Jay Jii's Musings: February 2024

“You’ll need a walking stick,” Chikle said as he yanked the errant twigs from a fallen branch.

“Nah, I don’t want one,” I assured him.

“Trust me, Cody. You’ll thank me later,” he replied confidently.

The jagged trail wound its way down a steep hill before veering off and vanishing into the dense woods. Unseen robins serenaded our every step like chirping fiddles prompting the moves at a country square dance.

It was an exceptional day. The blazing sun eagerly illuminated the majestic terrain of the Adirondacks. In every direction, droves of trees stood like immense broccoli stalks with their florets thrust to the azure heavens. Downy, white clouds lolled about the stratosphere in chaotic marshmallow clusters. Everywhere I turned, my eyes found the earth and sky shrouded in an unending quilt of beauty: the world, the universe, the known and the unknown seemed to be woven together in a lucid fabric of reveries. This was a place where the spirit could acquire liberty from the body. Idle concerns were erased from our minds as we took in the vast, untamed region.

“Let’s pick up the pace a little. Old-Man Tree is just beyond the next hill,” Chikle stated.

I knew that Chikle had a lot of experience hiking in this region and I tagged along behind him like a lackey. A weekend in the Adirondacks had been Chikle’s idea from the onset. I had my reservations about the uncharted wilderness, but he pitched the trip to me as a “great escape from reality” and proceeded to make all the plans and preparations himself. I followed his list to the letter and filled my backpack with the necessary sundries: food, water, compass, flashlight, rope, pocket-knife, sleeping bag, clothes. I slipped a first-aid kit and a tube of sunscreen into my sleeping bag just to be cautious. On the way up to the mountains, it seemed like a bad omen when we ran over a fox on the New York State Thruway. It emerged from the shoulder like a flash of red lightning, darting into traffic before we could swerve. We felt the vehicle surge over the animal’s body, the wheel jerking in Chikle’s hands, but when we pulled over the fox was nowhere to be found. It had disappeared without a trace.

“There it is. Old-Man Tree!” Chikle declared as we cleared the hill.

A ligneous monstrosity stood before us, towering over the rest of the woodlands. Old-Man Tree was a massive pine, the base of its trunk nearly twenty feet in diameter, its boughs covered with needles. The granular bark appeared like a coat of medieval chain-mail forged for a green knight. The surrounding trees were like mere acolytes paying homage to this living deity of wood. We approached slowly and circumnavigated the ancient giant; an angry swarm of mosquitoes took to the wing, no doubt activated by our presence. The perfume of sap and dry pine-cones danced within my nostrils like parish children in a yuletide polonaise. Close inspection of the ground by the tree’s root yielded a peculiar discovery: a fist-sized acorn lay partially obscured by pine needles.

“Take a look at what I found,” I said to my counterpart.

“Hmm. That’s odd. There are no oaks in this area. How did that get here?” he mused.

I decided that the acorn would make a great souvenir of our Adirondack’s excursion. I shoved it quickly into my pocket and motioned to my friend that I was ready to continue.

By midday, our expedition was becoming arduous and uncomfortable as the sun pummeled us with waves of excruciating heat. I dragged myself on, my boots growing more leaden with each step, secretly thankful that Chikle had forced me to take along a walking stick. Soon, the drone of a remote waterfall began to play in our ears like the sound of ice clinking in a glass pitcher. The cool sound beatified our baked spirits and we hurried on with renewed energy.

“Let’s go. We’ll rest at the falls,” Chikle commanded.

The forest opened up to a rock face and we found ourselves at the base of a steep cliff. Water cascaded down its side in glistening tendrils and crashed down into a small loch, erupting into a hurricane of bubbles.

Chikle took off his shirt and splashed water onto his chest and arms. His skin was tanned to the color of rawhide from constant outdoor activities and exposure to the sun. He seemed almost immune to the bombardment of the sweltering elements.

It felt good to be alleviated of the weight of the backpack. I sat down on a boulder and removed my boots. They gave a sonorous report that echoed through the woods as I kicked them to the stones below. I closed my eyes, mesmerized by the calming din of the waterfall, and thought - about foxes.

* * *

There was no longer a steady trail to follow through the forest. We continued along the banks of the stream, hindered by rocks and mud. The waters were clouded with silt as a result of the perpetual onslaught of the falls. An evergreen had fallen and spanned the water offering a makeshift bridge. I understood Chikle’s intention immediately as he tossed his walking stick to the scree.

