After leaving Yosemite, I had enough of the day to get close to the Sequoia National Park. I was hoping to find a hotel in Fresno, an hour from Sequoia. However, I was talking to my friend Pattie on the phone as I breezed through the city, and suddenly found myself way beyond any place to stay. Fortunately, the Squaw Valley Motel, 15 miles from the park had a vacancy. I got the last one just as the manager was turning off the Open sign. By that time, my cough had worsened and I was ready to get some rest.

The next morning I felt better, but knew I was still fighting more serious symptoms. I got an early start and made quick time. Unfortunately, most of Sequoia National Park was closed due to snow. I drove through the Avenue of the Giants and stopped at General Sherman, the famous massive tree. The trail to the tree was slick with ice, with everyone taking a looooooong time to get to the tree. That was the last exercise I was to get. After that, I drove. And drove. And drove.

The route I took was due to all the passes over the Sierras being closed due to snow, with another winter snowstorm moving in on Sunday night. I went south, then decided to swing northward on the east side of the mountains, eventually arriving in Death Valley. I shot for arriving there before sunset. I hit the target, but by the time I came to Stovepipe Wells, the first stop in the park, the wind was rocking at 40-50 miles per hour. The temperature was dropping fast, and the dust was blowing strongly.

As I had made my way down, then up, then down again through the mountains, my ears had become increasingly painful. My cough had gotten worse, and I knew that the wind and cold would not be good. I decided to find a hotel and stopped at Stovepipe Wells. When I opened the door to the hotel, there were about 10 people in front of me. They were all in a group visiting from England. They had gotten the last rooms available.

By the time I reached the next stop on the road, all of the accommodations in Death Valley had been taken. I had three choices: pitch a tent in driving wind, sleep in the car (upright, since it was packed), or drive on to the next stop, which turned out to be Las Vegas, nearly two hours away. I opted for the latter.

And that’s when it hit me that Heyokah was reminding me to lighten up. After all, I had driven 600 miles that day, was coming down with a cold, and was seeing Death Valley in the dead of night. I had begun to get angry and frustrated, until I remembered the fireplug and dog.

I’ve been reading The Marriage of Spirit by Leslie Templeton-Thurston, a timely discussion for me. The section I’m in right now is about the cycles of up and down, that energy flows both ways and the better I become at moving with the flow instead of fighting what’s happening, of becoming an observer of my life, instead of engaging in the drama of what is happening “to” me, the more I’ll enjoy all the parts, good and bad, frustrating and joyful. Boy, was that ever relevant the past few days, in particular as I drove on through the drifting sand, tired, sore, and getting sicker by the minute.

By the time I reached Las Vegas, I was beat. The next morning, I awoke sick, my head stuffed and my lungs and throat sore from coughing. The storm was still dropping rain and the wind was still gusting to 40 mph. There would be no camping, but I wanted to at least get as close to Zion and the Grand Canyon as possible. So, I packed the car and drove to Utah, finding a modest motel room with a kitchen. I have been here for three nights, resting and recovering. The sun came out yesterday and they are predicting warm temperatures for the next few days throughout the region. Woo Hoo!

I’m feeling better, although still not 100 percent. But, I’m heading out tomorrow, and hope to make it quite a ways down the road. I’ll post more soon!

Drifts of sand blowing across the road, reflecting off my headlights in the dark night of Death Valley. That’s when it hit me… Heyokah. The card I’d pulled several times in the past few weeks had said it best: “Some days you are the fireplug and some days you are the dog.” I was letting getting pooped on get me down. It hasn’t been easy on the road these last few days.

Of course, I didn’t make it easy on myself by some of the choices I made that got me to the middle of Death Valley in the dark on one of the coldest nights on record for that desert. Add to that the wind gusts up to 50 mph. I was being stubborn and impatient, and I needed to start balancing the sacredness with irreverence. But again, I get ahead of myself.

After my session with Cindy and later a session with Bruce, I started to regain my energy and began to get itchy to get on the road. Thursday another snowstorm hit Truckee. Nothing serious, but enough to make the sun in the valley below beckon. I said my goodbyes and headed back to Elk Grove. I spent the next two days making the final preparations for the road trip and spending time at the Daehling Ranch.

