Old Trip

Some years ago Carole and I decided that we wanted to explore some other freshwater springs in North America separate from the ones in Florida. We had read a lot about the springs mainly in Missouri, which included what is considered the highest volume freshwater spring in North America (Big Springs). So, we did our research and reserved our campsites and headed Midwest to visit them.

One huge misconception we had going in was that these would be similar to Florida springs as far as access is concerned. We figured we'd be able to swim in the springs and paddle around in them in our canoe and generally get as up-close with them as we had with the springs in Florida.

Nope.

Mainly, no one is allowed to swim in these huge springs. You are allowed to use kayaks and canoes, but not in the main head springs. Only in spots downstream from the main body of the springs.

This proved to be a huge bummer.

Also, we knew the weather would be hot (it was August), but we'd never really considered how hellishly hot it gets in Missouri. I must have forgotten my Mark Twain stories! We hit a really bad spot of particularly nasty weather with temperatures in the high 90s and humidity levels in similar numbers. There were days that were pretty freaking miserable.

We had chosen to use one National Park campground and to do all of our exploring by road in our truck. This meant a fair amount of driving to hit all of the springs we had on our list. We managed to see them all, which was a plus, but the access to them was nothing like we were accustomed to getting at the springs in Florida.

Another big disappointment was the lack of wildlife. We didn't see anything at all out of the ordinary. Groundhogs. White-tailed deer. Mallard ducks. That sort of thing.

The one critter who did stand out was a baby muskrat we saw at Mammoth Springs. That spring is aptly named and once was used to generate a fair amount of electricity via a turbine that the volume of water ran until relatively recently. That little ball of fluff paid us almost no mind at all and just sat there in the spring eating greens and swimming about in little circles.

So, here's to one baby animal who made the trip a little more memorable.

A cute ball of waterproofed fluff.

He just sat and ate and ignored us.

Mammoth Springs is indeed enormous. In Arkansas, this was the only spring we explored outside of Missouri.

A dam which made the pool which allowed power to be produced.

Carole examines one of the now decommissioned turbines.

Greer Spring. By far the most beautiful of the big springs we visited on that trip.

The run below the spring head. The water was crystal pure. This spot reminded me a lot of the mountain streams here in North Carolina. Down here in this little limestone gorge the temperature was extremely cool and comfortable.

Booked!

Well, we've booked our campsite for our first vacation of the year. We're headed to the panhandle of Florida where we'll be kayaking some waterways we've never seen. I like tackling new territory in the wilds, so this will be an adventure for Carole and me.

We get a huge kick out of hitting wild areas of Florida. Yes, I like the mountains. Give me the mountains most of the time. However, for sheer amount of wildlife, nothing can touch the low country of the southern states. When I go to the mountains, I never know if I'll even see any wildlife. Often I do, but sometimes I don't even see a bird. But when I hit a river or spring or hammock in Florida...it's a wildlife bonanza!

If you're a birder, I can think of no finer location for viewing birds than Florida. If you're looking for megafanua...they have that, too. Every time I go there I will encounter large animals such as alligators, bears, sea turtles, Blue herons, manatees, deer, coyotes, and other such wildlife. The place is just packed cheek by jowl with all manner of wonderful critters.

So, just a few more weeks and off we go. I'm hoping to spy something new and different this time. One thing that I have never photographed in the wild is a bobcat. I know they're in the places I frequent, but they have remained so elusive for me that I've yet to get a photo of one.

One of many campgrounds we've enjoyed in Florida.

Paddling a crystal clear river.

A tiny key deer.

Ibis.

Gopher tortoise. Endangered species, of course.

"Let me climb down this tree, my good man, and fuck up your campsite."

Nice trails to hike!

What?! Another crystal clear river to kayak!

One of my favorite American birds. The Black buzzard.

A school of mullet I swam with in Silver Glen Spring.

