Thought for the Day (Nov 12)

Subject: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Peter T.
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 09:26 AM

I went out for a brief painting hike a few days ago in a wild natural escarpment area a couple of hours north of Toronto. It was noon when I set out, and I went on just a bit too long, a mist suddenly came up out of nowhere, and I became totally disoriented off the map I had. The realization came after I walked for awhile that these picturesque hills were interlocked and twisted together so that it was possible that I could come down the hill and hit civilization, or I could come down the hill and hit another hill, and another, and get more lost. The temperature had been just above freezing all day, and as the afternoon passed it got much colder. As I had expected to be out for about an hour I had no matches with me, and no gear, except a knife and some watercolours (so I guess I could have painted a fire).

Since I had walked part of these hills before, I kept moving, hoping to cross a trail or a familiar patch of ground. Nothing. Mist everywhere, making it easy to misread the map. I went down into valleys to follow the streams down, and hit swamps. Hours passed. It was now almost dark. I went back up a hill, fog everywhere, no lights anywhere. I stumbled down another side, and hit another hill. I climbed that hill, and found myself face to face with another hill. I made lines on my map, crossed off attempts, nothing. I was now thoroughly wet and miserable, especially considering my stupidity.

I could watch myself not shifting into wilderness survival mode, because civilization was so temptingly close. It had to be nearby. I was not conserving energy, seeking shelter. I was gambling. I was on the move over the next possible dark shape. The fog was now replaced by pouring rain, which rapidly turned into sleet, and then snow.

I knew I was running out of energy and time, after eight,nine hours of constant up and down, and I was beginning to risk a broken leg, which would have finished me, but I got up in the pitchblack and tried yet another hill. By this time I was getting very cold and tired.

It went nowhere. Nothing. I crouched down, in the falling snow, for a few seconds.

And then, way off in the distance, through the darkness, I heard a ordinary dog barking. Two hours later, battered around, I walked up a strange driveway, miles from where I had started.

Was I in big trouble? I don't know enough about hypothermia to know if I would have made it through the night. Probably.

Still, what I remember most is the five seconds before the dog barked, when I had briefly run out of anything. It was a moment of clarity, the kind of clarity that comes when you have run out of excuses and alternatives. It sort of comes up in a quiet voice through the tiredness and the pissedoffness and says: this is what things are like when you haven't got your stories around you to protect you, Mr. Ecologist, Mr. Protection-of-Nature. This is what you can get yourself into by not paying attention, by being just that little bit too casual, a little too careless, a little too late in recognising your situation, you and your cute paintbrushes.

We'll let you off this time with a bark, but don't do it again.

The loss of a belief in a story (or stories) that have shaped or sustained us can be great with insight, but also great with danger and despair. The loss of certain stories may be painful for a few, but we are better off without them -- the invulnerable male, the "little woman", the government that can do no wrong. The loss of other stories we have believed in cuts deeper: the failure of a parent, the betrayal of a marriage, the disappointment of a friend. Evidence of the importance of these stories is the fact that we will hold on to them for dear life in spite of all evidence to the contrary: a friend of mine told me recently that he believes that the woman he once loved will return to him one day, in the last chapter of the romance novel he lives in. Everything in between will be redeemed by the last chapter: it is a form of perverse Christian redemption.

The scariest moment may be when the meaning is drained out of all stories, either because one has been shocked by the loss of a central story, or because one just loses faith that anything has a shape, or is worth the effort of putting into shape.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Peter T.
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 09:33 AM

Lost a sentence at the end: It was the moment when I ran out of my stories, out of my confidence that I felt the most vulnerable.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Allan C.
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 10:00 AM

Perhaps that is why, as people say, your whole life flashes before you in times of dire emergency. It may be that you are somehow searching through them to see if any of them need finishing before you proceed through to the end of the all-encompassing one. For many, it is the unfinished stories which keep them alive in the face of almost certain death. We refer to that collection of unfinished stories as "hope".

