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I am a mystic madman, a wandering wildman, scholar of esoterica, dilettante sadhu, dready-headed hippie (only have a few jata on the back of my head right now, though more be forming of this third set of knotted hair), gentle yogi, fierce foe of falsity. I was a preacher, but I renounced that. I was married, but she renounced me. I was a grad student at one of the top universities in the world on my way to becoming a professor, but I realized they taught lies there too. I am protector of souls, lover of mountains, smoker of herb, fond of hot springs, oceans and lakes and rivers and rain and sunshine, devotee of Devi.

Hindu Gods and Goddesses

Friday, July 24, 2009

High Mountain Snow-Fed Water

I have made it to the edge of the mountains. Not quite another state, unless with the meaning "state of mind or being." Though extracting myself from the relative comfort of a camper van (albeit broken down) with refrigerator and space heater (though the latter's obviously not necessary in the summer) was not so simple as years ago when I was rollin' down the road in the Miraculous Beast Shanti Mama (4WD '63 Dodge Power Wagon with slide in camper and sunshine face painted on the passenger door that I sold when the wars for oil began), I am starting to feel that liberation of spirit that is found in the wilderness, and especially amongst the high peaks.

The alpine fields of rainbow colored flowers I shall soon be enjoying are naturally irrigated by so many rivulets fed by the perennial snow fields above, remnants of the ten to twenty feet of white frozen water crystals from winters past, now dusted with a veneer of red-orange algae. There is one particular patch of wildflowers on the west side of a Lake called Marie that I'm hoping is in bloom. In an area not more than a few dozen square yards in area, an annual garden grows that maintains populations of at least a dozen species of the most beautiful of high mountain flowers. A small stream runs through the midst of this patch of blossoms, and a sizeable boulder beside the stream offers a comfortable perch from which to imbibe the wonderful floral essence of this magical spot.

Numerous glacier carved lakes dot the landscape of the Snowies' alpine reaches, some maintaining icebergs floating in their midst until quite late in the summer. In my youth, I would scarcely even imagine heading up to the mountains without a fly rod or spinning reel to wet a line in these trout-filled lakes. These days it's more the wild edible plants and mushrooms that pique my interest, though I still relish the waters of these high places. You can even sip straight from the many waterfalls which flow just beneath the snow fields! Imagine, water you can drink without filtration and treatment, without added chlorine and flouride and whatever else various government agencies decide to add to the water that flows from the tap, and without the environmental destruction caused by the collection and distribution infrastructure required for even moderately scaled civic water works.

Pure libations!!

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