Uncategorized – Page 8

The Lost Trip – Random Reflections, Random Shots

Original endpoint of the Natchez Trace — *The end of the Natchez Trace, which begins in Nashville*

Start at the End

There are places where you can feel the past staring at you: The Natchez Trace in Mississippi, The Parthenon in Nashville, Greenbo Lake in Kentucky, The Serpent Mound Memorial in Southern Ohio, The National Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson in Dayton, The Allegheny National Forest in Pennsylvania, the farms in Western New York State, Fallingwater in Farmington, The Blue Ridge Parkway, Greenville and Hartwell Lake in South Carolina, the antebellum King Edward Hotel in Jackson, Mississippi, and the constellations of the zodiac. All these places stare at you with an offer you can’t refuse.

For my Father and I, this road trip began at the end of The Natchez Trace which itself begins in Nashville. We are both heading towards new beginnings so starting here at the end of The Trace in Natchez, Mississippi was poetic.

My Great Fortune

It was an emotional journey through the past, present, and future that came at Dad in waves – not with the destructive force of a tsunami but like sea foam washing over his tender heart. For my part, it was pure joy. I don’t know if it’s delusional, great fortune, or what, but my memories were all good. They came flooding back when we arrived in Kentucky to see dozens of old friends, and in Pennsylvania where I spent my childhood trout-fishing in the Allegheny National Forest, and in Western New York, my birthplace where 300 of our family members gathered for a reunion.

The Tale Of Two Grifters And A Feral Hog

Since we traveled primarily national parkways, back roads, and state highways we were usually without GPS, mobile phones, talk radio, and NPR. In other words we had no idea what was going on in the world outside my pickup truck. It wasn’t long before we didn’t know for sure what day it was. Some nights we caught a little CNN while drifting off to sleep and thus waking up as uninformed as the day before. But one night while drifting off I thought I heard a strange tale about two grifters and a feral hog. Sitting at breakfast the next morning I asked my Father if he heard it too. He gave me a puzzled look then returned to the vastly more important business of biscuits and gravy. One thing I learned about Dad on this trip – he loves biscuits and gravy. As for the grifters and the feral hog, maybe it was just a dream. There was an election going-on, so maybe that had something to do with it.

Everything is Different When You Return

On a road trip, all the world’s problems get solved with bogus insight. This trip was different for some reason – less bogus, more insight. And more agreement. Maybe we are both becoming mellow at long last.

There are times when there is nothing you can do to overcome the effects of emotional shock. Soldiers experience it in war, young boys when they meet girls from Rigel 7, and lovers when they are no longer. I can’t help thinking about road trips. They’re the solution to all the world’s problems. At least for awhile. No matter what happens on a road trip, everything is different when you return.

The Tao Of Road Trips

Some forms of travel demand meticulous preparation (flying). But for road trips meticulous is the death-knell of adventure. There are only a few rules: flying on the ground is wrong … when you come to a back-road take it … and the end can be a good place to start. The Tao of road trips is adventure.

I’ll always remember the adventures with my Father on The Lost Trip, especially the ones inside my pickup where we solved all the world’s problems.

Dad picking up trash on The Natchez Trace — *Returning from a walk on the Old Trace I caught Dad picking up litter on the Parkway.*

Spanish Moss - Historic Home Natchez Trace — *The mysterious tragic beauty of the Old South*

Crowd looking up at Athena — *At the Parthenon in Nashville…our buildings are taller but we still look up to the Ancient Greeks*

Fishin' on Greenbo Lake — *Greenbo Lake, KY…a lovely calm place to fish away the day*

Dad Walking through Draco at Serpent Mound — *Walking among the stars in the constellation **Draco** at Serpent Mound in Southern Ohio…Dad was exploring the cosmos with elán – I didn’t even try to keep up with him*

*The B2 Bomber…none of us understand its awesome power (at the National Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson in Dayton, Ohio)*

*Conceived in the 50s, built and flown in the 60s at Mach 3 for aeronautical research, no plane is as beautiful as Valkyrie, even today, 60 years later*

East Forest School in Marienville, Pennsylvania, Population 800, to where we rode the bus in the early 60s from our home in The Forest…it houses grades 1-12…looks as good as the day it opened…and its mid-century design is still ultra-fine

Oil Well off Watson Road — *Oil wells work alongside trout streams in the Allegheny National Forest*

