Wishes for a Wild New Year

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

The Wild Side

My time at Alligator River NWR had come to a close. The next morning, I would head south through the Outer Banks. When I started planning my journey to the Outer Banks, I knew I wanted to take a different route coming home and that meant following the road on the Banks south and crossing back to the mainland via ferry through Ocracoke. It would only be a short hour to my next overnight stay, so I decided to take my time. I headed a little north to see the Wright’s Brothers museum, which was fascinating and then headed south.

If you’re going to the coastal area you’re going to see lighthouses. Along the way, I stopped at Bodie Island lighthouse, Cape Hatteras lighthouse, and the lighthouse at Ocracoke. Their architecture was as interesting as their history and the role they served back in the day. As I drove towards Hatteras, my night’s destination, I stopped at Pea Island NWR. I stopped inside the visitor’s center, pilfered around, and talked to one of the rangers in between listening in on conversations about birds in the area. It turns out that she and her husband were from Michigan. I walked around the refuge for a short while, then got back in the car. I knew that I’d be back at sunset. Later that evening, I came back to the refuge, and with the sun setting in the west, I was not disappointed. The ponds behind the center were spilling over with waterfowl, an idyllic place to land for a rest. Plenty of space and enough distance from bipeds, the ponds were a safe, wintering shelter for those birds in a migration pattern.

I would spend a couple hours at Pea Island and on my journey to and from the refuge, I stopped by roadside stops for access to the beach. The site of the ocean was amazing! The next morning, I would be up early to make the ferry schedule. First up was Hatteras to Ocracoke. It was a short, but pretty trip with the wind blowing and the sky a steel gray. There was a storm that was bearing down on the coast and the trip home would be blustery. Driving onto Ocracoke, I had forgotten about the damage done during the hurricane season. It didn’t take long to remember. All along the side of the roads were evidence of the storm. I had gotten to the ferry, but had misread the schedule. I would have time on my hands before the next shot. Unfortunately, there wasn’ t much open. I had managed to walk into one shop that was open. It was an art gallery and we talked about art, living on the Island, and the hurricane. When Ocracoke was hit, it was eerily quiet. The worse of the storm was off the coast, but it was the surge that created the damage. The shop keeper said that the water came and came. At one point, it reached about 8 feet and the wreckage and the waterlines seen along buildings confirmed that. But it was quiet and it was quick. In a little more than an hour the water and come and gone, leaving flooded cars and buildings in it’s wake.

Yet, nature, and people, are resilient. I think that’s the message for me. I headed out of the shop and back down to the ferry station. It was around 2 PM and I had 8 hours in front of my on the road. Back on the mainland, I journeyed through a place I had lived once upon a time. It seemed like two lifetimes ago and as I think back to that period of my life, I see the growth and spiritual changes I’ve gone through. I’ve weathered many seasons and I was still standing, with many miles left in my journey.

Pea Island NWR

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Fifty Years

Fifty years. It was 1970 and Richard Nixon was President when the first Earth Day was established. The year before, the Cuyahoga River had caught on fire. Old photos of NYC and LA show cities shrouded in smoke. Something had to change.

The environmental movement has gone through many seasons. The Sierra Club was founded in 1892 by John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt and was about protecting large swaths of land. The country was young then and places like Yellowstone NP and others wouldn’t be here today if not for their work. But in 1970, the land, water, and air were being polluted and something had to be done. It was during the presidency of Nixon that the Clean Water Act, the Clean Air Act, the Endangered Species Act, and NEPA were passed. Nixon also created the EPA and NOAA. We were running amok and these actions were needed to prevent us from destroying our only home.

Through the “decade of the environment” and the early period of the conservation movement, we landed in the 1980s. While we now see many references today about Environmental and Climate Justice, the EJ movement was started in the 1980s by one who is known as the father of the Environmental Justice movement, Dr. Robert Robert D. Bullard. When a chemical or petro plant is sited, you can bet it’s in a People of Color community. Waste sites? The same. Toxic, hazardous waste? You wouldn’t see these in West Lake, Houndslake, or Woodside. The original term used to describe these kinds of practices (as I understand it) was environmental racism. It seems (white) people are just now catching on. As Dr. Bullard has said, people of color are the wrong complexion for protection.

Today those monumental environmental protections have been weakened and we see the attacks on public lands, opening them up for the extraction industries like oil, fracked gas, mining, and timber. Donald J. Trump can’t be blamed for all that’s taken place, but he has taken degradation to new depths. What’s prevented the wholesale destruction of our natural resources are groups like the League of Conservation Voters, National Wildlife Federation, and the Sierra Club. People will balk at the ‘Big Green Groups’ for all the fundraising and political work, but the fact is if it weren’t for the legal work of groups like The Sierra Club, we’d be in a much worse place. And to do this work means you have to have staff, legal staff.

