An Age Undreamed of....

 

     "Know, O Prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars..."
-Robert E. Howard

    About 5 years or so ago, I found myself far away from the home that I had known since my birth. I was lost, no friends, no job, living in my parents house in the desert. I did not like the person that I was and needed a change. One night, I was browsing through movie titles at the local rental place and came across the 1982 version of Conan the Barbarian. From my delving into pulp era literature I knew that the creator of Conan had been dear friends with my favorite author H. P. Lovecraft. I was not huge into fantasy but I picked it up, popped it in the DVD player and then my life had changed. A lot of people will laugh and wonder how a shirtless Arnold Schwarzenegger from the 80's change how I viewed the world, and isn't this a blog about exploration? I am getting to that, so hold your horses.
     Many people write off this film as testosterone driven fantasy, however they are sorely mistaken. This movie tells the story of how a boy becomes a man, how a man becomes a hero, and how, in the end pain and failure are learning tools. The film starts with a quote from Nietzsche, "That which does not kill us makes us stronger...". This is the film's major theme. Director John Milius (who also made Jeremiah Johnson),  uses the character and back drop of Robert E. Howard's pulp era fantasy to tell a Nietschean parable about becoming the best man you can be. It was simply me being in the right frame of mind, and willing to accept the lesson that the story was trying to tell. Along with the brilliant cast and masterwork score by Basil Poledouris, the movie is a cinematic masterpiece that many write off as cheesy and pure fluff without ever taking the time to think about what is on the screen.
    The movie drove me to seek adventure and meaning in the world, to push my limits and discover who I am. After all, isn't that one of the main reasons we explore our universe? To discover who we are, where we came from and what we are meant to be, as a species as well as an individual. This film also led me to the actual writings of Robert E. Howard, another facet in how a barbarian from a lost age changed my life for the better. I bought the Del Rey edition of "The Conquering Sword of Conan" shortly after I had watched the film. For any who have both seen the movie and read the short stories, you already know the difference. For those of you who haven't, the 1982 Conan is the barbarian in name only. Robert E. Howard wrote of a man of the wilds, head strong, intelligent, intellectual and daring. He roved seas, traversed mountains and jungles, was a thief, a pirate, a general and the best king to have ever taken the Aquilonian throne.
     These were stories of adventure, something I so desperately needed in my life. Conan saw places and things that those of the civilized world only dreamed of. That is what I yearned to do. This is how my love for adventure and exploration was born. It is kind of funny how some things can be so meaningful to some. There are many lessons to take from both the movie and the stories and I highly suggest to any who love adventure to seek these out and find out for yourself the greatness of Robert E. Howard and Conan. Perhaps they will inspire you to seek out the dark corners of the Earth and
unseen places like it has myself.

http://www.amazon.com/Coming-Conan-Cimmerian-Original-Adventures/dp/0345461517
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082198/?ref_=sr_3
www.conan.com

The Longest Hajj: Explorer of the Month

     It is thankfully the last day of February and Spring is right around the corner. It has also been a full 28 days and I have yet to post an Explorer of the Month. Never fear.

 Ibn Battuta, brought to you by Ibn Battua Mall in Dubai.

    I love the so called "New World". I love mountain men, and cowboys and treasure hunters and Conquistadors and natives and all of that New Worldy stuff. However, there is much more to the world than that and I decided I should talk about that as well. Not that I don't love it as well, it just isn't my specialty. So that brings me to the Explorer for this month. He is a man that traveled many thousands of miles during his life time and saw more people, places and things in his journeys than many explorers of European descent. Yet he still remains obscure to many. His name was Abu Abdullah Muhammad Ibn Abdullah Al Lawati Al Tanji Ibn Battuta. Doesn't ring a bell? Perhaps you know him simply as Ibn Battuta.
    Ibn Battuta was born into a family of Islamic scholars in Tangier, Morocco (making him a Tangerine!) on the 25th of February of 1304. At the age of 21, Ibn dropped everything and left his home, family and friends behind in order to complete his Hajj, or pilgrimage to Mecca. This feet would take him sixteen months to complete but he would not return to his home for 24 more years. His travels would take him across nearly every corner of of the Old World.

