Page 50 - TA Magazine Winter 2022
P. 50
B ANK THE FIRE
an
stands still. The light outside is unchanging like that of a shadow box. The high exercise
clouds are pulled across the mountains, like my mother’s softest hand stitched
quilt. The low clouds remain in repose in the valleys and hollows below, leaving
the mountain tops and myself suspended in the sacred space in between; that in
space that is closer to heaven than to earth. On a crystal clear day much of what
I am seeing would go unnoticed for the whole. It’s the “can’t see the forest for noticing
the trees” phenomenon. Not so today. Each crag, near and far, pierces the mist
below like so many breaching whales, islands in an ocean of ephemeral stillness.
I begin to list them in my mind: House Mountain and Sugarloaf off to the
north and east. The massive wall of the Cumberland Mountains closes behind One of the most important things you can do when you venture outdoors, whether in a new place or
them like a midnight blue curtain behind thespians on a stage. To the west, the your own backyard is to truly be present. Leave the ear buds at home. Turn off your phone. Ditch the
many peaks of Chilhowee Mountain file away towards the Little Tennessee sunglasses. See things as they really are. Listen to that stream below you. Even if you can’t see them,
River, the beautiful river from which The Volunteer State derives its lovely you will begin to know the hiding places of the waterfalls just by the sound of the water. There are birds
name.
22 Then there is the south. that prefer the shadowy depths in the forest and some who crave only the sunlit meadows. If you take 22
Y ANDERSON WINTER 20 the most east of the Mississippi River support the vault of the sky. Literally teeming with against the sky, so foreign and intriguing when measured against what we are used to back east. I was like Y ANDERSON WINTER 20
the time to learn the difference you can follow their voices to wherever it is you want to be. Go to the
wilderness with your whole self. You will be better for it.
shimmering, glorious pieces. There, the “Great Iron Mountains” roll away in
model your own next sojourn.
wave after wave toward the piedmont and the sea. There, the highest elevations
46 One of It is this scene that makes my heart ache to the point of breaking into a thousand Allow me to briefly relate what this meant for me on this paradisiacal sojourn, so you know how to 47
The sights: I was immediately alert to the vastly different silhouettes of the west coast trees
life, they harbor an astounding number of plant and animal species, many of
important
cles hold may well outnumber the trees. They swaddle the lore of the Cherokee
travertine blue. Amazing.
C things you which are found nowhere else in the world. The stories these venerable pinna- a kid in a candy shop, delighting in each colorful new find—never had I seen the ocean quite that shade of C
can do
people and the tall tales of the Scotch-Irish settlers who eked out a hard scrabble
TRA TRA
when you living on precarious slopes and fertile stream valleys. My own story is cloistered The sounds: We avoided any heavily populated areas on this trip, so very little in-
venture there as well. I wonder in silence as my eyes surmise each rearing summit: Thun- terfered with our ability to hear this permeating heart throb of the earth. The pounding of the surf was
derhead, Gregory’s Bald, Cobb Ridge, Sugarland Mountain, Cove and LeConte,
outdoors, Mingus and Collins, Guyot and Old Black. On and on they go. My gaze returns mesmerizing, the mewing of gulls, and the sighing of the wind in the ancient redwood trees were a balm
for the soul.
whether in to my trail-worn boots (my fourth pair this year) and I am filled with amaze-
a new ment and gratitude to have been so blessed to tread those heights. The smells: Oh, what smells! I will ever remember the central coast of California as the
place or What’s this now? Oh, yes! The old familiar longing is stirring in my soul. I stoop land of incense. The heady fragrance of Eucalyptus trees, Sweet Bays, flowering Lupines, and Jeffery’s Pine
was intoxicating. Nearly every shrub one brushes against there emits a heavenly perfume.
your carefully now and bank the fire. Perhaps it will last until the next visitor wanders
own back- in and they will enjoy it as I have. The tastes: Speaking of eating, there was plenty there to tantalize the palate. The bark
yard, is As for me...the mountains are singing their siren song and I must go away. TA and sap of one of the many species of conifer there is like a mixture of vanilla and butterscotch. The indig-
to truly be enous people there have enjoyed it for centuries.
present. The feels: This was a land of stark contrasts. One minute I was sinking my toes in sand
so soft it could have been white flour. The next, I was clamoring around on barnacle-encrusted boulders
that might cost you a toe if you weren’t careful.
