The first few hundred yards are the easiest and quickest and civilization soon gets behind and below me in my initial haste. 

I change to the regular and slower, upward marching that gets my heart, legs and lungs in a pleasing synchronicity.

I adjust my senses for possible sudden signs of wildlife as the unfamiliar trail narrows and the foliage thickens. 

I am not afraid of the coyotes, snakes, tarantulas, bobcats and occasional signs of black bear. One's frame of mind must be appropriate to respond gracefully to the unexpected encounter with an animal.  Even a harmless lizard will make a sudden move that says SNAKE! 

The only dangerous plants are the occasional, but easily discerned, shiny red and green bushes of poison oak and the needle-tipped leaves of the yucca plant.

I enter a cloud and its moisture brings welcome coolness to my face and arms. 

The continuous, regular rhythm of my lungs' halations helps me purge the feelings and thoughts associated with other humans and their works. 

There is no human or animal trail to guide me beyond this point.

The foliage is watered by frequent Pacific fogs and low clouds at this elevation.  Patterns of moisture that flow through the undulating and twisting canyons, and through the convoluted layers of sedimentary rock below the surface.  Various trees, bushes, grasses and ground cover are in profusion. 

I don't want to twist an ankle or break a bone by slipping into a hidden hole or crevasse.  No one knows where I'm hiking today.  

The delicious danger of this part of the hike makes my heart beat with more urgency than called for by the exertion of the climb.  My senses are at their peak alertness and I feel fully alive and vibrant.  I am not fearful, nor am I careless. 

I am positive in every movement; I neither hurry nor plod.  I observe everything around me directly, without being conscious of my observing. 

This steeper climb taxes my legs and lungs, but the adrenaline generated by the adventure helps me overcome the burden.

I lose track of time.  Without time and almost without space, except for the flow of greens and browns past my eyes, I march upward. 

I have now entered a different vegetation zone -- things are deeper green and denser, and the smells are damper, more pungent.  I step over trickles of water seeping from beneath the layers of fallen leaves and other dead vegetation.

I break through the top of the cloud.  The foliage is too high and thick to permit but small bursts of direct sunlight.  The dryer air has a lightness that stimulates me to quicken the pace.

I suddenly emerge into a clearing, the sun slanting from my right into my eyes.  I stop, back up slightly to scan the open area from the shade, and allow my breathing and heart to resume slower rhythms.

I sense a large rock formation in the treeless area ahead of me, offering me a time in the sunlight to merge with the plants and rocks, and with the sounds of insects and birds.

I've worked up a sweat. 

The rocks are bright and shimmering in the mid-day sun.  They are surrounded by the shrubbery I remember.  The bare columns of the cleft mountain rise for hundreds of feet on either side of the rocky prominence.  I am drawn toward the rocks, watching myself watching myself in endless self-observation, not resisting, not rushing. 

I sit. 

The sounds of the birds envelope me.  This is the hour they own the free spaces.  They have become untouched friends over the years.   I am gladdened and relaxed by their familiar chattering, chirping, clicking and warbling.  Even the raucous jays do not successfully cut through the fabric of this pleasant symphony.

I doze, aware but un-focused.  No questions, no concerns.

The mountains are thrust from the sea, and the often bent and twisted layers of sedimentary rock allow fresh water to percolate to the surface here and there, providing pleasant surprises.

I am floating in a clear, bright space, feeling free and cheerful.  There are no others -- just a sense of being in familiar surroundings. 

Features of the Earth begin to appear.  I see the ridges of the nearby mountains for tens of miles.  The variegated greens of the trees and shrubs cover them; the undulating and jagged features of the canyons and rises define their surfaces. 

I sense the water under the earth and the myriad small outpourings to the surface where the darker and thicker greens of the plant kingdom congregate.  Members of the animal kingdom are going about their work, uninterrupted by the immediate influence of man. 

I am happy.

I see the shining boulders.  They seem like a beacon in the forest. 

Time no longer exists.  I am where I am, when I am there. 

I have joined with the forest and its mother, the mountain. 

I am home.

And now -- a glorious announcement of the sun's power and beneficence. 

09/21/2007

Author's Note: Inspired by the mountains of Los Padres National Forest, overlooking the Ojai Valley in California, around 1989

Posted on 09/21/2007
Copyright © 2024 Ronald A Pavellas