Believe it or not, this map is courtesy of "Fuck Yeah Cartography!", Google it.

     As you can see from the map, this guy went a lot of places. He saw parts of Africa, Europe, Arabia, India, Indonesia and china. It no wonder that his trip took as long as it did. Ibn Battuta made his way to Mecca by way of Syria, he would stop in Medina to visit the tomb of Muhammad. On his way he visited many holy sites including Jerusalem and Bethlehem as well as the great port city of Alexandria. Upon reaching his destination he decided he would keep on walking in order to see the extent of the Muslim Empire. All along the road he wrote about everything he saw and compiled an autobiographical text about his journey, known today as the Rhila. His next destination was a Mongol Khanate called Ilkhanate that was centered in Persia. This is merely the beginning of his epic journey to see the world, which is the one thing he desired the most. After ending his wanderings he relayed all of his quest to a scholar named Ibn Juzzay, to whom he said "I have indeed - praise be to God - attained my desire in this world, which was to travel through the Earth, and I have attained this honour, which no ordinary person has attained." I could go on and on about what he did and saw and where Ibn Battuta went. However, I merely would like to wet your appetite for knowledge and hopefully you will take it upon yourself to learn more about this great man. I here by deem Ibn Battuta as the Explorer of the month for February 2013, 708 years and three days after his birthday. I do so on the grounds that he was a man who wanted only to see the world and to learn from what he found. I can think of no better definition of an explorer than that.

There are a ton of books about Ibn Battuta and his travels; here is a link to Amazon.com that will provide a good jumping off point for those interested.

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_5?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=ibn+battuta&sprefix=Ibn+B%2Cstripbooks%2C142&rh=n%3A283155%2Ck%3Aibn+battuta

Books and Maps

     It has been a very busy Christmas vacation and I haven't had a lot of time to write a new complete blog but I promise there should be one up in the next couple days. In the meantime I want to leave you with something to think about. My wife, roommate and I have just returned from seeing The Hobbit: an Unexpected Journey (a fantastic movie by the way) and there was something that Gandalf said that I found very poignant.

"The world is not found in your books and maps."

Just something to keep in mind.

                                        -LDW

A Walk Beneath the Long Dead Sea: or "My Trip to the Badlands of South Dakota" Part 3

     Following the series of stone monuments that had been left for travelers like me, I made my way through the tall emerald grass accented with the brilliant whites, yellows and purples of the native wild flowers. The trail edged along a eight foot or so drop off that acted as a kind of barrier between the viewer and a gallery of strange sculptures carved from the ancient stone. There were windows and doors and twisting pillars and a whole menagerie of petrified creations. It is funny how time changes things, changes all things, even those that seem the most solid, the most resistant. These monuments were once grand and imposing, part of another much more mammoth work of creation. Now they are little more than the size of us. Wind, water, and the flow of time had already sealed their fate long before the sea tides ever peeled away and revealed what it hid to the world. As the layers chip, crack and fall the remnants of ages undreamed reveal that all things are born, crumble and are born anew.

In this age of concrete, steel and computer chips, it is easy to see that humans are dominate in this world. We have managed to conquer nearly every environment, defy gravity, travel continents in hours. It is easy to think that we are unstoppable, invincible, that the tides of fate do not apply for we are the chosen ones, masters and creators of our own destiny. For countless eons this planet has harbored lifeforms great and small, they engulfed the Earth with enumerable species of all kinds. And yet here we, a product of the continuing cycles of life. It is foolish to think that humanity will last forever, despite the towers, the technology, we too will pass with time and in the wake of our going, it will be the turn of another.
     As I continued down the trail I came across something that I had not really expected to find. Atop a small island raised above the ground was a small patch of Prickly Pear cactus. Out west this type of cacti and its brethren are everywhere, in the Great Plains, not so much. Cacti are native to the central corridor of the United States and can be found in South Dakota, Nebraska, and Kansas. When thinking of the plains many envision endless prairies and fields of corn, perhaps some cattle ranches thrown in the mix. There is actually a great number of smaller ecosystems interspersed, such as the Badlands and the Sand Hills of Nebraska. Some of these areas have the kinds of stuff Cacti love to live in. My grandfather actually grows one in a garden and it manages to live throughout the often harsh Nebraska winters. I have many less than fond memories of pulling spines from my calves and forearms after trudging through the desert on survey. When in the desert it was normal, perhaps a tad mundane to see this plant, as common as grass in Nebraska. Here it was somewhat of a gift. An unexpected reminder that within a world of lines and grids and barbed wire fences there are some things that can transcend the arbitrary boundaries that we assign to the world we live in. I recently listened to a piece on NPR that spoke of a a journey to the sea floor in Antarctica. This particular voyage was searching for a an elusive three-eyed tube worm that colonizes around volcanic vents on the ocean floor. Instead of these worms, they found fields and fields of yellow "fluff". This fluff turns out to be one of the oldest organisms on the planet. The piece ended with a very poignant statement, that nature does not care what we expect to find, it will be where it is whether we want it to be or not.

