...Through the portal I went, nodding to the old guardians as I drove through. These Redwoods seem to grow right out of the sun baked rocks. I threw the car into second and as I came down the steep, one lane road, I could begin to hear the song of the river.
The River She is flowing…flowing and growing, The River She is flowing… Down to the sea…
From the High Sierra’s to the sea was a whole lifetime, more like many. I set up my camp, which was easy because I can put down the back seat of my hatchback and make a bed. I use a strawberry shortcake bed decoration that was given to my daughter as a mosquito net and drape it over the lifted back hatch door, making myself an open airy little house. I could feel that my LA rhythm was much too fast for this place so I opened a bottle of organic, Spanish white wine and lit a bowl of blackberry kush. Time to slooooooooooow…
Dusk began to drape Herself over the mountain and the three-quarter moon poured silver light into the mix. I decided to head over to the natural hot springs for an twilight dip. I brought Yaboo! and we walked up some wet, tall grass and came to what’s called, the rock pool. It’s a natural pool up against a flat rock face. I could see bubbles in the pool where hot water pushed itself up from deep cracks in the Earth’s crust. Warm water trickled over the edge of the pool and onto my feet. I slowly sank into the water and sighed deeply. I rested my head against the rock and gazed at the moon grazing the tops of the pines and redwoods. I called to Ya and noticed out of the corner of my eye a man standing on a wide flat rock across the river and up a hill. Yaboo! Didn’t like the hot water at first, but as I began to massage him, his body leaned against mine and he relaxed with pleasure. Mosquitos were biting so I spread some of the dark, mineral rich mud on my bare arms and face to keep from getting eaten alive. When I returned to the campsite, I had enough energy to build a little fire and lay down on a blanket in front of it. I watched as the fire danced itself into smoldering coals. Too tired to even make dinner, I crept into my car/tent and fell into sleep.
In the morning Ya and I went hiking. Four miles of climbing rocks, sometimes having to lift him over the bigger ones, as his body doesn’t allow him to jump so much anymore. We experienced the serene and wild beauty of the Ansel Adams wilderness. We found a reflecting lake and swam in its cool depths to ease the bright heat. We are both pretty out of shape so by the time we got back, we were very sore. Time for another soak.
This time I passed the rock pool and kept going, looking for a pool closer to the river so that I could cool myself off when I needed to and so that Ya Could swim and fetch sticks. I came upon a perfect spot where a hot pool and the cold river met and mixed. However, there was a man sunbathing down there nude, and I felt like I was maybe intruding. But I was so weary and didn’t want to hike around looking for another spot. So I decided to just try and be quiet and give him his space as he was sleeping. I noticed that his body was long, lean and practically hairless like a boy. He had burnt sienna colored skin and grayish hair that fell a bit past his shoulders in the back. He was laying on his stomach.
Soon, Ya’s gleeful splashing woke him and lifted himself up on his forearms and asked me if he was bothering me by being naked.
“Oh no,” I shook my head and smiled, “please just enjoy yourself and don’t mind me.”
I gave Ya another massage. I could feel the guy watching me and then he said that he could tell that I really loved my dog. We began to small talk, and I had to use much self control and concentrate on his face with all my might. He said that he liked my tattoo and if it were an Adam and Eve thing. I told him that the Bible stole the symbol of the snake and apple from an earlier religion and that the apple stands for women’s fertility and the snake is for women’s power, the power to shed skin and rebirth, as well as the ability to reach into oneself and find the wisdom of Goddess, of Nature Herself. His dark eyes took everything I said in like sponges. He smiled really big and the deep lines engraved into his face disappeared and he looked just like a teenager for a moment. Something about his smile was so familiar…what was it?
I felt really hot and realized that I needed to cool off in the river. I threw my baseball cap off and let my hair out of its bun. As my hair spilled down my back, his eyes widened and..BOING!…up sprang his penis, all engorged with blood and pointing right at me. He jumped up and scrambled over to his jeans, which he pulled up over himself in less than a second.
His cock was kind of beautiful, and big, and I couldn’t help noticing that his balls were tight with very little hair. I reminded myself that I find sperm repugnant and haven’t had more than a five minute conversation with a male person in months. Yet, it seemed that I had been conversing with this guy for over an hour now.
“I’m sorry…I have a thing for long hair.”
I just started laughing. “No worries, man, I take it as a compliment!”
We sat and talked for another hour and he showed me around the hills, pointing out all of the hidden springs that only the locals know about. I was starting to feel tired, and told him I was heading back. “Can I come visit you at your campsite tonight?” he asked.
I pondered for a second. “Okay. Come when it gets dark and I’ll be making dinner if you’re hungry.”
He smiled really big again and again there was something in his face that I recognized and understood, even though I still can’t describe why or what…
Now I'm living in Portland, Oregon, from Roslyn, WA, after leaving Los Angeles, CA in 2010. Searching inside and out for a new paradigm is my major goal in life right now. The patriarchal, racist and classist world that we live in gives me complete and utter indigestion (literally); so I continue on my spiral journey, keeping my eyes open for other worlds and drawing inspiration from those who are also searching.
("Sloth Womyn," is a reference from, "The Womyn's Holy Book of Mysteries," by Z.E. Budapest.)