A Day to Climb © 1999 William C Leikam photos framed by IceDream The trail looked like the surface of a smooth stream in mid-morning, rolling, undulating. It rather flowed away into the forest, a gap between the willow and smooth madrone trees, until it disappeared into the redwoods. The morning lay somewhat cool, without the usual fog that often nuzzled the mountains along California's Big Sur coast. Behind me, the parking lot stood almost barren--a lone scraggly oak, hungry for water, an old Volkswagen camper, an old brown Honda and a motorcycle, all collecting dust from the dirt road in mid-week. Those who owned them were already living in the back woods of Big Sur and the Ventana Wilderness. My guide, Jafu, a friend in his fifties with hair graying at his temples, strode ahead, a small pack wrapped about his shoulders, heavy red shirt and his usual Levi's. He walked barefooted, and this I thought insane. "You'll cut your feet all to hell, motherfucker," I'd said with an air of authority when he'd stepped from the car and onto the trail. He'd chuckled. I took a deep breath, zipped up my jacket and shifted my shoulders so that my bulky pack settled comfortably. I stepped out onto the Pine Ridge Trail. Already, Jafu had disappeared over the small rise ahead. I decided to catch up and yet I did not want to call him, so I hurried on my way. Soon the redwoods closed the sky overhead with a canopy, casting shadows. The trail turned abruptly into a dense, green grove. It was dark and shrouded. I did not see Jafu. The trail stretched before. I was touched with tense anxiety. My eyes darted. I felt that I should have seen him again. I wanted to go back to the trail head. Yet, this climb, this commitment to make my first journey into the Ventana Wilderness, was somehow important, and nothing would turn me back. Intently, I searched for him but he had somehow vanished. He hadn't said anything about making this trek in solitude. I remembered how much he had taught me during our erratic friendship, one that had been off and on, often with six months between meetings. I had decided to go on this hike, just to be with him, to talk and learn even more. I trusted his understandings. He had been right so many times before, and when he had suggested that I take the journey it was clear that I had no choice. When he had said that it was time to walk the mountains I took it as just another natural event, another suggestion from Jafu. He told me virtually nothing about the Ventana Wilderness and the Pine Ridge Trail, except that there were streams along the way. He'd said, "Go light and take no water. The mountain'll take care of that." The trees grew even more densely. The trail wound like a creek between them. Quite suddenly, I found myself faced with an abrupt rise. It grew steeper and steeper. I breathed heavily. It was obvious that I was not in the physical shape that I thought I was. My legs tingled. My armpits sweat. I wanted to rest, but more than that I wanted to find Jafu. Besides, I remembered an old adage that said something like, "If you stop walking when the fire 'pain' hits, you'll never finish. Press on in pain for the second-wind." I longed for it. I needed my guide. I needed his companionship, his encouragement to gain some bearing on what lay ahead, for he had been this way many times before, or so he'd said. I breathed heavily. Sweat gathered in tiny salt crystals all over me and ran into my eyes. I ached for water and rest but trudged onward, anticipating him waiting for me at the next turn. In gazing back on that moment, the need for rest had been my first temptation. Presently, from ahead and far below, I heard the chuckle of a stream. The trail descended steeply. I said to myself, "Water, and he'll be there, waiting for me." Abruptly, the trail turned. I stumbled down upon the stream, dark beneath the shadows, stopped at its edge and looked for him. He was not there. "Jafu? Jafu?" A bird replied from a tree nearby. I wondered, "Why'd he take me here if he's not going to stay with me all the way? Damn it! If I ever catch up with him, I'm going to give him a damned good piece of my mind." I looked toward the stream. A crumpled beer can and shards of a broken bottle lay just off to my right. Pieces of toilet paper lay here and there on the gray sand. I crossed to the opposite side. Near a small bush just off the trail, not more than a foot from the water, lay a festering opossum. I stood looking at it, my body shivering. I looked at the paper. I imagined the city people down in their campers along the lower part of the river, needing suddenly to find a bathroom. At least Jafu had taught me to respect the land and try to leave it as though I had never been there. The water crept slowly and was filled with green algae that looked like hair. More pollution. My stomach turned, I was thirsty and angry. Jafu had told me that the mountain would supply the water. Somehow I wanted to laugh, but couldn't. "Jafu, Jafu," I called. I looked upstream to where the long, green pool began. Into it a small, silvery waterfall fell. I thought that it might be a clean place to get myself a drink. The brush tangled heavily. I tossed off my weighty pack, but soon I found myself confronted with poison oak. It was the same on the opposite bank. I pushed into it for a way, but a thicket of wild berry vines, poison oak and stinging nettles might well have said, "Go no further." I unzipped my jacket, for the sweat ran down my chest and from beneath my armpits. "Damn, I want a drink," I cried in despair. I looked downstream and decided that I would take my chances. Tossing my jacket aside, I made my way to the water's edge and knelt. I felt uneasy but cupped my hands and drank several mouthfuls, as much as I dared. Disgust filled me with each gulp. "How could people be this way," I wondered. I imagined them laughing as they polluted it, as though it was a kind of vengeance upon nature. "Jafu," I called again. This time my voice rang through the trees. Then it fell again. "Jafu, I need a cool, clean, clear drink. Damn you! Why did you tell me not to bring