     After pulling myself back up to the trail I continued to walk in peace. According to the map I would soon come to a cross roads that would lead to a parking lot in one direction and a path back towards where I came from in the other. I had not seen any people thus far and enjoyed the solitude although there were times it was somewhat eerie. In my everyday life it is very difficult to come across loneliness and silence. It is true that while in nature I had still not found neither loneliness or silence but I had found an escape. Here there were no cars, no television, no computers, even my phone was off (I always carry it in case of an emergency). Being without these things are nearly heresy in modern times. There was still the wind, the birds, and insects all around me but I would gladly take them over sirens, traffic and commercials. Regardless, I knew it would not be long till someone ventured across my path and lo and behold, I had found them. At the cross roads were an older couple, probably late fifties or early sixties, the wife peering through a pair of binoculars and the husband scanning a wrinkled brochure.
     I walked up to them, looking what I would deem imposing with my large pack, knife strapped to waist and black bandanna wrapped around my head. This couple saw me and waved vigorously and I returned the wave with a smile. We greeted each other with handshakes and smiles although our names were never shared. This couple was lively and friendly, on a road trip across the U.S. vacationing from Canada. They were searching for the Big Horn Sheep that were supposedly roaming this area and asked if I had seen any. Unfortunately I had not, they seemed somewhat disappointed but still undaunted. They inquired as to how far I'd walked and we shared a bit of conversation about the great outdoors. I noticed the portly man red and sweaty and they were both lacking in water. Anyone who knows the first thing about hiking knows you need water, dehydration is a very serious thing. Being an Eagle Scout I am always prepared and had ample amounts of water bottles in my pack and they were grateful to have some. After a bit more chatter we parted ways and I wished them a safe and enjoyable trip. Before I left they thanked me for both the water and for being interested and caring about the outdoors. They said that far too many people my age just aren't interested. I thanked them and left with a feeling of pride. I am glad I had met these strangers and that our brief intersection had meant something to all of us.
     The last leg of this section took me to the edge of  the plateau where I could look out into the bulk of the Badlands. It was a barren, wasted land. Rocky spines and crags lifted above deep, shear gorges where little grew. At the bottom of these canyons were pools of muddy, brackish water. It was beautiful and terrifying as I looked out over the blasted heath and stared down into the crevasse below. Far off in the distance was a sea of green, a safe haven from this little patch of hell. This had been a rewarding venture for me, a chance to walk through time, to imagine the ages that came before, to see a still wild place nestled in the farmlands of Middle America, to meet people that I have never met and to share something with them. There was more that I saw and experienced in this almost alien terrain, but if I told you everything there would be nothing left for you to experience if you have the chance to go and see it for yourself. In nature some are driven to see God, others peace and the sublime, for others like me it is beauty and realization of place.

 
 Thanks you for following me on this journey, I hope you enjoyed it and continue to read.

