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Like the lid on a boiling pot, the azure sky held the morning heat close to the gritty ground. Eager to hike solo for the first time, and just as enthusiastic to get away from the field house of nearly 20 people, I slipped silently away from Deep Creek Ranch.
I loved my work as a member of a survey team searching in the Mogollon Mountains for Pueblo ruins. From sunrise to early afternoon we wandered through the Gila Wilderness Area in New Mexico making maps and notes of locations of archeological remains for future research. But this Saturday I had my heart set on an adventure to Sunflower Mesa by myself.
Beneath my feet, the southwestern sand accompanied my pace with a steady shah-shuh, shah-shuh tempo.This cadence was interrupted when I reached a boulder-strewn ravine and chose a path that would lead me higher. I felt at ease as I picked my way around the rocks, cradled amidst stubby junipers that filled the crevice. In contrast to the luminous light, in this barranca, mottled mosaics of dappled darkness danced upon the soil from light reflecting through branches.
A movement in my periphery caught my attention. I felt fear surface as a primordial instinct. I startled to see a ghostly, ashen figure stalk by. My distress manifested in the back of my throat, as I tasted terror.
A wolf? I smelled the dryness of the dead air, now as I drew in my breath. I faced a coyote no more than 12 ft away as he turned his head back to stare straight at me. Relieved that he was much smaller as he made his way up the side of the wash, I made my escape into the dim sanctuaries of shade. Conveniently located a short distance away, underneath a juniper was a low-lying rock for my seat.
Refreshed with water and rest, once again, I felt the grace that nature’s cathedrals bestow. What first seemed like a life and death encounter now appeared as a once-in-a-lifetime gift of a close encounter with one of God’s wild creatures.
As I relaxed in the shelter of the vegetation, my eyes settled on the ground at my feet. A perfectly shaped arrowhead floated on the surface of the sand. I picked it up as carefully as if it were Waterford crystal. My fingers caressed the surfaces of this speckled, silvery stone, a finely worked point of cryptocrystalline quartzite or chalcedony. In each tiny concavity where human hands flaked off flecks to form the point, the hues of this mineral ranged from a creamy color to rusty buff. I imagined the ancient hands that crafted this projectile point so many years before.
Along with a grateful heart for such an unexpected occurrence with nature, the memory of this day has remained dear to me all these years.
Unforgettable is the coyote that crossed my path in an intimate chance encounter, so close, that such an event has not been repeated since.
My book reviews
My Year Without Matches: Escaping the City in Search of the Wild
by Claire Dunn
Fire and Passion
Would you ever want to spend a year in the Australian bush living close to the earth and using ancient skills for survival? In Claire Dunn's My Year without Matches, we discover the ordeals that await amidst the forest gum and Moreton fig trees. The author explains her mission:
I want only to apprentice myself to Mother Nature, to steep myself in the raw reality of survival, and, like Thoreau, to wander without time or destination, a hawk-eye witness to the unfolding of four full seasons.
This narrative reveals a path of both dreamtime and awakening. When Dunn leaves her workaday world to suspend the "busy-ness" of mainstream routines, all sorts of emotions begin to surface. With heartfelt honesty, the author leans into the sharp places, exposed and raw, to discover her true self. Wisdom blooms from her experiences. "This is what I love about this year," she writes. "I'm crafting the tools for living from my own hands, from the earth; beauty and functionality are one and the same, transforming the mundane into the sacred." So evolves the journey of balance with nature, as Dunn seeks the sacred order of shelter, water, fire, and food to sustain herself through the seasons.
This book is the antithesis of the popular TV shows about wilderness survival. The setting for this adventure is in the educational context of a community of several like-minded people. There were parameters for the undertaking, and choices to be made. Participants were trained by local naturalists and experts in survival skills. The chronicle intrigued me, not only because it takes place in the wilds of Australia, but because of Claire Dunn's dedication to her vision to honor the ways of the earth. Her comment, "Padding around barefoot, I'm literally coming to my senses," struck a chord with me as I imagined her stalking through the night, feeling her way along the inner and outer landscape with keen awareness.
A varied audience may find this memoir appealing. The author's vivid flora and fauna descriptions are fascinating. Her trial and error tales of learning the physical skills required to exist in a remote wilderness are engrossing. Also resonating with me was Dunn's expression of her deep connection with the natural world, her self-discovery, and her thoughts on how mother earth heals deep, old wounds. Her exploration of her creative feminine essence, which she discovered she had neglected in her previous career in the city, became an unexpected theme. In addition to the sage lessons, which captivated me, her writing was simply enjoyable, melodic, and expressive:
I like to think I'm mapping the story of the land, but it's as much my story that I reference: my impressions, my tracks, my landmarks. I map the land as much to know myself as to know it.
Since Claire Dunn lived without electricity for a full circle around the sun, I could not overlook the paradox that I found myself reading this particular account on an electronic device in iBook format. Since the story is rich with unique Aussie vocabulary, I was grateful for the "Look Up" feature to learn about "wattle seed" and terms like "doona" and "shonky" without missing a beat. I highly recommend the iBook version for non-native Australians.
I would very much like to live a year like Claire Dunn did. Until then, I appreciate coming to know the ebb and flow of the lands of the north coast of New South Wales through her storytelling.
Review of Seeds of Hope by Debbie Tremel
Have you ever wondered what the future may hold, given these times we live in?
Have you ever thought about how you would face the unimaginable scenario of the collapse of life on earth as we know it?
In this story, you will meet people who have prepared for the worse case scenario and flee into the wilds of the north to follow a dream with clear priorities of living in balance with nature.
I was riveted following the threads of this well-written narrative. The author paints beautiful pictures of the landscapes and mountains traversed. I learned what it takes to plan to survive in a runaway escape when moments matter. There are lessons about finding food and shelter in the wild.
There is raw emotion of anguish and pain as each person grieves in their own ways over the loss of what they leave behind.
This is one story that weaves hope and heartbreak together with teachings about how to live a good life in harmony with nature and each other.
This book comes at a time when we need hope to cling to.
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