water? Where the hell are you anyway," I cried to the trees, then self-consciously looked around to make sure that no one secretly watched me. From far above a whistle sounded through the redwood and madrone. I hurried to my jacket and pack, wrapped them about me and moved out. Hope quickened. I saw him in my imagination, waiting. I stumbled over a rock, back onto the trail. Almost immediately the trees disappeared and I found myself in the sun's near-noon heat. The trail became incredibly steep. I inched upward. At trail-side only scrub, sage, poison oak and other low, ground-creeping plants that I did not recognize covered the landscape. The trail became rocky, sliced by sharp, shallow gullies where winter water had cut across, leaving its indelible mark. For a moment I wondered how Jafu could possibly walk such a trail barefooted. I looked for blood on the rocks, but there was none. The sun filled the sky, hot and glaring from the crumbling granite. I stopped again, pulled off my jacket and tied it about my waist. As I stood ready to take my next step, I remembered that Jafu had worn only a light shirt. While still at the car, I had asked him whether he wasn't going to take a jacket or something. He had smiled, as though saying, "I'll be fine. Care for yourself." I silently laughed at him. His day-pack seemed absurdly light, and he carried his sleeping pack over his shoulder. I had felt like, "Well if he isn't going to bring in the bacon, then I have everything we need." I realized that he had made me his workhorse. I resented him. Doubt shuffled through me. My legs ached under the strain of the climb that grew more and more tedious. The trail switched back and forth, rising, as it seemed, into the sun itself. I passed a large tree where I might have found shade, but the shadow was on the trail's downhill slope and I could not climb through the dense underbrush to gain its cool shade. "Jafu. Jafu," I called, this time raising an echo from the canyon. I looked back and saw where the stream flowed, and thought of nothing but water. The drink that I had taken was already but a memory. I took out an old handkerchief and wiped my face. A hot breeze danced over the mountain. I held my arms out and faced it, trying as best I could to catch as much of its relief as possible. As quickly as it had come it vanished, leaving only the baking rock and scrub. Then I heard his voice. "Come on, Brian. Come on. I'm up here," he called. "Keep up the pace. You'll make it." A sudden, hopeful surge flowed through me, and I quickened my pace, forgetting everything else. With each step I felt as though my lungs would burst. Salty perspiration streamed down my face, from beneath my arms, from every pore of my body. It burned my eyes. I chastised myself for agreeing to this journey. Why had I committed to anything so strenuous when--reasonably, easily--I could've remained in the city and held onto the world that I knew? Life in the city was simple by comparison. But, still, I would not quit no matter what. I'd show him! Time and again I turned and looked back. Every cooling thought, every glimpse of the stream below, had been swallowed by the canyon. As I looked back, the trail seemed like threads woven on a loom, back and forth, back and forth. Its threads varied: dusty gray sage, rust red madrone, pale green scrub oak, crouched and stunted like Bonsai trees on the granite. For the most part, I kept my eyes ahead, searching for Jafu and, most importantly, the water. I felt stupid for following his directions. I decided to abandon my jacket, just toss it at trail-side and leave it there. I pulled it from around my waist, but then caught myself. "What if it gets cold at night? I won't have anything warm." I carried it, angry at the need for so much baggage. Suddenly, I remembered having asked Jafu, "What should I bring?" And he had said, "Whatever you need, but you don't need water. Plenty of streams. The mountain's good." He had lied. There was no way to ignore that. My stomach tightened as I thought, "What if all the rest is lies too? What if he's leading me into something I can't handle?" I looked above, along the switchbacks, but saw nothing. "How much further," I cried? "Is it all like this? Do I really have to suffer? I can't go on!" I sat at the trail's edge. My brain swirled dizzily. I propped my backpack against a rotting oak. My legs seethed with a trembling need for rest but I knew that if I stopped, my energy would freeze and I'd give up. Reluctantly I rose, hefted my pack, tied my jacket about my waist and took three steps. Nothing had changed. Everything was too much. My jacket was too cumbersome. I untied it from my waist, held it for a moment before me as though in an offering to the heat, then looked about, wondering where I could hide it. Not far up the trail I saw a tiny gully that sloughed away downhill. I walked quickly to it, pushed my way through the scrub for ten feet or so and tucked it beneath a dying bush so that I could retrieve it when I returned. Once back on the trail, I looked upward to see how above me far the ridge still lay. I took a deep breath. It could not be more than three or maybe four more switches. Hope gathered. I thought, "Maybe I'm through the roughest part." I stepped forth. "Jafu's already there," I said to the bird in the scrub oak nearby, "and that bastard's got water!" I flowed with anger because of his deception. My legs moved, but I don't know how. I paused and looked towards the sun. Heat, simply heat in the Big Sur. My eyes fell upon the grinding granite. "Damn you! Damn you all," I cried, my throat crack dry. I swirled it about and brought spittle back, washing me back to consciousness, for my head spun with a strong dizzy spell. "Jafu! Jafu," I called up the slope, "if you don't wait for me I'll go back and you'll never see me again!" My stomach curled tight and tense. Somehow I heard Jafu's reply but it was in my head. "Be patient and walk. Feel the stones beneath your feet. They are friends. Do not look down." The message came gently. It was clearly Jafu who spoke, but I dismissed it. I looked up and