my automobile takes me across the night. into the mountains. and over rivers back and forth. i try not to listen to the radio because music already seems to be around me. but once the sun begins to fall over the mountains it remains a source of direction and certainty.
i listen to J.S. Bach.
the location of this place was a little vague to me and sometimes i feel like there's no other mode of experience when stuck in my car for eight hours. so hiking through the Oregon cascade mountains at eleven at night seems a little foreboding.
but soon i arrive. its dark. people tell me go this way and that.
the river gurgles past with unfathomable volume.
on the way in i encounter two lost hikers.
this makes me all a little more apprehensive but they reissure me that the springs do exsist.
So after about 20 minutes on the trail with my trusty flashlight i arrive to an oasis lit by candle light and steam. I manage to remain on my feet while the starlit sky sweeps me up and around and sends a greeting from the happily soaking bathers.
they become my friends.
they become my camping companions and the ones whom teach me songs and play the drum and flute.
we sing in the springs. we sing around the fire. we sing to the stars.
its funny how just at the moment you feel so very far away from anything at all
that the world opens up into such a marvelous welcome.
i end up staying two enjoyable evenings with this group of six.
they drive a short bus painted purple with variable additions of colorful paint along the way. they are nomadic. soul searchers.
they wear their faces like how the river carves the rocks it passes through.
they smile to the rain.
they are at home.
they have wheat grass growing of the back of their bus.
morning is usually a time that passes and eventually the sun makes me stir and yawn and all that warm shaking dreams from your hair and everything.
but this particular location was low to the river and the ground was always perpetually wet and thus was very cold in the mornings.
there is nothing worse then waking up just before dusk and the cold is creeping all around so quickly with every single breath when you realize that sleep is futile. Unless there is a source of immensely warm water nearby. like a two minute walk. like i could have probably thrown a rock all the way there. accept for the trees.
this morning the orange came through the clouds passing rays of the sun just at the perfect time to let my body turn into something absolute.
something unquestionable yet something indefinite.
i heard twice now that these springs are rich in lithium.
it makes it very hard to leave them. a man tells me.
now i believe what he meant. i almost fall back asleep but thought that it would be better to pack my things and keep moving.
crater lake is a sham. it was cold and snowy and when i arrive I'm like "hey i bet if i climb over this ridge I'll see some greatly fantastical view, huh"
but no. i mean yes and no. it was vast and overwhelming. yes.
but the sand was heavily blown around from the wind and it made its way under my eyelids.
i jump back in my car and drive to a spot where i can see from the road.
the car rocks back and forth from the wind. i was very close to a very large and non-completely visible drop that seemed just to go straight to the lake. the whole mountain was out of power when i go to one of those mountain/park style over priced cafes made from logs to get some hot tea. but they thought i was ok and gave me hot tap water and free peppermint leaves.
so with a hot cup in one hand i keep onward, now back to the west. now to California.
now to the salty ocean.
now to Arcata. funny people with big eyes.
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