Godsend

The phantasmal mountains of the Pyrenees in South France, convey my most poignant encounter with a wild animal. A godsend animal. In the region of Ariège, an unusualness took place nearby a little abandoned rural community, situated by an old laid in marble quarry. Much high up in the deep dense woods, about an hour hike from the last drivable road, slopes this little forestal comune called “L’Espiougue”, surrounded by much greenery, and endowed with a few ancient stone houses and some barely visible ruins. The quarry operation, dating back to the end of 1900s, had almost vanished but left behind an obvious lore, traceable thru the big heavy copper cables, lancing atop the village, and the rusty and broken work carts with its tumbled and dwindled machine wheels covered in moss and morning glory from the extant work stations of the quarryman. Footlights for a picturesque industrial romance. When thunderstorms hit the quarry with lightning strikes, many a time the giant copper cable of the cable railway conducted the current with white and blue flashes throughout the trembling village.

What fascinated me, was the repurposing of the industrial remnants and excavations. The marble quarry bed turned into a sparse but marvelous outdoor bathroom, surrounded by 40 meter high rock faces. Some machine parts transformed into whimsical art sculptures and some metal beams and wheels into auxiliary structures for the permaculture garden or sustainable housing. Everything had its place and purpose. Again.

And this is where I decided to live in 1996. Off the grid, without electricity and sanitary facilities, away from all the hustle and bustle of the big cities in Europe. The commune was manned by 8 people only, mostly french folks and one german. They were artists, landscapers, gardeners, political activists and travellers. I was one of them. Life was simple, down to earth but also raw and rough at times. We lived autarkic, independent and free. For the most part. Every few weeks only, we left our home for disputed consumption in the nearby village, about an hour drive through the countryside. The wine, tobacco and chocolate was the arm twister for most of us. Even though we produced our own home made wine, and actually tobacco leaves grew in our garden. A stupendous garden which resembled the conception of Eden, a miracle working plain that provided us all year with every vegetable one can imagine. We were free. Free from pesticides, free from distractions, free from the trivial brainchild of the modern society. Of course this paradisiac lifeform encompassed lots of work and devotion, but for those who clicked with the rhythm of earth, it all made sense. I spend my first winter in the guest house, where most of the vegetables, the preserves and dried foods were stored in the back room. The old barn door always had to be shut and secured, thanks to Itak, our donkey, who had more brains than many a human. The mysterious quarry village was inhabited by many outdoor cats, chickens, salamanders, frogs and a few dogs. A white barn owl blessed the land with her nightly bleeping. Here, the nights were totally dark, and depending on the moon, one could see clearly the heavens with all its godliness of shining and twinkling stars. Once the sun set, the presence of the dawn was pervasive, urging everyone to brace oneself for the nightfall. Wood needed to be chopped and carried inside, windows and doors locked for no wild animals could cause any harm to the stashed foods or construction, water from the spring needed to be supplied if necessary, oil lamps or candles prevented, the animals fed and brought to their hutch. I’m sure it didn’t matter if it was 1572 or 1996, the time was always here and now.

After a year spent back to the roots in the mountains, i remember how i almost felt like an aborigine, when i saw a touristy man with a fancy watch on his wrist, hiking through the village, since a wander trail meandered through our Garden of Eden. Certainly it was seldom, that anyone made it up here. This was not a regular pedestrian path, much less accessible for wheelchairs or strollers. It took an experienced and courageous hiker to make it up here to draw a breath of the thin fresh air of Pyrenees exhalation.

(photo: mixed media/digital art by Y. Endrijautzki)

Under the quarry’s village slumbered a cloak-and-dagger grotto with a cove-like entrance that resembled a stone-giant’s mouth. Everything around was cloaked in vines and ivy. Sometimes i had to utilize my pocket knife to even get to my destination. When i sat by the cave, i would count dozens of bantam bats flying in and out the grotto. And once in awhile i could hear the little critters make quirky sounds. The rather vertical crack opening the grotto was very small to enter for any human, and something wasn’t quite inviting already. Therefor i never made it further than the opening of the giant’s mouth. A neighbor’s villager recounted the story of Nostradamus having spend some significant time in this mystical area.

