From The other side and perhaps Beyond

My younger sister is getting married tomorrow. Because of this event, my family and her future husband’s family and my family’s significant others are all here together to celebrate the occasion in Rincon, Puerto Rico. Rincon is the furthest point west on the island. A sleepy beach town that has the strangest variation of middle class and rich tourists, very poor, fairly well off, slightly metropolitan, relocated New Yorkers, country villiagers, strangely metrosexual, extremely old world, beach bum surfers and divers, and, well...simple natives. The people here are more oft than not very friendly and warm, and very welcoming. I would have to say that coming from Big Bend Naitonal Park, with a population of maybe eighty, I had culture shock upon my arrival.

It took me nearly 24 hours of travel to reach this destination. And I would have to say it wasn’t a particularly easy jaunt. The night before my departure I was delivered some pretty fucked up news via minor telephone conversation which led to panic, anger and all out disruption. I was overtired, overwhelmed and completely spent. I slept a whopping uncomfortable two hours and was picked up by good friends who graciously drove me the 4 and half hours to the closest airport to my home, in Midland Odessa Texas. I slept on and off in the back of their car as the sun slowly made it’s way up over the neverending flat west texas highway. Oil derrecks slowly pumped into the earth rhythmically throughout the landscape, looking for all the world like old dinosaurs grazing necessarily on all sides. They were silohetted in the early morning light and their tireless movement seemed to mentally rock me to sleep, leaving me with my previous thoughts of discomfort and filtering out a familiar stubborn surety I wished not to revisit. We arrived at the tiny airport fairly early. I was sad to see my friends leave me, but felt curious and exited about what may be on the horizon. I asked a stocky man in military or prison issue glasses for a smoke and he shrugged, his face mashing up like potatoes, offering me a Newport 100 with his sausage link fingers. He was kind in his eyes and I felt a sadness that made me feel like an immediate asshole. Who I am to feel such a way? I smoked my last square for a long time.

Midland is a tiny airport with only 1 real terminal. Going through security was a joke, although I have to say , watching so many Texas removing their boots, hats , belts (complete with giant buckles bearing an array of texas pride) and massive billfolds made me chuckle a bit. It looked like a slightly backward synchronized calastenic set specifiacally for cowboys. I was certainly surrounded by a very specific sort of the population of America and I felt slightly out of place. I enjoyed people watching though. It’s no secret that I’m infatuated with Texans, especially west texans at that. Men dressed to the nines in tight wranglers, stylish sunglasses, ten gallon hats, boots that cost more than some of my camera equipment, old worn leathery faces wrought deep with wrinkles that run like timeless rivers throughout their faces, moustaches stained with tobacco and the slight scent of aftershave or cologne. Their female counterparts are just as beautiful. Decadent in country updressing. Women who are older and have a grace and dignity about them but somehow look younger by a few years. Too much powder in the face, maybe too much rouge, most certainly too much perfume. Gold ringed fingers, platinum necklaces decorated slightly with tourquise and hands that don’t make much more maybe than bisquits. This is the upper class. The poorer more rural folks who most likely don’t own land tend to be on the overweight side. Maybe with a gaudy flair here or there accenting their otherwise plain façade. All with an unmistakable deep drawl. All friendly and polite (even to me…an obvious outsider). I sat there watching the morning light moseying it’s way along. I drank shitty coffee and contemplated my new found freedom. I made up ridiculous stories about all of the folks I was lookin at and then I boarded the plane to Dallas Ft. Worth. I fell asleep instantly and as soon as we were in the sky we were touching down..into the afternoon. Upon deplaning I almost had a heart attack. FUCK. Jesus. I had forgotten about real cities, actual cities. Real America. I’ve been out of the loop for a spell living in some crazy desert daydream. I was choking with claustrophobia as I watched all of these people on all sides of me and felt pushed and pulled by the constant movement of too many people moving too fast, talking too loud and prioritizing their own needs. I had three hours of a hellish layover stuck observing the disgusting nature of most of the overweight, mostly well off, mostly too loud and mostly too demanding people around me. They scarfed down the fast food in the airport, argued about who was in line first for shitty novelty items, yelled at their misbehaved, bratty, spoiled children, talked too loudly in their cell phones as they ordered food, ignored their loved ones as they typed frantically on their laptops….breathed in and out the recycled air of the motherfucking airport. I felt so trapped and so completely and utterly overwhelemed. I’m sure it’s unfair for me to write such things, But jesus Christ, our culture is just so disposable, so removed, and so sickening in such a way. I really think it’s simply because I’ve been living in a bubble for the past two months. I felt like I was stuck in an elevator with some of the most awful people for three hours. And then I was lucky enough to be moved onto an airplane with these people on a smaller level for 4 hours…near crying children, an arguing couple and folks speaking Spanish at more than a comfortable audible level. My plane was delayed an hour and needless to say, when I finally reached San Juan, I was extremely tired, somewhat defeated, wanted a smoke, had no cash, and wanted to simply hug my sister, get to our destination and relax a bit.

