Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Small Escapes...

There is a bit of magic to be found not many miles from home, in the backyard more or less. A new trail, a new tiny historic highway leaving an historic little town and traversing a windy plateau dotted with centuries old barns in rich volcanic farmlands. A viewpoint for Memaloose Island (translated from Chinook as "To Die"in the Columbia River. An Island where the local natives, instead of burying, would leave their dead on platforms and parked canoes exposed to the elements. Sounds a lot less claustrophobic then the now-dominant convention. In the early 1800's when Lewis and Clark rowed past they mentioned bodies piled high on numerous platforms...

ISLE OF DEAD LIES IN COLUMBIA, By Lida Wheeler MacGowan, The Oregonian, Portland, OR., May 31, 1931, magazine section, page 3, 
"Standing in the mid-channel of the Columbia River, a few miles below where the Klickitat pours in from the north is a bare, flat-topped mass of basalt and sand known as Memaloose Island. Fittingly chosen by the sages of the wild tribes that in ages past lived on the great plains of the upper Columbia basin, it was used as a burial place of the dead. This Isle of the Dead was a neutral burying ground used in common by all the tribes inhabiting either side of the river form the Cascades to and beyond the Blue mountains, among then being the Cascades, Klickitats, Snakes, Wascos, Bannocks and Umatillas." 



I've not been, but the Tom McCall Nature Preserve on the Rowena Crest, certainly looked and I imagine felt like a jaunt in the Scottish Highlands. At the edge of the dark clouds with sun slicing through to the east, icy wind and intermittent rain, slipping up a muddy and snow-spotted trail to McCall Point high above the River.





Thankful for the small escapes...

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Non est ad astra mollis e terris via

An icy trail... ©Bennett Barthelemy

Momentum. Moment-um. Strange suffix utterance that might indicate a pause or interjection. A Latinate cypher for the stumbling monoglot. Um - Moving into and through - the moment... ? Hmm...

Flow. To avoid stumbling or stopping.

Focus. That which helps drive and engage.

Freedom. Enjoying the journey.

Non est ad astra mollis e terris via - There is no easy way from the earth to the stars...

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Portents and Hidden Meanings


Saturday we escaped the inversion and freezing fog of Portland...

It was a wonderfully curious day. The day was filled with portent, symbolism, deeper meanings... 

We were gifted with a million dollar bill. It turned out it was counterfeit -but it had a not-so coded message on the back about the wonders of Christianity and why we should convert. Then the million $ crusaders wanted a picture of the bear eating the man. 

An hour before we opened a door and the doorknob was an axe. Then this really fluffy cat with a kind of all knowing stare beneath a train posed for some photos. 

What could it all mean???

I may never truly know the deeper wisdom of this but one thing I learned from Saturday is that we need to get out of the city more often.







Tales from the weather wuss...

TailWinds Magazine out of Tucson has published quite a few articles of mine the last two years...

Sunglasses... Ahhhh.... 


The most recent is Three Sisters Ephiphany - Tales from the weather wuss on page 19. A fun ramble I put together about climate change/weather extremes - the differences faced two decades ago - to the challenges it poses to outdoor enthusiasts today - and perhaps the future. Or at least that's what I was aiming at...

Climbing partners past will attest to my penchant for quick escapes when lightning began crashing - or thunder was heard... Ok, ok - and maybe more than once they were just scary clouds...

An unabashed solar worshipper, I was happy to stand atop Tenochtitlan's Temple of the Sun and give my metaphoric sacrifice of a necklace of skulls to Tlaloc with the my arms raised as conduit between blessed sun and bluebird sky with the gaggle of new age crystal wavers. I am due for a recharge...

My next piece will be about a stumble through the Sespe Wilderness for their spring issue... or at least that's the intention if I can harness enough focus through the splintered haze of cold meds and D deficiency...
Bennett transfixed... Soaking up his three hours of sunshine in three weeks ©Maureen Eversgerd

Friday, January 4, 2013

My Welcome Ellipse


Through the black door, my heart of darkness.
Miles reflected, my parabolic trajectory.


A thousand icy suns, the transients penance.
Rusty barbed wire caresses and hypothermic dreams.


Alone. Finding the blurred edge.
Open. Closed. Open. Steps in fresh snow.


Upward, outward. Drawn. Pulled.
My opening, my slowing. You are my welcome ellipse.
Locus of content.

Words/Images ©B. Barthelemy 1-4-13