Guardian Angel At Work in the Smokies

I often joke that I have a guardian angel looking out for me.  But today I have a new example to support this allegation.

 

A very close call -- backing into the abyss

This was my day to drive to the cabin in the Smokies that I have rented for the month of April.  What a gorgeous drive!  Last night it rained and morning fog gave way to sunshine and warm temperatures.

I’m no stranger to the Smokies.   My brother lives an hour or so to the east. He’s lived here for more than 30 years, and when I come down, we often hike somewhere in the area.

During the 5 years I served our congregation in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, I drove to The Mountain at least twice a year for our ministers’ gatherings and for other programs. I think I’m about 20 miles away from The Mountain, a camp and conference center affiliated with Unitarian Universalism.  It’s an amazingly beautiful place, and the road between here and there passes several spectacular waterfalls on a road that’s not for the faint-hearted.

I have not been to this part of the Smokies for several years now. Driving here, I was again blown away with the beauty, especially at this time of emerging spring.

Getting to my cabin was tricky.  I got to Franklin just fine, and the cabin is probably just a handful of miles from there as the crow flies. But there are many country roads and hairpin curves between here and there.

With some wrong turns, I finally got to the part where the blacktop turned into gravel. The road was very steep, and the directions said that the speed limit on the one-lane road is 12 MPH.  As I was busy looking for signs and signals, and since my car doesn’t like steep hills, I was going slower than that. The instructions said, if you lose momentum, get to a flat pace and then gather momentum.  Flat place??!!

Finally, I saw a sign that said ‘private drive’.  I thought it meant the road I was on. There was a house way above the road with barking dogs and people on the deck. I stopped and asked for directions. They told me to proceed as I was going. Well, I had lost momentum and I was not at a flat place. They said to turn around in a driveway nearby.

The nearest driveway was right next to where I had stopped, and I didn’t have the turning radius to work with for that one. So I saw another turnaround a bit further down and went for that.  The attached picture shows what I did – I miraculously stopped within an inch of going down an almost-ditch, with a guy wire for a telephone pole right behind me and a bigger drop-off a little way beyond that.

So yes, this was so close that it qualified for the intervention of that guardian angel. Thank you!!

I had to call AAA to winch me out. They came promptly and did the job efficiently if not cheerfully. Then the woman from the above-mentioned house rode up with me to the cabin – more hairpin curves and steepness.

But I am here!  It is beautiful!  I am going to so enjoy the next month, though I’m tempted to sit here in the house the whole time and not venture out onto the hairpin curves on the steep gravel road.

My view is gorgeous, and this place already exceeds my high expectations.  A brief rainfall came through right after I unloaded my stuff from the car. This evening, the audio tape is… Peepers!!  My first this year.

sunset after the rain, the view from Priscilla's cabin

I’m very excited that I will be here the month of April.

Highways and Byways 2: Flora and Fauna

When I arrived in Tucson, the desert hills were covered in a green groundcover. Mexican poppies were beginning to carpet the hills. When I left a month later, the groundcover was drying up and turning brown and the poppies were done, though other wildflowers were beginning to bloom.

 

South Central Texas: horses grazing in a field of wildflowers

I have driven through three of the four US deserts: the Great Basin desert in western Colorado, Utah, and northern Arizona, the Sonoran desert in southern Arizona, and the Chihuahuan desert in New Mexico and west Texas.  I found that there are more variations within deserts than between them, though they are distinct entities.

Those wonderful Saguaro cacti can only be found in one part of the Sonoran desert. As I hiked that desert, I could be in a volcanic area for, say, a half a mile and then cross into red rock territory, then a while later into yet another kind of zone.

As I drove, I saw many different kinds of desert environments – some of the differences could be attributed to altitude (more juniper and cedar at higher elevations), but not always.  I was surprised to see such variation, something I had not noticed as much in my previous desert experiences. I found the desert to be endlessly fascinating.