One sunny winter day, i decided to hike uphill, where i had never really explored the upper mountain region. The weather was pleasant and as long as the sun wasn’t playing hide and seek with the clouds, one could always find some enjoyable warm hours. Though, as soon as the sun had decided to cast her unwelcomed shadows during her take off behind the mountains, the temperature could drop rapidly from 23 degrees to freezing temperatures. I didn’t plan on hiking out too far but somehow my plans proceeded differently. For about an hour or so, i followed a trail that was merely trampled by hunters. No one else truly made it up here. The wild grass and gnarly burl wood was frosted and rock hard. Every step over the icebound weeds, sounded like a gnashing of teeth. It was astounding to me, that i could wear light summer clothes but walk over frozen ground. In fact, the sun was so strong, that some people even got sun burned during wintertime. On my walking-tour, i passed by a few old decrepit hunting lodges, traversed the last broad foothill pastures and stopped by some semi hidden creeks emerging from interesting looking rock formations. Every few bouts, i turned around to capture the view to memorize my route back. It was dead silent up here. Rather a void of sound, of which is said that not everyone could handle. But in this thin air, one could definitely learn to see and hear for miles again. In the melting snow on the ground, i could smell the pine tree’s sap and a somewhat musty odor of the fungous soil. Here and then i would spot some footsteps of hoofed animals or birds foot, attempting to descry the species.

Completely sidetracked, time got buried in oblivion. Noticing the sun almost setting, i knew i only had an hour left to make it back. Hence, i turned around and bolted to where i came from. At least this was what i thought. Foolishly, i was hoping i could simply follow my footprints, but by the time of my return, they had all melted away. It didn’t take very long, till i realized i was moving in circles. Desperately looking for reference points, the situation only felt jinxed. Everything looked different. I found myself in nomansland. On one hand, the melted snow has caused the trees and foliage to appear different, and on the other, the perishing sun’s galanty show transmuted my visibility. Where the heck was I? And how did i get lost so fast? Don’t panic, i told myself, and started rushing straight on and down the slope, hoping to get a better view. Half the sun was already behind the mountain. That’s when i started running. Until the cows came home. Almost out of breath, i ended up in front of a wider mud path covered with tracks by a tractor, somehow raising some hope. Though after few turns, i realized the tracks leading into the deep pine woods which by now were offering nothing but obscurity. There was no way on earth, i was going to enter that blackness. So i turned around, and i could feel the temperature shift. For the time being, the cooler temperature felt refreshing, since i was racing. Yet i knew, that just less than a half hour ahead of time, i would think differently. A smidge pent up and worried, i u-turned and ran the opposite direction. Already the cold was getting to my skin and bones. Just a few measures further, the path finally forked, vested with a wooden signpost. The indication was pointing in three destinations. The names of locations never heard before. All three over 10 km and more away. By then, i could barely move my feet no more. My ankles were frozen and i had to bear up against the pain. I didnt’ know which direction to follow, but decided that it would make more sense to hit direction lowlands, where the chance to spot sedentary population was more apparent. My penumbral journey became a nightmare. After an endless continues jog, i ended up in front of another sign, coining the next forked path. This path was much wider now, almost the size of a drivable road suitable for motorcycles or jeeps. How i wished that one of those would pass by out of the blue, just to pick me up. But in reality, not even one sound much less the one of a motor, nor any aspect of electrical power or lights were in sight. I must admit that i teared up, and as the sun had fully disappeared behind the mountains, there was no choice but to get lost in the freezing cold temperature. Dressed in shorts and a light t-shirt, i tuned into survival mode. As ridiculous as it sounds, but i started thinking about bears and wolves, about freezing to death and my last testament. It is fascinating what sorts of thoughts come to one’s mind in a desperate and seemingly hopeless situation. I wondered if i should make it to one of the hunters cabins, to see if they were equipped with survival blankets for any reason. Only they were all the way back, too far up in the woods. The cold kept me moving, though my body wasn’t capable to run anymore. My knees and wrists capitulated. I marked time in front of that signpost, stomping the ground, deciding where to go.

I ripped out with an oath. Even two or three, as i was sick to the back teeth. The pain caused by the freezing temperature was unbearable. It must have been for almost an hour now, wandering the darkness, barely being able to see the ground. Luckily, slightly moonshine and some star lights were resurging in the night sky, not feeling completely lost. While gazing into the celestial body, i considered former times, where once the customary GPS was nothing else but stellar constellation. How i wished in that moment i could decipher this ancient language. But i wasn’t an astronomer. The cold was killing me, and already chattering my teeth, i had to rub my arms and shake my legs to stay warm. And if there was something i couldn’t stand, then this was cold. Ice cold.

I started begging and praying. Not sure to whom and what. But i did. I asked the analog GPS to show me the way. I asked the universe to please help me find the right route back home where everyone was already gathered in front of the warm and cosy fireplace. I whined and cried and plead for an answer. A sign. A way out. Anything.

All of a sudden an unexpected noise was interrupting my soliloquy. I could hear footsteps in a distance of several meters behind me. I then turned around, hoping to spot a returning home hunter or a farmer working unsociable hours, but i thought wrong.