saw a tree just ahead. It spread shadows that engulfed the trail. A faint breeze caught its branches. A change in heat, or so I thought. Hope burst in my chest--hope and, undeniably, love. I was uneasy. I did not completely understand. Gradually a thought emerged. "If love and hope are one, I have only one life to live and that's in love; by love." But I didn't love the heat nor the climb, the weight on my back and the burning sensation in my legs. I strode forward and longed for the shade above, a gift I begged for. I struggled up along two more switchbacks. My pace quickened. My pack hung miserably heavy, and I knew why I could not catch up with Jafu. A breeze gently moved the laurel tree's lazy branches. A tugging sensation rambled through my stomach and it suddenly flipped over, like a jester doing somersaults, and I laughed. My feet almost danced across the lose granite, searching for the shadows. I sat in the shade, possibly humanity's most appreciated gift from trees, or at least that's what I felt at the time. The air played through its limbs. I slipped the pack from my back, stood, loosened my shirt, and the breeze cooled me. I picked up a green and fallen bay leaf, and ripped off a small bite. The tangy flavor caught my breath. In my mind I heard a thought that made me chuckle: nature's air-conditioner recipe---take a walk on a very hot day, add rivers of sweat, then shade and a light breeze, stir gently, and no man-made air conditioner could ever compete. The humor ceased and another feeling presented itself. There arose a slow, building sensation that said the breeze had come to me as a gift from the mountains, just because I had had the fortitude to make it that far. And beneath that I felt Jafu's presence. But at the same time that I enjoyed the shade, I knew he moved farther ahead. Again, I wondered why he had not stayed with me so that we could talk and enjoy our friendship. There were undoubtedly many things that he could show me, stories that he could tell, regarding this famous Pine Ridge trail. We could exchange philosophical thoughts, something that I had loved so much throughout our friendship. Why had he left me? Why was he walking barefoot? Why hadn't he even taken a jacket? Did he have any food in his pack? I doubted it. I had come too far to turn back no matter what I felt. I decided to move on and see whether I could catch up with him. The trail had its ups and downs, areas exposed to the sun, others covered as though with a canopy of trees. For the most part, the sun rode behind the mountain ridge. The trail ran relatively cool and flat. I rode the ridge. Before long, I walked into an area where the trail slid flat and smooth into the forest. Suddenly, it made a rather abrupt turn. Off to my left a boulder reared from the bluff, high out over the Pfeiffer River that lay far, far below. I was there in less than a footstep, and suddenly became aware that I had climbed possibly a thousand feet toward the sun. Instantly, I knew that the "second wind" had arrived, and I hadn't even realized it. I sat upon the defoliated boulder and gazed into the distance, to the far side of the river that sliced its way through the immense granite cliffs, creating a sheer, barren wall on the far side. "Fascinating," I thought. "This side of the mountain is covered with trees and shade and that side is nearly naked." It was only when the cliff fell to the river that the barren terrain conceded to growth. A butterfly moved like a lilting dancer through the sage, then to the orange flowers nearby, where it landed. I gazed at it, remembered the rivers of sweat, then the first shade and the bay leaf that I had chewed, and wondered about Jafu. I don't know how to explain this, but that butterfly and flower became pure, moving color. It was clearly as though they were one, and that threw me off completely. How could a flower and butterfly be one and the same? I decided to ask Jafu that question--when I found him. I stood, and only then did I realize that I felt nervous, unsure of myself, while at the same time I looked at my pack lying near the trail. I knelt and rummaged around in it, examining my "cargo," and before I actually thought I pulled things from its mouth. I clearly knew that there was far too much junk in it, more that any single human being needed, although we had planned on staying in the Ventana at Sykes Hot Springs for at least four days. I sorted out the clothing. I glanced about for somewhere to hide it, then realized that no one would want to take someone else's underwear. But spare Levi's? Maybe. Wet weather gear? Maybe. Yet all of it seemed so irrelevant at the time that I didn't really care. So, in deference to the wilderness, the trees and the butterfly nearby, I tucked it all behind a large boulder and covered the pile with dead tree branches. I stepped back and looked to see whether any of it might be noticed from the trail. I decided to pick it all up on the way back. I squirmed, ill at ease. I remembered the jacket that I had so carefully hidden, and wondered why I'd bothered. "All of this stuff is just junk. I don't need it. Not really, not when it comes to the bare bones, like Jafu." I knew that it would somehow still be there then when I walked out. "No one really would take it, but if they did, then they must need it far more then I do." A pleasant twinge, trust touched me as I realized that anyone who would come this way must indeed be a fellow pilgrim. For a fleeting moment I wondered about the quantity of food that I carried, but decided that it was definitely needed. Deeper and deeper into the forest I walked, often stopping to look at a flower, a burl sculpted into the side of a redwood, a place where I could see a slice of the silvery Pfeiffer below. Jafu kept popping into my mind, striding along, barefooted and probably whistling a song that he had created on the spot. Then, more clearly than the imagination works, I "saw" him walking somewhere far ahead on the trail, near a sign that read, "Entering the Ventana Wilderness." I shook it off, knowing full well that there could be no such sign