, not a place we could leave dogs in the car while hiking the trails. The two most memorable hikes were the Anhinga Trail with myriad birds and the Mahogany Trail. Oh…and the dead Barred Owl I saw on the recently mowed grasses adjacent to the long flat road carrying us through the park. I would have plucked a feather or twenty or all from the fresh carcass had my driving companion not expressly forbid me from bringing what she referred to as diseased feathers into our vehicle. Owl feathers are teeming with power. They give the bearer wisdom and the ability to see through deception into truth. It would be even more interesting if the one holding was also not able to deceive others instead was forced to speak the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth so help me Owl. It would be mandatory for politicians and we may once and all finally have a government of the people, by the people, and for the people instead of being cursed with of, by, and for the large donors lining politicians’ pockets with Judas’ gold for favorable laws they themselves never have to follow. Sigh…

Airboats & Gators (Florida #2)

Ever since watching the tv show Flipper in my impressionable and naive youth, I have wanted to ride an airboat over the long grasses of the Everglades hopefully to also see a Dolphin tail dancing and chirping the way Flipper did when he wanted Sandy or Bud’s attention or, as he frequently did, use his large dolphin brain to save the day. At that age, I loved swimming, Jaws had not yet come out to terrify me of the teeth lurking below the ocean surface, so living near water was a super bonus. Throw in my love of reptiles and the promise of abundant snakes and lizards and alligators and I couldn’t think of a better place to live.

Give Peace a Chance, Lessons from the Manatee (Florida #1)

Have you ever come face to face with God? The Bible claims it is impossible to do so and live. Yet, I have come face to face with Gods and am still alive.

Very sick of the never-ending Chicago Winter, we decided on a trip to sunny Florida. I had been to the state once previously way back in 1986 landing in the evening and taking off the following afternoon. It was a business trip sum totaling less than 24 hours. The only thing I remember about that trip was seeing pelicans and an osprey on my way back to the airport. And, as I recall, it was rather humid. I am not a big fan of humidity. Heat is ok. Humid heat I find more than a little challenging bordering on unbearably oppressive. I met a gentleman from Florida when I visited Cambodia, one of the hottest and most humid experiences of my life, one that left me struggling so much that our tuk-tuk driver asked if I was ok while driving us home from temple hopping. I wasn’t, really. The Floridian said he was used to the humid heat, a normal existence in his home state. That was enough to tell me I never ever wanted to settle down in Florida. Throw in the asshole Desantis and his desire to appeal to society’s least common denominator by marginalizing anyone not cisgender and white, and it is enough that I don’t plan to ever visit there again. I just can’t see spending my money to support discrimination on such a wide scale. One and done for me!

Brodhead, Revisited

29 Jun to 06 Jul 2022

Having enjoyed our trip to Brodhead one year ago, we decided to return this year to the cozy cabin on the shore of Lake Decatur, Wisconsin. It is not far from home, is relatively quiet, there is ample nature, great space for cycling including my nemesis hill climb, and a measure of peace for our dogs who freak out over the fireworks that tend to start a month before Independence day before peaking on 04 July then tapering off. There were fireworks heard at the cozy cabin. Sky high explosions bursting with color culminating in a series of massive bombs bursting in air has been my tradition for every independence day in my quickly fading memory but the quantity is significantly less than experienced in our explosion enthusiastic Chicago neighborhood.

Puerto Rico, La Isla del Encanto

I sometimes choose to think, no doubt perversely, that man is a dream, thought an illusion, and only rock is real. Rock and Sun.
~Edward Abbey

Back in the Airplane Saddle Again

Sometimes, I live a dream. Sometimes, that dream is a nightmare. In either rendition, all is ephemeral from breaths taken to thoughts pretending existence is any more than an illusion, perhaps a delusion. It feels surreal to be flying after two years grounded due to the rampant virus made worse by the Covidiots refusing masks or vaccines. Our last flight was pre-Covid taken to beautiful Jordan where we combined travel modes, flight and drive, to visit a few of the country’s many wonders. This year, with a slight downtick in Covid cases, we decided to risk a plane trip. With the logistics of testing and the potential for country shutdowns trapping us in situ, we opted to visit a US territory with an exotic flair, one with the added safety net of being the highest vaccinated of any US Territory or State. Hawaii was a consideration but the thought of confinement in an aluminum tube for eight virus hours aimed us toward Puerto Rico. It is best to err on the side of caution when having multiple comorbidity factors. Our plan was to half relax on the beach and half experience the island’s offerings. It turned out to be a decent balance addressing both our needs. Shortly after returning home, the Omicron variant wave started to rise. Thankfully, we caught the trough between surges.

North Dakota – Teddy’s Beeson (Midwest Roadtrip #3)

Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you.
~Frank Lloyd Wright

Teddy Roosevelt National Park

Day 1 – Teddy Roosevelt National Park

We stayed at an Airbnb in Grassy Butte North Dakota, about 15 minutes from Teddy Roosevelt North Unit and an hour from the South Unit. Our plan was to hit the South Unit early in the day, eat and get gas in Belfield at the I90 junction, then shoot on up the North Unit in time for an end-to-end park drive with, hopefully, a spectacular sunset. Not in our wildest dreams, did we imagine we would see the bounty of animals we did.

This wasn’t my first time at Teddy’s. Sometime in my distant past, I camped there in a warm Summer and had to fight off a density of noseeums squeezing their way through the tent mesh to feast on succulent human flesh. I also remember a ranger discussing Bentonite Clay, an active ingredient in Calamine lotion, which is a mud common to the Little Missouri River cutting through the park. Other than that, I have minimal recollection of the visit or which unit I explored. Essentially, this would be a first encounter.