A manatee! Probably the biggest animal I've encountered in Florida. I see them often, now that they've enjoyed several decades of protection as an endangered species. I rarely saw them when I was a kid.

The first magnitude springs of Florida. My favorite places in the state!

Jumping off the 20-foot diving platform at Wakulla Springs! I'll be there again in May!

I've Got a Big List

There are so many great parks and wilderness areas to visit, I am always stunned when I run into folk who complain that there's nothing to see or do in their area. For it's a rare place indeed that doesn't have something notable to offer from Mother Nature.

Over the past few years my wife and I have begun compiling a list of the parks and National Forest sites we want to visit when retirement offers us enough leisure time for such exploration. The list actually began to become somewhat ridiculous and so we stopped adding to it, because the USA and Canada have so damned many great spots to visit that trying to make a list of the need-to-see places became unbearably difficult.

So, we decided to just let the Internet do the listing for us, and we'll explore as we see fit when the time comes.

A while back I made a point of bookmarking every state park system on the Internet. Some states have amazing state park systems (California, West Virginia, Florida, etc.). And some states have pathetic state park systems (Georgia, North Carolina, Montana, etc.). I haven't figured out why some states suck at having nice parks and others are masters at it. In some instances it's a case of historical accident (the CCC was quite active in West Virginia and they've had to live with that happy occurrence), and other states work their asses off establishing a wonderful array of parks (such as Florida). And some states that by all accounts for natural beauty should have wonderful state parks instead offer anemic numbers and sad, gray places (my own state of North Carolina is unfortunately among this lot).

Then there are our National Forests. Many of them have eye-popping areas where one can wander and explore and see things most people never will. I can credit the Internet for opening up the world of our National Forest campgrounds and scenic areas and wilderness areas. Without the Internet connecting all of the dots I would likely still be ignorant of many places on my bucket list.

Retirement beckons to me in just a few years. I am champing at the bit to be rid of that particular yoke so that we can hit the road and see what's around the bend. The next mountain. The far lake. The flowing river. The still waters.

The places are out there. Look for them. Enjoy them.

Rhododendron tunnel, Nantahala National Forest.

Southern Nantahala Wilderness Area.

Stone Mountain State Park, North Carolina.

Public library, Helvetia, West Virginia.

Oconee State Park, South Carolina.

Road to Cataloochee, Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Wild turkey flock, Sugarlands Visitor Center.

Campsite, Cataloochee Campground, Great Smoky Mountains.

 

Awards! Oy!

I used to be a member of a professional writers' organization. I won't mention the acronym. It was started on the best of intentions and supported with great enthusiasm by many talented writers trying to promote the genre. I was an early member, first as an associate, and then as a full professional voting member.

Alas, as with all such endeavors, the best of intentions could not keep the organization from falling into the routine set by so many before it. Even when the club began to suffer the recognizable faults of other such groups I stayed loyal. Backbiting. Political intrigues. Theft of treasury. And other such crimes and misdemeanors. Along with a lot of my fellow writers, I held on.

At last, though, I had my fill. And it wasn't for most of the other problems that one would guess that sent me away. What finally made me turn my back on the organization was the awards ceremony that soon seemed to become its single reason for being. 

I hate those things (awards). Truly, I do. Almost every award I could name are just popularity contests that have nothing to do with quality, but everything to do with the most basic of political scumbaggery. Over the years I would get more and more requests for my vote for such-and-such a work by so-and-so an author. Even in the early days when it wasn't that bad it was still tedious. But with the introduction of the Internet it became completely reprehensible and intolerable.

It was one thing to get a letter in the mailbox now and again begging for a vote. But with the spread of electronic mail the madness went out of control. I would get hundreds of emails with attachments asking me to read works and vote for said works. Writers with no skill and no talent and no vision would bombard me with their begging letters.

One guy in particular carpet bombed my email box with such entreaties. I knew his work and it was, to put it mildly, not very good. No fully professional market would buy his material, but there he was, asking one and all to vote for him so that he could win the award and post the trophy on his shelf or desk or wherever.