there, deep in the wilderness. My legs reached on and on, sometimes climbing steeply, sometimes thumping downhill---up and down--as if over burning waves. The uphill slopes exhausted me, until I felt as though I could not continue. My breath almost wheezed but I always had in mind the fact that for every difficult up, downhill would come. Higher the mountains took me, higher and deeper into the Ventana Wilderness, in search of my friend Jafu. On occasion I no longer feared a stop for a short rest, especially after a most arduous climb, when my legs burned with fatigue. At such times I sat in a shaded pocket just off the trail, looking at the growing and crawling things around me. They were doing their day's work while I did mine, and I had the sneaking suspicion that if they knew anything at all, they certainly knew why they acted as they did. I still had no honest idea why I walked that trail, save that I had agreed with Jafu to make the journey. At that moment I felt envy for the plants and ants moving through their serenity, knowing. Again I became aware of my need for water. My mouth was parched. I shoved my tongue back, deep in my throat and out across my lips. I realized that I must have been dry for some time but had dismissed it. Now, however, my thirst became my obsession. I searched ahead for the abundant water that Jafu had promised would be there. Nothing. He'd lied. "Why," I wondered? At that moment it crossed my mind that I might die of exhaustion. Had I known the reality of the trek, I would not have gone; or if I had, I would have at least taken water no matter what he had said. But I had trusted. Fool. The trail wound up and up, as though cutting into the sky. My head swirled from fatigue. I strained to see ahead, to where the trail might flatten out and run the ridge-line for a while. I strode onward. Suddenly, the path turned abruptly and there ahead, down a shallow slope and then up a flat rise, stood an old, broken wood fence. But that wasn't the half of it--just beyond, a US Forest Service sign read: *** ENTERING THE VENTANA WILDERNESS *** I could not believe it. Where had I been walking, if not the Ventana Wilderness? Had I been walking through an illusion? Was this but the beginning? I stopped in my tracks and took a deep breath. Jafu had stridden past that very sign without even a glance. I had seen him do so. I shook my head, for a moment feeling as though it must be a dream, but the truth of it remained. Then it came, as if a dimly-remembered dream: I remembered he had told me a few things about seeing into the future. He'd called it clairvoyance. All of that sounded far too fantastic, and Jafu did have ideas that stretched beyond the ordinary. I had shunned it all. But this I could not deny. I had seen him there, walking past that sign. I had even read those words. This could not possibly be, yet here it was. When I actually stood before the sign, the fence just paces behind, I felt a definite change. First, disappointment at seeing something created by human hands in that deep wilderness, but then a sense of power, having actually made it that far without giving up. The challenge had been worth it. A graffiti drawing of Kilroy peered over the sign's top with words below saying, "Kilroy was here!" Kilroy was that anonymous soldier who had battled his way across Europe in World War II. Beside the little imp someone had scrawled, "And he flew on the Dead's microdot-25." More scratching: "Get high." "Love Mother Earth." And another had scratched just below, "Love the trees, please." Standing there looking a that sign, a sudden wash flowed through me, radically transforming my disappointment to a feeling of friendly kinship with those who had brought the sign that far into the wilderness, as well as all the others who had hiked along this beautiful and arduous trail. The two seemingly opposite feelings came firmly together and created something very different. It felt like a shadow, the absence of light struggling to become yes-ness. I felt that must be the reason why I walked this trail. I don't know why. It just felt that way. The trail itself was "Yes." As I walked past the sign I felt a deep stillness, like none I'd ever known before. Down the canyon side of the trail trees blocked any view of the river, but there beside a huge redwood tree I felt something drawing me to trail-side. I sat and looked into the trees. I don't really know why. I was tired, yes, but I didn't need a rest. I could have gone on, but I didn't. As I sat I felt the ground beneath, damp, yet not uncomfortably so. Gradually I came to feel that something beyond myself was compelling me to rest. All combined became nothing short of a steady, calm balance between pain and pleasure. Never before had anything like this feeling happened to me. The last thing that I recall was that I cried into the trees, "Damn it, Jafu, I need a drink!" The next instant, I became aware that the branches were filled with birds and more were coming every moment, calling back and forth to one another. But all of them were seemingly looking at me as though I was on a stage and they were my audience, waiting for a performance to begin. Maybe something told me, something said it, but suddenly I thought to one of the birds that clutched a nearby branch, "Fly back into the canyon. Stay so that I can see you at all times and then come back and sit on that limb." The bird flew down into the canyon, up and around, then rested on that same branch. I felt wonder and confusion, for why had a bird done as I had said? I tried another. Instead, as though thought embedded itself directly in my awareness, it said, "No games. You have a task before you, and Jafu asked us to come for the moment. Now, you listen." I felt absurd, but somehow could not deny what I had heard. My very being jolted, for to have a bird talk with me had become far too much. It stunned me. I shook. At that point I forcibly shut down all communication with birds of any kind because obviously they could not talk with me. My mind, I decided, was playing games with me. It was strictly my imagination. I needed