I’d been tracking the weather to plan my trip. I wanted to beat another cold front that was predicted to move in Sunday evening. That was my first mistake. The second was that I ignored the tickle at the back of my throat, sensing that a cold was poised to take hold. But seeing an opportunity for sun in Yosemite on Saturday, I decided to take off for the park that day. I figured by Sunday evening I could make it through Sequoia and on to Death Valley, where it was predicted to be in the upper 70s. I thought that would make a nice temperature for my first night of camping.

Meantime, I had a spectacular drive through the foothills of the Sierras east of Sacramento on my way to Yosemite. Winding roads through lush green meadows sometimes dotted, sometimes filled with oak trees, wild flowers blooming in oranges, whites, and purples. The hillsides were carpeted with life. Streams ran along the road, and towns that had been there since the gold rush recalled their past with historic buildings in their downtowns.

As I climbed in altitude I started to see more purple trees in the layers of green that began to fill in the landscape. I drove for miles seeing only local traffic. Even closer to Yosemite there still were not many vehicles.

And then, unexpectedly, I tasted what all of the excitement of Yosemite was about: a view of Half-Dome towering above Yosemite Canyon, then the Yosemite River Falls pouring down, filling the river banks with spring runoff. They were breathtaking sights. And that was just the start of a wondrous day in the park.

The canyon is only about 5 miles in length, but the scenes in all directions are some of the most stunning I’ve ever seen, similar to the Columbia River Gorge, but much more substantial in size and grandeur. I finally got a hike, making the trip to Bridal Veil Falls from the road, about a half-mile distance. I also hiked to Yosemite River Falls on the other side of the canyon.

Just as I started to drive back toward the entrance of the park at sundown, the sun broke through the clouds, shining golden rays down on the granite monolith of Half-Dome. I pulled over to a riverside turnout as the blue skies peeked out, red-orange highlights on the stone reflecting the sunset in the west. I was grateful to witness a stunning palette of nature’s colors, in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

I smiled as I headed for the tunnel leading out of the park. As I came around the corner, yet another view awaited, even more stunning than the last, a panoramic view of the entire valley, Half-Dome and Bridal Veil Falls framing the picture, sunlight sparkling above low-hanging clouds. It was a perfect way to end a perfect day.

Here’s a video of some of the sights I saw. Enjoy!

That evening, the storm they had been talking about arrived, first in the form of rain, then in the middle of the night, snow. Several inches fell Monday night, continuing through Tuesday morning. I called June to let her know that I would be staying another day at least, depending on the storm.

I drove in the storm to see the chiropractor. He was very good, spending quite a bit of time working on the various parts of my body that needed the most attention. He aligned me, but I was still sore. After the appointment, I sat down to do some computer work and realized that even that was painful. So, I wandered around the town of Truckee, exploring. The town and its people are used to these storms. Despite the snow, life continued to move around me.

As I remembered things I needed to take care of, and moved from store to store, I felt like I was moving through molasses. Everything took effort and focus, and I didn’t have it. What seemed like minutes turned into hours. I didn’t accomplish much, although I was exhausted by the time I returned to the cottage.

After resting for an hour, I heard Bruce’s wife Cindy feeding the horses below the cottage, which is a full apartment above the barn, a lovely, restful place with all accommodations. I went down to talk with her about dinner and she asked if I would be willing to do a shamanic healing session for her. We made the arrangements, and I went back to the cottage to prepare. I had already set up my altar for my morning ritual, so spent some time calling in the spirits. I realized that I had been completely ungrounded, and that was why I felt so disconnected and unfocused.

Cindy’s session went very well, and I could feel myself reconnecting with myself and the spirits. I haven’t been out for a walk in days, and so my groundedness with earth has been missing. I can see how important that is!

More photos and videos to come!

Monday, I woke to severe pain in most of my body, specifically my neck and left hip and leg. Not sure why, but I think it was a culmination of everything finally settling into my muscles. I could barely move. Bruce recommended his chiropractor, so we made an appointment for Tuesday.

