Guest Writer Inquiry

I’m really eager to continue my guest writer series.  Tales can cover just about any topic or location, as long as they wander and are travel-based (as you’ve seen, I interpret the term travel in many different ways).  The goal is for essays/stories to fall between 500  and 800 words in length, ideally accompanied by photos, and provoke conversation and thought.

If you are interested, or know of someone who might be, please leave me a comment here, or send an email to graywanderings.com.  Fellow bloggers, this might be a way to mutually increase our readership, especially with a post previously unpublished.

Otherwise, I hope your summer remains filled with wandering!

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Hiking Untrailed Territory

Something from the Vault: Volume #3

“Screw the trail.  I’m tired of the trail!”  Michael yells over the gusting wind at the top of 13,054 foot Mt. Dana in Yosemite National Park.

“It’s the best way to the car,” I respond, already sure of where this conversation is heading.

“Let’s go down there,” Michael points to the steep backside of the summit, a massive talus slope without trail or human development, “and we’ll hike back around to the base along that plateau.” He pauses, searching for the right words to convince me, Continue reading

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Waking Uncivilized Travel

Managed another two week hiatus, my sincere apologies . . . getting back into the groove, rejuvenating the tale . . .

Just because we travel, are there stories to share? How many moments while on the move do we keep to ourselves, not because they’re not beautiful, or stunning, or enlightening, but because there’s not necessarily a tale to tell? Or are we just not awake enough, or observant enough in those moments, and the reflective moments thereafter, to realize a story in the subtle, quiet experiences? Continue reading

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Ramblings on Wilderness, Wildlife, and the Rights of All Animals

(Including Humans) 

by Gary Gray                                                                                               

Guest Writer Series: Volume II

I’m searching for guest writers for posts in June, July, and August.  Send me an email at graywanderings@gmail.com to join this conversation.

After last weeks post on ethics, my father sent along this piece.  I think it fits perfectly into a conversation on travel ethics, particularly as it seeks to resolve ethical difficulties as opposed to dictating a resolution. It is a ramble, crossing into several topics and posing more questions than answers, something my father often does as an environmentalist, thinker, and teacher.

Thanks, and enjoy!

Last month, my son, daughter-in-law, and I stumbled onto a herd of twelve full-curl, bighorn sheep rams in Anza Borrego State Park. Though they didn’t immediately scare, they grew nervous; I absolutely felt the pressure we were putting on these magnificent animals.  Recognizing how much we’d already disturbed this band of bachelors, we walked on.

As the bighorn vanished amongst the rocks, I considered the impact we have as humans as we move through the wilderness. I’ve always found the dialogue about our modern ethics of wilderness interesting, because the whole concept of “wilderness” is a human construct. There is no doubt defining wilderness has extensive value as I type this article from Orange County surrounded by mega-houses, and stores where you can get whatever you need, (or don’t need), and the best cars money can buy on every street.

Clearly most people in our culture have a deep canyon between them and them understanding, or even contemplating, our need as animals for the freedom of wilderness. Continue reading

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A Conversation on Ethics

Conversations on Travel: Discussion 1

During the recent themed discussions on the present moment and enjoying the nuances of life, I began thinking about how traveling motivates a deeper awareness for the world around us, and that this awareness certainly trickles into our lives when we are not traveling. Such awareness encourages a mindfulness towards the subtleties of the everyday that I’ve been musing on the last few weeks. Therefore, mindfulness becomes a major part of traveling and living.  I think it’s this conversation on mindfulness that can inform our understanding of the ethical approaches we need for traveling.

On my responsibility page for this blog, I wrote the following as a framing device for the way I approach travel:

“Many of my blog entries, particularly those while abroad, discuss the ethics of travel, the intrusion we can have as travelers on other cultures, and the impact (both negative and positive) we have on the places we wander.  I don’t think there’s a clear science to how we approach travel, but I think understanding local cultures and customs and histories (particularly those where our home country is involved) is a first step.  I think it’s also fundamental to always be aware of who we are, where we are, and to be thinking over these issues and impacts.  Yes, it is most lovely to wander and get lost and drift into a dreamy state of travel, but even in these moments, we owe it to ourselves, and to the places and people where we travel, to remain conscious of the profound affect of our footsteps.”

I want to commence “Conversations on Travel,” a new series on this blog that motivates a discussion between readers and writers. So as summers of wandering near, I’m intrigued to begin a conversation this week about our travel ethics.  What are your ethics when you travel through the wilderness?  In your hometown?  To some far away land?

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Gardening: A Day on the Earth

Over the past few weeks I’ve explored this theme of the present moment, of enjoying the familiar, of slowing down and taking-in the now.  It’s a concept I think we talk about often, so much so that maybe it’s become cliche.  But though we utter something so much that it becomes the mundane, do we really stop to think about its depth?

Maybe attempting to write a travel blog every Sunday, when I’m not always on a traditional travel adventure, has caused me to focus in on this topic for the sole purpose of having a tale to tell. Even if that is the genesis, the conversation about the present moment, seems critically important for our wandering dispositions.

