In my youth, my primary love in the natural world was the ocean. Born on the wild West coast of South Africa, I've always felt an affinity for the icy Atlantic that no other natural place could touch. As the years have passed, though the ocean still holds a major share in my heart, other forms of wilderness have intruded and slowly claimed their own small place within me. I've been surprised by the realization that mountains now move me almost as much as the sea. That quiet alpine meadows and rugged snowed-in peaks call to me now with a siren voice that matches the roaring blue.
There is something tremendously inviting about the depths of a mountain landscape, waiting to be explored. Defying me to unveil its secret places. Part of this has no doubt been inspired by my love of writing, and particularly poetry, which delves into the distant wilds. Robert Service and his beautiful Yukon ballads:
‘I know a mountain thrilling to the stars,
Peerless and pure, and pinnacled with snow;
Glimpsing the golden dawn o'er coral bars,
Flaunting the vanisht sunset's garnet glow’ - Robert W. Service
In addition, the poems of Frost and Mary Oliver and perhaps most of all, my favourite haiku poet, the wandering monk Santoka (whom I wrote a more detailed account of here: https://steemit.com/poetry/@holothewise/drunken-master-the-haiku-of-taneda-santoka)
Mountains and still, more mountains
Santoka, perhaps more than anyone I've read, understood mountains. In a world where he could not function within the bounds of societal expectation, Santoka found solace in the soaring peaks of his native Japan. Mountains, in all their impassive glory, moved him. It is a love decidedly evident in his work, a recurring theme as the ocean has been in my own writing.
"Westerners try to conquer the mountains.
People of the East contemplate the mountains.
For us, mountains are not an object of scientific study but a work of art.
Patiently I taste the mountains."
Taneda Santoka - September 20, 1930
Such a beautiful thought, as if he could somehow imbibe the very essence of those far, calm bastions and make it his own. Mountains bring peace in a different way from the wild, surging sea. Here, a place of calm. A place to rest. And a place to prove yourself. More and more, I can envision a time in my life when I might find a more or less permanent home on the slopes of such a place. Working as I do now in the stunning mountain ranges of South Africa’s Western Cape, I find myself thinking on the jagged beauty of far off Alaska, the Alps, the Drakensberg. These places seem to hold some special balm for the wandering soul. A promise of paths that lead further and further from civilization, deeper into ourselves. For Santoka, that draw is clear in his haiku:
‘Going deeper
and still deeper -
the green mountains’
‘The mountain I'll never see again grows distant’
‘Since I stopped coming across people the mountain butterflies’
‘Little cuckoos--
I will go beyond
that mountain morrow’
The distant wilds
Of course it’s true that traveling or living in such remote places can be dangerous as well. For all their calm beauty, mountains are not an easy place. I'm sure that anyone reading this who lives in such remote areas will not only understand my romanticism but also be rolling their eyes, just a little bit. Mountains, like the sea, are unforgiving of mistakes, harbor animals that can kill, promise unparalleled hardships and adventures. Perhaps this is why they've been so much romanticized in literature. Tales of the Yukon gold rush thrilled me as a child (and still do). Tales of entire parties of people, lost and starving in the icy heights and the gruesome fates which befell them have me turning the page through sleepless nights. This is the stuff of legends. The stuff that inspired even Tolkien.
And yes, perhaps places as truly remote and wild as that no longer exist in our modern, teched-up, connected-to-everything age. But for me, the feeling that they conjure is still the same. A child-like wonder I've never quite managed (or wanted) to shake loose. And if that’s foolish, then bless my heart for still having room for foolishness I guess.
So, tell me, which places conjure this type of irrational wonder in you? For me, it's neatly summed up by yet another of Santoka’s works:
'My heart's exhausted -
the mountains, the sea
are too beautiful’
What are your special, wild places?
I hope you've enjoyed this little reverie,
Happy Steeming people,
The Wise Fox
Taneda Santoka's haiku (and image used here) may be found at: https://terebess.hu/english/haiku/taneda.html
The full Robert Service poem may be found at: https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mountain-and-the-lake/
All other images from wikimedia commons :)