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Bert
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 10:16 AM

It's us guys that are over confident. Whenever we went up to our cabin in the mountains. At one time it was 2 or 3 times a week year round my wife used to take an emergency kit. A bottle of wine, a couple of bars of chocolate, a bag of raisins, some newspaper and matches and a blanket. So out of shame I guess I used to throw a shovel, a saw, a pickaxe and the tire chains in the back of the truck.

So, of course, we never ever got stuck, we had to use the chains and the shovel a couple of times though.

Once we hit the main road on our way home, she would break out the goodies and we'd finish them up. She'd just pack a new lot for next time.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Patrish(inactive)
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 11:04 AM

I ran out of stories/hope when I was kayaking in January a couple of years ago. Hypothermia set in and I became very disorientated. It was warmer in the water (which was freezing)than out of it. I lost all sense of survival and wanted to lie down in the water and sleep. My instructor kept shouting at me (dog barking?) - this was the only thing around me that seemed real, it kept me going. ( he had worked out the only way to get off the river quickly was to get further down the river where the transport was) I look back on it as a near death experience, I was not scared, I had reached a complete hope low. I wish I could say that it has made me a better person or that I value life more.... what it has taoght me is the importance of warmth... is there no hope for me... Patrish

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Allan C.
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 11:45 AM

The sad fact is that many, many of us embark upon journeys into the wild without enough preparation for the unforeseen.

Years ago I found myself under dressed and far from shelter with the temperature dropping rapidly. My traveling companion began to notice (as I did also) that my sentences began to make less sense than usual. Hypothermia was becoming a reality. Fortunately, we reached shelter before things got to be too serious. From this misadventure, I learned to plan ahead for such things.

Now, I never venture out on even a brief hike or paddling trip without a small day pack (in a waterproof bag when canoeing) containing extra clothing, a first aid kit, a small tarp, the makings for a fire, some candy and some dried foods, a knife, a bottle of water, and a few other "survival" items. Yes, I probably appear to others as being over packed. But I really don't care. There have already been numerous times when I have been glad to have these things at hand - most especially the tarp.

I keep this bag in my car when I am not using it otherwise. In the colder months I also keep a sleeping bag in the car. I haven't needed it yet, but it is a comfort to me just knowing it is there. I know that in some of the western states it is the law to always carry a shovel in the car. States vary as to what else is required besides that. Some want water; some want sand. These are for the purpose of getting your car unstuck and for the possibility of putting out small fires. Seems like a good idea to me.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: AllisonA(Animaterra)
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 11:52 AM

Peter, suffice it to say I'm so grateful to that barking dog, and glad you came down out of the hills to tell us about it! Your words mean a lot to us, and I don't often say so because I often have no more time than a flash before I have to get back to work or other demands. Just take care, ok?
Allison

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Peter T.
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 12:15 PM

Thanks, Animaterra, I appreciate the thought. I'll do what I can to be less stupid in future, but the raw material is pretty raw, and it is amazing how soon one slips back into the old ways.
yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Tony Burns
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 01:10 PM

I hope this isn't too ghoulish Peter but had you not made it back someone would have said "He died doing something he loved.". Would you care to comment on that?

btw - I'm glad you made it.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: catspaw49
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 01:40 PM

TAKA DE-DA DE-DA DA DA DAAA...........
..taka de-da de-da da da daaa.............

"Squeal like a pig!"

Spaw (Glad you made it back)

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: katlaughing
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 01:50 PM

That was a very profound turning of what could have been a fatal and, perhaps not completely known story, Peter. I hope someday, you consider publishing your stories; they are sublime in the telling and writing. It's like having a Thoreau on the Mudcat everyday.

