Gordon Highland

Details are the essence of east coast hiking. With most trails hemmed in by forest, there is ample time to look around, noticing different tree species, birds singing in the canopy and the wildflowers blooming in the underbrush. My western self still prefers hiking for vistas, but I am beginning to adopt a slower pace and a more deliberate approach to hiking. In the Parkers Creek Preserve outside Prince Frederick, MD, I was able to identify ten different species of tree (a throwback to my college environmental education). I also spent a great deal of time combing the banks of the tidal creek, looking for wildflowers. I captured this blue flag iris while balancing precariously above the swamp on a log.

DeGrazia Gallery in Tucson, AZ – Daylight meanders into a room in the DeGrazia gallery. I have the feeling that this gallery was designed by the art; crafted by the artist. Seamlessness is present between the canvases and the walls that display them. Empty space is consumed by light from the Arizona sun, making it not empty, but another piece in the collection. Art in context, art in the place it calls home.

Today, he hiked nearly 4 miles to the shore of Chesapeake Bay in Calvert Cliffs State Park. As we searched the beach for shells, Lemhi caught the wind in his ears and ran circles in the sand.

Since crossing into the southeast, I have been caught in three torrential rainstorms that resulted in widespread flooding. On two occasions, Sara and I have been glued to our phones, refreshing tornado watch listing, fretting over what to do about a tornado when living in a van. Rain has been persistent and frequent since we moved to the east. Slowly, I am growing accustomed to throwing on a rain coat to bring Lemhi for a walk and checking the weather every day before planning what I’ll do.  It is the abundant plant and animal life thriving in wetter conditions that has been the balm for my rain weariness.

Jumping from Shiloh to the end was jarring. In the parlor of the Mclean’s house, I chatted with the docent about General Grant’s lack of preparation for the meeting. With the battle ongoing around them, Grant and General Lee worked out the terms on horse back on the field. On the day of the surrender, Grant sat at a side table, pulled away from the wall and wrote out the terms of surrender with General Lee sitting at a marble top table just a few feet away. Amidst the fervor and built hatred, these two men were able to lay down arms and start, however slowly, to mend the wounds of our country.

Amazing how, after encountering Beth’s enthusiasm for wildflowers, they easily and quite naturally became the object of my hike. Instead of looking up into the canopy, my gaze repeatedly returned to the ground and the numerous flowering plants dotting the trail. On a particularly steep section I looked down and there was the lens filter, just off the trail edge. Continuing up the trail I eventually encountered Jim, standing in a copse of trees, capturing an image of the interplay between light and dark. He had obviously given up the filter for lost and was pleased to have it reappear in my hand. He again directed me to flowers along the trail, specifically Pink Ladies Slippers, Cypripedium acaule. With another warm goodbye, I moved up the trail to locate these orchids. Encountering them in the warm evening light of southwestern Virginia was a beautiful site. Beth and Jim had bestowed this place and these flowers with a joy that was still palpable as I stood just off the trail, admiring the bright pink orbs floating above the green and brown understory of the forest.

Only inches stood between life and suffering between the lines. Accents, southern and northern, indistinguishable within the two syllables of “water.” With life wisping away, country and honor detach themselves to the night. Plain, human soul bubbles up from beneath the veneer. All that can be done is listen and contemplate a few inches. 

Catching up on photos at the the New Mexico State University Library. First photo is from our campsite outside Socorro, NM. The rest are fro our backcountry camping trip in White Sands National Monument. 

Realized today that I had not checked the weather forecast in over a week. Since the day after we rolled into Moab in a tremendous wind storm the weather forecast has been the same every day. Warm with abundant sunshine. I have no complaints about leaving the weather app alone! Photo from our hike on the Devil's Garden Trail in Arches National Park on one of those perfect days.

The photo above comes from the Toadstools Trail, an area Merle recommended. We stopped here before proceeding to Buckskin Canyon. It was a good thing we did, since we were turned around by ruts on the road to Buckskin. Besides the highway, there are no paved roads in the 1.9 million acre monument, and when it rains they quickly become impassable. We learned the hard way that even after they dry out, the ruts left by the overzealous make them impassable for Hobbes. 

I would have loved to stay longer and explore deeper into the park, but night time lows for the next couple days are in the teens. Too cold for us and for Hobbes (frozen pipes would be no fun). We are currently at lower elevation, waiting out the cold weather and planning a return trip to Zion.

Sara drinking in her first view of the Grand Canyon. It was my first trip here as well. Freezing temperatures kept the crowds to a minimum and allowed the beauty of the place to shine. I have seen so many photos of the canyon, that I knew what to expect in width and color, but I was not prepared for the stunning depth. Disorienting and thrilling to look between your feet and see a mile below. 

Single brick red light crumbled - declared history Promptly forgotten Rosette green life Declared dead Replaced Dust settled, eyes averted lost emotions revisited dismissed as servants Tasks completed Resurface, resurface again never to dust remaining in form Derived by hands Manipulated Erected Survived

I am a believer that natural places hold energy absent from urban places. I think that it is only possible to experience that energy when you slow yourself to the environment’s pace. In a giant redwood forest, it could be the speed of tree growth. In the red rock desert, it could be the speed of erosion or tectonic upheavel. These slow paces are difficult to achieve, but when matched the energy is tangible. Perhaps I just did not match my pace with the pace of Cathedral Rock.

"Truly fine poetry must be read aloud. A good poem does not allow itself to be read in a low voice or silently. If we can read it silently, it is not a valid poem: a poem demands pronunciation. Poetry always remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art. It remembers that it was first song." - Jorge Luis Borges We are taking on reading poetry aloud each night. For our first book we selected Half of the World in Light by Juan Felipe Herrera the US Poet Laureate, selected by by President Obama.