Magic

Voices floated around us. Rhythmic chanting, bodies dancing, drums beating, children playing, laughter and talk from families and friends coming together in another time emanated through us. Faint smells of roasting meat and salmon smoking in an open pit, passed through the breeze. Yet there were no smells. There was no sound. No people lingered. This happened long ago in this sacred place. All remnants from a peaceful positive energy that vibrates here.

We went to an old Native American Ceremonial site in Quosatana Butte area. Offerings left from visitors to the Great Spirit in gratitude, reverence and respect for allowing us to visit were arranged on a flat topped boulder. Pieces of shell and agate, sage and grass bundles, beads and small pieces of jewelry, a ring, a gold cross, a broken glass, pine cones, a pair of moccasins and coins all served as gifts.

This place was a well kept secret. Only people that have lived here for generations knew about it. You can see from the sign the secret is out. As with all good things the white man has "discovered" it and now exploited the ruin and vandalism will undoubtedly come.

Geologists call it a big sink hole and think it will someday get swallowed into the earth. The shape is a crescent of large terraced hillsides. Trees are draped in moss and rock outcroppings cover the area. There are fire pits all over. Probably the local Native people still use it as a meeting place.

Driving for miles and miles on old dirt logging roads. Watching for grouse, quail, deer and cougar to cross our path. We started out for a place called Wild Horse mountain but did not make it due to impassable ice and snow filling the road. We wound through the back hills of the Gold Beach and Hunter Creek areas. The view of the mountains was breathtaking and my companion told me wild tales of bear hunts. He talked of deer, elk, turkey and other bird hunts that had taken place over the years. He pointed out great fishing spots for trout and steelhead. Good camp sites are everywhere. We saw squatters camps and remnants of the mushroom pickers. So many great stories. And yes another great adventure.

Lock your doors tonight. I did not shoot the evil tin can today. I tried with an old six shooter and just could not get the sneaky thing. It kept moving or maybe the site was off. It couldn't have been old eagle eye here. I guess I will have to hang up my super hero cape.

My heartfelt gratitude to the man who is sharing his time, knowledge, great stories and interesting and delicious meals of "dead things" with me. You are the man.