That my friends was a no go. My sister never showed up. I had no phone, no phone numbers, no idea where I was going (save the town on the island) and no idea what the fuck was going on. My sister had previously agreed to pick me up at my gate and new the airline and the arrival time. She was going to grab my friend Johnny first and then myself next as we were supposed to arrive half an hour within each other. He from Austin, me from Midland. I waited for an hour, then an hour and a half and then I started to become slightly angry. At this time a very nice gentleman named Ricardo, who directed ragged tourists to the taxi stand noticed that I had been there awhile and struck up a friendly conversation. Before I knew it we were becoming good friends. He still did not understand my lack of a cell phone or my lack of knowledge of my destination, but he was kind and offered me a place to stay or help if need be. He also offered to hang out with me a bit and let me use his office to use the wifi…I had resorted to using facebook to try to contact my family. Another hour slipped by. I had not eaten since the morning, found that practically no one in Puerto Rico smokes and was stopped by and talked to by quite a few of the friendliest cab drivers I’ve ever encountered. Those folks kept passing me by, as the hours passed and they kept asking me if I needed a ride, or a place to sleep. One very beautiful nice older woman asked me if she could buy me beer or dinner or if I just needed some company. No one knew what to make of me. They surely didn’t believe me when I insisted that my family would be here to pick me up. When I told them I was going to Rincon, they laughed and said simply “Senorita, do you know how far this is? It would cost you $170.00 for a ride…you are very far from where you are going…”. Nice. That made me feel so much better. I met a very handsome young man who I bummed a smoke from (finally). He was an American from Santa Barbara. He had scuba fins and a simple bag. He also had a funny sense of humor and kept me company a bit as he waited for his rental car shuttle to come and take him away. He found out after a bit that it was never to come and, finding out we were in similar situations asked me in a goofy way if I’d like to hop into a cab, go back and stay with him and then go diving in the morning. Oh the possibilites. When the hell was I going to be able to do such a thing? With such a fun guy. I weighed it out in my mind and almost gave in and then slight reason hit me upside my tired head and I decided to stay. My sister never came. I met more people. Had more conversations, smoked more cigarettes and began to panic. I had only one phone number, only 50 cents and a dying computer. I somehow stole some wifi and had to sit in the median to do this. I must have looked insane at 2 o’clock in the morning sitting in a strange way, balancing my laptop on my knees, trying like fuck to use the tiny signal to send an SOS out across the ocean on the interweb via facebook. I have to say, after about half an hour I was lucky enough (thank you Jen Hellow) to get my buddy Johnny’s phone number, borrow a cell phone from a dark and mysterious Latin man in leather pants and FINALLY find out what the fuck was going on.

When I did get a hold of Johnny, he was halfway to Rincon and had left me for dead at the airport. He was tired and extremely angry and started off the conversation by yelling at me…it was a good renunion off the bat I’ll have to say. I waited another 15 minutes and then, I was picked up by a Puerto Rican man named “Memo” who had some serious patience and a very angry and very exhausted Johnny, who punched me as hard as he could in the shoulder and started yelling at me. It was a clusterfuck. A confusing confusing clusterfuck. We yelled at each other, questioned each other and realized that we had been maybe 100 feet from each other most of the time. What a ridiculous chain of events. Before the long drive to Ricon, we stopped at a gas station so Memo could gas up, and I bought a small bottle of scotch, which was a peace offering between myself and my compadre. Johnny and I caught up while Memo blasted some sweet booty shaking tunes very loudly and we welcomed the morning in Puerto Rico, letting San Juan slide off like dirty water down the drain. We stopped for coffee and it was then that I talked to Memo. Apparently, he’s a friend of my youngest sister. He’s a taxi driver here in Puerto Rico. It was arranged (without my knowing) that he was to pick Johnny and myself up and bring us to Ricon. Classy. A hired driver. He’s fairly young, has the most sincere smile you could ask for, dresses well, seems to be ok with anything and just sort of goes with the flow. I was grateful easily for his gracious nature and felt an instant affection for him. We arrived in Rincon, unsure of where exactly our final destination was at 5 am. After some navigating and maybe the most delirious I have ever been (or ever seen Johnny), we arrived at our villa. All I could hear was the loud crashing waves of the ocean. Unsure again of exactly where to go, we whistled and called my sister and we were greeted by her and her boyfriend. I wanted to wring her neck, but instead hugged her tightly and said my hello. Everyone else was sound asleep (rightfully so). We quietly walked into our temporary home and it was then that I realized how insane the situation was in and of itself. This place is beautiful. It looks like something out of a hip hop video. It looks…EXPENSIVE. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed anywhere this nice. I put down my bags and tiptoed through the hallway out to the back deck…and BAM, there was the ocean. The sun was trying to quietly arise. I stripped down to my underwear and jumped into the waves, swimming alone in the sunrise and laughing like a kid. Memo, Johnny, my sister, her boyfriend and now my mom and stepdad stood there watching me. I felt overjoyed and content in the warm bathwater ocean that I knew I’d be spending almost the whole week in. The sun kept moving at a slow and steady pace and everything around me became more and more surreal and more beautiful. Palm trees lined the beach, pelicans dove down close by to catch their morning desayuno. I floated on, and then dragged my sister into the ocean with me. I hugged my family. I felt alive. I felt amazing. I felt exhausted. I went to the rooftop pool (yes, we have a rooftop pool that appears as if the water is spilling off into the ocean) and then I laid in a hammock, listened to the ocean singing it’s rhythmic song and I slept hard in the sun. I slept harder than I have in a long time. I loved my family in my sleep and I dreamt easily and when I woke up I had a criss cross sunburn from the woven bed of my nap and I welcomed the first real day of the first vacation I have had in some time. And this is how I came to this place. You’ve already read too much, so I’ll write more about the many adventures perhaps tomorrow. There have been many characters, Nick the coffee shop owner who tried to get Johnny and I to work a drug enterprise transporting cocaine via submarine from Columbia, Daddy the 60 something year old barber, seeing Bjork at a crazy town celebration, feeling like I was in Point Break…you get the idea…But my sister is getting married on the beach, and I am somehow the bridesmaid. And so maybe it might have to be on Thursday. But I’m tired as I’m settin here on the back deck alone. I can hear the voices of my family being carried off and battled with against the crashing waves of the ocean at high tide just below me. I’m easily tired and easily happy. And I’m excited that again, some sort of varying adventure holds it’s place in my unnecessary stupid little life. And I’m grateful. Goodnight from the out there across the ocean somewhere. -KG