water, nothing more--and yet the stamp of reality weighed heavily in me. The bird had spoken. I wanted to stand up, get away from those crazy thoughts. Instead, I sat, frozen. Then I saw Jafu beside a roiling stream. Water. He looked back along the trail toward me. Suddenly, he grew still and looked into the water. He said, "There is nothing in reality but what you re-cognize." He pronounced it exactly that way. "And re-cognition is all there is in life." Without any conscious will, I answered. I thought, "Jafu, if that is all there is, why am I consumed with wanting to know who I am?" He smiled, feeling the communication. "Because that's the way you've come to define yourself as being alive. Definition is reality. Be aware." His words were engulfed in the rush of the stream. I shook my head. The birds stood silent; branches seemingly stacked with them. I must have performed well. I felt as though they had enjoyed the show. But I didn't know what to do for an encore. Gradually, I felt self-consciousness. My feelings tripped down a notch or two, back into what I can only call mundane reality. What I had just experienced had been something else. Instantly, the birds randomly chirped, in the way of all birds, as though nothing in particular had happened. I remembered Jafu's words and wondered whether I would find a stream like I'd seen in my mind somewhere ahead. After all, I had seen the sign. And, no matter what I had decided about imagination, I remembered the bird talking to me. Confusion swarmed me like wasps. It carried me to my feet. I hefted my pack, slung it on my back and walked deeper into the Ventana. A mile or more further, another sign staked at the trail's edge read: VENTANA CAMPING GROUND CAMPING AND FISHING NO OPEN FIRES From then on through a long, long passage the trail ran rather flat. I didn't pay attention. My mind nor my body were with me. Until I came around and down, the trail dipping into a small river, I had no idea where I was. Nothing mattered. A sign beside it said, "Wilson's Creek." Just below, another read, "Sykes Hot Springs - More Miles." Just beyond, next to the water lay the dark log that Jafu had sat upon. It was identical to the image that I had seen. I stopped to gather my memory, check it twice, and know whether it was me or my imagination that I had seen. I remembered what he had said and gave in to the idea that though I did not understand, something unusual had begun. I took a long, cold drink, sat up, wiped my chin and then leaned down and took a second one. My mind cleared. I gazed into the forest and up the stream. Every detail shot into magnificent clarity: The leaves stood out against the shadows with a sharpness that I had never before known. Birds, somewhere nearby, sang with a clarity almost like that of crystal chimes and I heard something growl, deep and very large. Color and sound erupted from everywhere, whereas before it had seemed subdued and washed out by every other one, creating a jumble of hues. "What's happening?" I called into the forest. "Am I going crazy?" I bent my head, shaking as though to clear it. I looked up. The same clarity rose before me. "This can't be. Nothing like this is possible. I need Jafu to explain it," I called. But, he was long past. I slowly looked around at everything that I could take in. I cried, "Where the fuck's Jafu, damn it!? What's he doing? The fucker...." Thought ceased. A creeping, dark feeling caressed my back. I dared not turn. I sat. My ear lobes tense, alert, and then a crunching sound like leaves and bushes being walked through, maybe a deer, arose on the slope behind me. I looked. Up the slope, just on the other side of the trail, the underbrush grew very sparsely, mainly large redwood trees and a few low bushes. Nothing moved, but the crunch of leaves was clearly there. I glanced up and down the trail. Silence engulfed the mountain. I thought, "Nothing's there, but I'm sure I heard it." And definitely I felt it. Waiting for a minute, I decided that nothing more would happen. The feeling faded like smoke from a campfire. I turned toward the stream and peered down. All, save for the bustling gurgle of the stream lay still. My legs ached. My mouth remained parched although there was water enough for more than eternity. I drank. " What was that feeling? What made that sound," I wondered. Nothing stirred but nature's breath. I drank long and deep, filling myself for the trek ahead, then gazed up the trail. It became rocky, almost like the trail's beginning, emerging from the trees and seemingly moving back into the sun. "Hot, I'll bet. When's the next stream?" I lifted my pack. Suddenly, it seemed frightfully heavy. "It's all that junk," I thought, remembering the camp stove, the fuel, the utensils, the canned food that I had stupidly included." For the third time I unloaded and tucked the items off into the underbrush until I decided that I had cut it all down to bare bones. When I lifted my backpack to my shoulders, I could not believe how light it was. My sleeping bag fit comfortably into the pack. It was the heaviest thing that I carried. Although my legs still felt the strain of the climb from earlier, I felt rested and ready to continue searching for Jafu. It became nearly a hunger that became at once anger and close friendship. These conflicting feelings wobbled through me as I walked back onto the trail, up into the mountain's heat. This journey became a compulsion. It was certainly not long thereafter that I felt thirsty. I sweated and climbed. The granite trail, like a huge snake, drew me higher and higher. Scrub and poison oak grew on either side of the trail but soon they too disappeared as more and more granite took over. As I wormed my way ahead I came to a long, twisting part of the trail that seemed to rise forever. I felt that there was a change happening, not only with the environment itself but as well with the atmosphere and energy of the mountain. I only say that now, for at the time all was ineffable. Almost without warning I topped a rise. I froze, stunned. Ahead, off to my left, three distinct, solid granite, cone-shaped