-Logan

A Walk Beneath the Long Dead Sea: or "My Trip to the Badlands of South Dakota" Part 2

     I pulled my sunglasses from my face, lifted my hat from my head, and wiped away the sweat already beginning to bead just beneath my hairline. The dark clouds that had blotted out the sun had now ventured forth to lands unknown and the sun shown full bore in the hazy blue sky. The air was dry and warm but a cool breeze found its way to my skin intermittently. I looked on as the the gentle breath sent the green grass waving like an emerald ocean. A trail of almost non existent footprints led into the open prairie where they would soon disappear and the trail would be up to me to decipher. Narrow lanes of barren, dusty earth snaked their way through the field, looking like a maze of trails that led to nowhere and everywhere all at ounce. Not so far off in the distance was a small orange marker, just like the ones that led me up the cliff face, I put one foot forward and off I went. I wished greatly to be able to explore the areas off the trails, but out of respect for the wildlife and their home I opted to stay relatively close to the mapped path. In a place like this, be it State Park, National Park, game reserve or whatever, it is important to not disturb what little patch of ground we have designated as wilderness. Haven't we as humans taken enough from what was already here?
     I walked slowly through prairie imagining the bygone years. Once this was home to number of great beasts; rhinoceros, North Amercan camels, a variety of horses that would later migrate to Europe and Asia before being sealed off from this continent, only for their descendants to find their way back here aboard great Spanish galleons. Giant land tortoises once munched on reeds growing alongside muddy watering holes. Tall, spindle legged birds would watch carefully and quietly, the diminutive deer ever wary of the the scimitar-cats stalking through the tall grass. Just below their feet lay dormant the fossils of a once teaming sea. Time marches on and in another epoch, man has found its way here. Now great Mammoths are hunted by roving bands of nomads, travelers from Asia far from their homeland. And farther on still, their memory erased, no sign left except chipped stone spear points and scenes of a fresh kill. New waves of people immigrate to this land, the Lakota, the Dakota peoples, all travelers journeying through space and time only to once again be displaced as settlers from Europe claim America as their home.
     As I walked I looked carefully at all the earth formations and  along the ground, part habit from my days in Archaeology field school, part desire to find some sort of fossil, some tangible proof that there was once something else here, that there is more to the story than the cover. I walked between two small bluffs with barren sides and hats of bright green grass, the layers of sediment were stacked high like a tower of crepes on a breakfast plate. My map warned of two animals that I might encounter: the American Bison, and the Mountain Lion. I had seen both before, albeit behind fence and plexiglass. I knew the size a Bison could achieve and that that can be ornery, but I relished the idea of seeing some of the last wild Bison on the continent. What really gave me a case of the chills was the idea that a Cougar could be watching me, just like the saber toothed cats of old.

     In Arizona there have been a number of fatal lion attacks in the mountains, and I had read heavily about how to change your status as prey if need be. First off, mountain lions mark their territory heavily and if one is in the area you should recognize it by its pungent urine odor. If you should happen to see one, the idea is to make yourself look as big and loud as possible. Wave you coat or shirt in the air, hold your backpack high above your head, yell and jump around. What do predators generally prey upon? Deer, young cows, gazelle in Africa, all animals that are quiet and skittish, much like bears, they are not looking for a fight, they want an easy meal. Note that these methods are not guaranteed but have been shown to improve your likelihood, if the need should ever arise.

      The grass gave way to a scene that I found very interesting, here on a barren patch of ground lay scatter hundreds of small roundish rocks. To me it looked very much like they had been washed ashore on a beach. Much to my amusement, some travelers coming through this place long before me had written messages with the stones. One greeted me, one told me I was on the right track, another was just simply a smiling face. The messages weren't big, and for that I was grateful, it could have been relatively easy to eliminate this sight by moving the rocks around. It was also nice to see there was nothing obscene written in tiny rock messages. Don't get me wrong, I am by no means a prude, but I find it infinitely distasteful when someone simply has to scrawl vulgar words or whatever in places that are public. I like to think of it as preserving the innocence of a child just a little a bit longer.
     Once again, I found myself off the map, and wandering only where I thought the trail was leading. I stood atop a small mound and peered through my binoculars partly admiring the scenery, partly wondering where the hell I was, when something caught my eye. A small pile of rocks, deliberate, placed conveniently where someone looking would be able to find it. Then I saw more. The little stone cairns were left to help those lost to find their way...

    
     I was going to attempt to write more, but I felt like I might be getting long winded, plus I love cliff hangers. Instead I am going to opt to put up a few pictures of what I have seen on my trip thus far. Hopefully you will keep coming back for more, there is an end to this trip, I promise!