Chisos Christ Part 1

It's been awhile..It's been an insanely busy month here in the old Vortex. And many events have taken place. Much change, much shifting, much all around. March has been sweeping by faster than I can keep up with it. I was lucky enough to have visitors and share this place with them in a whirlwind driving force manner. I have become closer to my odd community of Parkies, and i switched jobs, from the front desk at the Chisos Basin Lodge, to a line cook for the restaurant. (The only place to eat a cooked meal in the entire park). I also survived the Texas Spring Break, which was an easy reminder to me of why tourists and Americans for that matter have to ability to drive me completely and utterly insane. I've hiked most of the month, I camped out in the back country, I've cooked an ungodly amount of food for visitors, I've seen ghosts, I've sat in the hot springs under the carpet of stars in the milky way, I've watched the sun come up many times out here, was swept away on many adventures, and have been brought to tears (literally) by the sheer beauty that surrounds me on a daily basis. Life still doesn't make much sense here. It's hard to grasp. And it's even easier to be taken each day, to a new place, mentally, physically, metaphorically.

I have been meeting new people often, finding myself falling easily in love with the personalities that swirl around me. I seem to have a variety of intensely intimate relationships with so many of these passing lives. I have had the symbiotic relation of transfer with most of these folks, we push and pull, give and take, breathe in and out, share the personification of ourselves and who we perceive ourselves to be, and become ever changing in the process. It's often a lot to handle, to collect so many lives like baseball cards, keeping images, statistics and facts about each person here in this bizarre capsule in West Texas. I find myself wavering into the morning often, still awake or barely rested from my partaking of the previous night, and each new dawn brings another new experience, another landscape, another body, another story, another intense lesson. This life is vigorous. It is often hard to take care of myself to remind myself to sleep, to spend time alone, to just listen to all of the thoughts that seem to move frantically inside of my brain with no hope of direction. I'm only driven by the constant insatiable curiosity and the opportunity to have adventures. It never ends.

To really attempt to write about these experiences would take a very long time. So I will attempt to simply let things come out as they need to. Right now the wind is whipping violently through the Basin. It's spring here and so the air is not cold, but it is howling and pushing, and although it sounds angry, it's comforting to me. This is the first time I have been alone in a long time. And i feel lucky, and spent, and overwhelmed, but calm. I feel like I'm floating in ghostly world, with many new experiences that have now become memories casting shadows on my wall like a flashlight puppet show. I feel like I'm dreaming and navigating through the new places I've paved within myself. Maybe I'm really getting swallowed by the vortex. Or maybe I am adhering to "park life".

There is a balance when living in the park that must be met. It is a personal balance. For most it varies. You have to take into consideration many factors to create the balance. They range, from living in a remote place, to living in un-reality, to living with and accepting all of the people who become your dysfunctional and very strange "family" and community, to the intense alcohol abuse, to the lack of things to do as the sun goes down, to your "job" and how that puts you on the social chain within the park, to the actual park and all of the things you may want to explore, to the fact that you actually have to face yourself without the distractions of city life, to realizing that you may actually find comfort in this unreality and the odd social world of acceptance created in this bubble of seasonal work, to remembering to be productive and coherent and not just get swept away in the ether of the beauty and the community around you, to obscene living conditions, no privacy, no money to be made (unless you are a server), no rhyme or reason, no permanence, to the relationships you may have with people (park relationships range, and quite a few partake in the promiscuous sort, and these physical relationships are readily available here, everyone screws), to the seriousness of falling in love in the park and how that changes paths, to not seeing your friends or loved ones for long periods of time and then even attempting to explain this life to anyone in the outside world, to well...cabin fever, and the delay of what (if you want it) you may be trying to achieve in the "actual" world. In short, living in the Park can make you or break you. Or it can simply be comforting, or it really just may be a way of life. Either way, it makes a change. And anyway, it will change you. In some way or another, usually in a drastic way. Few of us ever come out even remotely the same as we were, and some of us stay within the park system for seasons, or even years, and some, a lifetime.