peaks reared from the countryside. They loomed gray and absolutely desolate; the rock shedding, like a snake's skin peeling. The effect hit me as though a large fist had punched me in my chest. I sat in the middle of the trail, burning sun overhead, naked mountains beyond, granite beneath me, the river still in the canyon but not more than fifty yards down the slope. I couldn't move, for the sight ahead had shocked me. Never had I seen mountains like these. And they radiated a power that touched me so deeply that I felt them inside. I have no idea how long I sat there baking on the granite but I remember thinking back on the strange incidents of earlier: Seeing in my mind Jafu, "speaking" with him, the birds and all of the rest. From these memories an unusual feeling came together, as though all became an energy within. I sat and let it happen. The cones and the heat remained but ahead I saw a woman. She rose from the rocky hill not more than twenty yards beyond. She was exquisitely perfect in proportions, like no human I had ever seen, her hips flaring exactly out to the extent of her arm pits, her waist small and curved, her breasts not overly large, not flat, but perfectly in proportion to everything else. Her face too; her pooling eyes, the curve of her jaw, the cut of her lips and her long, golden, flowing hair that reached down her back, all made the perfect female form that no words such as these can express. She possessed absolute balance throughout every part of her body, without exception. Instantly, I knew what physical beauty meant. It lay not in any preconceptions but in proportion "Who are you?" I called through my mind. "I am the nymph of this mountain, to you the goddess. This is my domain," she answered, her voice liquid and feminine, like satin or silk. With that I knew that she had not actually verbalized anything, but that her words--if you can call them that--had been clearly planted upon my brain, yet different from when I had "communicated" with Jafu. They were more like words that someone might speak to me. I wanted to go to her, but I could not rise. For an instant I felt the burning sun. Without knowing what happened, she began to dissolve. Her golden hair streamed out behind her. The very top of her head was cut away by an invisible wind and she slowly disappeared, all the way to her feet like a sand dune being blown by the wind. She returned. This time I realized that she was not flesh colored, instead gray, almost like the mountains themselves, yet beautiful without compare. Four times I watched her stand before me. Four times she disappeared. Finally, when she did not return I felt sad, but then reminded myself that she would forever live in memory. There, she would always live and I had been fortunate enough to have seen her. Later, I learned that perfection is a curse. Presently, I stood and began the walk again but the trail felt very different. I remembered the birds, my talk with Jafu and all of the rest that had happened. "It's got to be an illusion. My imagination's working overtime--maybe because I haven't had anything to drink and I'm dehydrated. And that's all it can be," I said, but underneath I felt as though it had indeed happened and could not be explained away by my imagination alone, for everything held the stamp of reality. I walked on, wondering, tossing these events around and around, running them over in my mind. Before long, even the low brush along the trail disappeared and the countryside lay in sheets of granite. The sun reflected back into my face, as if from water. I don't know why, but I found myself bent slightly, searching for blood stains from Jafu's bare feet. I could not understand how any human being could walk along that hot, grinding, granite trail and not have his feet cut to shreds. Even with shoes, I felt the rock trying to punch through. How could he walk that way? At that moment I felt that he must be inhuman, or super human. Maybe, too, he had tucked a pair of shoes into his day pack and did not really walk the Pine Ridge Trail barefooted. He'd lied before. Why not again? I almost snarled at him. I have no idea how far I walked after that. The trail dipped and rose, reminding me of the last ups and downs of my favorite roller coaster ride. The land remained desolate. Far below, the Pfeiffer River staggered through a canyon of boulders down and off to my left. Beyond, sloughing granite poured in slow motion into the river and reared massively before me. Desolation Valley in the high Sierra could not begin to compare with this stark grandeur, and only relatively few people had come this way. We seemed unique, as special as the land itself. My stomach shook with love. I don't know why and that's really irrelevant. Then I saw it. I stopped, stunned with disbelief as a brown bear came into the trail from my right not more than ten yards away, stopped, looked at me and then glanced upward. I followed it's eyes. Overhead two hawks, one large and black, the other a Red Tail, circled, then wheeled out over the canyon, riding the wind drafts off the river. They remained there. Gradually I realized that I was exhausted and wanted to find a suitable place to sit and look into the canyon. But the bear didn't move. It watched me. I wondered what it would do if I walked towards it or threw rocks. "It might attack," I decided. I shook with fright. I looked back down the trail, seeing the miles that I had come, the place where my jacket lay hidden, the place of my clothing, and several miles back where I had left my camp stove. I did not want to have come this far only to retreat. The bear pawed at something beneath a rock. One of the hawks screamed, sending down an echo that ricocheted from every stone in the mountain, not loud, but shrill and piercing. I swear that a gigantic boulder on the opposite wall of the canyon slipped several yards, if not more. The bear rose on its hind legs and slowly, as though in slow motion, walked towards me. The sun had long since begun its slide over the crest of the day, down the horizon. The last sign that I had seen toward Sykes, back