Out here in Wyoming, one is constantly reminded to respect the wrath of Mother Nature and always be prepared. Living out on the ranch on Poison Spider Road, on the old Oregon trail, with a dirt and rutted mile long or more *driveway*, we were pretty vigilant about having supplies in our cars and at home in case of blizzards and such. Esp. since that was in pre-cellphone days and we didn't have any two-way radios, either.

One night, after going out for drinks and snacks after a sales meeting, I had to drive my company car home, rear wheel drive. I didn't usually do that; instead I'd ride home with Rog and the kids in our trusty 4WD Subaru. Hence I did not have the company car packed with any provisions, as it always was just used in town.

As I started out from the city, there was just a light snow, really nothing to worry about. The minute I hit the higher plains of the prairie, where there was nothing but a two lane road and fence posts, I hit a blizzard. In Wyoming blizzard snow never falls straight down; it is ALWAYS accompanied by winds, usually close to gale force, at least 30-40mph, giving us what they euphemistically call "blowing and drifting snow"....it is horizontal, unrelenting, and piles up fast against any obstacle.

I couldn't turn back because I would have gotten the car stuck trying to manuever around in the narrow road which had deep barrow ditches on either side. I couldn't see more than 5 feet in front of the car. The fence posts, made of old and gnarled wood, were my guideposts, the only way I could tell if I was still on the road for the bumpy, rough 8 or nine mile drive to home. Bright headlights blinded, so I kept my lights on dim, gripped the steering wheel and began bargaining with the Great Spirit.

Then I started singing, "I am driving in the Light, I am driving in the Light, I am driving in the Light, in the Light of God. In the Light, in the Light, in the Light, in the Light, in the Light, in the Light, in the Light of God."

I prayed, I gave thanks. I inched my way home at about 5mph. I knew if I stopped I would freeze to death. They would find my car under a huge pile of snow and I would be dead.

I had been terrified of such things from a childhood of hearing stories about idiots who went out unprepared. The Wyoming winter always claims a few victims every year; unwilling sacrifices, reminding us of the awesome power of Nature. Now, driving home, I was remembering the year before, when two people in a truck, 100 yards off the main road on the mountain, were stuck in a blizzard. One knew the admonition to always stay with your car; the other insisted on trying to walk out. The latter was found the next morning, dead, not 5 feet from the road.

Porch lights of the few ranch houses along the way sometimes shone through in a dim nimbus, alluring promises of safety. But, they were far off the road, over unknown driveways too scary to contemplate. I had to keep on for home.

Luckily, I had followed my own precaution of always calling Rog before I started for home after a meeting. I knew I would never make it up the driveway with the company car, so he was watching for my lights and would come down to meet me in the Subaru.

After a grueling hour or more, I could finally see the end of the driveway with the neighbour's house nearby; then I saw Rog in our little magic Subaru, my genie with his magic carpet, come to wing me to hearth and home. I fell into his arms for a hug of reassurance and gratefulness for him and for my survival. What a welcome sight they were!

Now....I don't drive in blizzards!

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Peter T.
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 02:02 PM

Tony, I am sure that if I had one of your magical walking sticks that nothing could have harmed me....I only came back to feed the heron and catspaw's need for a straight man (can that be right?).
I think people would say, what kind of a stupid nature lover would get himself killed 3 miles from a subdivision!!!! (I can see getting killed inside a subdivision easily enough, if you read the papers).
For people who wander around in nature, I think the greatest picture of the 20th century by far was the horrible one of George Mallory's frozen, battered body clawing Mount Everest printed last month. It says just about everything anyone ever wanted to say about the human body, the harshness of nature, the quest, success, failure. I know we have a Mudcatter who is connected to that story -- the picture makes one speechless with awe and the terrible rightness of it all. That is not a bad way to go -- although riding on the back of Wyowoman's motorbike into a spectacular crash did sort of appeal.....
yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 02:10 PM