The park draws all sorts of folks. It has a magnetic pull to it, and at times it even seems to "choose" some people. It brings in the adventurers (people who genuinely want to live in the park, explore every aspect of the park, your hikers, your cyclists, your kayakers, your fisherman, your science and biology nerds, your campers and backpackers, people who really sincerely make the park their home, utilize as much recreation in the park as possible. Those in recovery (many former drug addicts work the parks to stay away from their vices...and those vices are varying..but here in the park it's extremely hard to get heroin, crack or meth..and besides, there's always the threat of federal prison, border patrol here in Texas, and random drug tests..so it's a good place to stay clean unless...), Alcoholics ( a very large portion of the folks in the park drink..and they drink heavily..and why not? Alcohol is legal, and people get away with their alcoholism within the park system easier than most anywhere else...in some parks there are employee pubs and alcohol is encouraged...if you are in fact an alcoholic, this place is heaven. It's easy to get by, you most likely will not get fired...and everyone drinks...so drink up), Military (Park life is similar to Military life I'm told, you get housing, three squares a day, you have a job, you sign a contract, you are thrown into the pot with any and every type of person, there is "structure" and a chain of command..all of this and you don't have to risk your life or live in the outside world.), People who lack social skills (in the park, no one cares if you are socially awkward, or have mental illness, or you can't function in so called "normal" life. People here just live in the community that is created...and a good handful of these folks would most certainly be ostracized from the outside world, they might not be able to have the opportunities they have here, and frankly, they wouldn't be accepted in the outside world. Some people are truly inappropriate in "normal" terms here, but no one really gives a fuck one way or the other as long as you do your job.), People who are running away from something (it's a great break here, you get to live in a beautiful place, you are in suspended reality, you have food and housing and a paycheck, you have a chance to start over and have a whole new life and figure things out. You have to opportunity to put things behind you here.) People who are running towards something (there are endless opportunities within the park system...an ungodly amount. There a new people to meet, a variety of jobs you can be trained for without going to school, people to fall in love with, towns to explore, tourists to present some strange opportunity to you, and well, freedom, lot's and lot's of freedom that does not exist in the outside world because here, you have constant constant change, and you have the ability to move around wherever you want to go, season to season, to do it all over again, hit the restart button, find more things in the world, take advantage of all of the million things presented to you and have the comfort and the closeness of your "park family/community"). Retirees (of course...what a better way to spend your life after a career than in an extremely beautiful place, where you can transfer season to season and live in your RV.) Internationals (They want to see America and make money, they are one of the perks about working in the parks, it really is something to have the opportunity to exchange culture. And only in the park system can a Chzech boy fall in love with a girl from Singapore, whilst both do not speak each other's language and might i add they are from varying degrees of class and educational backround. Of course, making friends in other countries always works out well for both parties.) and Settlers (these are usually self proclaimed folks who enjoy the perks of working in the park system fully and will explain why the "outside" world is not for them. They seem to be the most content Parkies. They usually contain that balance I was talking about. They also know the ropes and help newbies come into the circle. Some of them tend to gossip more and like to let everyone know what's going on with everyone and so fourth. The settlers will often stay loyal to a seasonal park, or, if a park has no season, will spend their years within a park.) Obviously there are many more "types" but you get the jist. Either way, the parks draw us all in. We have decided to spend our time here however long it may be, doing whatever it is we find or whatever finds us. It's a life like none other. And you, a visitor has no idea just how nuts it is, but you as a visitor may not understand how we see you, in our home. Because you are in fact, in our home. And you are a visitor. But of course, our life here in the park requires you to be here, and so our relationship begins. Most tourists are really curious about our lives here, they have funny preconceived notions about life in the park system. All of us parkies joke that we should have our own reality tv show, because it really sincerely would make a million bucks. But Park Service, the Interior, well, they'd never ever allow that, and with good reason. They have a hard time tolerating us non government working concession and tourism idiots as it is, but to show the ACTUAL life within the sacred land of America, well, jeez, it would more than likely be a blemish to the pristine face of the National Park System. And of course there is the positive aspect of it...maybe I am just sensationalizing the craziness of it. But I assure you, it is crazy. any parkie will tell you, it's unlike any other lifestyle. And I hate to stop it there for now, but I'm really really exhausted. I just wanted to reconnect to the electronic world. I promise I'll finish the "who the f works here, why it's so nutso, man it's so beautiful here" tomorrow. But for now I need sleep. My body and brain are wiped out, and i think I'm hallucinating a bit. From the ether in the vortex...I'm signing off....trying to figure out which one of those "types" of parkies I am....adios for now

KG

Another night in the vortex. I use that word improperly all of the time. Maybe because my vocabulary is limited. Most likely. It's been an eventful couple of days, hell, it's been an eventful couple of months, or years even. I have a hard time keeping up. I really do. I always have. I'm lucky in a sense. My life has been for the most part filled with adventure. And craziness...each day seems to bring something new. Rarely have I had days of little activity or emotion, or finding or learning something new. I seem to be plagued with over stimulation. But I can't help it. I've tried to escape it. I've tried to tone it down. I've tried to understand it. It's impossible. I've just learned to ride it. And to not ride it hard, but just ride it. Being here makes it easier to see it from afar. Not to be so wrapped up in it. I see beauty in almost everything. I see the lesson given to me...and I'm so lucky. But I get tired sometimes, and weak. And sometimes it's just hard to embrace everything given to me.

