Time is passing, of course. This bunchberry dogwood
was encountered on a different woodland walk from the one
mentioned in my mid-June post, when I commented about
"red berries cluster" showing in Autumn. Guess the flora
is anticipating the season change. This specimen
seems to be showing the wear and tear of summer.
My narrative here is all about bird song and falling water.
But first, a little mission activity report.
Another "mini transfer" began our week (again),
so we got to interact with new arrivals
and "veterans" (only two weeks in some cases for those
who are working now here in NHMM.) Oil in our lamps
comes from their unquenchable enthusiasm and cheery chatter.
My chance to "give back" is illustrated by this shot of
Elders Bartschi and Davis, who I led in the successful quest
to locate a "twi" language Book of Mormon in our stock.
(Twi is an African language spoken in the lower two-thirds
of Ghana. Elder Bartschi is reassigned here after arriving
and serving there for a brief time before COVID changes.)
More talk about neckties this transfer.
I began to explain how I had been surprised
that some missionaries seemed to know how
to stitch their own ties, and not surprisingly, these two --
Elders Broadbent & Franson, a companionship being
divided -- showed me their matching ties that Elder Franson
had made. "They are really pretty easy," he explained.
Midnight July 31st marked the end of the mission-wide
project. Before July 1st, missionaries collectively huddled
via a ZOOM devotional, discussed and voted on the "finding" goal
to be set. It would be something to motivate and unify with so many
re-assigned missionaries and continuation of COVID isolation.
Suggestions began in the "reasonable" range, and then we
listened with disbelief as they escalated toward the impossible!
"It needs to be set high so that we will KNOW that
a miracle had occurred" coaxed one Sister at the outset.
Final "vote" was for 1400. Daily tallies were posted near the end,
and attainment seemed unlikely. This image, below, is the ZOOM
gathering Saturday, Aug. 1st when they all celebrated
having reached their record-shattering goal!
Somehow, in the advanced hours of Friday night, they had met
and slightly exceeded the sought-for number. To be "FOUND"
an individual had been contacted, (through social media and
other isolated means), invited to hear a brief lesson/message
on a Gospel principle, show enough interest to agree to
a definite appointment for followup teaching, and provide a name
and contact information.
Below is Elder Sears, a missionary we have watched
since we arrived about the same time. He posted this triumphant
re-mix picture about the hard work that had been put in.
All of this inspiration and enjoyment was simply prelude to
a planned outing northward into the White Mountains of NH.
This, for me, would be a check-off goal to kayak while here
and also to visit this neglected area in our travels.
(More about that another week.)
Vince, on the other hand, went questing more waterfalls.
Our first planned stop was to Rainbow Falls near Plymouth.
As usual, our excursions teach us many truths.
Lesson One: some falls don't match the hyperbole of chroniclers.
Drought and late summer made this one a bust.
Still, there was food for thought. Above is the "improved" trail
showing how split log "platforms" provided hikers a way through
above the boggy or sensitive biosphere. But as these deteriorated,
the path-followers simply forged an easier way through (to the right).
Do our plans always match human nature? Is there an easier way?
Below is the lovely plaque dedication. As I read, it made me wonder:
would I be remembered for "envisioning" something about which
I was ardent? Do I exhibit a "moving spirit" about the proper things?
We traveled on into Campton, where we found this beautiful
Beebe River Falls cascade, below, right next to the roadway.
Descriptors in Vince's New England Waterfalls book for the wide
variety of falls include "block" type, horsetail, bridal veil, chutes,
narrows, channels. I always relish a specialized vocabulary.
The river plain here was broad and slow enough for us
to sit, take off shoes, and bathe our feet.
I'm much more sympathetic these days for folks who
suffer from foot pain (being on the recovery track from
arch and heel soreness these past many weeks), so
the water felt good, but not as cold as at Franconia Notch.
Then back up the slightly forbidding pathway
to the parking area.
Here, below, you see Vince ahead on this narrow bit,
demonstrating that every reward comes with its challenge!
We GOT this experience the Old Fashioned Way:
we EARNED it!
Our third destination was in the mountains near Waterville Valley,
to see what are called THE Cascades. A bounty of visual and
auditory pleasures was discovered here, but first, we had to invest!
Below is a commercial aerial view which I have marked up
showing where our 3.2 mile round trip woodland mountain hike took us.