I thought I would be sad leaving the desert. I wasn’t sure I was ready to do so. Perhaps it signified that I was on my way to returning to my usual habitat – evidence that a big chapter of my sabbatical had ended. But I was quite lucky: I made that transition at a time of high spring, with trees leafing out, the grass that new bright green, sunny days of perfect temperatures, and a blue, blue sky with few white puffy clouds. I drove through several days like this.  I’m a spring person, so I was filled with that uplifting spring wonder everywhere I looked.

I traveled through Texas at the height of wildflower season. Along Highway 281 through the Hill Country, the famous Texas bluebonnets were in bloom.  Other fields were carpeted with yellow or lavender wildflowers. It was spectacular.

Through Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Tennessee, trees were leafing out, some that early tentative green and other trees more fully leafed out, a bright electric green. Overall, the roadsides exhibited a young, vibrant green that spoke of high energy and renewal. That feeling is contagious.

Dogwood, redbud, and azalea are in bloom.  I knew I would see more than one spring unfold, but I have been blessed over and over again with beauty and resurrection after resurrection.

I am filled with the wonder and the amazing variety of Creation, from the deserts to the woodlands to the gardens coming alive.

Now the fauna:  I have seen many varieties of animals, birds, reptiles and insects.  One day I was hiking alone in the desert and, rounding a bend, a javelina and I surprised each another.  We both stopped in our tracks and stared at each other for a moment. My heart was beating fast, as his/hers was probably doing. Then we parted company.  I saw another javelina on the side of the road as I was leaving Big Bend National Park.

Other wildlife:  I’ve seen pronghorn antelope, mule deer, and several coyotes. My favorite coyote sighting was in Oklahoma, where a pair leaped, chased, and played in a field.  I saw lots of raptors and interesting birds.  Lots of geckos and lizards, thankfully no rattlesnakes or Gila Monsters, a rather large and colorful lizard with a deadly bite.  Of course along the way I’ve encountered many insects, some I know and others I have not seen before. I’m thankful that I was too early for the scorpions.

Now I’m about to hunker down in my cabin in the Smokies. I wonder if I will see any bears?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Highways and Byways

I’ve just experienced several days with spotty internet connections.  Sorry.

 

spring in the Hill Country, Texas

In my travels, I’m taking non-interstate routes as far as practicable.   I get a much stronger flavor of the countryside I’m driving through and it’s rarely boring. I don’t have to deal with what I call ‘interchange hell’, the depressing sameness of the ugly conglomeration of hotels, chain and fast food meccas, and gas station/convenience stores. Ugh.

The interstate culture has gotten worse over the years.  Having lived in Tennessee for 5 years and having traveled through this state several times before and since those years, it used to be that one could find reliable lodging and dining options at only a handful of locations along I-40, which traverses the length of the state.  Now it’s a rare interchange that hasn’t succumbed to ‘interchange hell’. Some formerly beautiful and pristine areas have been bulldozed to accommodate mass culture’s expectations of sleeping and eating in predictable and depressing ways whenever they want. I would guess that, in many places east of the Mississippi, if you get a hankering for a Big Mac along one of our interstates, you can satisfy that craving within 20 miles.

An issue for me is that finding places to take a walk at the end of the day is most difficult. Interchanges aren’t made for pedestrians.

What have we done to our landscape and the quality of our towns and travel experience with this interstate sprawl we’ve developed?  Yes, there are jobs, but most are low paying. Do these interchanges really improve the quality of life of the communities they inhabit?  (OK, end of rant).

The only thing I’ve had some anxiety about in my non-interstate driving is giving up the rest areas.  In one memorable stretch in New Mexico, I drove through miles and miles of desert, knowing that a town was some 60 miles down the road. I passed through that town, more of a crossroad, with no services. But there was another town some 34 miles further.  Again, no services.  The next bitty town was even further away. Yes!! There was one gas station and convenience store!

The line for the rest rooms at this convenience store was a 20-minute wait. I still find this ‘minor inconvenience’ preferable to driving the interstate system.   I have found unusual new towns, I get a better feel for the local culture, and have slept and eaten in some interesting and satisfying places.  This is most definitely the best way to travel, in my humble opinion.