You don’t truly have to be a diligent student of history to see where we’re headed if we don’t make some changes. Whether you believe in climate change or not, one thing is clear and that’s the fact that we’re destroying the natural world around us. Our choices and how we live on the land are not sustainable and we must address the systemic issues that have created the mess we find ourselves in. If it’s true that everyone I meet is my mirror, that what I throw out comes back to me, then it must also be true that the harm I bring to the land, water, air and other creatures that I share this common home with will eventually come home to roost. Nature is resilient and will bounce back, but we must take personal responsibility in all ways.

I’ve read that in Indigenous cultures when they make a decision they try to look at how it will impact the seventh generation. We must look past the short term satisfaction and think about how our choices will affect future generations. Our journey is a spiritual one and our choices reflect our collective spiritual state.

North Fork Edisto River

Alligator River NWR

With just a few days, a short week, really, I didn’t have much time to explore around Alligator River NWR. The property is so huge that I couldn’t see it all, but wildlife operates on its own timeline and I had yet to see a Red Wolf. I also discovered that there was a lot to see in the area.

While the first morning in Nags Head found me sleeping in a little (8 am is late these days), on the 2nd I rose before the sun. I wanted to get a shot of that early morning light that’s part of what’s known as the “Golden Hour”. I quickly got things together and got out the door. To get onto the property is a 40 minute drive and my timing seemed to be right on as there was the slightest lightening of that early morning dark hue. I drove down the dirt road and after passing a couple of the maintenance buildings, I found the perfect place to stop and setup my tripod. I got camera in place just in time as the orange globe barely climbed over the horizon.

One thing on my agenda for the morning was to get to the other side of the creek that I was paddling in the day before. This was going to be my last day on the refuge and I felt that being around water was going to be the best opportunity to see a wolf. I made my way and having navigated from one dirt road to the next, I found myself at the dirt parking area marked as a takeout for canoes & kayaks. The morning was cool (some would say downright cold) and getting out of the car, I crossed the footbridge to the other side of the creek and continued to walk down the trail for a couple minutes. The fog rose over the water at the creek and on the other side of some trees, where I assumed was some type of pond. I could barely see more than two feet in front of my. I felt tense as I considered what I’d do if I heard one of the resident black bears. I didn’t have much on me in the way of protection. A small pocket knife, my camera and not much else. I quietly continued down the path. It was otherworldly.

I had probably covered about 50 to 60 yards and hadn’t seen, nor heard anything. The sun was climbing higher and the fog was slowly burning off. I was glad I took the time to compose a few photos before moving on with my walk into the unknown. I got to a road I had recognized from the day before and decided to turn back to the car. There was still much more to see.

The morning slipped into the afternoon and I hadn’t seen much in the way of wildlife. I was disappointed but accepted that the wild runs on its own schedule. Along the way, I did see a Great Blue Heron. I’m always amazed to see these somewhat prehistoric looking beasts. For an avian species with such long legs and lanky features, Herons possess a remarkable ability to move with such grace.

The day was coming to the end and I decided to make my way back to Nags Head. It was beautiful day despite the fact that it hadn’t produced the results I had hoped for. I left ARNWR with a feeling of peace and contentment. I saw next to no one as I cruised around the property. I crossed the bridge back to the island just in time to see the setting sun.

Here's the Sun

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A River Runs Past It

I still felt the tension sitting where it always does–wrapped tightly in my shoulders. I was really looking forward to the time off and hoped to photograph black bears and red wolves. I had made good time as I pulled onto the Outer Banks and looked forward to getting away into the wild, but I was finding that even during the offseason, Nags Head and the surrounding area was still pretty congested. I was glad that I had booked a massage for the afternoon and after some of those knots in my shoulders were broken down, I jumped back into my car and headed towards by abode for the next several nights – Atlantic Street Inn on Nags Head. My accommodations were incredible! The bedroom held a nice queen-sized bed with a private bath. A separate sitting area held a sofa, chair and coffee table that brought a little extra space and comfort to the stay and I had easy access to a fully equipped kitchen. I choose to go out for dinner, then settled in for an early night.

Daylight always seems to break early and as the light started seeping through the window coverings, I slid out of bed and headed for the kitchen. It was my first day and I had decided that I wasn’t going to rush for anything. I slowly got ready for my adventure in the wildlife refuge, packed the car, and headed out. Feeling not very rested and a little irritable (my neighbors at the Inn were up late and loud), negative thoughts were running through my head. I was annoyed by the amount of traffic I encountered and how overly developed the area was. How many cheap T-shirt shops do you need? I wasn’t really prepared for this, but I kept my eyes looking forward and made my way to Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge (ARNWR). I arrived and started making my way through the property. Since ARNWR is the site of the largest population of black bears east of the Mississippi, I felt pretty certain that I would drive along, stop at various points, look around with my binoculars, and would have no problem finding these beautiful beasts. It wouldn’t take long to see that I wasn’t going to be the only tourist out there hoping to catch a glimpse of the bears.

