Category: Life

Learning to Saunter Like a Wolf

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Hiking, Life, Nature, Photography

View from the Crooked Lake Trail, Pinckney Recreation Area.

It’s Wednesday night and I’m off work for the rest of the week, so I poured myself a scotch. Don’t judge. I like the cheap stuff. My dog, Charlie, is fluffing up her bed. I was listening to some music but I turned it off to enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet. Now there’s just the sound of the furnace running and a few mechanical noises coming from the dishwasher. I’ve been thinking a lot about the peaceful nature of winter. Sure there are some signs of life but for the most part everything is dormant. I happen to love the fact that I can sit outside in winter and not be bothered by mosquitos, ticks or biting flies. The only real concern is not freezing..ha! Staying warm in freezing temps doesn’t seem that difficult now. However, it took a long time to learn how to stay warm. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. What I learned was this. There’s no such thing as bad weather; just bad gear and winter is a bad time to make mistakes.

Most animals in the wild are perfectly adapted to surviving in cold weather, but with domesticated humans it takes practice. I admire wolves when I see them (on tv) saunter across a frozen landscape. That is the ultimate goal…to learn how to saunter in winter. To saunter is to walk in a slow, relaxed manner, without hurry or effort. To saunter is to live in the moment. On the other hand when you’re so cold you can think of nothing more than the pain in your extremities from the bitter cold that is also living in the moment. It’s just not as fun. So stay warm folks and saunter on.

Breathing Deep, Sitting Quietly and Contemplating the Precious Stillness

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Environment, Hiking, Life, Nature, rivers

This past weekend the temps dropped to 22 degrees F. Why does 22 degrees in February feel colder than 22 degrees in December? It’s not obviously, but my thoughts about the cold certainly change as winter goes by. Mental toughness begins to fade as thoughts of spring germinate in my mind. Whatever the reason I felt cold sitting on the bank of my favorite creek in town. Maybe it was because I sacrificed a warm sitting spot out of the wind for a spot along the creek where I could hear the soft trickle of water passing beneath the ice. Sometimes you have to sacrifice physical comfort for mental comfort or spiritual comfort. It’s a little bit like spending time with someone who may not have long to live. It’s hard to see them suffer but compassion is stronger than our own discomfort. I know this creek well. It does feel like an elderly friend. I have studied it, waded through it, collected insects for science, and simply enjoyed its company for a long time. Some people simply see it as a beautiful old creek. But, I know its secrets. I know that it doesn’t hold too many insects. I’ll never know why that is for sure but I suspect it’s due to pesticide runoff from city residents and local farmers. Nobody wants to hear that though and I try not to think about it too much. I remember that Edward Abbey once said, “One final paragraph of advice: do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am – a reluctant enthusiast….a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, the lovely, mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much; I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those desk-bound men and women with their hearts in a safe deposit box, and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this; You will outlive the bastards.” So here I am; breathing deep, sitting quietly and contemplating the precious stillness.

Finding Shelter among the Turkeys

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Hiking, Life, Nature, The Heron

Shelter me oh mighty Pine forest. Cover me with your limbs and protect me from the cold winter winds. Why is it that every time I enter a stand of pine trees I feel as if I am home? It reminds me of a story I once read about John Muir. Whenever he left his cabin in Yosemite he would say, “I’m going in”. Like Muir, “in” is where I would rather be. I planned to hike today not realizing that it was Super Bowl Sunday. I didn’t realize it because I haven’t had cable or satellite tv for over five years. I grew up in an athletic family. I played sports and learned many valuable lessons from them. But, as the years passed I felt the tug of another life; one of my ancestors. It felt as though I was passing through a door into another space and time. Call it what you will. Some might say it was an awakening. I don’t know. I just know I feel more connected to the trees and the birds in the sky than anything else in this world.

The photo above was taken at Oak Openings Preserve near Swanton, OH along the Ridge Trail (silver trail). It was a balmy 34 degrees F which made the snow wet and sticky. I hiked with three others and zoned out for most of the 6 miles that we hiked. I noticed the ease of my breath and the sound of my footsteps through the wet snow. As we passed from one Oak savannah to the next I imagined the Native Americans setting fire to the land as they once did. Evidence of recent prescribed burns was everywhere. The birds were quiet except for the occasional drumming of a woodpecker or the friendly chatter from a Chickadee.