 

 

New Mexico and West Texas

I traveled mostly back roads from Southern Arizona to Santa Fe.  What an amazing experience!  The road from Lordsburg through Silver City and on into the southern Rockies was spectacular. The road wound through the Gila National Forest, up and up and up and then down again to the desert floor.  Through all the hairpin curves, the speed limit was a maximum of 25 miles per hour.  I traveled from scrubby, sandy desert through a higher desert with juniper and pinon (how do you put the tilde over the n?), to the mountains with tall fir, white pine, a flowing stream, spectacular views. And snow!  It was a long drive to Santa Fe and I didn’t arrive until very late in the afternoon.

Santa Fe was its usual marvelous self. I spent three nights there at one of my very favorite hotels, which is an old adobe inn within walking distance of the plaza and museums.  The people who run it are fantastic, as are their breakfasts and general ambience.  They always have a pinon fire burning on the patio – the aroma is heavenly. One day I devoted to museums and arts, the other to hiking at another one of my favorite sites, Bandelier National Monument, where there are ancient ruins, stunning views, and great trails.

Then on to West Texas…

Having lived in Texas twice, I have always wanted to go to Big Bend National Park and the town of Marfa.  They are way out of the way, and the only time to come to this part of the world is in late winter/early spring or in the fall. It’s just way too hot May through September.  So I never made the 9-plus hour trip from Dallas/Fort Worth during my busy times.

I have paid little attention to the days of the week during my travels. My timing in Marfa was poor. I arrived on a late Saturday afternoon as the art venues were closing. One of its major claims to fame is its offbeat art.  Everything, it seems, is closed on Sunday. And Monday.  On those days I had reservations at Big Bend, and since this is their prime season, I didn’t want to jeopardize my stay there.  So basically I had one good meal in Marfa and spent part of Sunday morning walking around the little town. Only the churches were open for business.

It was quite windy Saturday and again on Sunday when I arrived at Big Bend, windy  enough to generate a red-flag warning, which means wild fires can become very dangerous very fast.

Crossing the Chihuahua Desert in these winds meant dust devils and dust storms. By the time I arrived in Big Bend, my head was pounding and I felt like half the desert resided in my sinus cavities.  I would not have had time to do one of the bigger hikes, but I thought I felt well enough to take a short hike for a prime sunset viewing area. But… the clouds had come in and there was no sunset.

I woke up Monday to cool weather and still lots of clouds. It was another red-flag day with high winds – 25 to 35 mph with gusts up to 50 mph.  I was determined to hike anyway.  I hiked the Windows Trail, 5.2 miles round trip down into a canyon that dropped off at the narrow end that looked out on the desert floor (hence the name, Windows).  An insanely strong headwind roared through the narrow part of the canyon.  It was hard to stay on the rock ledges above the narrow wash.  But I made it, and was glad that the wind was less than gale force as the canyon widened on the way back up to the Chisos Basin.  It was uphill all the way back, but I guess I’m at an age where I pretty much prefer uphill hikes to the forces of gravity that make downhill hikes scarier – especially with all the loose rocks and gravel on western trails.  I was proud of the fact that I made this hike a full hour under the estimated time, especially with all the wind drama.

Leaving Arizona

When I left the Desert House, I hiked on trails along the San Pedro River in Southern Arizona at the recommendation of someone who often hikes there.  I did a loop trail that followed the river for a while (excellent bird sightings here) and then went through a ghost town — Fairbank, Arizona.

A Reflection on Community

This past week I left the Desert House, where I’ve been for more than a month. I can honestly say that I loved every minute I spent there. The staff, the place, the meditation and prayer, the worship, the silence, the desert – all came together to support a retreat of deep spirituality.

But there’s another component: community. The retreatants came and went: some stayed for a couple of days, others stayed longer. There were probably four or five of us who stayed a month or so. But we most definitely formed a community, and many return each year at the same time (this is most definitely a place that one would want to return to).