He'll never win, I figured.

I figured wrong.

He was a gregarious guy with a lot of close friends in the group, and by Jove, they voted for him. He was popular, but not talented. When I read his crowing missives about winning his fucking little trophy I finally decided that I'd had enough.

I quit the organization. For good, I initially figured, but later I made the mistake of joining up one more time. To my regret. Because once my name was on that membership list again, my emailbox was clogged beyond capacity with...begging letters asking me for my fucking vote.

Never again.

Dear Award Winner: Kiss My Happy Ass.

Beat Down

Okay. I admit it. I'm too old for my day-job and my body's breaking down. 11-hour nights of deep sleep barely dent the fatigue before I get up and tackle it again. Something's gonna shatter. My guts or my joints. Who knows?

This situation has wrecked my writing time and my production of fiction. If any job has ever defeated me, it's this one at this time. As I said, I'm just too old to be a laborer at this point. Some people can do it into their 60s and 70s, but I ain't one o' those folk.

About the only thing I've had time for on the writing front is to take notes and jot down ideas. And this is why I still carry a notepad about with me.

Until such time as I can relax, that'll have to fill the creative side.

We have been spending some time planning for our long summer trip to Glacier National Park. We're all going together as a family, as we did to Yellowstone and the Florida Keys. I'm hoping we have as good a time in Glacier as we did in the other two spots.

At one of the geyser basins on Yellowstone Lake.

Carole and Andy along the road in Yellowstone.

I took some good photos of Andy from a distance as he explored the Fire Hole Canyon.

Fraggin' the Louie.

Some years back I first heard the term "fraggin' the louie" or "looey" or "lieuie". It doesn't matter how it's spelled, it's the intent that counts.

What it refers to is execution. Specifically the execution of one's own immediate superior officer in the military. And where it originated, as far as I've been able to gather, is from our military misadventure in Vietnam.

The "fraggin'" part refers to a hand grenade which is, officially, a fragmentation device. That is, it's a shell of metal that fragments into flesh-ripping bits when the explosive core is detonated. A truly sick and hideous tool of murder.

The "louie" is an abbreviation for Lieutenant. Lieutenants are the bottom rung of the officer corps, just above the enlisted men of Sergeant rank and below.

Fraggin' said louie is what happens when the young officer pisses off the enlisted men to such an extent that he marks himself for death at the hands of the enlisted men. I'd read about such things many times, but I got to hear about it first hand from a soldier some years back.

One day a military veteran happened to show me some photographs. One of them was of a thin, young, very dark-skinned man walking about in the brush with no shirt on and sporting a military cap. "Who is this?" I asked him.

"It's me," he told me.

"What?!" The reason for my complete surprise is that the veteran is not only a white guy, but a very pale-skinned white guy. I peered closely at the photo and decided that he wasn't kidding me. I could see his youthful features on the dark man's face.

"In the fire base where I lived the sun would bake you dark in nothing flat," he explained. "You start to look like the locals after a while."

I asked him what it was like being at a forward fire base (so called because they're at the edge of enemy territory and often involved in active firing of weapons in all directions). And somehow the conversation drifted to the above-mentioned phenomenon of "fraggin' the louie".

"Ever happen anywhere you were stationed?" I asked.

And the floodgate opened up which will sometimes happen when you're talking to a military veteran. Often, these guys don't like to talk about the things they did and the things they saw. Yes, there are rare exceptions, but those folk I have found are assholes whose presence I cannot tolerate and who are more often than not, borderline psychopaths. This guy is not in that league and would rarely bring up the action he saw or faced. The only reason any of this conversation took place was that he had brought those photos in to show to another veteran and I happened to be in the right place at the right time.

"Well, I saved a guy from getting assassinated once," he explained. "This lieutenant was new and high on his authority and was placed in charge of the base." He paused. "Now, we had an understanding with the locals--the VC. We stayed inside the borders of the firebase and didn't bother them, and they stayed outside the base and didn't try to kill us. It kept us all from getting killed.