When our group arrived back at the parking lot a fat tire posse was about to depart. Their bright jerseys looked out of place in a landscape of stark contrasts of black wet tree bark against pure white snow. I suppose the natural world is not so different with Tom turkeys puffing their chests and fanning their tails to impress the ladies. As for me, I plopped myself into my silver Jeep Renegade with hood stripe and sports rack on the roof and headed out; with my fanned out tail feathers blowing in the wind.

Tiny Victories

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Life, rivers
It was 46 degrees and the few inches of snow beneath my feet was soft and slushy.  The sky was typical; a Midwestern hazy blue.  The winter sun was low on the horizon and shining brightly just above the treetops. The birds seemed to be singing more melodically.  Were they happy about the warmth?  If I were a bird I suspect I would have been singing a happy tune on this beautiful day.  I was happy about breathing in some warm air for a change.  It didn’t burn my lungs; it felt soft.  I took a few deep breaths to soak it in.
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I was hiking to a place along the river where several large Sycamore trees stand.  In the Spring, Yellow-throated Warblers nest within their canopy.  I like to go there to listen for warblers and sit on the gravel bed on the inside bend of the river.  When I arrived at the bend I found one of the Sycamores laying across the river; a victim of natural erosion and an undercut bank. Beside the tree in the snow were three separate tracks made by a rabbit, goose and deer.  The deer had laid down along the river and melted the snow down to the gravel.  I put my pack chair down where the deer had laid.  I considered smoking a cigar.  I patted myself down looking for my lighter and soon realized I had forgotten it at home.  There would be no cigar today.
I work inside a Federal Prison.  I’ve worked there for twenty-two years.  It’s a good job and steady paycheck, but it’s starting to wear on me like the river wears on the bank beneath the old Sycamore trees.  Every year a little bit more sand washes out from beneath my roots.  One thing that has been bothering me recently is having to remove all my gear from my pack before carrying it into work the next day.  The gear I take into the woods is not allowed inside the prison.  Sometimes I forget to put things back in my pack before I head out on my next hike.  Sometimes I find myself sitting alongside a river silently cursing because I forgot to pack something.  It’s a really minor issue I know.  But the river of time is relentless and little things have a way of wearing you down in imperceptible ways.  But, I wasn’t ready to fall across the river.  I went to REI later that night and bought a new pack.  Problem solved.  It’s these tiny victories that I celebrate on a daily basis.

Char-LEE Effect

by Gregorio Perez, posted in Charlie, Life, The Heron

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It has been two years since my divorce was final and about four years since I moved into an old house in a small quiet town.  The solitude doesn’t bother me, nor do the long periods of silence.  I prefer peace and quiet anyway.  But, what does bother me is a life without purpose.  I often feel like I am adrift.  A lot of people tell me they wish they had my life.  It is nice, but freedom without purpose raises more questions than answers them.  I often ask myself, “What’s the point?”.  I’m reminded of Thoreau when I think about wandering.  He went into the woods to seek a simpler life but returned to civilization missing companionship.  In the movie “Cast Away”, Tom Hank’s character befriended a volleyball and named him “Wilson”.  I realize I’m not on a deserted Island, starving or delirious, so I think I can do better than befriending a volleyball.  So, instead of a volleyball, I bought an English Bulldog and named her Charlie.  She pees on the floor and bites on my toes.  She wakes me up at all hours of the night and steals my shoes.  She’s a four-legged menace to society, but she’s also adorable, cuddly, and did I mention adorable.  She’s absolutely what I needed.  I don’t wander as much as I used to.  I’ve slowed down and stay home more.  The decision to devote my life to caring for something other than myself has made me more focused. I even started writing again after a long hiatus.  Finding writing again feels like finding a favorite pen that got lost in the sofa cushions.  It feels good.  It feels right.  That’s the Charlie effect.  Thank you Charlie.