While sailing from Grand Bahama to Ft Lauderdale in a 22 foot sloop, two friends and I were caught in a roaring Norther. We had been sailing in it for about 24 hours across the Bahama Bank from Exuma, but when we passed by Gun Cay and emerged into the Gulf Stream, the high winds from the North beat against the Stream flowing from the South to create these 12 to 20 foot breaking waves. Flying only a reefed foresail we made toward Florida when we could, turning the stern to the combing waves so we would not take them on the beam, threatening a capsize. Several days earlier we had noticed a crack in the wooden handle of the tiller(the long piece used to steer a small sailboat). Now, with the strain to keep the stern turned to the breaking waves, the tiller began to creak and pop. We wrapped it tightly in some line, but our fear was that we would lose steering and be completely at the mercy of the sea.

I had just come through the hatchway, ready for my stint at the tiller. With both hands on the hatch opening I watched a huge wave piling up to tower over us, and then it began to break in a roar. For the next 5 seconds we were under the water. When the boat rolled up, it was full of seawater, wallowing helpless before the huge seas. The moment of terror for me came afterward, after we had bailed her out. As the waves increased in size, it seemed inevitabe that we would be knocked over again. Each comber that rolled toward us called for a separate strategy to survive it,and no margin for error. I visualized what the last few minutes would be like in this complete darkness where the waves were the only visible entities, illuminated by the phosphoresence in the foam. The moment of panic as the boat rolls over, the tumble of my body in the roaring water, the struggle to call out to my friends against the howl of the storm, the vain attempt to breathe in the seafoam and wind.the total isolation of our position, the final loss of consciousness.I knew Death was coming, and I was in abject fear of it. I spent several hours in this state, and then something happened:We began to laugh,shout,sing against the sea,the storm, our inevitable deaths. In this ecstatic state we passed through the storm.

And so if you ask me what survives the death of hope, I would have to respond that,at least for me, it was elation.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Bert
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 02:20 PM

I can just picture you LEJ. Just like that guy in Forrest Gump.

Kat, I know what you mean about that country out there, it's real scary. One winter our mail man went missing. He was driving home from Colorado Springs to Black Forest and just disappeared. They didn't find him 'till the snow melted in the spring, he'd come off the road into a ditch and got buried under the snow.

Bert.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: catspaw49
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 02:28 PM

Yeah I KNOW that one Leej.......I've been sailing all my life from dinks to a few years crewing 50 footers in SORC racing, and the CLOSEST I ever came to croaking was in Sandusky Bay off Lake Erie for gawdsake. I'm not going into the whole story here, but the "experience" of my partner and I gave us a very cavalier approach that day and we were completely unprepared........and we damn near paid for it. Sound familiar Peter?

But I still love to sail...and as they say, its 98% boredom and 2% terror.

Spaw

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Tony Burns
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 03:00 PM

If you sailors haven't read "Adrift : Seventy Six Days Lost at Sea" by Steven Callahan, you should. (The non-sailors will enjoy it too.)

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 05:30 PM

Bert...you mean Bubba, or the guy without legs, or Forrest?

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: katlaughing
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 06:10 PM

Yeah, Bert. I remember a few mountain passes, esp. on the Western Slope of Colorado, which had memorials where this or that snowplow driver and snowplow had plunged over the edge, trying to clear the roads for fools, and losing their lives in the hundreds of feet deep chasms below.

My child mind of then had a morbid fascination with it and I always looked over the edge for glimpses. One happened on Red Mountain Pass the winter we used to travel over it to go see my sisters when they went to Ft. Lewis College in Durango.

My mom and dad had quite a few tales to tell of such things; when they were growing up it was all dirt roads wide enough for a two horse team and that was it. They had a Harley with a side-car when they got married and went sailing around the corners of those narrow passes high on love and the exhileration of it all. I am glad they had a car by the time I came along, though!