Yesterday I hiked with my friend Maegan on the Pinnacles trail with the goal of Emory Peak. I was insanely tired from the previous days activities, and all that I had seen. But I was excited to have the time to hang out with Maegan. She's had quite the life. And she's young. Under 25 she's been all over the world, has a degree in environmental studies, has spent time sailing, doing conservation work, fire crew with the national park service and plant surveying with the park. She's hilarious, intelligent and has the ability to make a person live in their imagination for periods at a time. She's a remarkable human being and doesn't even realize it. She just kept telling me how slow she was on the trail. She said it over and over. And I never really sincerely noticed. When I hike, I HIKE. I move. I go. I push on. My brain makes a map and i just absorb. I push my body hard and don't listen when I'm tired. I don't listen when I'm in pain. I just try to own the trail. Being with Maegan was a real lesson in paying attention. I learned to see everything around me. And she thought she was slow, but it was wonderful to actually see things in detail. See the light playing on everything I was seeing. She showed me details I've never noticed while blazing the trail. She showed me the evolution of plants in the most minute detail. She explained their genus, their origin and their name. She made me crush a simple leaf I'd never noticed between my fingers...and i smelled one of the most refreshing scents I've ever smelled...and god did it bring me a pleasure. I ambled on...like I normally do and i felt guilty doing so, because I could see her behind me, just looking at everything and taking her time (as any normal inquisitive person would). I've been on that trail so many times and never got to see all of the beautiful things I saw with her. I hope she knows how lucky I felt to have such an excited and informative teacher. The hike in and of itself was glorious. The light changed dramatically the entire time. The light played on everything. We climbed closer to the sun, to the sky. The mountains spread out all beneath us, the colors played tricks on my brain. I didn't feel tricked by the trail. With Maegan, I felt more intimate with the path. I felt closer. And I understood better as I had the time to enjoy it as I walked up to the top. There was no sense of urgency. No figuring anything out. Just me..and Maegan...and all that was around us. I felt quiet. And light. And not filled with any want to find a solution to any problem. I just saw the trees, and the light, and the dirt and rock, the old history, the ghosts...I heard the wind. I felt the breeze. Our actual descent was my favorite part of the trip with her. We had more time. The end of the day was beginning. Everything was golden. Her smile when when she gave it to me was pure. It's easy to love her. You can't help it. I wished I could show her how beautiful and knowledgeable she was. I wanted her to know how thankful I was. But i didn't convey it right. I never do. But I enjoyed every second of it. I felt alive. and calm. and perfect. We wandered down the mountain, through meadows, through valleys, on switchbacks, into the life that we live out here. And she left me to go home. And I sat and ate a salad and soup alone in the EDR (employee dining room) and prepared myself for the walk down the hill to home...

And I walked home...with a bit of time before the sunset. Casa Grande glowed like it was on fire. The chisos mountains all looked aflame. The sky began to turn red and blue and purple. Bruised almost perfectly. Sarah got here almost as soon as i did. We cracked open a beer apiece and half paying attention shared our day with one another. We sat and watched the continuation of the sunset and drank our beers, getting ready to hit the road to Terlingua. Town. Sort of. I don;t want to write about that quite yet, because Terlingua deserves it's own "blog" and my friends Magen and Hogan also deserve their own piece. But it was a lovely time. Complete with the most beautiful sunset. The most wonderful times walking along a dirt road with sarah under the milky way and loving her like always, and a drive home...on the park road, seeing a coyote, a ringtail and giant owl perched on a cactus in the moonlight. I slept unusually hard last night and awoke...knowing what I had set out in my brain to do..and hoping I could do it.

I was sad I had woken up so late. The trail system here in the basin is one that I have been wanting to explore alone since I've been here. The full extent is over 16 miles. And it brings you to many places, to many varying places. You start at the basin and climb the mountain. The views above are mind boggling. They are hard to comprehend. The trails are like veins and arteries. They lead you all over the chisos mountains...circulating you through each system. Pulsing you through the body of the living breathing organism. I wanted to venture through my host. I wanted to explore the places I had not been. And I wanted to be alone to take it in at my own pace. So I woke up...late. I walked up to eat something...to prepare myself. I was lazy and tired but decided to buck up. I prepared myself for the hiking alone with my brain and body for at the very least 5 hours. Hiking long distances alone can be glorious and it can be maddening. It can be both. It can bring you close to god or close to any evil you have within yourself. It's a great test to see where you stand with yourself. It's a fairly easy test in the nature, as all that is around you is pure and untouched and well, beautiful. The first hour I was simply amazed with all that was around me. The volcanic evidence of the past. The sweeping and endless forest of oaks, the coolness in the shade of the trees. I felt silent and simple. My heart didn't beat too fast on the slow ascent I had taken through Laguna Meadows. I walked fast, but had a nice calm relationship with the well paved path ahead and I climbed and climbed...listening to that breeze in the trees. I walked through many meadows that made me slow down. Everything felt calm. I was literally seeing the layers of the history of this place peel back. As I got higher up, the plant life change. The trees changed. Ancient pines were all around. Yellow brush waved to me in that high elevation mountain wind. The colors were more vibrant in the sun. My skin was getting burned I was parched. My back was soaked in sweat. I had reached my second wind calmly for the first time ever. I was gently rocked. And when I stopped to drink water, my knees were on fire. I hadn't realized it, but my body was moving more than I had realized. I lost time there in the forest. It's easy to do that..on a trail. It's easy to let the path just sort of take you. I hiked hard, to the top. I moved through some of the most beautiful places. I really felt as though I was having a relationship with this trail. I felt mind fucked in a sense. My brain and body were sucked in. And I did in fact feel as though I was being circulated like a blood cell through a living breathing organism as I moved along the dirt and rock path. I was shot out finally onto the south rim. The South Rim. I suppose I had sort of just put the South Rim to the wayside after being up on top of Emory.

