Homesickness, Growth, Anthropocentrism and National Parks

An unexpected late June, nearly unheard of, rainstorm has canceled the remainder of this camping trip my friend and I are on. Yet another weather oddity that is a precursor of Climate Change. We had planned on spending a few days camping in Lassen National Park but neither one of us feels like sitting in a tent in the rain, feeling miserable, when we don't have to. At our age, misery should be a choice.

And so we had to change the itinerary of the trip. Again. Where to go? We found a cheap hotel in South Lake Tahoe and traveled to this town that has grown so much over the last twenty years. South Lake Tahoe has a Staples! McDonald's! God forbid!

We got here in time to walk through the casinos. I had a bloody mary and lost ten bucks on video poker. The bartender comp'd my drink, so not everything was lost. And then it was up to the 18th floor of Harrah's for the obligatory buffet. It was awful.

Sometimes the best thing about a vacation away from home is returning home after the vacation is done. Both Scot and I are feeling that tug of homesickness. The desire to see our loved ones. To feel comfortable in our own space again. I long to take a walk with my dogs; to walk in my own private wilderness.

Traveling across California, it is difficult to feel too hopeful about the future. Every place we went, the sprawl just keeps getting bigger and wider and further on; humans impinging in reckless droves, ever consuming more space. Highway 50 up to Tahoe has been widened to four lanes way up into the Foothills. This has led to an ugly expansion of McMansions, all of them with that tile roof so common in the Southwest, and not a solar panel to be found anywhere.

All of this growth can be blamed on one commonly held notion, deeply ingrained in almost all human culture and certainly taught by almost all Religion: The Earth was created for humans to dominate. Adherence to this belief leads, inevitably, to sprawl, exploitation, extinction and extirpation of all non-human species. We will never end the growth monster until somehow, someway, in a 100th Monkey sort of fashion, we come to the notion that we are not the Crown of Creation.

The Chain of Being leads to Chains for all other Non-Human Beings.

Visit a National Park and you will first experience the "Visitor's Center". Here you will see exhibits that teach about ecology. This education is done in the antiseptic way similar to the way we teach sexual education to 7th Graders. After looking at the sterile exhibits, step outside and you will find a trail, handicapped accessible of course, that leads to some interesting tree, view, rock. That trail will end in about 200 yards which is about the length most Americans can tolerate walking. After that, it is back into the car to the next exhibit, where the whole process is repeated, not by a Visitor's Center, but by a sign--and then the inevitable paved trail to the interesting tree, view, rock.

Nothing in this "educational experience" leads to a dramatic shift in world view. We see nature as a museum exhibit. And we have Parks for all those animals to live in, therefore we can build, drill and exploit every place else because some small smidgen of land has been left to wild things. The wolves have Yellowstone, saith the Rancher; that's quite enough for them. And so the goal in Montana is to have a population of wolves that number in the low 100's.

National Parks don't educate. They are amusement parks.

So where does that shift away from an Anthropocentric view of life occur? How can we get enough people to change the way we think, the way we live, so that we limit our impact on the world and we let other species pursue their right to happiness?

It has to happen through moral persuasion. A religious experience that sinks deep into our souls. We bring out the holy books written by Leopold, Abbey, Muir. A visit to a National Park won't do it. Only dedicated Servants of Nature who unabashedly speak up for the rights of other species, like Paul Watson and his brave crew, only then might we make a tiny bit of a difference.

But first off, people need to get outside with a quality wilderness experience. You can't love what you don't know. Unfortunately, visiting a National Park will not necessarily lead to such a transformation. It is sad that our one best hope for environmental transformation has been turned into something similar to a visit to Six Flags.

Stuck in Lodi Again....

I guess you would have had to have been stuck in Lodi once in order to be stuck in Lodi again (with thanks to John Fogerty for the reference). But here I am. In Lodi. Stuck. Once.

I write this six days into a grand excursion of California. I shall probably visit this trip with a bit more information at a later date. This is just a waiting-for-the-washer-to-wash-your-clothes post. Its been a whirlwind tour of driving and camping.

I'm traveling with a childhood friend--taking a "bucket list" tour of California. Many years ago, my friend and I had talked about traveling Europe after graduating from High School. We didn't. So this nine or ten day tour of California has to be a poor excuse for the vanished dreams of youth.

The initial plan had been to visit the "Oldest, Biggest and Tallest" trees in the world. We got through the first two (oldest and biggest) but it seems like too much of a journey to go to the hinterlands of the northeast corner of California to visit the Tallest tree in the world (in Redwoods National Park). So we shall finish up this camping tour in Lassen National Park where I will, once again, seek guidance and inspiration for a piece on Ed Abbey and the disintegration of the radical environmental movement.

It might seem strange to some people at work that I am taking this trip at all since I am on "disability"; I have lots of pain meds along and my friend carries everything for me. It isn't all that much different from being at home recovering from an injury. Only the scenery is different. And I've been advised by my doctor to take lots of walks.

My friend isn't as tolerant of the "camping, non-shower, stink to high heaven lifestyle" so we stopped and got this room at the Econolodge in Lodi, California. Showered and with clean laundry, we shall resume camping tomorrow.

Los Angeles

The best thing about going to Los Angeles is leaving Los Angeles.

Packing for the Tree Tour...