He mounted the trunk with the grace of a trained ballerina. He moved swiftly, pausing only once to reaffirm his balance. As his muddy boots landed on the opposite bank, he shot a quick glance back to me.

“C’mon man,” he called.

I took two wary steps out onto the timber, brown waters raged and swirled beneath me like the breath of a typhoon. I averted my eyes from the stream, overwhelmed by a feeling of terror growing with my mind. I imagined myself being swept away in the currents and dashed to death on the spears of rock. I dropped to one knee, almost losing my backpack, and clutched the coarse bark with both hands. My eyes returned to the surging water; it appeared like the river Styx flowing through Hades, its surface littered with the opalescent faces of the damned. The scent of defeat wafted around me as I inched my way back to the safety of the shore. I felt claustrophobic; the forest seemed to be closing in on me like an enemy force. Chikle just stared at me from across time and space.

“I’ll try something else,” I shouted.

I removed my boots and socks, slinging them over my shoulders, and slipped down into the water. Slowly, I began to wade my way across, my fingers clenched firmly to the wet bark. The stream became waist-deep and I shuttered as my groin was submerged in the cool murk. The current beat upon the backs of my legs, nearly stealing my balance. Frantically, I pawed at the timber, trying to keep my backpack from getting soaked. Every inch of the crossing was agonizing. A sigh of relief escaped my throat when I finally crawled onto the shore and rested beside my friend.

“I don’t want to do that again,” I said sternly.

I dried my legs as best I could before putting back on my socks and boots. Careful scrutiny of my bag assured me that its contents had only suffered mild dampness. I took a sojourn against a shady tree to collect my thoughts. In a strange way, my trip through the torrent had reanimated something within me. Standing waist deep in the waters, I was nothing but an insignificant rapscallion at the mercy of the powers of nature; one mislaid step and I could have died. I felt alienated from the earth. I was lost and out of touch. Fear and respect began to circulate within me for the land that Chikle and I treaded. These thoughts danced within my mind as the sun began to set behind the forest.

We resumed our hike up the steep hill. The waning light only increased the difficult. I took a quick glance at the setting sun. The occidental horizon radiated with rich hues like an astronomical kaleidoscope set afire. A few renegade clouds wandered aimlessly as deep shades of orange and pink flashed across the imperious sky. God has apparently tie-dyed heaven, I thought to myself.

At the top of the hill, we found a lacuna in the trees. Several piles of neatly stacked rocks stood randomly like huts in an abandoned village.

“I’ve heard that there are Native American burial mounds in this area,” Chikle informed me. “If we sleep among them, we may have visions.”

We weren’t sure if we had stumbled into the antiquated graveyard of some lost tribe, but we both agreed that the clearing would make an ideal campsite. Gathering dry twigs, we built a small fire. The twilight began to ebb as we indulged in dry tuna and peaches. The ground was coarse and uninviting beneath our sleeping bags.

“Do you believe in God, Chikle?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think I do,” he answered.

“You think?”

“Well, I’m not really religious, but it seems that no matter how bad things get, there’s always some kind of a way out. I can see God in that, and I'd like to know more.”

Sometime during the night I awoke. A fox stood right in front of me, illuminated by the frosted-glass glow of the moon. Its golden eyes stared deeply into mine, burning with the fire of ageless wisdom. I wasn’t frightened; a feeling of eerie calm was overtaking me. Perhaps this creature was looking beyond me and seeing into the future; perhaps this was nothing but a dream.

* * *

I awoke the next morning to the sound of Chikle’s boots stomping out the remnants of the campfire. The first signs of daylight were just beginning to creep through the woods.

“I took another compass reading. I figured we’d take a different route back,” Chikle announced.

After a light breakfast, we ventured back into the woods. The night’s sleep had refreshed us and we moved quickly. I was getting completely lost. Every tree looked the same as any other. All rocks and streams appeared identical.

“Will we pass by Old-Man Tree again?” I asked.

“I doubt it. I’m making this up as I go,” he said.

Then Chikle froze in mid step.

“Do you feel that, Cody?”

An icy breeze seemed to be projecting from the ground below us like the breath of a sleeping dragon. We searched the area and discovered a two-foot slit in the earth.

“A cavern!” I proclaimed excitedly.

Chikle produced his flashlight and cast its beam into the dark hole. The circle of light danced playfully on the jagged floor below.