The South Rim was just as amazing as the Dawson-Pitamakan Pass in Glacier, and Avalanche Peak in Yellowstone, and The Paintbrush Divide in the Tetons. Goodness, I sat and lunched alone and even fell asleep for a bit up there...on top of the world. Emory is so removed from everything up there, you have a 360 degree view of the entire park. The south rim gives you a closer look at all that is below. And it makes zero sense. The world down there is unreal. I mean really really unreal. The expanse looks ever sweeping from the south rim. The earth is pushed up in all sorts of strange ways on the flat earth. Giant formations scrunch up, bunch up, from almost nothing. Rocks reach up to the sky in a long brown fist. Juniper trees climb the scaly backs of rolling hills that point toward nothing in particular. Greens and Yellows mix with the unforgiving red and brown of the flat lands and the mountains. The reflective light from the sky gives of an eerie purple and blue. The land below looks uninhabitable in some places, and then so lush in some places you wonder how these landscapes can be brethren. The wind up there seems to give off a transmission from another planet. An unearthly static. After lunch and my glorious nap on my day pack, I headed back...toward the Pinnacles trail. I passed along more epic views of the South Rim and I was overwhelmed all over again. It didn't seem to stop. And I went to each and every overlook up there all alone...and just sat and stared. And listened to the wind. I finally came to Boot Canyon, which might easily be my favorite new found nook.

Wow...I am actually too tired to finish this blog. I can barely keep my eyes open. I had a really long two days. I'm sunburnt. I hiked all day and then sat in the hot springs...and I feel like I'm going to fall asleep at my computer. I suppose I'll have to finish this up tomorrow. Although I'm sure you folks are tired of reading about pretty hikes and mountains...and blah blah blah. Don't worry, there's always the drama and the actual trade off of living here. I'll get to that when I feel ok about exposing it...but for now. I need sleep. I'm wiped out. Good night from the ether....Im going to have more insane dreams....i hope you all are too. Maybe we can meet on the south rim. follow the maps above. I'll see you there

-KG

Up there, Out There, In the old Ether

I'm not even quite sure what I want to write about. I surely I want to write about my hike up to Emory Peak yesterday. But I'm unsure of how to incorporate it into all of the observations about daily life here in the Vortex. 'Spose I'll just start with it. Emory peak is my favorite hike here in Big Bend. Maybe one of my favorites period. The trail in and of itself makes you curse, and breathe heavily as you carry your body and your baggage (both literal and mental). It's a strenuous hike straight up the mountain. Being on the trail, you forget you are even anywhere in the desert. The forested path is lush and green for the most part. Trees shade the rocky incline and the air feels much more moist. The trail is only 4.5 miles up, but it feels longer and more challenging. There are two meadows that give you a brief break of the constant UP UP UP...and in those meadows, it's easy to be taken aback. It's peaceful, and quiet, and a slight breeze is always blowing through the trees. There are a few skeletons of dead trees as well, and yellow brush carpets the floor of the meadow, contrasting to the vivid blue sky, the brown red rock of the mountains, the alpine green trees, and the lime green prickly pear cacti. It's another world in the meadow. And then, it's back to the climb. And you sweat out the shit. All of the bad thoughts in your head, all of your worries, everything comes to a head like a pus filled pimple ready to burst. Your body starts to become angry, your knees and legs question what the fuck you think you are doing to them...and you need water. And the few stops are worth the gulp of the mother fluid. I hike this by myself (and am usually deathly afraid because this is the home of the mountain lions). This time around I went with my friend Sarah, who actually suggested it.

It was early, I had to work after the hike, and well...when I met up with her to hike, for some reason or other I had it in my head that she wanted to do a simple hike. Nah, she picks one of the most difficult in the park. With probably the most elevation gain, the steepest grade and the hike that doesn't get easier as you go up, but harder. I've hiked some of my favorite hikes here with Sarah, and she has indeed become one of my closest confidants here in the land of the unreal. We hit the trail and began our huffing and puffing. We also began to shed away all of our worries, our problems, the craziness in our minds, the restlessness in our guts. We shared alot on the way up. And Sarah led the way, keeping the pace fast and unforgiving. I followed her tiny feet, kept moving up and up and up and up. We talked and talked, and breathed so hard. And I waited.

When you hike, there's the term "second wind". This is comparable to the "runner's high". I suppose it's when your heart rate is up to speed and your endorphins and adrenaline are making time and well, you become filled with a completely unreal feeling of happiness. This is usually when I have sweated so much my hair is wet, my back is wet, and well, all of those worries, fears, my ego, my mistakes, all of the mental shittrash starts sliding out through my pores, I feel the glory of god (or whatever) and well... I feel as though I have conquered much of the stupidity you begin to believe on some days at some times in some intervals. I make absurd promises to myself and I feel like I'm flying...and well..yeah...the second wind. I waited for it. Sarah reached her's before me. I painfully followed behind her quick and impressive pace. Up and up and up. The trail is funny and filled with trickery and false hope. It does in fact lead you through some of the most beautiful scenery in the park. It takes you through the secrets in the forest, through the molten rock above everything, away from everything. Funny birds, mostly Mexican Jays, bright blue and obnoxious as all hell, like to yell and squawk to inform every other living thing that you are there. Little fat wrens like to kick up dead leaves to sound big, like a mountain lion hunting you. Deer eat quietly in the brush. The trail is well marked and your body follows, but you can get lost in your mind on the trail. Lost in your thoughts. Switchbacks take you back and fourth back and fourth and they are ever changing as you creep up in elevation. Nothing stays the same, but the nature of the mountain forest is contained. As you get higher and higher, the martian landscape becomes more apparent beyond the basin. The lodge, the campsite and my home looks like a miniature toy set down below. The trees are older, the aged rock lets the lichen shine in the sun. The trail becomes more rocky and narrow as you climb. Finally as you reach a false summit to the Pinnacles, you see the sign. And it's an awful sign, it says simply, without apology "Emory Peak 1.5 miles". A sense of challenge and of anger swashes around in your brain, which has most likely been exercised as much as your body. And well, you can push along and hike the rim...or you can go UP. To the TOP. To the highest peak in the park, the supposed second highest peak in Texas. You know...you just HAVE to. I mean really. So, you push on....and if you thought the pinnacles trail was tough...well ha. The Emory peak trail is straight up. A rocky path that seems to poke fun at you as you just keep moving upward. A trail that keeps leading you to believe you're almost there and then in a less than polite way, showing you just how far you have to go. This...is when I reached my second wind. At the beginning of this trail. And I was lucky.