"But along comes this new officer in charge and he was hot to start patrols and find the VC and kill them. We tried to talk him out of it, but he wasn't having any of that shit. So he sent us out and the VC got pissed off and started shelling the base and shooting at us. Some guys got killed.

"One night a corporal called a meeting and we all sat down and it was decided to kill that fucking asshole. Someone would toss a grenade into his hooch while he was sleeping and that would be the end of it. But he was green and I argued that we shouldn't kill him. Not right then. I suggested a warning to see if he'd listen to reason."

"What kind of warning?" I asked.

"Well," he said. "Someone rolled two grenades onto the roof of his hooch. They went off and didn't kill him or even injure him. But it scared the shit out of him in the dead of night."

"What happened?"

"He straightened out. No more patrols. He got the message. We went back to sitting inside the base and smoking reefer and the VC went back to not shooting at us."

Birthday. Casita. Hemlock plague?!

Carole and I rode out to her mom's today to celebrate her birthday. Carole's actual birthday was a couple days back, but both of us were so sick with some kind of bug that we couldn't celebrate it. So, today we headed out. Her mom treated us to dinner out and then we went to the house for cake. Later, we messed about with the Casita trailer. Carole vacuumed and cleaned and restocked some of the shelves. I got out the generator to tune it up and get it running. Today, it ran great! That was a relief. It has not given us any trouble after almost ten years!

The last thing I did was go check on the backyard hemlock trees. I examine them every time I'm there and up until now they have been free of the Hemlock wooly adelgid plague that is driving the species to extinction. But today...looks like one of the trees is stricken! Just a few days ago there was no sign at all. And today several of the branches had what looks like adelgid infestation.

However, there was something about the hemlock wool that did not look right. I took some of the wool off the tree and examined it. A kind of brown residue was left on my fingers which was something I'd never witnessed when examining adelgid wool in the past. Is it something else? If it is hwa, then I will of course treat both trees against it with one of the nicotinoid insecticides that are proven to kill hwa.

The cake.

The birthday girl!

Getting stuff ready in the Casita. First trip is still some weeks away.

I powered up the Honda generator and plugged in the trailer.

Has Hemlock wooly adelgid finally located our hemlock trees?!

Who Was Yer Favorite?

I was thinking of all of the various movie adaptation of Stevenson's THE STRANGE CASE OF DOCTOR JEKYLL AND MISTER HYDE that have been filmed over the decades. I have seen quite a lot of them. Not all, but several.

Each film has dealt in a different way with the character of Mr. Hyde. Everything from slightly crazed, drug-addled versions of the "good" alter-ego of the doctor  (such as portrayed by John Malkovich), to simian creature (as played by Frederic March), to super-villain/Hulk-like monstrosity (as done by special effects men and the actor Jason Flemyng).

So, then...who is yer favorite Mr. Hyde?

Probably my favorite screen version of Mr. Hyde. John Barrymore.

Bernie Casey as Mr. White (Hyde).

One of the worst versions ever. That's Boris Karloff under that stupid ape-like makeup. (Or maybe a stuntman pretending to be Karloff.) What a waste of a great and expressive face.

Christopher Lee does his version.

I've always thought that Jason Flemyng wasn't  so much Mr. Hyde as the Incredible Hulk. If only the people who made the Hulk movies had handled the character in this manner. What a missed opportunity.

John Malkovich as Hyde from the lousy film MARY REILLY.

I'm sorry, but March's version of Hyde always makes me laugh. Can you say "hambone"?

Jack Palance as Hyde from the Dan Curtis production.

A more nuanced version of Hyde by Spencer Tracy.

Unexpectedly Goodd

Over a year ago I watched the new film interpretation of the British comic book JUDGE DREDD. The first attempt to make it to the screen was a truly awful movie starring Sylvester Stallone, an actor completely unsuited to portraying the character.

