“As spiritual beings living a physical life, I find what helps purge mass media messaging best, is actual mud. Maybe you’ve slathered it on your face, or lost a boot to it, made pies with it or appreciated how it’s forced you into a deeper contemplation of space and time. There’s no need to go “hiking” as far as mud is concerned, rather it’s a game of wits, as opposed to brawn, to avoid sinking into for too long. As I started up the trail, I was surprised to see a figure walking downhill towards me, but quickly realized I’d seen his Forest Service vehicle. A big man, with half his face covered as we gazed at each other, standing in ruts the size of tractor tires. I always attempt to be friendly, despite knowing there are bad characters. His eyes didn’t look forthcoming, but I really don’t care. He’d been up checking the gate, he said, due to calls about illegal motorized bikes on the fragile spring byway. Checking things out. He asked me, what was I up to. Same, I said, smiling broadly. I admit I’m not used to reading eyes, without a nose or a mouth, especially during a woods encounter. After that, I had to shake off some sense, of not wanting to talk to people. At least not out here. I wished him well, pushed on, spontaneously took a spur trail that led to a hidden stream bed, eventually following surveyor’s tape back to the main trail. I was likely alone now, on a cold weekday afternoon. When you’ve met the untrustworthy enough times, when you feel the strange alienation that only betrayal can bring, it’s oddly freeing. Like a hot air ballon unhooking from its moorings, the upward expanse comes rushing forward, a new, exhilarating friend. Not everyone sets this up for their human existence, but some do. And just like some feel scared about other’s breath particles, or live virus excretions, in the end, we live in proximity, and must decide what that means. I was shocked when the road dropped away, and I had to scramble. Wasn’t some one else in charge, to make sure I’d cross safely? In this case, I could see how much work had been done, to keep some people on this side, and other types, on that side. ATVs, snow machines, dirt bikes, ride at your own peril. How history repeats, and repeats, and repeats. Lucky for me, I had my camera and a will to document my own survival. I could clamber down into the ditch, and find my own way out, or not. There was no one telling me what to do, and no way that I could avoid assessing my own risk and deciding my own fate. Ice, slimy rocks on the precipice, roads unfit for travel. No cell service, no one providing a 911 safety net. Only me, walking east, and then north, and an unpredictable set of circumstances, begging for human resolution.”
