“The land of many uses” Barry proclaimed as the nuisance motorists trudged on up the trail past our quaint lecture spot. That age-old slogan of the United States Forest Service speaks well to the agency’s purpose. Recreation by foot, steed, or motor, commodity resource extraction, backcountry wilderness excursions, mining claims; a lot can happen in a national forest. Jokes bounced back and forth between students regarding the pile of mine tailings we were all perched on for lunch. Uranium ore, peanut butter and jelly makes quite the silly midday menu. After a lecture on uplifts, structures and ancestral rocky mountain orogeny, we students are let loose to explore for a bit. People take off in every direction, sprouting out into the forest like kids in a candy store (or more accurately college kids in a liquor store). One sprints off for the high peak above. Others whip out their crazy creeks in true Dan Sherman form to sit comfortably and take in their surroundings. Others like myself wandering off slowly with their sights set on solitude.
I like to meander out in nature. Walk slowly with my head on a swivel. Taking in and formulating questions about the biotic and abiotic elements of the place that I am in. Why is this wildflower bud closed and its neighbor flowering brightly? What kind of rock is that and how did it get here? Ooh dang, that’s a good looking stick! I wonder what tree it came from. Did it die and fall or was it ripped from its central being? Natural Science has me in its grips, there’s no denying that. Not that I would want to anyway. Not to be mistaken however, I am all for crossing that high mountain pass or scaling a crumbly talus slope. But when these rare opportunities for silent reflection come out of nowhere on jam-packed field study days I don’t skip a beat in wandering off by myself to find a nice quiet place to sit. This day however I couldn’t really do that. The sound of dirt bikes reverberates out at me from the mountain tops about 2,000 feet above. I sit down on a rock on the trail (hoping one of those motorists doesn’t whip around the blind bend to my left and end this trip a bit too soon) and begin to write.
I am beginning to feel upset. Frustrated in this land of many uses after having trudged up a once beautiful, winding forest trail that had been scoured out to nothing but incised trenches and mud-pots that my sneakers were not equipped to handle (I was currently boycotting my hiking boots as I nursed a grumpy big-toe after a weekend out backpacking) by the treaded tires of countless motorized hooligans. I know this is the land of many uses but I have trouble wrapping my head around this kind of human use. It just feels so out of place and unnatural to me to see and hear the rumbling of motors in a place like this. The serene mountain vistas should be offering my soul a silent solace and yet human use has denied the forest that power today. Despite this bothersome reality, I find it very difficult to remain upset for too long.
There is so much to look at, decipher, and begin to formulate understandings of. Not a cloud in the sky on this fine September day. The red beds of the mountain top cast dark shadows on the valley below. The low-alpine terrain boasts greens of every shade. From spruces and firs to riparian shrubs and grasses and maybe even the occasional Lodgepole pine or two (although that was an argument with Barry that no one felt like starting). As I scan up and down valley, from North to South and East to West, my mind is ablaze with thoughts, questions, and curiosities. A fleeting wind whips through this U-shaped valley once every couple minutes. I love the sound of wind in the forest. It is rushing, roaring and shaking everything in its path. Just like the ocean waves I call home. Here is where I am beginning to feel normal again; where that person in Tacoma isn’t on my mind and that annoying squeaking sound the van door makes as we drive over hummocky terrain isn’t fueling a pounding in my cerebrum. My mother’s words pop into my head, “Meditate every day, Reet. Breath deep and take in the power of your surroundings.” I smile. I hear the motorists again. I feel my blood begin to bubble. Not boil… just bubble over a bit in defeated frustration. But a few decibels higher I hear a familiar sound. The triumphant exclamatory sound of a classmates’ success. I cannot see them but I am oh so glad to have heard them amidst the revving of motors. I don’t know if they’ve reached the top of the trail they’d been exploring (valiantly on foot might I add) or if someone said something just silly enough to merit a raucous hoot and holler. But that sound, that natural, human sound was what I needed in that moment. The warmth I felt from hearing that joyous sound provided me with that solace I had been looking for all along but having a hard time deciphering.
– Rita K McCreesh
Gunnison National Forest 9/9/2015
Lunch and Paleozoic sediments
