Carton Of Worms Snowbank Preserved

Mountain Camp
July 11, `72

Yesterday, it was cold, windy, and occasionally wet. I kept the fire
hot, and it kept me warm. I spent the day sitting around the campfire,
reading Hesse’s, Narcissus And Goldmund. Last night was an all night
rain. When it cleared in the morning, I tried the fishing. I fished
the stream and lakes (Big Slide and Little Slide Lake), but the
fishing was lousy. I only got a couple bites. At least the sun was
shining. Even in the sun it’s not hot, it’s sweater weather all the
time. I kept my worms cooling in the snow bank just off to the side of
my tent. The tent was set up over frozen ground. That made it hard to
keep the chill off, not to mention sleeping on uncomfortable ground. I
would pick up on the fishing later, after my backpacking food runs
out. (I think there’s a couple three days of food left.)

July 13

I spent yesterday in the rain, all day and night. When I got up in
morning, the sun was shining. The clouds were gone. That was the break
I had been waiting for. After a breakfast of biscuits and scrambled
(powdered) eggs, I climbed back up on the mountain. When I got above
the timberline, I decided to drop some acid. I had brought it with me
just in case the spirit moved me. Dropping the acid, however, was not
an easy decision for me to make.

All “good hippies” have entertained the thought of dropping acid on
top of a mountain. Ever since I started doing hallucinogens, I had
been intrigued by the idea. But now that I had the opportunity, I knew
that there would be no earth shattering results, no mind-bending
revelations, regardless of where I was standing when I ingested acid.
It was a drug, that’s all. It would take you up, maybe even into the
realm of the unspeakable, but it would drop you flat also. You were
the trip; the acid was simply the catalyst. There were no ladders to
heaven, no utopias to be discovered. I knew that already. It was
pointless to drop the acid, but I swallowed it anyway. In the warm
sunshine, high on the mountain, I just couldn’t resist the temptation.
I climbed higher after dropping the acid, and with the higher
elevations came the stronger winds.

To escape the strong winds, I sought refuge in a rocky crevice wedged
into the side of the mountain. In my altered state of consciousness, I
stared at the symmetries in the rocks as they danced to life. I did
not notice the approach of the mountain goat with its two baby yews
until they were right on top of me. The sun was shining, making their
white coats sparkle against the rocky terrain. It was a beautiful
sight to behold. I had never seen mountain goats in the wild before. I
just sat quietly and stared. I began to feel light, as though I was
floating on a cloud. I also felt blessed. Then, above and beyond the
goats I saw it, the dark cloudbank coming in from the west. I knew if
I hung around much longer, I would find myself swimming, as opposed to
floating, in those clouds. I started my hike down the mountain. There
was lots of daylight left, so I headed off to where the waterfall
emptied into the lake at the far end.

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About bwinwnbwi

About me: Marvin Gaye’s song, "What’s Going On" was playing on the jukebox when I went up to the counter and bought another cup of coffee. When I got back, the painting on the wall next to where I was sitting jumped out at me, the same way it had done many times before. On it was written a diatribe on creativity. It was the quote at the bottom, though, that brought me back to this seat time after time. The quote had to do with infinity; it went something like this: Think of yourself as being in that place where infinity comes together in a point; where the infinite past and the infinite future meet, where you are at right now. The quote was attributed to Hermann Hesse, but I didn’t remember reading it in any of the books that I had read by him, so I went out and bought Hesse’s last novel, Magister Ludi. I haven’t found the quote yet, but I haven't tired of looking for it either.
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