The sun was out, but the wind continued. Bruce’s wife Cindy explained that the wind was a harbinger of a storm. Despite the wind and my pain, I really wanted to work with Gino, so we went to the tree stump in the middle of the corral. I had brought my healing drum, made of horsehide. Cindy asked if I would be more comfortable with the other two horses stalled, but I told her to let the others stay and we’d see what happened. My plan was to journey with the drum to Gino to see what he might have to tell me about his pain.

As we sat there, the horses came up to us to see what we were up to. Magic, clearly the alpha of the three, moved toward me with specific intent, focusing on the drum. I had not started drumming yet, so I held it out to him to smell. His energy picked up and he became very intent, smelling, then licking the drum. Then he did a very strange thing, something Cindy had never seen any horse do. He rapidly rubbed his lips back and forth on the drumhead, only stopping to lick, then try to bite the edge of the rim. Then he would do it again. It was very interesting to watch.

Meanwhile, the other horses wanted to see what he was doing, and moved in to smell the drum, too. But Magic would have none of it, chasing them away if they got too close. Then he would come back and do the lip thing again.

Finally, I pulled the beater out and tried to drum as I journeyed. Magic went into a trance, staring at the drum, his nostrils flaring slightly. He stayed motionless. The other two saw their opportunity and tried to move in. That broke his trance and he chased them away again. Then he came back and wouldn’t let me drum anymore, biting at the beater and putting his nose in the way of my drumming.

We decided to try and pen Magic and RC so we could work with Gino, but that didn’t work. Everyone got agitated, so we let them all be. I suggested that I go to the cottage and try journeying to them from there. What I did get as I was in the pen with them was that Gino was having severe pain in his left hind-quarter. I mentioned this to Cindy. I also felt it in Magic, but not as intensely. Magic let me touch that area of his body to do some energy work, and when I did he yawned and stretched, releasing energy. Gino would only allow me to touch his nose, but beyond that, he would move away.

In the cottage as I journeyed, the first thing that happened was a horse spirit came to me. Over the years, he had often appeared in the east when I called in the spirits, but I had not worked with him as a healing ally. That was about to change. He connected me with Gino, assuring him that I was there to help, not hurt. Gino didn’t want to dwell on what had happened to cause his trauma, but did show me two images, one of a saddle that didn’t fit, and the other of him falling as a result of the weakness caused by the ill-fitting saddle. He had become so sensitized to the pain that he couldn’t tolerate anyone touching him, and no longer trusted anyone except Cindy. I assured him that Cindy and I only had his best interests at heart. He left any assistance open-ended, not wanting to commit to trusting me. I did not journey to Magic or RC. I decided to wait for another day. I was exhausted and needed to rest.

Since my plans had changed with the delay in getting on the road, I decided to go to Truckee to visit my client and his wife, then come back again to June and Joe’s before heading to Yosemite. Sunday held exquisite weather and after a walk with Julia, Justin, and Jack, I headed for the hills. Here is a short video of the horses that followed us on our walk.

My client, Bruce, is working on a book proposal for his manuscript, a story told from the eyes of his dog, Dodger. Bruce is a veterinarian and has incorporated his experience with the human-animal bond with his love of his now-departed yellow Labrador retriever. When he heard I was going to be in Sacramento, he invited me to come and stay in their “cottage” for a few days. I had never been to Lake Tahoe, a 15-minute drive from their home, so I accepted the invitation.

After I arrived, they took me on a tour of the lake, driving the 73 miles around the gorgeous mountain lake. The wind was blowing, so we didn’t spend a lot of time outside the truck, but did stop a few times to take pictures and read about the history of the area.

When we returned to their home, we spent some time with Bruce’s wife Cindy’s horses. Cindy and I had met at an Equine Facilitated Learning workshop taught by Kathy Pike in March of last year. When Cindy learned I was a writing coach, she encouraged Bruce to contact me about his manuscript.

Cindy has three horses, all rescues. Gino, a beautiful red gelding, walked right up to me, which surprised Cindy. He is usually very distrustful of anyone new. He had thrown his owner and after a series of trainers, was deemed crazy. Cindy was contacted to see if she wanted to take him, or he would be put down. She has been able to touch him and eventually ride him, but he does not like it and Cindy doesn’t push it.

Magic is a large black gelding, a Thoroughbred cross. Lots of energy, with a cribbing problem (chewing on the wood of the stall). Cribbing is like smoking… a hard habit to break.

