Scary Storm—Part 2

My stormy bath reminded me of reading an account by John Muir, “Wind-Storm in the Forest,” when he found himself in a northern California conifer forest, as an 1874 storm blew his way. He waxed enthusiastically on about how the various species of trees were “singing and writing wind-music.” The woods were “enlivened with one of the most bracing wind-storms conceivable.” He had hiked to a friend's cabin, but when the storm's fury grew, he felt compelled to “go out into the woods to enjoy it.”

He wrote that nature “has always something more to show us, and the danger to life and limb is hardly greater than one would experience crouching deprecatingly beneath a roof.” Up to this point of the adventure, I'm kind of with you, John; although I'm out here, “crouching deprecatingly” in my tub.

And that's where Muir and I part company. While I hunched down fearfully, he headed for a stout tree to climb, to experience the glorious storm directly. Trees snapping and falling around him, he watched 200-foot high pines wave like “supple goldenrods, chanting and bowing low, as if in worship.” He could lean against the trunk of one of these giants and feel the sway of its mighty column.

Cresting a high ridge, Muir selected a 100-foot Douglas fir and climbed to its top. (That's like ten stories up there, John!) He was seeking sights and excitement that he knew awaited him, up in that towering cathedral. The top of the tree “flopped and swished in the passionate torrent... while I clung with muscles firm braced, like a bobolink on a reed.” Knowing that Douglas firs are incredibly strong and resilient, Muir felt completely “safe, and free to take the wind into my pulses and enjoy the excited forest from my superb outlook.” He held to his perch for several hours, glorying in the beautiful scene and thrilling to the music of the winds howling through the forest below him.

As I hunkered down in my tub, I thought of how my risk paled to that of John Muir's wild ride atop a California Douglas fir. It was little comfort, however, as I watched my sycamores and white pine bow to the gale, “as if in worship.” I didn't feel as safe as he said he was. But then again, I bet he felt a lot safer, as he later sat at his desk (as I do now), reporting his experience.

Both John and I lived through our storms. I don't think my fun anywhere near approached his, but that's OK... I get quite woozy from scaling a tree, after I've climbed only 15 feet up.