Blue Blazes

Blue Blazes

The trail to Rufus Morgan falls starts in the Nantahala National Forest outside Franklin, North Carolina. This area of North Carolina is a tropical rainforest, so why name it Nantahala? Nantahala means “Land of the noon day sun”. So, why would you name it that if it rains so much? Well, the mountains in this section of the Appalachian mountains are very steep and the sun only reaches the floor in some places when it is directly overhead, as in noon. Hence, Nantahala.

Nantahala is a Cherokee Indian word. I “learned” about the Cherokee Indians in 8^th Grade at Monroney Junior High School in Midwest City, Oklahoma. I never went to “Middle School”. We were in Oklahoma because my dad was stationed at Tinker Air Force Base, flying Boeing 707s for the FAA. I had to take Oklahoma History and that's where I learned about the Five Civilized Tribes, of which the Cherokee was one. We weren't taught that the Cherokees had be forcefully removed from their home in the Appalachian Mountains. Nobody mentioned that Cherokee means, “Those who live in the mountains”. That named doesn't even make sense in Eastern Oklahoma, where they live now: No wonder they called it the “Trail of Tears” when they walked to Oklahoma in the 1830's. Five tribes (Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek, and Seminole) were chosen to be ripped from their good lands in the East, because of my ancestors greed for land. In Oklahoma, the tribes were assimilated into the European-American culture and technologies. In other words, they were profoundly screwed. This point was overlooked in my all white, middle-class Junior High Oklahoma History class.

I did, however, learn a few things in Oklahoma and the most valuable were not learned in the classroom. First, I learned to love the outdoors, which is why I'm hiking the Rufus Morgan trail in the first place. I immersed myself in Boy Scouts and became a Eagle in 1963. I held tightly to Scouting because of the pain I was suffering at home. My father was an alcoholic, and a mean one. He beat my mom when he was drunk, which was after work on Friday until the following Monday morning. He rarely “came out” on the weekends. He just drank, slept, and drank some more. If my mother interfered, he became very ugly, sometimes hitting her. So, to escape all that, I turned to Scouting. My parents made enough money to let me go to Philmont Scout Ranch during the summer after 9^th grade.

Philmont change me. I loved the mountains, the forest, the ruggedness of it all. I decided “this is what I want to do”, although I didn't know what “this” meant. (Now that I think about it, I guess I still don't.) It was a great summer. Backpacking before there were backpacks and all the super light-weight gear. Cooking with firewood, not white gas. Sleeping under a sheet of plastic, not ripstop nylon. Everything was too heavy, making it that much more of a challenge. We didn't know any better.

It was also during this time in Oklahoma that my character traits started to manifest themselves. I stuck with it and made Eagle Scout. But when it came time to buy my musical instrument, I had to make decision: trumpet or cornet. I chose cornet because my band director advised me that there are many cornets in the Midwest City High School orchestra, but only two trumpets. One would have to be extremely good to be selected as a trumpet player. So I gave up. I did know it at the time, but I was afraid of failure, so I gave up. I didn't realize it yet that I was a perfectionist and would not proceed if there was chance of failure. I got that from my alcoholic father. It's genetic. It's one of the seminal traits of alcoholism. And it has stopped me cold more than once. I just didn't know it at the time.

I'm an only child. I don't know if there are universals about only children, but I know for me, a couple of things emerged. One, I was Sargent Major of the Band, which was the title bestowed on the top student leader. I was the Senior Patrol Leader of my Boy Scout troop, which is also the top leadership position. I was emerging as a leader.

In sports, I didn't do team sports. Swimming, wrestling, and track were my sports. I wasn't too good, but I enjoyed participating in them. Since I was in band, I couldn't participate in team sports like football or baseball. I sucked at them anyway. I got to play football, basketball, and baseball when we lived in Fort Worth but that was because they let everyone play in those days. The idea was to play. It was before we as a society became obsessed with winning (at all costs). One of those costs being, mediocre kids like me don't get to play. We missed out on the fun, and that makes an impression, even if it's subconscioius. All that is overcome by events these days by all the cuts to education: sports is a luxury most schools cannot afford. It's too bad. As President George H.W. Bush said, “Sports is good for the soul”. I agree, especially if it's used as a tool for “inclusion”.

I reach the first blaze on the Rufus Morgan trail. It's blue and it's painted on. It's the new Forest Service. Blazes use to be carved into the tree trunk with an axe. They stood out, white, like the white blaze on a horse's head. They are used to mark the trail, to help you stay on course as you proceed or find your way back should you become lost. I'm following the blazes to a water fall on a trail in memory of Rufus Morgan.

I first came across the word "rufus" as a Wildlife Science student at Texas A&M. It means "red" or "reddish" or "red-headed". I saw my first Rufous Hummingbird at the Black Gap Wildlife Management Area in the Transpecos area of Texas near Big Bend National Park. I was there during the summer between my Junior and Senior years to do field work. Wildlife students were required to either work for the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department or do six week of field work with a TAMU wildlife professor. My guy was Arnold, an ornithologist. He knew a lot about birds, but he was a jerk; very little respect or hands-on with the students. He didn't talk to us much. He was arrogant. Not much of a "teacher". His teaching assistant however wasn't that way and he spent a lot of time with us helping us identify birds in the field and "birds in the box". We had lots of preserved bird specimens in a large wooden box and for our "test" we had to memorize the scientific names and the natural history of all the birds in the box (about 100).

That's not the way the John C. Campbell Folk School, Brasstown, North Carolina, would have done it. They use the Danish folkenojskole method which is teaching primarily through discussion and conversation. Reading and writing are not emphasized; most instruction is hands-on. What a way to learn wildlife ecology. Blaze.