at Wilson's Creek, read sixteen miles to Sykes Hot Springs. I had no idea how far I'd gone since then. Fright crushed me. Besides, exhaustion caught me. The bear closed the gap between us. I turned and retreated down the trail, keeping a careful eye on the bear; every few steps glancing back. It followed me for maybe a mile. Then once, as I looked back, it was gone. "I haven't taken more than five steps," I thought. I had seen it a moment before. I looked around quickly. There was nothing but the granite slopes. The bear had seemingly vanished. I walked back and made camp at Wilson's Creek, actually looking forward to spending a night in the forest, along with nothing but the water and trees. "Maybe the moon will come out," I thought, "and then I can lay beneath a full moon and stars like old timers used to." As the sun set, the temperature dropped suddenly and I remembered the bear. Then I conjured up all sorts of other wild animals that may be lurking there, ones that might hurt me. Uneasily, as it grew deep into dusk, after my last water I crawled into my sleeping bag. I didn't fall asleep for a long while. I listened to the night. I ran and ran and ran, almost out of breath, pursued by the dark, eerie feeling, the same one that I had felt earlier on the trail when I'd spoken with the birds. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I ran into a circle of creatures. Instantly they closed behind me. They were almost human: legs, a face of sorts, short, stumpy bodies that were rough and thick with muscles like a bear, but not quite. A hawk flew overhead and created the circle's perimeter. Suddenly, I felt as though a bear stood behind me, but I knew that If I looked there would be nothing. "What do you want?" I cried into the night. "You," one of them said. It stepped forward from the others. For each step it took the circle closed, until the fear had risen to nothing shy of terror. The immensity of that dark sensation shook every cell. I trembled like quicksilver. They led me to a cave that blossomed into a cavern, and there, in its center, shoved me roughly until I stumbled and fell to the floor. Their circle remained unbroken. The apparent leader divided the circle into four quarters, stood over my body and pointed towards the ceiling. A sheet of fire descended, split into four sections and rained down upon all. The beings gradually became opaque. I couldn't stand the shaking fear and I screamed, my voice aching from all sides of the cavern. As though it was a signal, one being from each quarter came at me, grabbed me by each arm and leg. The others chanted a droning song. The leader said, "Now, be sacrificed to all Spirits that will be and who are. Your remains will be burnt black in the fire that rains from there," he pointed. "But before that your bones will be picked clean as though ants had consumed a banquet. When you are properly disposed of, our job will be done." Sharp claws tore me but somehow I was beyond death. Instantly, fear ceased. I, or at least some part of me that was not my physical being, observed from above as they ripped my arms free of their sockets, splayed my legs at right angles and tore them from my body. My torso squirmed on the cavern floor. I thought, "This is a fucking dream. I'll wake up from it and find that it hasn't happened. But what if I'm wrong? I have to wake up. I have to wake up," I told myself. Nothing changed. They broke my arms and legs with rocks. Fire shot through me. Others came from the raining fire and helped. The scene became a bloody frenzy, my blood darkly staining their translucent bodies. I was horrified at what I saw of myself. I tried to turn my eyes away, but it was impossible. I felt that I was a hawk, an eagle, a condor, it made no difference, circling above, waiting for the first chance to swoop down and help in the carnage of myself. A great red bird flew just inside the rain It happened. The base of each fire sheet swung into the center while above, the flames rained from over the four quarters where the demonic being had been. The four fiery piers fused into a single, spear-like flame that cracked down into the chaos that had once been my body, like lightning, and seared every fragment of bone and flesh. The fiery shaft moved as though it possessed intelligence. There was nothing left. I felt only darkness, but again as though an eagle. And I felt Jafu. Then there was light and I stood in the midst of the demonic beings. They were silent, unmoving, and they felt satisfied. To me that was strange, for I had the distinct feeling that they were happy to have served me. The one who I had taken as the leader stood before me holding five pieces of flesh that enveloped bone. Without thought, I knew that I must eat each piece and pick the bone clean like an ant. He handed them to me one at a time. The first I clearly knew had come from my pelvis. I did not know where the next three pieces had come from but the last, I knew, was the nape of my neck and deep into my skull. I devoured it all and to my surprise my flesh tasted sweet, almost like lobster but with another, very distinct taste that I could not identify. It must have been human. Then the most fascinating thing happened. Every piece of me that had been burned, eaten, dropped and even those pieces that I had eaten, formed into a pile of bleached flesh and bone on the cavern floor. It looked as though there was no blood in it. I felt calm, waiting for the next event, whether it bring terror or joy. At that instant I knew the futility of expectations and goals. I knew that only the instant lived, and to expect nothing but the gifts of life as they are given in the moment. That was cosmic joy. That was pure love. That was the only truth. I sensed the eagle. The leader stepped forward again. "Now," it instructed, as it pointed to the pile, "heal yourself and live anew." I knelt before the mass of flesh that was myself, looking, searching for a beginning, but found nothing. The next instant I found my hands probing the flesh, wet but not bloody. I found the beginning buried deep within. I can't say how. I