RC is the baby, a Premarin 2-year old rescued from North Dakota. Premarin mares are bred only for the urine they produce during pregnancy. The urine is used to produce medicine. The babies are taken from their mothers immediately after birth and put in pens, never having any connection with the herd or humans. He had never been handled before Cindy. He is now a very friendly, curious colt, always looking for attention.

That night, as we talked about my shamanic work and my search for how it fit with horse work, Cindy asked if I would be willing to do some work on Gino. We decided to go into the pen the next day and see what might transpire.

Here is a video of my trip pictures so far. Enjoy!

When I reached my cousins, the extent of the move and all of the preparations for the trip began to catch up with me. I had a difficult time staying awake, no matter the time of the day. The only time I had slowed down in the past month and a half was when I had gotten in the car to leave.

Despite the tiredness, I enjoyed seeing my cousin June, her husband Joe, her two daughters Joanna and Julia and their husbands, and the two new additions, Joanna and Bruce’s son Jacob and Julia and Justin’s son Jack, born two days apart nine months ago. Both adorable, and very different, kind of like their moms!

The weather was spectacular and the first day I hopped in the truck with Joe as he went out to the land and worked. Hopping in and out of the truck to help Joe was very familiar, having done that hundreds of times with my dad growing up in South Dakota. The Daehling Ranch is 400 acres, 60 of which are in Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio grapes, 100 acres devoted to nursery plants that they sell retail to the public, and the rest pasture land where 150+ Thoroughbred horses are boarded. They have even built a racetrack for training the horses.

The land is beautiful, with a river bordering the south edge and large trees shading the winding roads. Spring flowers are in abundance, and white egrets peppered the green meadows edging up to the ponds that dot the land.

Every October, Joe and June host a carriage drive on their land, where dozens of drivers with their horses make the circuit, then come back for a feast. Their hope is to someday create a carriage museum to showcase their passion for this part of the horse world.

I helped Joe replace some grape plants that had not made it past the deer, then hooked up the porta-potti trailer to take back to the yard. We checked in with some of the workers to see their progress in taking out diseased vines to prepare for replacing them. Farming is so much work. It always amazes me the love farmers have for what they do. I’m very grateful, and seeing the work being done made me appreciate even more what it takes to make a bottle of wine.

As Joe and I drove back to the ranch house, a coyote appeared on the edge of the road. He stopped and looked at us, wondering what we were doing on his land. His appearance reminded me of the coyote I had encountered in Chaco Canyon last October. In the night, as I lay under the clear sky, the coyotes sang their song on the canyon walls above me. The sound was beautiful and eerie, sending tingling chills through my body. The next day, as I drove out of the campground, I looked down to grab my map. When I focused back on the road, I saw a coyote squatting in the middle of the pavement, peeing. We both jumped with surprise at each other. I veered to miss him, and he sprung into the desert brush.

Since then the Heyokah card has come up several times, once in my Shamanic Writing Level II class, then again the next day in the Shamanic Writing Level I. Heyokah is the medicine of coyote, a trickster who teaches lessons through being contrary, through laughter, and through seeing different perspectives. I have been wondering what lessons I am to learn… and more important, how.

One of the most interesting parts of the journey through the Redwoods occurred about half-way to Stout Grove. I had stopped at a huuuuuuge tree stump. There was a river-crossing a little farther down the road and I saw a van angled to a stop on the bridge. A couple was standing on the far side. I didn’t think anything of it until I was back in my car and driving past them. I stopped to ask if they were okay, and found out that in fact, their van had dropped its drive train. They had already contacted help and it was on the way.

I asked if they needed any water or food, as they had been waiting for awhile and would need to wait even longer for their rescue. The woman asked if I had any water, which I fished out of the back of my very packed car.

We started chatting about being in the Redwoods and the mystical, spiritual place that it is. They asked what I did to allow me to travel and work and I told them I was a writer, shamanic practitioner, and a writing coach. Turns out, the gentleman was also an author — 40 books published to date. He is also a biochemist, physicist, and herbalist. He opened Beltane Books in Seattle and wrote such books as “The Magical and Ritual Use of Herbs”. His most recent book is “The Modern Alchemist”. Read more about him at his website: www.richardalanmiller.com.
His partner, Marie Zancanaro is also an herbalist and a shamanic practitioner. She has developed a soap that when used, helps reduce or eliminate a person’s sensitivity to poison oak. We talked for about an hour, covering a wide range of topics from spirituality to herbs. Quite enlightening, and a wonderful couple to meet. I look forward to connecting with them again for more interesting conversations.

