The sun goes down
And once again
The nightly spectacle begins.
The stars begin arriving early.
But wait!
The bright light of the full moon
Is overwhelming
The masterpiece of the skies.
It makes everything else invisible to the eye.
But thankfully, like always,
The situation is only temporary.
And the show will go on.
So, for the moment, I relish the things I do see.
I stretch out in my sleeping bag
In an open meadow and look up.
I stay awake
Long enough to
See the moon set.
The temperature is dropping,
But my sleeping bag
Is made for that.
So, I warmly
Look up as the stars
Begin to take control.
And I imagine.
The afternoon’s storm
Has long passed
And cleaned the air.
The night is brilliantly clear.
And suddenly,
The Milky Way
Shows up in all its glory.
To the south,
The constellations of the Zodiac
Are on the march.
One of them,
Scorpio, Scorpius– the Scorpion, is particularly obvious.
At least for the moment.
But it’ll soon disappear into the horizon.
Because it always does.
For me, it’s the constellation of summer,
And adds to my warmth.
But it also makes me think of Orion,
My constellation of winter.
Though unseen,
The thought of it sends a chill to my feet.
Almost overhead,
Mars casts its red light
In untwinkling brilliance.
The untwinkling part is proof that it’s a planet.
I scan the sky for another planet.
But everything is twinkling.
Points of light are everywhere,
Inundating my senses.
My eyes are full of stars and galaxies.
But what of the millions
That are there, but beyond
What I can see.
And then, the fog begins to roll in.
Think fast before it fully arrives, I conclude.
Did my Kentucky great, great grandparents
Look up at the same sky, I wonder?
Is their vision of what they saw floating around out there in space?
Is a vision a concrete thing?
How far away can anything go?
The questions begin to accumulate.
Will they be answered before
The clouds takeover?
Then suddenly, I arrive at a non-answer
As I decide to figure it out later.
And the sky goes dark
As I drift off to sleep.
Tender, kindling, fuel
Dry grass, sticks and logs.
Combined,
Then set afire.
Suddenly, there’s
Light, heat, and movement.
A whole new world
Is born.
A thing to stand around,
A reason to pull up a log and sit,
Something to stare into,
Reach your hands toward,
And turn your back to.
And always,
The smoke follows beauty.
And then,
A tale is told.
Which leads to another
And another.
Flames come and go
They ebb and flow.
Roaring, crackling.
Simmering, and flickering.
Embers, coals.
Constant change.
So much to see,
A lot to hear.
Things to say.
Stare, think, and gaze.
One fire is never like another,
Except that it is.
From the mines near Batopilas,
To the bank in Chihuahua.
And then by train,
To El Paso.
Haul the silver,
Hide the gold.
125 miles of trail.
Trains of mules with steel shoes,
Tarahumara’s with none.
Five stations along the way.
Mountains with pines,
Canyons with rocks.
Following the path,
That leads,
To the wagon road,
At Carachic.
A generation of travel,
Stopped by time.
Trees grow,
Meadows change.
The route forgotten,
Except for what,
The mules cut,
Into the rock,
With their hooves.
Forgotten stories linger:
Pilares, El Patron,
La Laja, Los Conchos,
El jefe with the knife,
Teboreachi,
The piano,
Huajochi.
Eventually, the day arrives.
And we go.
60 years later.
Years of talk and wondering,
Turn into action.
How hard could it be?
Mountain bikes, walking, and camping
Many questions asked,
But few answered.
Is this the trail?
We do it backwards- from Carachic.
First to El Ojito, then on south.
Past La Herradurra,
Night with Gabino Flores at Huajochi Station,
Walk through the Arroyo de las Iglesias,
Camp at The Hot Springs,
The next night with support at Pilares Station.
On to Siquerichi.
Cold night at La Laja Station.
Camping near Teboreachic Station.
Past Coyachique,
Then down to the Batopillas River.
From there, it’s ten miles of gravel road,
Finally, we arrive in Batopilas,
And Casa San Miguel.
The trail re-found
Was it ever lost?
Reconnoitered, mapped,
Ridden, walked, photographed,
Written and talked about.
“If we do make it up to the top of Delirium, there’s a knife-edge ridge we’re gonna have to cross to get over to the Cemetery and then down. It’s only about 100 hundred yards long, but it’s got lots of loose rocks and big drop-offs, so watch out. If the other person on your rope falls, jump quickly to the other side of the ridge. That’ll create a counter-balance and keep both of you from getting pulled down on top of each other. Don’t waste any time thinking about it- just do it.”
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