Instead of offering an apology for not taking you to a far away land, I ask that you join me once again in my own backyard. No, I will not wax poetics about the birds chirping, the tulips rising, the peach blossom aroma wafting through the neighborhood, (though that all sounds lovely and worth their very own moment).  Instead, I’ll take us back to two Saturday’s ago when we arrived at the Smith Elementary School Garden . . . ___________________________________________________________

Different Modes of Exploration #9: Gardening

Lindsay and I are responsible for hosting a University of Redlands (U of R) Service Project.  The U of R, our alma mater, has motivated service projects for alumni in cities  across the country and even in Salzburg, Austria.  We’re excited to take part in this gesture of compassion and community. But in typical Colorado weather style, dark gray clouds loom over the Rockies. We begin to wonder if we’ll be able to complete the tasks at hand. Continue reading

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Reflections on the Present Forgotten

Different Modes of Exploration #8: Music — Part 2

Curtis Fuller sits on the edge of his padded stool, almost standing. He pulls the trombone to his lips, a brass instrument as tall as he is, but surely not as full of life or history or musical genius.  This is a musician who shared the stage with John Coltrane, and has laid down recordings in eight different decades. Some of the musicians on the band stand with him tonight are half his age, some audience members here at Dazzle are far younger. But all of us are eager, sitting on the edge of our seats, leaned forward, making sure we hear every note, and every space between every note, and every moment before those spaces.

Curtis improvises with carefully chosen phrases and an energy that makes you forget his age; it appears that he has found the fountain of youth positioned gently by our creator inside a jazz solo. And in that same fountain, he’s discovered humility, and not just drops of it.  We only hear from Curtis a few select times during each song.  In fact, on the second-to-last tune he doesn’t even draw the trombone until the final time down from the top. Some might blame this on his age.

But they are mistaken. Curtis is not looking for glory or fame, (though with his talent he could have it all), he’s looking to honor the music in the only way he knows how: by making it the center of attention.  Continue reading

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When the Written Word Wanders Us to New Worlds

Different Modes of Exploration #7: Reading

I leaned back in the moldy recliner that sat on the porch of my dorm with Cannery Row in-hand.  From my perch, I read half a semester worth of novels. I felt snub.  And rightfully so, I thought, since  I managed three upper division writing and lit courses, all as a first semester freshman. Nothing could stop my reading and writing frenzy.

Breezing through the introduction to Steinbeck’s war novel, I jumped into the first chapter, and then the second.  I dozed off during the third. And when the cool sunset breeze woke me up, as it often did during these later afternoon reading sessions, I found myself staring straight at the book’s cover, nestled in my professor’s hands.

I enjoyed the good fortune of calling a living-learning community at my college home, in which my professor stationed his office and often held office hours on the front steps, right next to my all-too-comfortable Lazy-boy. This wasn’t the first chapter he caught me dozing through. But I felt a bit more worried than usual this time: Cannery Row remained his all-time favorite novel, only rivaled by a few masterpieces by Dostoevsky.

“Are you enjoying this one, Mr. Gray?”

“Uh, yeah,” I sat up in the chair and attempted to look alert, “it’s great.”

“How about the first paragraph? Frickin’ amazing, huh?” Continue reading

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Fighting the Travel Bug with the Familiar

Also known as the travel itch, the travel bug seems to wander into our lives right around these first weeks of spring. The days grow longer, the sun shines brighter, the roses in our yard begin to show signs of color.  Awakening from our dark winter slumbers, we desperately want to be outside.  There’s a whole world out there to explore, yet summer vacations seem too distant to satisfy the itch.

During the winter, our schedules bog down with tasks and to-dos, laundry lists of this and that.  Spring cleaning brings more chores. And though the aroma of the open road sits just beneath the dust, can we make it to Memorial Day, the marker of all things summer?

My mind is heavy with this question as I finish a full and robust week of work on Friday afternoon.  The weekend is actually free from responsibility, but the limited two days off keeps me pinned down to familiar territory. As we drive to Winter Park for this season’s last skiing, I realize I’m looking at my Saturday and Sunday from the wrong perspective. . .

We cross the Continental Divide at Berthoud pass. I can see mountains stretching nearly sixty miles to the north, and I notice shadows shooting down the ridge lines of Bear Claw Peak (my favorite Rocky Mountain). To the southwest, mountains disappear into the deep blue of late dusk, as the full moon later rises over Devil’s Thumb. These are peaks and geologic features I’ve marveled at many times, so many times that I’ve forgotten how fortunate I am to be amidst such beauty so regularly. Continue reading

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An Irish Pint Named Croagh Patrick

Something from the Vault: Volume 2

After dinner in Westport, Ireland, we saw an inviting pub with a red awning and green lettering beckoning us inside.  Then again, there are very few Irish pubs that don’t shout, “come join us in here!” So we wandered inside and found ourselves in the midst of a wedding party.

The mother and father of the groom were the first to begin conversation with us.  Once we answered “Where are you from?” we continued the dialogue by answering “what do you think of your President Bush?” This was 2004, so the Irish enjoyed hearing Americans, regardless of their political disposition, stumble around for an answer.

Whatever we said, and I couldn’t tell you today how we responded (though I have my suspicions) certainly struck a chord with this County Mayo family. In a few short hours, the empty pint glasses lined the table and they were offering to buy us yet another round. “Sure,” we laughed triumphantly, “Guinness doesn’t taste like this back home.Continue reading

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