A rush of endorphins washed over me. Suddenly, the world was amazing. Hell, god himself just patted me on the back and told me how great everything was. How lucky I was to be alive. Sarah and I pushed on. I felt very grateful for her company. I felt closer to her. I wanted to shout my love for her across the valley now very far beneath me. I felt lucky for her friendship. I was soaked in sweat and empowered with as much adrenaline as I could've mustered. Up, up and up. Fuck the vortex, I was out in the ether. I was floating floating and floating onward...almost to the top. With my good good new friend. The trail ends at the base of very scraggly rock. The peak, it's high and scary, and as you free climb/scramble you are at times looking down to your eminent death down the side of a sheer drop. It's a mindfuck for sure, and you just have to humbly trust yourself and keep the promise of the top in your chest and in your belly. What is amazing is that you have the ability to do so after you feel like jelly from the climb simply to the damn base. That liar of a trail. When you have finally pulled your body to the top....everything stops for a moment. And then...you feel the breeze which is cold on your sweaty body. And you feel the sun, which feels closer to you than it has. And you see the world completely beneath you, because there is not one thing higher than you for hundreds and hundreds of miles around. You are literally on a peak that maybe 20 people occupy at a time..maybe. There are two poles erected to receive radio transmissions (for emergencies i think) and a panel that looks like a solar one. These human traces make it look like a space station, and when you do indeed look at the land to the west, you feel as though you're looking down on Mars, no joke. The proof that the landscape looks the same no where is much more obvious from above. Juniper canyon is lush and green on rolling hills that look like ancient knuckles buried deep into the earth, and they are reminiscent of prehistoric lands where the dinosaurs roamed. There are yellow, and purple white and pale green scars and scabs all across the desert floor, the volcanic fallout, the ruthless beautiful secret of the desert floor. The ghostly mountains so far off, standing in their blue light, glowing in their shadows in the haze. So many colors, so many trees, so many bluffs and buttes. And then there is the sky...rolling on like an upside down ocean. The clouds stretching out, making that blue sky look for all the world like a swirled marble.

That peak has some magic to it I'm pretty sure. It's a humbling buzzard. Sharing it with Sarah made me feel like I was about 5 again. And I watched her with childlike wonder...and then with fear as she just ambled around...and seemed unafraid of plummeting to her death. We shot photos of each other...and she insisted on jumping in the air..while standing on the edge of the peak. I respected her lack of fear easily. And I was ok with my own. ( I am clumsy and well..pretty scared of heights...). I felt like I had lost half of myself up there with Sarah (half of myself I'm not too infatuated with ). I had to climb down the mountain and head to work and so we walked. I felt as though I had resolved alot on that hike down. And my second wind was in full affect and I babbled. And I told Sarah about my past. And I felt weird because I have forgotten it for the most part here in the vortex space mission land. It burned in me as it tumbled out of my mouth. And i was surprised myself at the outcome of my life considering some of the obstacles that were presented to me in my younger years. I felt thankful for my friends, for my family, i was so thankful that my family had been through so much and had all come out strong and loving one another, and I was shocked that I had in a sense forgotten about a lot of what we had all gone through. I sincerely, for the first time in some time, was sincerely aware of myself and how much I have changed in general. It was odd and overwhelmingly wonderful at the same time.

I listened to Sarah's stories, and her voice was like a song to me as she expressed herself and her life to me. And I felt like I was receiving a gift. She would laugh at me for saying so, but I always enjoy being around her. And I love her boyfriend Kevin equally. And their relationship is something I am always happy to be a witness to. We reached the bottom, back to life. Back to work. And in a sweaty mess, I shoveled food down my throat and went to the front desk for 8 hours. To talk to guests, to spread the gospel of the park. And to try not to clumsily fall asleep.

I ended the day exhausted. And I awoke early to work. And even today, I feel overwhelmed because I cannot properly describe everything I want to. All of these moments are so intense! I still have so many things to touch on. But I've got to go for now. I have a date with the hot springs. I'm going to go and sit in the springs, and look at the exploding sky above me and relax. Cause a good friend of mine told me I take things too seriously, so I'll stop for a bit. Until the next time...goodnight from the vortex.