Watson Road — *Back roads were made to be taken*

Farm on Jennings Road - Western New York — *This is what passes for drought in Western New York State…farmers we met insisted they were in the worst drought in modern memory but the whole area was lush to our lyin’ eyes*

Old Barn Near Collins — *Old Barn near Collins Center, NY*

Fallingwater - Front — Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece “Fallingwater” in Farmington, PA…built into a waterfall on the side of a mountain in the deep forest it was a home for 25 years starting in 1934 before the owners donated it as a museum…millions have been spent maintaining it and millions have visited it since it was opened to the public in the ’60s

Fallingwater from the Birds-eye view — *View of Fallingwater from Bird’s Eye…the cantilevers look like they’re leaning but it’s an optical illusion…everything is level*

Dad and Diane at Fallingwater Information Center — *The Information Center at Fallingwater is also a masterpiece of design*

The Blue Ridge Mountains Near Fancy Gap Virginia — *Typical view from the Blue Ridge Parkway…we took this National Parkway from Fancy Gap, VA to Asheville, NC*

Blue Ridge Mountains closer to Ashville — *The Blue Ridge Mountains, endless beauty*

Dad and Diane in the Blue Ridge Mountains — *Dad and Diane and two locals shooting the Blue Ridge Mountains…we met up with Marie & Diane at the family reunion in New York and caravan’d all the way to Diane’s place on Lake Hartwell, SC*

St. Anthony of Padua School — *St Anthony of Padua School in Greenville, South Carolina conceived and seen to completion by my Aunt Sister Catherine, Franciscan extraordinaire*

Waterfall in Greenville — *A waterfall in downtown Greenville, SC*

View from Diane's backyard — *Hartwell Lake in South Carolina…from my sister Diane’s backyard…a perfect place to recharge for the final leg of our journey*

King Edward Hotel Lobby

The Lost Trip began randomly in the Old South near Natchez so it was fitting to end randomly in nearby Jackson at the King Edward Hotel which traces its origins to 1861. A jewel for any weary traveler but for us it was heaven. And yes we could feel the memories staring at us.

August 3 – 19, 2016

The Lost Trip, Pt 8 – Trout Fishing in Pennsylvania

Rock Run Creek which I fished at ages 8 – 13

Trout Fishing is Hunting

The summer Brautigan was writing his novella while camping in Idaho, I was learning trout fishing while living in The Allegheny National Forest of Pennsylvania. Trout Fishing In America was written when the beat generation was giving way to hippies and while my little sister was filling Maxwell House coffee cans with Nightcrawlers as a condition of coming along on my adventures.

We started out fishing the stream Mom could see from the backyard but within a couple years we hiked the surrounding forest, found more streams to fish, and discovered Paradiso Pond created by the local beavers. A year later, the game warden built a trout hatchery next to Paradiso from which we lifted fish to stock our pond after feeding them against the posted rules. At some point, a Rod And Gun Club assumed responsibility for the hatchery and now feeding the fish is encouraged. Paradiso Pond is gone now. The beavers moved downstream each time floods damaged their homes. Today, it is several miles away according to a local fisherman we found cleaning-up in the cold water of Rock Run.

Trout fishing in Pennsylvania is Dante’s 9th Circle if you do it wrong. For one thing, there’s no casting. You can’t cast in The Forest. After losing countless lures and worms snagged by trees and brush I had the great fortune one day to find my father’s telescoping metal fly rod in the closet under the basement stairs. With that single modern marvel you could walk unencumbered through miles of forest, swipe your way through forty yards of milk weed, crawl quietly up a fern-covered mound overlooking a small swirling pool, sling a worm between overhanging branches below and catch trout if you were very very quiet. In Pennsylvania fishing is hunting and a metal telescoping fly rod is the weapon of choice.

I grew-up fishing with my father’s fly rod, never once using a fly, or learning how to perform the therapeutic ballet of fly-casting that I came to adore in my old age as taught to me by my friend James in Texas. Like James, there are times when I enjoy casting more than catching fish. It is thoroughly contemplative activity and in it’s own way it too is a hunt – a hunt for perfection.

The early 60s was a psychedelic mash-up of beatniks, folk-rock, deuce coups, surfer girls, civil rights, and some of the most interesting trout fishing in the Galaxy. And yes, it haunts me but in a good way. I’ll never forget Dante’s 9th Circle, The Forest, and the adventures. It was magical.