During my time at Texas A&M, my personality and character continued to develop and expresses themselves. I started in Biology. I did alright grade-wise, but there was a foreign language requirement. I was totally afraid that I'd fail. I took Latin 1 three times in high school to get the required "year of foreign language". I believed I had no aptitude for language, so I switched from Biology to Wildlife Science: no language requirement. Another major decision based on fear, but I didn't recognize it at the time. I also had a very bad, memorable experience in my "Comparative Cordate Anatomy" class. Dr. Dobson was the professor, and I liked him, but he lied to us at the end of the course. When we asked him what was going to be on the final, he said, "Everything you haven't been tested on already". That meant a lot to me since I had good notes and knew what that meant. But that's not what was on the final: it was everything. So I went from an A to a C. I'll never forget the "draw and label" the shark skull question. (We'd already been tested on that and it's not something that stayed in my long-term memory.) Being lied to by a professor I really respected was a hard lesson. Another blaze on the trail of life.

My character continued to develop along the same lines. I continued to be a leader (Commanding Officer of the White Band) and I became more fearful. I started drinking seriously as a junior and was totally alcoholic by my senior year. I would never have said so. Being an alcoholic was an impossibility for me since my dad was an alcoholic. I didn't want to be like him, so as long as I was not mean and beating my wife (which I didn't have), I wasn't an alcoholic. I just stayed drunk. And failed almost all of my courses. I blamed everyone but myself: professors, the bulls (officers) in the Trigon, or the Corps (taking too much time). I didn't recognize what was happening. My parents kept paying and didn't ask any questions. I was completely selfish and self-centered. I didn't know it. I was very isolated even though I was the commander. I was also full of fear: of not being good enough, of failure. Always thinking about me. I had to do another year to graduate. And then the Air Force didn't take me. Vietnam was winding down and they were cutting back the officer corps. They didn't need me! Blaze.

Back to the Rufous Hummingbird (Selasphorus rufus ). The scientific name means red-headed, light-bearing hummingbird. It's a spectacular animal and once you've seen it, you know how it got it's name. He was one of the birds in the box. And I like it that he spell's his name like Rufus Morgan: Rufus (Latin) vs. Rufous (Anglicized).

Rufus Morgan was an Episcopalian minister for Franklin, North Carolina, who was an early conservationist and preservationist. He cared about his congregations and he cared about the Appalachian Mountains. He modelled his approach to life on St. Francis of Assisi. He tried to live the Prayer of St. Francis:

Oh, Lord our Christ, may we have Thy mind and Thy spirit. Make us instruments of Thy peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Oh, divine Master, grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving, that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.

Which is all pretty weird because St. Francis is a Catholic Saint. And Catholics aren't real big in this part of North Carolina. But if you're going to model your life after a Saint, St. Francis is a good one to pick. He was a little too extreme for me, but his pray does provide some good guidance. It leads to the Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Today, because of much pain, almost to the point of death, I have some understanding this prayer. I cannot change anything but myself. I have no power to change people, places, or things. Even though I've been a leader for most of my life, I cannot change people, places, or things. I can change myself. I don't because of fear. The same old fear that's been with me all these decades: a fear of failure. At least now, I recognize it and know that I can work on what I can change: myself and my attitudes.

My core sin is greed. For me, it's a desire for more knowledge and the belief that if I read just one more book or take one more course, I'll "get it right". That's not true of course and a least I recognize it. I recognize my fear of looking dumb, of looking stupid, of not knowing. And I'm starting to let go of that deadly sin. Blaze.

I'm starting to look at core values, the things that really matter. I believe relationships, a job of service, and family are the important things. Relationships being the hardest for me. I have and always have had a good job. I have a family that loves me. I have a family to love. But relationships for me are hard. I have always lived, "You leave me alone and I'll leave you alone". And that doesn't work. What I am starting to believe, especially with my peers, is:, "Everyone at this table has suffered" and that's a common bond which I can build upon. Blaze.

The directions to the Rufus Morgan waterfall say to return on the same trail after visiting the falls. So, since the trail kept going, we weren't sure if these falls were "the fall" when we saw them. The falls are neat. Falling about 60 feet through heavy vegetation. The water flows to the Wayah River. Wayah means wolf in Cherokee, so it tells you something about the wildlife that use to be in this country. The cabin Catherine and I are staying in is on this river about 5 road miles from here; a crow could fly directly and that'd be about the square root of 13 miles away. We got the directions from the owner of the cabins.

We keep going. The trail continues on and we find a tightly built spide web with a recent catch. But we can't see the spider. We expected him to attack as soon as the prey was in the silk, but it didn't happen. We intend to check again on our return trip. We continue on.

Coyote scat on the trail. (Wayah of today.) Nothing unusual about that; use the trails too. Much easier. But there's a large snail, like a garden snail, which we usually kill, eating the scat! Ecology in action.

We continue on following the blue blazes, looking for "the" waterfall. And we arrive back at the road about 20 meters from our car! It's a loop. Why had the directions told us to return on the same trail we had come up after seeing the waterfall? Is this part of a trail new? We should tell the cabin owner so she can update the directions.

Carl Sandburg

“who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?”

I'm following the blazes laid out for me by God. And although I'm following them, just like on the Rufus Morgan trail, I don't know where I'm going. My guess is, I'm going to return to where I started: a love of nature, mountains, the outdoors. Only during this leg of the journey, I don't have to do it alone.

If someone asks me, "Where in the blue blazes have you been", I know to just smile, because now I know for the first time.

(We never did find out what happened with the spider  on the downhill side of the Rufus Morgan trail.)

“where in the blue blazes have you been?” blaze = fire =hell

patch of white on a horse's head = bark from a tree” W

mark the trail in

blaze a trail...find your way back --- carel sandburg.