For those of you unfamiliar with the comic book, DREDD is set in a particularly dark dystopia. Its world is the 22nd Century and humanity has been reduced to living exclusively in densely packed urban centers, as the rest of the planet has been largely ruined. To expedite control of the masses, society has empowered "Judges" in place of police officers and courts. These men can arrest, charge, sentence, and punish anyone they encounter who break laws. This generally includes spontaneous execution, as the death penalty has been applied for a dizzying array of offenses.

The character and series was created by writer John Wagner and artist Carlos Ezquerra. Strangely, it appeals to both those on the left who fear right wing authoritarianism, and those on the right who wish to embrace such ideas. It's a literary and commercial stroke of genius on the part of the creators.

The first JUDGE DREDD movie is pretty much a wreck of a film. Everything about it is wrong and it failed spectacularly both critically and financially. Deservedly so. I won't speak of it in detail any more.

But in 2012 a new movie was produced and released: DREDD. I'm surprised it was able to get to the screen because the first film had been such a failure. But the ideas and the thrust of the stories are so well executed that it found enough backers to ensure production.

The movie stars Karl Urban who does a really great job of portraying the cold and impersonal Judge Dredd. He goes about his job implacably and is among the best at what he does, exhibiting no pity for those who break the law, and having little patience with the citizens he encounters. This coldness and suspicion even bleeds over to his opinions toward trainee, Judge Anderson, played by Olivia Thirlby.

The plot features Dredd arriving at one of the crime-infested superstructures in the city to dispense justice. But the mission is a set-up to assassinate him and cement the power and influence of drug kingpin Ma-Ma played with delicious monstrosity by Lena Heady . Heady's beauty manages to peek in through the cracks in her performance as a physically rotten but brilliant creep of a criminal.

DREDD delivers a fine and thoughtful script coupled with excellent photography and special effects and permeated with some of the best action sequences I've witnessed in a modern film. It's also one of the best science fiction movies I've seen in quite a long time, rivaling things like DISTRICT 9 in scope and execution.

Unfortunately, the movie had a budget of around $50million and only managed to make $36million in revenues. This is particularly sad since I would have loved to have seen director Pete Travis, writer Alex Garland, and Urban & Thirlby return with a sequel. Alas, it's not likely to happen, which is rather a sad judgment on the film-going public.

Two New Pickups for the Comic Collection

I nabbed two more comics for the collection today. I rarely pass up a chance to get a rare Jack Kirby comic, and I did so with HEADLINES #33. This was one of the crime titles that he did for Harvey Comics in the 1950s when he and Joe Simon were producing book with their studio. There's a really nice amount of Jack Kirby artwork in this one. There is part of a page missing from one of the Kirby stories, but I doubt I'll see this book again any time soon.

HEADLINE COMICS #33 with a great Jack Kirby cover!

The other book I picked up is an old Atlas title. I'm not sure, but the cover looks to have been illustrated by John Severin, but I could be wrong. The first story was illustrated (and probably written) by George Tuska. There are also two stories that look like Dick Ayers did them.

I wasn't really looking to pick up another Atlas comic for my collection, but it was the right price for a really decent condition copy of OUTLAW FIGHTERS #1. I'll take it.

OUTLAW FIGHTERS #1. (Is that a John Severin cover?)

Old Testament Style

I love some of the Old Testament stuff. By that, I mean to say that I enjoy the way people who adhere to that way of thinking consider the world of their God.

To further clarify: they think of God not as a thing or an idea or a nebulous icon about which morality and dogma is applied, but as an actual person. Yes, a person. They see God as an individual. They speak to Him. They cry out to Him. What I like most about these folk is that they sometimes get mad at God. This harkens back to that stuff you read about in the old book--the rending of garments; the pulling of hair; the gnashing of teeth. If God was messing with them, then they felt obligated to let Him know that they were pissed off about it.