Instead i had a face to face encounter with an adult deer, looking right into each other’s eyes. In awe-stricken silence, the deer stepped right in front of me. For shits and giggles but somewhat also serious, i asked if it was godsend and if it could show me the way? Suddenly it spurted ahead, and with just a few jumps it halted right by the forked path and turned its head towards me, as if it was trying to say something. I instinctively followed along and sometimes even walked right next to it. It was enchanting and majestic, though in that at this stage fully reached darkness, i could barely discern the proper features of this wild animal. Again, i asked if i suppose to tag along and if it would get me home? And once more, it spurted forward, just a few jumps and then stood rooted to the ground, as though it was waiting for me to follow. I lagged behind and even came so close, i could feel the warmth of the animal. I could smell its breath and its musky body odor that was redolent of the tang we become acquainted with at any zoo. The deer started walking up the hill back into the direction of the deep forest where i just rushed away from. You must be kidding me, i thought. The last thing i imagined, was to walk back to the forest where it was much colder and darker in any case. I had enough already! But the deer kept walking and for some odd reason i just surrendered and moved along. Maybe i felt safe next to my new tour guide, maybe i believed it was my last resource or maybe it was the fascination of the animal encounter itself that simply excelled all reasonable thinking. Unknowingly, somewhere deep inside, it sparked a flicker of hope. So i found myself following the deer for a walk on the wild side. I followed for a few turns, and to my surprise, the deer always stayed on the footpath, never veered away from the track into the pasture or onto the rubble. My trailblazer lead the way, and i succeeded step by step. After quite a stretch, we eventually stood before the first gaping fir trees, shaping a dark portal to the kingdom of the saga land. Teetering on the brink of the abyss, my hair stood on end. There i was, a scaredy cat, afraid of the trembling uncertainty. And before i could decide or come up with any other idea or excuse at all, the deer had already walked into the woodland. Without hesitation i mimicked the deer and a few seconds later i was swallowed by the Nibelungen. Starring Goddess Artemis and her companion doe, we conquered the silence, yet the whole timber spoke its own quiescent language and it appeared as if silence itself was the transmission line.

To my amazement, the deer took a turn where the woods unraveled itself and another path led out into the open to goodness knew where, followed by a forked road, with a signpost giving two destination: one was a village i recognized, but 22 km away, and the other just a lookout point at the back of beyond even further up the road. And this was the direction the deer was heading for. I couldn’t believe it. For God sake- was this a hopeless case?

The pain, the cold, the uncertainty and the weariness brought me to the end of one’s tether. I couldn’t even feel my toes anymore. And i worried about frost bites. It was clear that i couldn’t make another 22 km in this cold, but for some reason i believed that this direction was the only right direction and consequential decision. The deer waited readily at the top of the mount. I wasn’t persuaded at all, so this was finally my last attempt to obey, still hoping for the miraculous godsend idea. And then of course, just a kilometer up the road into lorn land, the deer disappeared. Completely gone and vanished into thin air. I threw my hands up in horror and started crying. There i was, completely lost, none the wiser, in the middle of the freezing night and far, far away from warmth and any shelter. How stupid of me, i thought. I lost another half hour believing in some godsend tour guide while the frost was congealing the back of my knees, barely able to bend them anymore. I see-sawed, and blew warm breath into my shaking hands, to keep the blood circulating. What a fine mess i made!

I looked up in the sky, grumbling in black despair, at the end of my wit’s, as surprisedly, like a bolt out of the blue, a motor like noise resounded in far distance. The clatter came clearer, and finally i spotted a tractor. I waved my arms and yelled like a maniac, with tears and with laughter. The driver used his signal lamp and in that very moment, this little significant event took a load of my mind. The tractor belonged to an old haggard french man, who climbed off his workwagon and immediately placed a woolen shawl over my trembling shoulders. What a saving grace!

” Que diable faites-vous ici à cette température?” he asked, meaning: What the heck are you doing here in this temperatures?”

He then mentioned that i was very lucky, as he, the only one frequenting up here in timberland, usually never drives up on Sundays. But because of some forgotten tool that he needed down in the village, he made it all the way up there. Intrinsically, i would have walked the other path, wasn’t it for the deer somewhat persuading me otherwise. Without fail, i then would have missed out on my one and only chance to get home safe and sound. I told the driver about the deer, leading me all the way up here. He smiled and said, that nature is full of wonders. Sometimes we just don’t know how the universe provides us with solutions.

And often times, it is never what we want, or think is right,

but what needs to be.

Yvette

2018

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