The Badlands Plateau

Above the trail

Thousands of pebble strewn on the shore

The Mourning Giant

This is only a fraction of the Turkeys I saw

As requested by a reader, here are two pictures of the Prairie Dogs

Peeking up to say hello

The Jagged Horizon

The Search Begins

     We are deep in the midst of an age of vast technologies. Men and women all across the world can be connected to seemingly any information that they could want with a mere press of a button. In seconds as an interactive map of the world can be brought up and nearly any place on the globe can be pinpointed, brought to within spitting distance and rendered in 3D for your viewing pleasure. It seems as though there is nothing left to be found that hasn't already be mapped, charted and placed on a grid. This easy access to a constant flow of information can be deceiving. It can make the world seem small. I am looking out my window right now and see houses and yards with doors and fences. I by no means live in the most populated of urban jungles, but I feel trapped. As I said before, the world can appear small; it is in fact OUR world that is small. I feel I must make a distinction between the world that we, as members of a technologically advanced western society, live in, and the world that remains free and wild.
    When I was younger I was very much a product of the technological age, I loved television, computers, movies and video games. I saw very little reason for me to venture into the realm outside. My father, an avid lover of all things western, would show me classic movies about man's struggle to tame the savage land. There was a beauty existing in the rugged mountains and arid desserts that truly escaped me. I once saw a film by my all time favorite director, John Milius, called "Jeremiah Johnson". It is the story of a man. That is all. No villian, no main set pieces, no sub plots; just a man and his life and how he chooses to live it. I am sure you can see how, as a child, I would find this boring as hell. More on that later. I joined the Cub Scouts in first grade, there was camping and hiking and all of that scouting jazz and, looking back, I feel this was my first real experience with that other world. Albeit I was on the controlled, self contained fringes of where our world meets the other. However, the fact of the matter was that I still didn't appreciate what was out there. In a Rocky-esque montage we can see my life change through a failed Criminal Justice 101 class, a bad break up, a move across the country and a couple of classes in field archaeology. Things were about to change.
     During a summer interlude I made a decision that would change the rest of the course of my life. I picked up a book. I had always been an avid reader although not a very fast one, but this particular book was somewhat out of my realm. My usual genres stayed firmly in horror, fantasy and sci-fi. This was a western. Well, sort of. My father, who I owe much to, sealed my fate long ago when he named me after a character in a Louis L'amour novel. That summer I vowed to start reading the Sackett series so I could discover the man of my namesake. The first novel "Sackett's Land", is not even a western at all, but a historical adventure about a Welshman that leaves England to head to the New World, all funded by a sack of Roman coins he found in a dyke by accident. There it was, treasure, the ultimate goal, the one thing that would pull me out of my cage. Don't worry, this is all leading somewhere.
     I was now living in Arizona, a land filled with tales of outlaw loot and lost Spanish gold, I was going to find some. This is what led me to the outdoors, the promise of adventure and fortune. Well, I haven't found that gold yet, but I have learned what has probably been the most valuable lesson of my lifetime. There is more. More than pink houses with white picket fences, more that business degrees and part-time jobs, more than action movies and video games. There was something out there to see. I stood alone on a mountain top, much like the unnamed character in Bob Seger's "Roll Me Away". I was triumphant but also vastly unsatisfied. Now that I had found the gateway to this other world, I needed to see more of it. I had once turned to Jeremiah Johnson (told you I would get back to it), for its sense of loneliness that comforted me during that terrible break up, now I finally understood what Robert Redford and John Milius had wanted me to know. There was freedom away from the world we created, and now that is what I felt. Freedom.
     Now I sit at a shoddy desk in an unkempt room staring out at the Sparrows in my neighbor's tree and procrastinating on the studying for finals I should be doing. I am still deeply embroiled in the world that society has created, but now I know that there is a difference between here and there. I long for a time when I can once again make my way through groves of ancient oaks, climb atop the red rocks of the Santa Catalinas, swim through the crystalline ocean, and maybe even find some treasure. This is the story of my adventures and how I see the world. I encourage all to go and find out for themselves. But if all you can manage to do is read what I write and look at some pretty pictures I feel as though I have done my part in showing you that there is more to the world than what Google Earth can show us.

- Logan


Coming soon: "A Walk Beneath the Long Dead Sea, or My trip to the Badlands of South Dakota