Well, I've been busy doctoring the last week or so. For the last month, I've spent too much time worrying about my demise; I've been forgetting to live. I've worried about calcium in my coronary arteries- indicative of coronary artery disease; prostate cancer, liver cancer. All the while, my back is in constant spasm from my workplace injury. My ribs do seem to be healing, but they are still sore. The good news is that I've been put on disability at work until, at the least, the fifth of July.

Five or six months ago, my childhood friend, Scot, and I planned a camping tour of California. Scot is flying here from Iowa. I'll be writing more about Scot in subsequent posts. The plan is to rent a van and take Joni and the girls to San Diego (where Joni will visit with her Mom). Scot and I will then take the van and disappear into the desert, mountains, coast, for an extended bit of van camping. Cue the Jackson Browne music...running on empty...as we attempt to camp in Bristlecone forest at 12,000 foot elevation; we will camp at Sequoia National Park and then meander along the coast until we get to the very tippy top of California in Redwoods National Park.  We are on a "Tree Tour". We want to visit the groves that contain the oldest, largest and tallest single living organisms on the planet. They are all trees that reside in California.

It might be rather foolish to attempt this trip when my back is in spasm and I'm dependent upon a Flexeril/Norco cocktail to get through the day; it makes me feel a little like a welfare cheat because I'm collecting Disability right now. But how different is doing this than sitting in my Lazyboy at home and taking therapeutic walks with the dogs? It is the pain medication that makes me not able to work. Scot will have to do much of the driving. Since we will be traveling in a van, I can just med up and lie down in the back of the van and hallucinate my way all across California. I will also be bringing a special "anti-gravity "chair to relax in and a blow up mattress to sleep on.

And, as always, I will keep a journal of this trip.

Apricots!

 

We are getting our first ripe Apricots off our lone tree. Every year is different as to how many Apricots we get. In the six years we've been here, the tree has bloomed as early as the first week of February and as late as the third week of March. When the tree blooms too early, late frosts tend to cut our yield and we get very few Apricots. This year is a good year: I've been eating mostly Apricots for the past couple of days. It fits in with the changes I need to make to my diet. An Apricot purge.

Skunks...

 

 

After driving the 165 miles home from the Napa Valley, the thermometer read 102 degrees Fahrenheit in our house. It was 109 degrees outside. As I type this, after midnight, the temperature in the house is still a balmy 88 degrees. We don't have air conditioning. My sweat is sticking to the sheets.

 

Joni and I took our three dogs for a walk in the evening when it had cooled down under the century mark. Our dog that we call Little One, ran off into the brush. Later I heard a "Yelp". We called for Little One to come to us. No answer. She didn't come. This is quite unusual for her. We waited for an eternity for her to return. Ten minutes go by; Joni started to cry.

 

I wondered if the Yelp! I heard was Little One making her last sounds as a mountain lion pounced on her.

 

Just when we had given up hope that our Little One would return, she came happily bouncing along through the woods. She was quite pleased with herself. Joni, got down on her knees and welcomed our wayward dog with open arms. That is, until she realized she was hugging a dog that had just been sprayed by a skunk!

 

Despite the stink, we decided we were still happy to see that Little One was still alive. This is the third time she has been sprayed by a skunk. She seems to enjoy it. Her Human owners don't care for it much. We walked her home and washed her with tomato juice, followed by a baking soda bath, followed with one last rinse of some lavender wash. It was like a Dog Spa day.

 

Little One still has a faint stink to her. But it isn't bad. I rather enjoy the smell of skunk. From a distance. The odor reminds me of hot, sticky August nights in southeastern Minnesota, when I couldn't sleep because it was too hot (we didn't have air conditioning in our bedrooms). I'd sit by the window and the smell of skunk would waft through the room. Memories. Good ones.

 

 

Meeting with Mr."P"

One of the nicer things about working in the Napa Valley is that, sooner or later, most of your friends will make the pilgrimage to the fermented grapes of California. When this happens, we generally celebrate with good cheer and gusto. My architect friend from Minnesota, "P"., showed up with his new bride a couple of days ago. Joni and I joined them to share a couple of drinks and a fancy gourmet dinner.

I haven't seen "P". since we graduated from High School. He has done very well for himself. He became an architect and raised a family in the burbs. After 25 years of marriage, he found himself having to start over. He found himself another gal (who has three kids in their teens) and set up a household in a fine Minnesota town that boasts two decent private colleges.

"P" was quite liberal, maybe even radical, growing up. The years have mellowed him, giving him a maturity that most liberals acquire through raising a family and living in the burbs. Like many independents, he is liberal on social issues and a bit more conservative on the issues of government and spending. Raising a couple of kids will do that to you.

After I got over the shock of talking to my High School friend, who looks more like his Father than my friend from years ago, we had a pleasant and long ranging conversation. "P" has learned to listen and politely asks questions with tact and a lack of rancor that we had as children. He has that combination of Minnesota Nice along with a temperament that is measured and rational. I'm sure this tact has developed through years and years of listening to what a customer wants in regards to designing a building.

There is a pride one has when you meet a friend you grew up with, were close to, who has done well for himself. My hometown public school system should be congratulated that they have done such a fine job educating young men and women who develop into successful and inquisitive adults. As I ponder the people I was close to from the ages of ten to twenty two, all of them seem to have successfully weathered the perils of each of life's stages. They have come out on the other side, now grappling with the joys of being a Fifty something, most with their heads and hearts in tact. Most remain weathered liberals; wiser and shaped by the winds of wisdom and experience.