10 August 2009

More Than Magical

We left the Island two days ago, and since, I have been wondering if it was all really a dream.

BB Mumblings at Dither wrote a little ditty entitled Cumberland Island National Seashore so I know that I wasn't alone, and it really wasn't a dream.

There are two places that I have visited that stirred my soul: Mt. Shasta (Shasta-Trinity National Forest) in Northern California and Cumberland Island National Seashore in Georgia.

Though nothing especially note taking occurred on Mt. Shasta, it's mere size and energy along with the crisp clean air and freedom from burden put Mt. Shasta at the top of my list for one of the most amazing places that I had visited. After standing on that mountain, I felt a shift in me. It's a powerful mountain.

I always thought that I would have to return, that nothing could fill and move my soul like that again.

Enter Cumberland Island.

Cumberland Island is more than magical. It's mythological.

Normally on an excursion, I take hundreds of photos. I took few on this trip, and the ones I took are marginal. I have a few good shots, but nothing more. What I have are images burning in my mind, and just like the wild horses, it's fleeting. There is no capturing it.

I can try to put it to words. That is a writer's job, but I don't know if it is possible. I don't know if I am ready to truly reveal what happened to us out there. It seems and feels more like a fictional novel or an amazing, beautiful and magical dream.

I jotted down, in poetry form (I think it is really the only way to approach it) some of my memories, and those I can share. But first I have some things to figure out.

First Day on the Island

dripping sweat
hiking in

three carts filled
one half mile
to number 13

in the distance
thunder rumbling
the clouds
to see through the hammock

camp secured
half mile walk
to return the carts
half mile trek
to double back
to camp
first rain drop
then another
lightning flashes to a count of
in the woods around us

back at camp
huddled around the table
under the tarp shelter
rain begins to fall
lightning thunder
lightning thunder
5 of the 6
retreat to the tents
and only one remains
to weather the storm

pure fury
river of water through the campsite
lightning flashes
then with no pause
thunder crashes
over and over and over
wind thrashes
and blows the rain sideways

sitting on the table now
feet on the bench
soaked to the bone
chilled by the storm
and feeling all
Mother Nature's fury
meshing and melting
my own fury

First Night on the Island

thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
horses gallop on the trails
through Sea Camp
BB says
"I hear something behind the tent"
flash of light
an armadillo scuffles its nose
along the ground
in search of supper
unalarmed by the beacon
causing its armor to radiate bright silver
then barely audible
the sound of a light drum
thump thump
thump thump
thump thump
on the dunes
behind us