The 152,000-acre refuge is located along the Atlantic Coast in eastern North Carolina. A number of dirt & gravel roads cut through, intertwined, and wrapped around the property and I tried to cover as much of the property as I could. Even as unpopulated as the local area was, I would see a number of cars cruising around the refuge, some at a pretty quick pace. I didn’t think this would bode well for wildlife viewing but consoled myself by thinking how cool it was that others were also amazed at the idea that they might see a creature in the wild, one that few others may ever get the chance to see. I zigzagged through the property, stopping at certain vantage points to get out and look around with my biners. On one particular road, I came around a bend and saw an image waiting to be captured. I pulled over, took the shot, then got back in my car. My windows were still down and I slowly drove forward, then I heard some loud thrashing and crackling in the woods on the other side of the canal. I thought it could be only one thing–a black bear!

I slowly turned the corner, pulled ahead and looked for a place to pull over. I stopped, grabbed my binoculars and camera, then got out of the car and headed back to the place where I heard the sound. The dirt road was just wide enough for two cars to pass if one car pulled off to the side. I raised my binoculars and looked up and down the road, scanned the length of the canal, and where I suspected the bear might be wandering. I waited and watched. I walked a little further, stopped and looked around. After a few minutes, seeing and hearing nothing, I headed back to the car. I thought to myself that this wasn’t a bad place to grab some water, food, and sit for a while. The wind was blowing steady and the sun was dancing in and out of the clouds, so I added another layer of clothing and my ‘Windstopper’ hat. I was pretty well stocked for the trip and to be outdoors. I pulled out my folding chair and table, then sat down for a bite to eat. It was a beautiful day! As I sat there eating lunch, I felt like I was the only person on the refuge–the only sound I could hear was the wind blowing through the trees. I sat there and took in the sun. It was a peaceful moment and distant memories floated to the surface.

One memory that surfaced was the first time I had meditated. I was in my early 30s and living in Savannah, Georgia. With my body still and I’m trying to quiet my mind, I felt tears well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I was unfamiliar with the stillness and at that time in my life, I was turning down a new path. I had long operated under the belief that men didn’t cry. I had held back the feelings and the tears for many years and I finally came to the point where I could no longer hold them back. It would be very cleansing. That was many years ago and I’m still on my journey with meditation.

Another memory that I was reminded of was when I took a trip to Rocky Mountain National Park. At one point in my trip, I was on Trail Ridge Road and had pulled over on to one of the parking areas, Toll Memorial Trail, named after a former park superintendent. I got out of my car and walked up a long walkway that led up onto this open tundra. I was amazed as I looked all around me at the rocky peaks, many that still had snow on top of them. I continued to walk ahead and that’s when I started to see them: Marmots! They popped up and scurried all over, one chasing another, then diving down where they couldn’t be seen. They were so amazing! It was the height of summer tourist season, yet for about 15 minutes I found myself in this otherworldly landscape all by myself. I looked around with an almost a 360-degree view of the mountains around me. The seconds seemed to last forever and I felt a peace that washed over me. And then there was the silence. Only the wind could be heard. It was an experience I’ll never forget. And being out in ARNWR on that January day, I felt like I was right back there in that mountain terrain. I finished my snack, climbed back into the car, then headed back on the road I came from.

The afternoon sun was fading when I came upon the canoe launch. It was later than I intended, but after thinking through some plans for the next several days, I decided to hit the water. I pulled into the dirt parking area and got myself ready to launch. I had all the gear I need for a winter paddle–knee-high neoprene boots, warmth & wind layers for top & bottom and extra gear just in case I went into the water. I was ready! The paddle wouldn’t be a long one, but that didn’t matter. Aside from getting a massage, nothing really could take the kinks out of my body, and my mind, like getting on the water. I put my boat in the water, climbed in, and slowly paddled down the stream. After a couple of twists and turns, I saw another paddler heading towards me. We exchanged pleasantries and each headed on our way. The sun was quickly setting and I decided to turn around. In the way of wildlife, I didn’t really see much on this brief outing, but I have never regretted going on a paddling excursion. I paddled up to the canoe launch and climbed out of my boat. After topping the canoe on top of my car, I stowed away my gear and changed back into driving clothes.

The last light of the day was quickly slipping away and I looked at my maps to chart a course out of the refuge and put me on the path back to Nags Head. I turned the car around and started heading out. One dirt road looks like the next and I had found myself at a stop sign. Right or left? I looked at the map again and looked inside myself. I was disappointed that I hadn’t seen the critters I came searching for. A car came up behind me and I motioned them around. They turned right, so I turned left, holding out in hope for one last chance. Dusk had fallen upon the wetlands and as I slowly drove forward, I followed the bend in the road. As I turned the corner, I was amazed to see the last light of a sun spilling over the horizon’s edge, casting yellow, orange, and pink just over the treetops. The sky, a light blue, faded into a darker hue and the last light slipping away, leaving clouds a dark shade of gray. The stillness of nightfall had come, but the days last sound was of Tundra Swans bidding all a goodnight.

Turtles sunbathing

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