The Land of Rebirth

August 7-12/2023

Day One

There is a deep grumbling above me…

”Why are you here little one?”

I look around but see no one. The bike path has narrowed and turned to dirt…

Again the question surrounds me…

I look up to see only old wise ones…

“ Why are you here little one?”

The trees are talking to me…

I stop my ride and decide to explain to them…about meeting Death the last time…

They listen solemnly and then murmur among themselves… a quiet breeze.

To me again…” There is no Death here …only Rebirth”.

I look to the moss covered floor of the forest, what appear to be non living limbs ,to the lush verdant scene …and see only Life…

The soft ground cover rustles in the gentle wind.

I look up to the Lords above and ask what these smaller ones are saying…

“ They are giggling wondering why you are here…”

“ I just explained it to you… again to them?”

The giants rumble a deep moan that can only be their laugh…

“ Why Here ? No one comes Here!”

And then I realize I am lost somewhere deep in the woods…

“ Fear not little one we will show you the way out…”

Ahead a tunnel of light… it feels like a Birth Canal…

“ Through there you will find Life… not Death…”

And so I go. Eventually I find the other riders in a different part of the deep forest camped for the first night.

As I fade out I see above me gentle Guardians swaying in the evening breeze.

“ Good night little one” …and Death is no where to be seen.

Day 2

Above the murmuring trees I glimpse the snow tops where live the Gods. From on high snow melts feed the streams which in turn feed the land.

Day 3

A Rebirth must be accompanied by a new Baptism and so come the drenching cold rains…which chill my soul but make the land so green…

Day 4.

Now along the far west coast we turn south towards the ocean. Herds of elk take no concern of passing man…

The smell of salt fills the air and suddenly we are there. Gnarlly trees point us further south.

We spend that night in Amanda Camp…not even a town but instead a K-12 school on the edge of a Native Reservation. We are guests there for the night…a school kitchen, inside gym, bathrooms, showers, and laundry facilities. I wander the halls and look at the photos of students on the walls going back more than 20 years…a third Native Indian, a third Hispanic and a third white Caucasian. Hallway billboards emphasize acceptance of diversity… photos of clubs and activities seem to exhibit success.

Poverty oozes from all the pictures…this peninsula is a western Appalachia, there is little work or wealth here.

I decide to leave all my non perishable food in the home economics classroom as a small gift of thanks.

Day 5.

This is the longest ride 88 miles and 4000 feet of climbing. I get lost twice and log 95 instead…

Day 6

We are now on the southern side of the Olympic Peaks.

As I head towards Bremerton for our ferry ride…I get lost again.

I see a divided highway next to me which I recognize on the map… but…I’m on the wrong side. I turn to see a falling down machine shop , 5O rusty cars and giant of an old man in dirty jeans and a “used to be white” T shirt wearing coke bottle glasses barely hanging on his nose.

I approach him but he doesn’t make a move.

“ I think I’m lost and need help” with map in hand…

“ Show me where you think you are son”

I do.

With a greasy snear “ Well that’s 30 miles from here…”

Only then did I realize I gave him the wrong page being a bit intimidated by his immense size and never washed garb.

“ I think I’m here…”

“ Well you are son… where do you want to go?”

“ Over there on the other side of that divided highway “

“ Well you have three choices…”

Behind me…” go back 4 miles and cross there… “

To my left…

“Go three miles up that mighty steep hill”

Or to my right

With a big tooth missing grin “ Get on those railroad tracks, go over a trellis a third of a mile and then slide down the hill to the other side of the road”.

Much to his surprise I chose the railroad tracks…

20 feet in looking at shiny steel blades I turned back to him…

“ When is the next train?”

He laughed and turned away” in 4 days don’t doddle too long”.

Across the trellis I found said sliding hill only to realize it was a massive blackberry patch with a tiny rarely used path almost straight down.

And so I sat and with bike in hand scooted 50 feet hoping my riding shorts would protect me from the millions thorns.

Much to the surprise of passing cars I popped out of the blackberry brush with bike in hand , pants not torn , wearing a big happy grin…and rode on….

I even made the ferry to Seattle on time…

These 6 days…no better way to put Death behind… the Gentle Trees were right after all, this is the Land of Rebirth.