“The floor is only about fifteen feet down. Let’s try to go in,” Chikle said.

The morning sunrise had just begun to break over the horizon as I dropped the end of the rope into the ravine. Chikle had already secured the other end to a nearby tree. I felt a rush of both fear and exhilaration at this enterprise. I stared at the mouth of the cave for a moment; the darkness beckoned me to enter. With a deep breath, I descended into the earth.

A chill nipped at my bare legs as my feet touched down on the scabrous floor. Very little daylight entered the cave through the overhead crevice and I found myself standing in a subterranean world of obscurity. I switched on my flashlight and got my first real look at the surroundings. The stone walls were slick with condensation. The cavern itself was actually about twenty feet high and stretched out about thirty-five feet before tapering into a slim tunnel. The skeleton of an unlucky animal lay in a contorted position on the cave bottom. I moved cautiously toward the narrow end of the cavern. A myriad of fledgling stalactites hung from the sloped ceiling; drops of cold water dripped from the inverted stone daggers. The passage slanted downward and veered out of sight.

I was startled as a rumpus erupted behind me. I spun to find Chikle sprawled on the moist rocks, the rope coiled around him like a boa.

“Damn it!” he roared.

The gravity of our situation hit at once like an iron fist. The rope had become unfastened during Chikle’s descent. We were trapped underground.

“We’re in trouble,” I said dryly.

I scanned the walls with the beam of light, trying to find another way out. The rocks were smooth and wet which rendered them impossible to climb. No debris littered the cave to provide a ladder. Chikle and I discussed our condition hopefully, but fear was beginning to brew inside of me. We came up with a few schemes, but they all proved fruitless.

I shined the light at the slim end of the tunnel. Our only hope was to look for another exit. The mouth of the passageway looked as enticing as an open gateway to purgatory.

The crawl that we faced was difficult. The stones were slippery. Many angular rock formations obstructed the passage and the cold air weighed heavily in our lungs. Suddenly, the flashlight slipped from my fingers and smashed on the stones. Its precious light died instantly leaving us in darkness. Frantically, I groped for the flashlight, my hands trembling with anxiety. I reclaimed it and flipped the switch, but the light did not return.

“Chikle, do you have your flashlight?” I heard my shaky voice say.

“No. It’s still up top,” he replied, crushing my hopes to shards.

Panic was starting to settle in. Tears slipped from my eyes and ran down my cheeks in a bitter deluge. Ominous thoughts swirled within my mind as death loomed inauspiciously above me like an irate thunderhead. It was here in the bowels of the earth that I again felt the mysterious power of nature churning within me – a force as timeless as the universe itself. I reached into my pocket, seizing the acorn that we had found at the base of Old-Man Tree. I understand now, I thought to myself.

“C’mon, Cody. Keep going,” my friend demanded nervously.

The blackness that encompassed us made the crawl almost impossible. I fumbled blindly through every inch of the tunnel, moving slowly, deliberately. I rounded the next bend to find a welcomed sight. The tunnel ended fifteen feet ahead. The forest dallied just beyond the portal. I raced forward triumphantly, sharp rocks biting away chunks of my knees as I passed.

“We’re safe! We’re safe!” I called back.

We emerged from the side of the hill and were greeted by sunlight. The sapphire sky smiled down upon us, looking more beautiful than either of us could ever remember. We stretched out among the leaves, panting with relief.

“Let’s go home now,” Chikle said breathlessly.

“Not just yet.”

This had been more that just a casual weekend hike – for me, it had been a spiritual journey. The silty waters of the stream had furnished my ablution; the cave had granted my absolution. This was a ceremony; a sacred trial that my soul had to endure to become reconciled with nature and earth.

I found a clearing that overlooked the gully. I knelt down and touched the land with both hands. The soil was warm and friendly, gripping my fingers like the handshake of a dear confidant as I dug a small hole. I squeezed the acorn one last time before dropping it into the ground and covering it with dirt.

The sun blazed across the Adirondacks, filling the landscape with its fiery light. Lissome trees swayed in the cool breeze. A few birds soared on high. I thought I made out the silhouette of a fox by the tree line, but when I looked closer it had disappeared.

“I’m going mountain biking next weekend.” Chikle said. “You wanna come?”

I pondered one question: Did Chikle experience the same things that I did? I had no way to be sure, but I knew one thing for certain: no matter how bad things get, there’s always some kind of a way out.