Oblivion Walking
It is a cool late spring day, and windchill temperatures are in the 40s. We have to layer up on our hike up Garfield Peak overlooking Giiwas or Crater Lake. This peak is really part of Tum-sum-ne, “the mountain without its top,” in the language of the native Klamath and Modoc peoples. Many call it Mazama. The hike is steep, gaining 1000 feet in elevation over 1.7 miles. Tarn and I are now over 73 years old, and the trek gets harder every year.
The trail passes through numerous microclimates with associated flora. This is early season, but the snow is mostly gone sooner than usual, and the plants are awakening to take advantage of the space and warmth. Slopes draped in mahala mat (Ceanothus prostratus), with their holly-like leaves and lavender blossoms, surprise us. We’ve not seen this display so early. Western pasque flowers (Anemone occidentalis) dot the rocky terrain in profusion.
A few other hearty souls are making the trek, but none that we meet seem to notice the flowers. They are fixated on summiting the peak. As usual, we inhabit our “informative park ranger” personas and engage folks in light-hearted conversation about the flora and ecology of the area. Although we have no formal training, we’ve been to the park over 70 times in our 50 years together, and a bit of knowledge has rubbed off. Many appreciate the insights about what they are passing by.
One woman is very intent on getting up the hill. I greet her and try to spark conversation. But she is plugged into her ear pods and barely acknowledges my presence. I am always gobsmacked (I love that word) when I see hikers’ oblivion; people trekking with no appreciation of the land upon which they walk. Of course, I then remember when I am thinking obsessively about something and fail to see what is in front of me. Ear pods are just another layer of distraction.
I think this is why mindfulness practice is even more important these days. Digital distractions abound, and it takes intention to unplug and pay attention to where we are. I find wildflower identification to be very meditative and lets the land speak to me in innumerable dialects of natural wisdom. The rocks also talk, but through a more muted tones. I bring to mind the indigenous peoples who came, and still come here to receive visions, clarity, and to converse with the mountain spirits. It takes an undistracted mind to have a dialog with these natural energies.