This was inspired by Gary Snyder (born May 8, 1930). Gary is an American poet (often associated with the Beat Generation and the San Francisco Renaissance), as well as an essayist, lecturer, and environmental activist — frequently described as the “poet laureate of Deep Ecology”. Snyder is a winner of a Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. His work, in his various roles, reflects an immersion in both Buddhist spirituality and nature – to which I strongly relate.
Gary Snyder
He grew up near where I lived 25 years in Portland Oregon and attended Reed College there. He was friends with Allan Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and most of the beat writers – the majority of whom had urban backgrounds. Gary spent much of his youth, including his college years, hiking and working in the Northwest backcountry. This experience and his interest in things rural, made him appear exotic to his Beat Generation peers — who often referred to Snyder as ‘the Thoreau of the Beat Generation’
A world traveler, with a fondness for the Far East; Gary spent many years exploring and living in the wilderness of the western United States, especially the Pacific Northwest. He loves this region, as I do 30 years now, having just moved from Oregon to Washington. His work is strongly influenced by this love. I offer this poem I’ve written in the spirit of Gary Snyder! It recounts a wonderful experience I had on one of my many Lost Lake hikes, high up in the Cascade Mountains, out of Zig Zag Oregon, on the western slope of Mt Hood.
Mt. Hood over Lost Lake, Oregon
my footfalls
drum the root chambers
of the cascade mountain old growth
each step cushioned
by centuries of needle-drop
in this ancient forest
rounding a bend in the trail
brushing through waist-high fern
I crest a knoll
and stop
mesmerized
light drifts down dreamlike
filtered by the woodland canopy
settling soft around me
far off
a glimpse
of azure waters
suddenly
I’m startled
a beautiful young doe
bounds onto the path
just in front of me
standing
proud
golden in the glow
she considers me briefly
then disappears
quick as a stolen glance
quiet as passing time
rob kistner © 2019
Old growth on Lost Lake trail
DAY 2
I love the “centuries of needle-drop in the forest.” That’s just how it feels, doesn’t it?
Glad you found this piece Fatima, and I am pleased you enjoyed it. I finished it too late to post for HA’s “geography” prompt, so I was holding it for the April 4th “Open Link”.
“my footfalls/
drum the root chambers”
I can hear it . . . this is gorgeous.
Thank you Shannon. All of Oregon is gorgeous! 🙂 I wrote that about a very magical place, a clearing on the trail around Lost Lake, in the foothills of Mt Hood, just above ZigZag Oregon. i visited there many times before age and health endd my wilderness hiking.
A fitting tribute…Snyder knows the land. and how to be of it.
Oh yes Kerfe – Love love love Gary Snyder! He loves the Pacific Northest as I do, so reading him for me is transcendent familiarity! The warmth of home… 🙂
I walk more above the timberline (it’s quite low in Sweden) which means that I’m rarely surprised by animals… the experience of such a chance meeting is lovely.
Lost Lake is just below the timberline on Mt. Hood, well above any “civilization”, so the critters roam fearlessly. Makes for some wonderful encounters and a very memorable, potentially dangerous one with a bear. I was being careless Bjorn, daydreaming, and wandered right into him as he was crossing the trail. Luckily he was as disinterested in me as this young doe was.
The last two lines are a poem in itself. Puts me in mind of In a Station of the Metro by Ezra Pound. I love Gary Snyder and his work. He and Keroac both. You know, I can smell that deep forest.
My wife and I used to wilderness hike and fish all over Oregon when we first moved in 1990. We also used to golf the spctacular courses in this state. But age and health slowed me over the years Toni, and now I have only the incredible memories. My wife is 16 years my junior, and still capable, so she still hikes from time to time. I so miss those adventures.
Ditto on digging Snyder, and I agree that /my footfalls drum the root chambers/. My Cascade hikes and camping were all in Washington, and some in Central Oregon, north of Mt. Shasta. Poor health grounds me as well, but both of us seem to have a wealth of memory to cash in on.
Gary’s poems are my “jam” brother! Yes we do have a splendid cash of memories Glenn, and that makes us damned fortunate souls! 🙂
The whole poem captures a magical moment with reverence. This stanza sets the stage for the magic:
“light drifts down dreamlike
filtered by the woodland canopy
settling soft around me”
I sm glad you liked this Jade. 🙂 As I alluded in my response to Bjorn, in the many years of my wife and I wilderness hiking in Oregon, we’ve wandered into countless soul-stirring settings, and enjoyed many cptivating encounters. Great memories.
This is beautiful, Rob. (And I’m sure the place is, too.)
There’s something magical about seeing a deer. I’ve come close to them in the park in my town near the river, but I’m sure it’s even more wondrous in a remote place like the one you describe.
Thank you Merril. As I have recounted here in several of my responses, the wilderness hiking in Oregon, obviously including the Lost Lake Trail, has delivered many exciting encounters. Given part of the Lost Lake Trail is also a section of the Pacific Coast Trail, that runs from Canada south to Mexico – we’ve also had wonderful encounters with interesting international hikers.
Meeting wild animals is wonderful, best in daylight. I see lots of them here round the house, but mainly after dark. The deer and the hares don’t seem to realise that there’s a person behind the flashlight and carry on grazing but foxes and badgers get out of the way pretty quickly.
That sounds wonderul Jane. It is so exciting to view wild nature in its habitat. Like you commented, some are oblivious to any danger when in the beam of a light. Others are easily startled into flight. Coyotes are crazy. I’ve had them flee the light, but a few actually approched me. I steer clear of those tricksters.
I so enjoyed this hike through the ancient forest with you, Rob! As you already know, I adore trees and my dream home would be on the edge of a forest. I love the way your poem leads up to that bend in the trail, the waist-high fern and the knoll and then suspends on ‘mesmerized’, makes the reader inhale, possibly gasp. A beautifully captured magical moment.
Thank you so much Kim! Such a very kind compliment. 🙂 My wife snd I have been blessed to have enjoyed many such moments here in the PacNW wilderness.
Oh gosh this is so beautiful! 🙂 I love the tranquil imagery that builds up to the moment so perfectly captured in this poem.
Sanaa, thank you – and I am very pleased this piece moved you… 🙂
A special moment, well versed.
a truly special moment Ken…
A beautiful moment suspended in time. Lovely Rob!
Thank you Linda?
I can very much relate to your love of nature, Rob and yours is expressed so well in this poem. The encounter with the doe feels like an added gift from Mother Nature as if the scenery isn’t already magical! I think we have to truly connect and appreciate nature first to be honoured by these special experiences.
Thank you Mish. I believe those that feel abalancewith nature, that aredrawn to nature – nature feels the same balance and draw back. A kind of naturally shared comfort.
I find peace when I am out in nature and those sudden encounters awaken me to the real beauty that surrounds me. Thank you for taking me to this lovely place.
You are very welcome Truedessa (T-dess) – I am pleased this piece resonated for you… 🙂
“drum the root chambers
of the cascade mountain old growth”
Love this poem, Rob, it’s like a walk in the forest, a breath of fresh air…JIM
Glad you like it Jim… 🙂
Enjoyed this stunning photo and your poetic hike in the woods…peaceful for the soul. What a beautiful place!
Thank you Lynn, I am pleased you enjoyed this… 🙂
Your poem reminded me of If the Owl Calls Again by John Haines. I heard him read this at Port Townsend and if I remember correctly he said the poem was inspired by meeting up with a moose on the trail.
Thank you Jane for pointing me to that poem by John Haines. I really enjoyed it! 🙂