(We had a similar map outline with us.) Description in following paragraphs
will correspond to my boxed notations.
Unexpectedly, my first delight came BEFORE the trail head.
As I mentioned in previous posts, we have been
"collecting" mind-pictures and memories of lovely New England
places over a decade now. On one early trip, Vince's planning philosophy
was to "get in as much as we could". Accordingly, some of it went by
in a whir. Wishing to "beat the foliage rush", that trip "to see
New England" in the autumn happened before leaves had changed.
But on the grounds of a vaguely-remembered ski-resort where we
had found respite from our hectic day-long road trip, I had spied
a lone red maple leaf fallen but whole - now treasured and preserved
between glass for September display in Lehi.
As "residents" here now, our emotional "fingers" have been
figuratively crossed to encounter that place again, and to recognize it.
Last Friday, that happened there at Waterville Valley Resort --
we HAVE been here before!
Like many endeavors in life, our Cascades journey started steeply.
Below (but from section summit) you can see that incline. Calls about
cars interrupted our ramble, and Vince repeatedly stopped to answer
questions, provide credit card info to auto shop clerks, and more
in his role as Mission Vehicle Coordinator - even during an outing.
One Sisters companionship had a flat tire and needed advice.
Without his phone contact, they called me first. When Vince
paused to talk, I kept trekking uphill. I joked later with the Sisters
that they should call every 10 minutes or so, to give me
a chance to catch up or get ahead (I have shorter legs).
Hiking ahead, on a stretch that had flattened,
the quiet of the humid and tranquil early evening forest
was nice though a little lonely. There were, of course, points of
interest regularly in view, like this 6" tall toad stool, below.
In close-range, see the blanket of emerging "humus" which
cushioned steps here, which my sore feet appreciated.
Off in the distance, a distinctive bird call broke the silence.
I stilled my steps to listen for several moments.
A beginning note was followed by several trills in harmony
much like a pan pipe. Every few seconds it repeated.
It was otherworldly. When Vince caught up, he listened too.
Then forward we hiked, over boulders and onto rocky thrusts,
hopping seeps and leaping stream-lets. Monotonous but
still pleasant. Questioning our progress, we
soon could hear faint then growingly-significant water noise.
Finally, we reached the junction of our Cascade Trail with
the sign-posted Norway Rapids spur, where we
encountered the trail landmark wooden bridge.
Vince stopped to enjoy the view and snag a photo
(he can't resist a stream), so I in turn captured him.
Finally, the noisy cascades burst into view at trailside.
There are seven different "stops" in this series,
and in the fading daylight, we turned back at No. 4.
Here, below, is one of the dramatic plunges which
pauses in a pool before hurtling downward. Listening,
I could detect variations in the "water music":
crashing at the verticals, slightly less chaotic gurgling
in the basins, gentler splashing near the edges.
My frustration here is that words on a screen or page
can't convey the reality. For full effect, it is necessary
to "put in" the strides to be there "on the spot".
I did record, of course, the sound and fury in a phone video.
But I reserve my video quota for birdsong - so read on!
Under the forest canopy, light was waning fast.
Trudging back across the rocky trail, UP the slopes we had
come DOWN the hour before, with the goal already achieved
and only the GOING HOME remaining, my energy also lagged.
I began silently counting steps to maintain my cadence.
Fatigued, my achy feet at last were treading again on cushion-y trail,
when off in the distance I detected the faint pan pipes call.
We had returned into the territory of the woodland songbird.
And it absolutely lifted my heart like a sustaining angel.
Here, above, is a commercial image of the Hermit Thrush, my musician!
(I can even appreciate it's common name!)
Researching online, I learned that it has a special two-channel
voice box to produce the harmonic sound. Reclusive and
difficult to spot, this bird is only encountered in deep woodland.
We would not have heard it in any other setting.
Following is a video clip taken to capture his cadenza.
(You may need to make sure your volume is MAXED.
And you will probably want to listen more than once.)
Did you know there are catalogs of birdsong?
One entry explains the Hermit Thrush call this way:
. . . beautiful, haunting song begins with a sustained whistle
and ends with softer, echo-like tones.
We paused, together, to listen. I recognized my "guardian"
from the inward trek. And then, we heard the second, more
distant song: there were TWO of them, together in that forest.
Somehow very fitting.
Found this colorful "token" along the trail, as well.
Recognizing the signature of a Loving Heaven!
No comments:
Post a Comment