can't even say what it was, really. My hands touched it and knew exactly what to do from then on. Before long a figure that looked much like myself, yet with a few exceptions, stood before me. I raised my hands, almost as in a prayer, and felt something twist like a spiral of electricity in my pelvis. A shaft of crystal-colored energy, a bit foggy, leapt from me from head to foot and merged with the being, myself, before me. Blood suffused my other face and slowly it descended into my neck. I felt the other self quicken with something just shy of life. Then the circle of beings parted and just beyond I saw the nymph of the mountains, beautiful, proportions magnificent beyond description. A wind blew her hair back and she dissolved like a sand dune being blown away. In that moment I saw that my pelvis took color and I felt an intense desire to make love with this beautiful woman, not from crass lust, but lust of a kind that fused our spirits into unity. I also knew that it would never happen, so I accepted her as a friend. The moment that the feeling came through me I realized that what was happening was that I gradually dissolved, as the figure before me became more and more alive. Suddenly, the life force, moving from both ends of its body, slammed together with a thunderous crack just below my heart and I became the other person. I looked back at where I had stood. There was nothing but a transparent shell, which crumbled into dust. The beings cried in glory. "Our work is done," the leader said. "You have them now: healing, knowledge of spirits, the way to fly, an unfathomable creativity and endless abilities to be more than who you seem. Now watch your feet, for bear will guide you there, and watch the skies for hawk, who will guide you there." I awoke, became conscious of myself and surroundings. When I regained my bearings, I felt total shock rampage like lightning through me, for I stood on the trail staring at the full moon. It startled me, but quickly fright vanished. I looked into the night, remembering my camp and wondering how I was going to get back in the dark. Then, as closely as I could feel, I realized that I stood at the very spot where I had earlier seen the bear and the hawks. Confidence like I'd never felt before suffused me. I realized that my feet must have found the trail in my sleep, so there was no reason in the universe why they could not find the trail again, although my eyes were next to useless. Sometime later, after a few stumbles, I walked nonchalantly into camp. As I tucked myself into the sleeping bag, I remembered everything that had happened and felt that this was no ordinary dream. It had actually been. There remained questions. I would tell Jafu. He would know. EPILOGUE I found Jafu the next day lounging lazily in the hot springs. He waved and smiled as I dumped my backpack on the ground next to his meager belongings. "Come on in," he called in his rough, deep voice. "Water's warm. How was the journey?" He smiled. I stripped off my clothes and settled into the warm water and said, "I just went through something that I absolutely do not understand." He smiled knowingly and replied, "I know, but tell me about it anyway." I related everything, told him how angry I was at him for leaving me, lying to me about the water, leaving most of my camping gear behind--every detail except my encounter with the bear, the hawks and the "dream" that I'd had the night before. "Look what you have done," he said once I had apparently finished my impassioned speech. "You wouldn't have done that had I been with you. Look what you've learned." I had to admit that he was right. Instantly my anger washed away, ran off downstream like trash going to be recycled in the great ocean of being. Then he stunned me when he asked, "And what about the bear and the hawks?" The warm water lapped at my chest. I stared at this man who I thought I knew, but realized that I knew nearly nothing of. I told him every detail. "But why, and how, did you know?" I asked. "I knew that you were ready," he replied, wiping water over his face, "to be introduced to the mysteries, but if I had told you, nothing would have happened. You had to take a journey, and you're stronger for it." He smiled. "You have just begun and there's a lot to learn." "What does it mean?" "A little at a time. I'll just say that the bear and the hawk are your spirit guides. Be prepared to meet them again, for they will introduce themselves to you the next time differently, more clearly. They will help in giving you the abilities that you will need. I will help in that too." He paused, looking over at me above the water. Then his knowing smile flowed across his face. He said, "You feel differently today then you did yesterday. I mean, not physically, but as a person." I nodded. "The dream, if you can call it that, was your initiation. I didn't know how it would happen, but I knew that it would. Last night I was up there," he pointed towards a huge boulder, "and I saw it all. I was with you, although you didn't know it. You see, my name is Red Eagle. I was in some ways the hawk who you saw flying on the perimeter of the fire circle. I wove protection. You had to be taken apart, ripped and torn from limb to limb, burned, confronted with fear and then put yourself back together again, before you could change. Some call it being reborn." We left at dawn on the fourth day, walking together, seldom speaking. He wore no shoes. No longer did I wonder about this, nor did I look for blood on the trail. At almost nightfall we arrived at the entrance to the Pine Ridge Trail. As we stepped into the parking lot, I felt a deep shift in energy wash through me. I asked him about it. "Oh, that's just civilization's spirit returning. It is different from the wilderness. It comes from your car and the others, the houses over there and even from beyond. From now on, your job will be to use and develop who you are, and the modern world may be healed." Again, I did not clearly understand, but I also knew that it was not the time to ask. We silently drove away but, on the other hand, we never left.