Maybe a title is a good idea..how about Web Log

It's a strange evening, as I suppose it always is here in the Chisos Mountains Basin. The word Chisos is usually interpreted as meaning "ghost" or "phantom" and i guess that the fact that I feel like I live in a bizarre ever changing place where time doesn't pass normally must make some sort of sense. Nothing ever stays the same. Really. Moments change radically, not only in the weather and the landscape, but also in the moods, emotions and literal situations of the people who are here. We're at high altitude up here, i think just a little over 5,000 ft. Mountain Lions, Black Bear, Javalinas, Foxes and a multitude of birds and reptiles live up here in the basin as well. I have no idea how many types of plants and trees make up the lush landscape in these molten rock mountains, but it's a plenty. This place is an oasis in the sky. And I do believe it's full of ghosts and phantoms. The Apache word "chise" means people of the forest and I suppose that the few of us up here in the basin who call this our home are the people of the forest. Everything feels slightly off kilter here...and you have the feeling that you never know what is going to happen.

Yesterday is a good example. I woke up and the sun was shining brightly. It felt like a late spring day. It was warm up here in the basin. I sat at the kitchen table with the front door open and worked on my project before work. I showered and hiked up the hill to the lodge and started the beginning of a great day. I stood and took the clear sunny photograph above of what we call the window. A few hours later, I stood at the same place and took the dark photo...a massive wind storm had blown up off the desert floor. It looked like the dust bowl. The bright blue sky had turned dark. Clouds billowed in off the floor and up through the window. Howling winds knocked things over. The trees were bending and trying to maintain their balance. A giant roving dust monster crept up over the window and instantly covered the mountains in a fine brown dirt. You could feel the destructive nature of the storm in the air. The temperature dropped considerably and then, then the power went out. EXCITING! People started freaking out. Guests wanted to leave immediately, they thought they'd be stuck on the mountain. They were scared about the way the storm moved in so fast and just started destroying everything. It did indeed feel frightening as you listened to the shrieking and unforgiving wind making it's way across the basin. But it felt good! And it looked unreal. And I was stuck at work, at the front desk, trying to calm people down and handing them flashlights. I felt bad for being so excited and giddy as they were so scared, angry and annoyed. The storm didn't last as long as I had hoped and the power came back a few hours later, and the black clouds in the sky made for a spectacular sunset that looked like the outside of the waiting room in hell, and then, darkness of the night...just a flat darkness made from a cloud filled sky. When I had gotten out of work at 9:30 I had expected that cloak of darkness, but no, now the sky was bright and star filled, and the full moon proudly illuminated everything. I was freezing, but I'll be damned it the silhouette of the glowing mountains wasn't just downright beautiful. Matt and I decided to go hike down on the desert floor by moonlight and as we drove down to Panther Junction to pick up our friend Sara, the weather got warmer and without the towering mountains, the fairly flat desert floor lay like a pristine carpet, unrolling endlessly for us. I didn't know how to take the day. We seemed to go through every extreme. I felt exhausted just witnessing all of the changes. My body felt tired from adjusting to the temperature and the light. We drove on a dirt road out to the middle of nowhere, to a trail head, rocks crunching under the tires of the car, headlights giving us some visibility in the dust we were kicking up. I didn't realize just how bright the moon was until we reached our destination and cut the lights. I also didn't realize how quiet the world was. Or how massive the giant rocks were all around the place we had gone to hike. Again, I was overwhelmed, but this time, I was insanely insanely disoriented. I felt like i had taken a heavy dose of hallucinogens. I had never ever seen anything like what I was seeing in my life, and so I had nothing to reference it to. And so I was visually very confused and overwhelmed. It was easily one of the most amazing things i had ever seen. We walked the trail, and I was surprised at the ease I had in seeing the trail with no headlamp. I could see everything around me, for many many miles. The cactus and plants glimmered all around. Everything literally had a real life glow to it. I felt like I was walking through a story I had read as a child, except I wasn't using my imagination to see, I was ACTUALLY seeing. I was humbled and felt a feeling I have not felt before. I cannot describe how I felt because i still don't understand it. We reached our destination and sat together. I could see so far away. The landscape looked martian beyond belief. I sincerely for a moment or two convinced myself that I had been sitting on mars, overlooking the land around me. And I was sober. My brain was working overtime to try to make the reality around me make some sort of sense. Some random clouds floated in the sky, and changed dramatically and I do say, the three of us lost time marvelling at those clouds, talking like children and making up stories about them. Anthropomorphizing them. I lost all sense of time completely...and I forgot where I was for a bit, and really I just enjoyed it.

I led the trail on the way back. The air was slightly humid and all I could smell was the damp scent of creosote all around. I looked in wonder at everything and was quiet as i walked. A childlike fear that a mountain lion was going to eat me crept in and I slightly enjoyed the fear and let it move around in my head like a pinball until we reached the car. I did not want to be enclosed in the car. I felt so free and small and pointless in the giant glowing foreign world all around me. Rocks in the dirt sparkled, mimicking the stars and distant planets in the massive endless sky. I felt like an innocent child again for a minute. Because I forgot about any of the bullshit that the years weave into our idiot minds as we grow up. And it was lovely. Nothing ever stays the same here. Not the weather, not the landscape, not my brain or anyone else's here for that matter. Now I'm sitting in my dorm, everyone is asleep, it feels like winter outside and the clock is ticking. And well...I'm very tired, my wonder for the day has burned down from the bright ember it was last night, and i feel older. I suppose tomorrow will be entirely different. I'm lucky to live in such unreality. G'nite.