There are no coincidences!

Friday morning I had scheduled several coaching sessions, and so I set up my office in the hotel room. I realized immediately I needed to set up some systems in my organization. Times like these you appreciate routine.

However, once I was on the road, I settled back into the beauty of the drive. I had been advised by the information lady to take a dirt road to Stout Grove, a short drive that would reveal several 1500 year-old Redwoods. The road sloped into a canyon dropping me into a wonderland of gigantic beings, dripping with moss and rain, some so tall I could barely see their tops.

Here’s a video of one of the trees I stopped to view. This is my first video on this camera, so be forewarned. I have room for improvement . I took many more videos, but haven’t figured out how to rotate them for you to view them through YouTube. Again, I’ll keep improving on getting these in front of you.

The rain stopped just as I reached the Stout Grove hiking trail, which dropped me even further into the forest. The trees towered above, standing guard. The only sound I heard was the river in the distance. I was able to step inside the trunk of one tree that had its interior burned. It wrapped itself around me, protective and dry. I could feel the pulse of the tree as it surrounded me, a gentle, lulling sense of grounding.

The diameters of some of the trees in this grove were more than 20 feet, taking 7-9 adults to join hands around them. The fallen ones revealed the size of their roots, massive and shallow. I cannot imagine what it would be like to hear one fall.

As I made my way back to the car, the rain started again in ernest. Good timing, as I needed to get on the road if I were to get to my cousins that night at a decent time. Seven hours later, I pulled into their yard at 11:15 and went straight to bed. They had left things for me and had already gone to sleep.

A lot has happened in the past few days, despite my utter exhaustion. After weeks of moving and preparing for the trip, I hit the mental and physical wall after I reached my cousins Thoroughbred Ranch, in Elk Grove, CA.

But I get ahead of myself. Wednesday after several day’s delay, I hit I-5 south, not sure if I should just head down to June and Joe’s (my cousins) directly, or still go with my original plan to see the Redwoods. As I neared Corvallis, where I had lived for nearly 20 years, I was pulled to go to the coast via Waldport.

What I hadn’t thought about was that I would literally be driving past all of my former residences. It was as if I were shedding old energy, glimpsing familiar places that were now foreign, part of my memory, but no longer part of my life. The message I got was that in all cases, life moves on. And it’s not where you are that holds the key to life’s wonders; it’s how you look at where you are.

The last day of the move, as I was closing the door on the Raven Lodge for the last time, one of my spirit guides tapped me on the shoulder and said, “If you think this is good, wait til you see what’s next!” I thought about all the places I had lived and realized that every time, I was able to land in something better than the last, and all were beautiful. And so I left with a new perspective on the what might lie ahead.

The drive down the coast was beautiful, with sun pouring down on the dazzling water. There was a stiff breeze behind me, and just south of Florence, dark clouds appeared on the horizon. By Brookings, it was raining. By Crescent City, California, just outside the Redwoods, it was pouring. I found a hotel and after digging through my things to find what I needed, I set up camp for the evening.

I had taken a brief detour off 101 to drive through the edge of Jedediah Smith National Park as I approached Crescent City. After winding through increasingly dense forest, I was rewarded with a grove of the stately ancient ones. I’ve seen them before, but they always take my breath away when I see them again.

The trees are calling to me. I realized that on my drive, even before I came to these giants. They have a message for me that I am to discover on this journey. It’s time to find out what they have to say.

To let you all know, I’m having some trouble getting my videos from my Droid to my Mac. So, I’m sorry I don’t have anything yet for you. Soon, very soon .

M.

After much moving and getting all of my animals securely in their new temporary home, I hit the road yesterday. Still recovering from all of the changes, and getting organized in my packing. This is a note to say that I’ll be making some posts tomorrow to get up-to-date. Today, it’s off to the Redwoods to spend time with their incredible energy. More to come!