Even though we were in silence much of the time, the bonds of community somehow weave and thicken. With only a handful of dinners where we can talk for about 45 minutes (plus a happy-half-hour on Sundays with a full bar!), we don’t get to know people really well through conversation. But we are together several times a day in silence — for meals, meditation, prayers, and worship.Somehow the bonds of community form without the primary use of language.

I was also privileged to connect with another community in Tucson: a group of people who work for various peace and justice issues have formed a community that meets every Saturday evening in worship and social time. This is their church, and most have some ties with Desert House. Fr. Ricardo, whom I mentioned before as dedicating his ministry to border/immigration issues, began this community, which follows what we call the House Church model.

They gather in people’s homes. They first gather in worship, usually in the format of a non-traditional Eucharist. The host prepares the worship. The one I attended was at the home of George and Nancy Mairs. Nancy is an author who publishes with our UU Beacon Press.

In the Catholic tradition, a homily follows the readings from the Bible. Here, they have an open dialogue in place of that. Once the dialogue is finished, they pass around a loaf of bread and a chalice of wine. After worship, they have a potluck dinner.

I talked to several people: one medical doctor is taking a year off to dedicate her work to border issues. A couple met in this community and married. Several talked about how this community is central to their lives. They are a tight community.

An issue they are facing is that they are on the verge of outgrowing the House Church model. I was one of three or four guests – and the Mairs’ spacious living and dining rooms were packed and overflowing. I can see why this is a meaningful way of being spiritual and religious in these times. I felt welcomed and nourished on many levels.

Some of the gurus who spend their time looking at the future of church in the United States see this model as having promise for our future. There is no overhead (they did not pass the proverbial basket), and people participate in creating their own worship experience. They live their religion through service and find deep meaning in what they have created together.

This was my first experience with a house church, and can see its upsides.

This group’s challenge is to deal with the growth they are experiencing, which is something that many churches struggle with. Their sense of community changes as size changes. It will be interesting to see how this group’s way of doing church unfolds.

Random Thoughts from the Desert

I’ve now been here three weeks. Time is different here – it’s hard to explain.  We live at more of a weekly rhythm than a daily one.  I will be extending my stay by a few days, as I love it so much here.

I no longer need my flashlight in the early morning to get to meditation/prayers.

This week I have been the designated hiking guru/guide to the newbies.  I so enjoy traversing these desert paths. Climbing the saddles of the hills brings incredible views. Each week brings more wildflowers — some of the mountainsides are carpeted with poppies.

Desert Poppies

And I’ve already marveled with you about the silence out in the desert.

But I meditate on how dangerous this desert can be to people who have little but the shirts on their backs. I have my daypack, sufficient water, my lunch, sunscreen, a sun hat, sunglasses, and good hiking shoes.  I have my cell phone on me that also has maps of the trails. I am well equipped to hike.   I carry a trekking pole not so much to help me hike, but as a ‘snake stick’.  The rattlesnakes and scorpions hibernate in the winter, and some have already been sighted. Thankfully we’ve had a bit of cooler weather lately (highs only in the upper sixties), so many here are praying that the snakes stay in hibernation for a while longer.

Some of our dinners are not silent. We can converse a bit. Usually on these nights, the first question is, Who hiked today? Where?  And next: Did you see any snakes? My answer always is, Not that I know of!

But I think of the migrants who do not have any of the equipment or amenities to keep them safe –stuff that I take for granted.  Temperature variations can be as much as 40 degrees between night and day – from the 30s to the 70s.  I have a warm room to sleep in. I have clothes for the chilly mornings and the very warm desert sun.  The desert is my friend, but I think of how quickly it could turn into an enemy if I didn’t take my hiking basics with me or have adequate shelter and sustenance.

I don’t think I’ve said much about the others who come here.  People stay for a couple of days, a week or two, or longer term like me.  People come from all walks of life, from near and far.  Some are local, some have come from various parts of Canada, others from the upper mid-west, the northwest, some from the south. I’m not the only one here from the northeast. We are all seeking some spiritual deepening in this beautiful desert, at this beautiful place.  I’m amazed at how many return every year.  I will be among that number, saving some vacation in upcoming years for a winter retreat.

My time here continues to be an amazing gift.