Nothing has illustrated this more for me in modern times than the actions and speech of the character E.F. in the Robert Duvall film, THE APOSTLE. This is a man who, while loving his God and professing the teachings of that God, still feels bound to express his feelings to Him when he feels angry about the direction the world has taken against E.F..

"I have always called you Jesus, and you have always called me Sonny."

I like this kind of film and can understand this type of religious fervor. And it doesn't matter which religion. There is that personality of the god and his relationship with his adherents. It's powerful stuff for these folk, and I understand it.

The Apostle E.F.

Another film (and novel) that displays this fervor in a different way is THE CHOSEN, an excellent movie made in 1981. This one features a friendship that forms between two young Jews, one an orthodox Jew who is a member of the more secular world, and the other a brilliant Hasidic Jew steeped in the deepest traditions of the faith.

I look for these kinds of books and films from time to time. It keeps me from feeling too smug about those who look upon the world in a different way than I do.

I listened to an interview with Rod Steiger concerning this scene. And he said that his intent here was to portray the Rebbe doing his best to seduce G-d.

The best performance I've ever seen from Robby Benson.

You can watch the entire film THE CHOSEN on Hulu. I highly recommend it.
 

Daryl Dixon is Really...

In the past, I've written some brief essays on Jesus figures in popular media. I was thinking of this recently in relation to the popular cable TV series THE WALKING DEAD.

I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but I have watched that series since its premiere. I'm pretty sure that I've seen every episode, even though it's often a truly awful TV show in just about every way. And so, why do I watch it? Well...because zombies! It's not that I like the idea of zombies in popular media--to the contrary. I have grown to actually hate zombie fiction and zombie films and zombie comics and zombie games and zombie toys, etc. I find the whole scene truly disgusting.

So, then, why would I continue to watch THE WALKING DEAD?

I have to say that I watch it partly out of morbid curiosity. Just the fact that it exists fascinates me, and the fact that it prospers is just bizarre. There are other cable TV horror shows, and I don't watch those. I sometimes look at the others, but I'm not dedicated to them, at all.

So, just to get all of that out of the way, I can't really say why I watch THE WALKING DEAD, but I do keep up with it. Let's just leave it at morbid curiosity toward what I hope is a brief cultural phenomenon and let it go.

The point I wanted to get back to is that I noticed some Jesus imagery when it comes to the supporting character of Daryl Dixon as played by Norman Reedus. And why would I even notice something like this? Perhaps because the Jesus story is so often used in modern films and fiction. Writers keep finding new ways to tell the story. Over and over and over. As I said, I've briefly covered some of these reinterpretations in the past, so it is something I think about when I begin to see it.

What's different about Daryl Dixon as Jesus is that it is something that has slowly emerged and I wonder if the writers have held this idea all along, or if it's something that they decided to do late in the game. I'd like to ask them. I'd also like to ask the show-runners if it's even true, or if I'm reading tea leaves that aren't there.

Briefly, I've begun to see the character of Daryl as a Jesus figure. There have been all sorts of little clues. His rough life as an outcast. The way he feels compassion when there is no real reason for it. His capacity for kindness when he should feel something else entirely.

Carry that cross.

Then there are the physical clues left behind by the creators of the show. Daryl's ever-present crossbow that he carries like a burden. The wound he suffered in his side. His near-death by a stream where he was seemingly saved by the ghost of his brother. If that wasn't a stand-in for a baptism by a cruel, Old Testament philosopher and Daryl's emergence as a man with a new way of explaining the world, then I've not seen it at all. And then, after the baptism/rib wound, he is all but shot in the head and survives what should have been death.

Badass John the Baptist.

 
For the fans of Daryl (and they appear to be legion), they shouldn't worry. I don't think he'll be killed the way so many other characters on the show have met their ends. But he will go. I don't think things will end well for him. But when he does finally croak...I think it'll be as some sort of ultimate sacrifice.

"This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”

Stay tuned...

(Images copyright by AMCTV.)