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Micca
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 07:18 PM

Yeah guys I know what you mean.When I was abou 19 I was in the Merchant Navy and serving in a 1500 ton tanker. We were coming out of the Scheldt from Antwerp for London at 3 in the morning. I was going off watch but the mate asked me to see the pilot off and then go below. There was a force 5 westerly onour starboard beam so I dropped a rope ladder from the boatdeck on the port side to give some shelter. The Pilot got off on to the cutter and she squared away. I pullede th ladder up and as I secured it inboard we bumped a short wave and I shot straight out through the gap between the Lifeboat and the handrail.I grabbed with my right hand the wire lashing that secured the lifeboat in its chocks and was hanging 30 feet above the sea by one hand. Its true your life flashes through your mind. I am hanging over the sea by one hand. Its dark .We are 5 miles from the land and I can't swim any way. You catch up quickly on your regrets. But like Peter i had one of those moments of absolute clarity and choice, you can die now, If you go in you have no chance of rescue the ship will be 200 yards away before you hit the water. Or you can get yourself back on board. I suddenly ahd all the strength I needed and pulled myself, one handed up and got a purchase on the rail and the rest is history. When I walked int the messroom a few minutes later my mate said " Christ, Mike you look like you've seen a ghost" I replied" yes and I think it was mine"

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: catspaw49
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 08:02 PM

Tony, I have read "Adrift" and its quite good...and chilling, much like "Fastnet Force 10" about the '79 Fastnet race. The best sailing novel I've read is called "Shipkiller"---40 foot ketch is run down a few hundred miles off the English coast by a Supertanker that goes along its merry way without noticing. If you've ever had even a remotely close call with one of those fuckers, you NEVER forget it. Anyway, wife is killed, he survives but can get no satisfaction from anyone associated with the ship, so he takes the insurance money, buys a used 37 ft. Nautor Swan, (great sailboat) and takes matters into his own hands. Author is very sailing savvy or did fantastic research.

Spaw

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Neil Lowe
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 10:34 PM

Perhaps that "moment of clarity" is the reason some so- called "primitive" cultures require a rite of passage into wo/manhood. Sort of like that scene from the movie A Man Called Horse.

It is in that moment, when one is face to face with one's own mortality, that one feels most alive. All the clutter and insipid aspects of day-to-day living are stripped away, leaving the bare essence of pure existence in the bottom of the crucible.

To live through the moment engenders a deeper appreciation of and respect for the simple pleasures, yet at the same time endows one with the sense that most of what we experience is illusion - mere sleight of hand that no longer captivates or intrigues us once we know how the trick is done. The "stories" lose all their magic. What we are left with is a faint and fragile glimmer of self-awareness adrift and rudderless in a sea of nothingness, armed with the revised knowledge that every man is an island.

To die at that moment is the easiest thing in the world to do.

IMHO, Neil Lowe

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: catspaw49
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 10:44 PM

Ya know, you may have a point there Neil. Every man IS an island....a "Coney Island"...and once you get rid of the sauce, the relish, onions, kraut, and all the superfluous stuff, you're left with big, soft, doughy thing with a wienie in the middle. I guees women are more like a Pita pocket.............

Spaw

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 13 Nov 99 - 02:12 PM

Right,Spaw, and what good is life if not lived with relish? I think that's the moral here. At one point during the storm experience that I described above, my friend Keith Schanen remarked "Damn but I wish I was watching this on TV!" And we all laughed. Bottom line is, sometimes it takes a dose of death to make you appreciate life, an appreciation you can never glean from being an observer of extreme experience. And sometimes I fear that we are becoming a nation of voyeurs, experiencing life second-hand from the couch, insulated by a layer of beer, taco chips, and the remote control. Maybe some examples of extreme or violent behavior are spawned by this insulation from essential experience, and the desire to shatter it at all costs? A thought.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: katlaughing
Date: 13 Nov 99 - 03:12 PM

And, what kind of relish would you like with that pita pocket, LeeJ?**BG** (Thanks, Spaw! Another to go with twidgett!)

