Confluence
California, Mendicino County, Angelo Coast Range Reserve, Ten Mile creek where it joins the Eel. 16, May, 1999, 1710:
Today I am at the confluence of two streams of water. Where they fill is a pool, which is 12 feet deep in certain spots. This small expanse that is the joining of two rivers is calm at the moment. The offspring of peace. Mountain time descends. The sun hangs in the sky just above the ridge. It appears to be taking its leisurely time in setting. The shadows now entirely engulf the pool. The unlighted fingers have been reaching for several hours, allowing a few of us the gift of taking another dip.
I feel immensely lucky to have spent my week, and my day in this mountain range, along this river. I grew up around the Eel. It was only an hour from my home in Arcata, California, Humboldt County. Or rather it was an hour drive to the spot which had good swimming. The mouth of the Eel, where it dumps into the ocean, is not far from Ferndale. The place of fairs, and bike tours, and the ending point of the Kinetic Sculpture Race; where cheating is expected and bribes don't consist of money. Humboldt and Mendicino are slow places, yet even here the tide is rising. Trees fall every day, homes rise as we sit, as we speak, as we meditate on beauty.
There are issues in this section of the state: logging, pollution, CAMP, meth labs, encroachment, invasion, pesticides, freedom, choice. The choice to sit alone by the confluence of two rivers and witness the joining of life. The freedom to learn this environment. This watershed; home to redwood and doug fir, tan oak and madrone, to irises and orchids, to bears and even skunks.
We are free as people to join life, to witness beauty and communicate it with our neighbor, to enjoy the sight of a spring green maple leaf, or the thick stalk of a large poison oak vine. On this journey I saw a piliated woopecker for the first time. Once through Breck's spotting scope and once with my naked eye. The piliated is a bird from childhood, the one that was heard but but never seen.
My family owns land in Lake county at the headwaters of the Eel. In that place there are issues: logging, back taxes, and family politics. In that place there are also piliated woodpeckers, a rare bird in those hills.
At this time I am drifting. Home is now a relative term. I feel like a bird, and birds have entered my dreams. I cannot know which way the winds will take me. Yet here at the confluence of two streams I know that life is a joining and not a separation. I feel lucky to be joined with this group in the persuit of Natural History. I, we, have seen deeply into the soul of mountains, rivers, oceans, islands, deserts, and forests. We have joined in laughter, we have joined our stories.
Here at the confluence of two rivers mountain time descends. The shadow has now covered my page and my stomach grumbles for dinner. I hope only that I will never forget this moment, this joining, this slice of peace.
Today I am at the confluence of two streams of water. Where they fill is a pool, which is 12 feet deep in certain spots. This small expanse that is the joining of two rivers is calm at the moment. The offspring of peace. Mountain time descends. The sun hangs in the sky just above the ridge. It appears to be taking its leisurely time in setting. The shadows now entirely engulf the pool. The unlighted fingers have been reaching for several hours, allowing a few of us the gift of taking another dip.
I feel immensely lucky to have spent my week, and my day in this mountain range, along this river. I grew up around the Eel. It was only an hour from my home in Arcata, California, Humboldt County. Or rather it was an hour drive to the spot which had good swimming. The mouth of the Eel, where it dumps into the ocean, is not far from Ferndale. The place of fairs, and bike tours, and the ending point of the Kinetic Sculpture Race; where cheating is expected and bribes don't consist of money. Humboldt and Mendicino are slow places, yet even here the tide is rising. Trees fall every day, homes rise as we sit, as we speak, as we meditate on beauty.
There are issues in this section of the state: logging, pollution, CAMP, meth labs, encroachment, invasion, pesticides, freedom, choice. The choice to sit alone by the confluence of two rivers and witness the joining of life. The freedom to learn this environment. This watershed; home to redwood and doug fir, tan oak and madrone, to irises and orchids, to bears and even skunks.
We are free as people to join life, to witness beauty and communicate it with our neighbor, to enjoy the sight of a spring green maple leaf, or the thick stalk of a large poison oak vine. On this journey I saw a piliated woopecker for the first time. Once through Breck's spotting scope and once with my naked eye. The piliated is a bird from childhood, the one that was heard but but never seen.
My family owns land in Lake county at the headwaters of the Eel. In that place there are issues: logging, back taxes, and family politics. In that place there are also piliated woodpeckers, a rare bird in those hills.
At this time I am drifting. Home is now a relative term. I feel like a bird, and birds have entered my dreams. I cannot know which way the winds will take me. Yet here at the confluence of two streams I know that life is a joining and not a separation. I feel lucky to be joined with this group in the persuit of Natural History. I, we, have seen deeply into the soul of mountains, rivers, oceans, islands, deserts, and forests. We have joined in laughter, we have joined our stories.
Here at the confluence of two rivers mountain time descends. The shadow has now covered my page and my stomach grumbles for dinner. I hope only that I will never forget this moment, this joining, this slice of peace.
posted by Metatree @ 4:14 AM
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