Phew! LeeJ, a very deep thought and probably right on the money. A passive society is unbalanced and will go crackers eventually, right? Is this what happens when there are apparently no more frontiers available to the average person? It seems to me a lot of our society is thought-less. I hate going to WalMart, but had to go today, had no choice. Here it is Saturday, November in Wyoming where we should be at least knee deep in snow by now, it is inching towards the 70's and like a bunch of programmed zombies, I watch in a surreal horror of consumerism, as person after person mindlessly enters the megalomart, looking to fill whatever void they must feel in their lives, as well as stock up on what they may actually need. I felt like a lemming jumping off. It actually makes me feel physically ill to go there; it seems so alien to me and my philosophy of life. The shelves were stocked with the same as last year senseless Christmas *gifts* that not much thought will go into picking out; chosen in a feeding frenzy of gotta-haves. It struck me, again, that the Walmarts and McDonalds are the real enemies of our entire planet. They feed people pablum and dull their senses, creativity, spontaniety, every bit as much as mindless television. What a wicked combination and how brainwashed the general public is. So, maybe you are right, those who want to break away don't know of any other way but violence ala their favourite tv/video games.

kat

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 13 Nov 99 - 04:47 PM

Another good point,Kat. We are just two generations removed from people who were forced to experience the essentials of life in the daily course of their existence. Often they depended for their day-to-day existence on hunting or farming the land. Families were tight for many reasons, but mainly because they had to be- they needed each other to get in the crop, or to help in case of illness ,death, or famine.Men expected to die for their country, their religion, their family- and they did.

It seems that more and more we have become "experience dilettantes", paying exorbitant prices for the opportunity to raft the Colorado, climb Everest,sail the Caribbean. But if one of us should experience something that's not pictured in the brochures - a broken leg in the Swiss Alps, a drowning death on the Upper Ganges, we're prepared to sue the perpetrators for letting us fall victim to the same danger which was such a thrill to avoid. Even our wars are expected to be bloodless.

Perhaps the problem is not the fear of sacrificing our creature comfort, of casting our lot with the Unknown. Perhaps the problem is the loss of any substantial motivation or need to do this...or in other words, basic human nature, when "what could be" has been replaced by "this is good enough."

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: katlaughing
Date: 13 Nov 99 - 06:27 PM

Excellent point, LeeJ. Only one thing, it doesn't even go back that many generations for a lot of us. My parents grew up that way in Western Colorado, so only one generation away from such things here. Even when I was a kid, I remember going to the orchards, getting fruit and veggies to put up, then packing them in the jars, etc, was a family affair. Everyone was expected to help, so that we'd have yummy food for the winter.

Everything is too convenient and prevelant these days for anyone to be very motivated to do otherwise.

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 13 Nov 99 - 06:37 PM

And having said that, I think I'll grab a pizza and a sixpack and go home and watch "The Crocodile Hunter".Ow, shay's a byootafull animul! Jost look at thuh soize of 'er!!

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: Micca
Date: 13 Nov 99 - 07:08 PM

00.02$ Surely the question is the old awareness and feeling one, what a near death does is make you think about what your doing and why. Too many people buy "the sizzle and not the steak". they experience vicariously, through TV and settle for the bland pablum mentioned above. Its poverty of expectation, dulling the feeling of being alive that divides and destroys. The same corrosive effect of so called "received wisdom" as well. My mother gave me three things that have kept me alive and on course. They were 1 "Question everything especially that which starts we have always done/believed this, it is the truth, Find your own truth" 2 "Read". 3 "Retain your sense of humour"

Subject: RE: Thought for the Day (Nov 12)
From: katlaughing
Date: 13 Nov 99 - 08:30 PM

Wise woman, your mother. Brings to mind my two favourite bumper stickers:

Question Authority

and,

Ouestion Authority....ask me anything!

LeeJ: By crackee, Craw-ca-dial hunter is moi heerow!