Archive | Uncategorized RSS feed for this section

How I became a songwriter during COVID

3 Jan

“I am not a songwriter.” Before the pandemic, this statement was true. 

But today, the “t” in “not” has to become a “w” to make a new true statement: “I am now a songwriter.”

On December 10, my new music video of the song “Safe Passage: Animals Need a Hand” launched on the YouTube channel of my supportive employer, Great Smoky Mountains Association. Now it has reached over 3,500 views. So, I thought I’d write the story of how it all began. 

Bella Wells-Fried (the elk), Natalie Karrh (the deer), and Lexi McGraw (the bear) enter the box culvert in Unicoi County, TN, that provides their safe passage under a busy highway in the video. Image courtesy of Valerie Polk, GSMA.

Sometime back in 2018, I was driving home from Asheville on Interstate 26 listening to WNCW, a noncommercial public radio station operating from Spindale, North Carolina. Like a bolt from the blue, a song came on that created such a shift in my focus that I was scarcely aware of driving my vehicle. The refrain that struck me to my core, and what I assumed was also its title, was “we used to be birds.” I strained at the end to be sure I picked up the name of the artist. Appropriately, and easy to remember, it was Jonathan Byrd. I distinctly recall feeling that this was an important moment. 

From that time on, I followed Jonathan Byrd and the Pickup Cowboys, purchasing some CDs and signing up for the band’s email newsletter, the Byrd Word. Wednesday nights at our house became Jonathan Bryd night as we watched the band performing live from a small music venue in White Cross, North Carolina. As the pandemic descended and we all struggled to feel connected, the band continued to provide their live streams, first from the Kraken while it was closed to its local audience, and later from the loft of Jonathan’s home. These three-hour concerts helped us feel a sense of community and sanity during lockdown and into the “new normal.”

At the same time, from March to May of 2020, in an unpremeditated fit of creative passion for wildlife and their struggles to cross highways like I-26 and I-40 near the Smokies, I wrote the story that became my children’s book, A Search for Safe Passage. I’ve waxed on about that creative process in an earlier blog post here.

On July 27, 2020, the book’s illustrations were being created by GSMA Publications Specialist Emma DuFort while I pulled together the educational material for the back section. Sitting at my orange-and-yellow-crackle-painted desk in my home office in Flag Pond, Tennessee, I opened the Byrd Word to read that Jonathan was inviting fans to join him for a virtual songwriting retreat. 

“Could I write a song?” I heard myself say out loud, as if I had momentarily split in two and was asking my other self a question. I pushed back my chair, stood up, and headed to the kitchen to refill my coffee. As I did this physical motion, I simultaneously opened my mouth, and sang the words, “Safe passage, animals need to cross!” 

Coffee in hand, I returned to my desk and turned on the digital recording app on my phone. Here’s what came out: 

Safe passage, animals need to cross.

Safe passage, animals need to cross.

To cross the highway, oh yeah.

To cross the highway, oh yeah.

Ancient trails have been put down for centuries. 

You can’t try to tell me it ain’t true. 

Foxes and bobcats, coyote, and bear and elk are hit. 

You can’t tell me it’s not part of you.”

And that was just the beginning. I realized that I needed a way to write the music down that was flooding into my head. I also realized that I missed having a piano at the ready, as had been the case when I was growing up in eastern Kentucky. Mother played mostly “by ear” and provided me with both piano and voice lessons for about five years, but they never really “took,” and I gave up to focus on horseback riding and boys. But now I wished for a keyboard to pluck out the notes. I found a couple of songwriting apps that allowed me to identify and document the melody I was creating. 

Jonathan Byrd’s songwriting retreat

By the time the songwriting retreat rolled around in September, I had the basis for “Safe Passage: Animals Need a Hand” already in draft form both in terms of the lyrics and the melody. But I needed direction on how to hone the composition and a boatload of encouragement, both of which I got from the wonderful three-day course. 

On the first Zoom meeting on Friday night, I met the other seven students, who were mostly musicians and songwriters already. They were supportive, open, and excited that I was stepping out of my comfort zone to try to write a song. We all enjoyed getting to interact with Jonathan and listen as he shared the backstory behind several of his own popular compositions.

On the Saturday morning session, we got to know each other better and explored writing as Jonathan shared more examples of pairing lyrics and melody from his repertoire. Saturday afternoon each member of the group would have just one-half hour alone on a Zoom with Jonathan. This was my chance to get specific direction, and I anxiously prepared so the time would be spent as effectively as possible. 

I’m still amazed at how well this one-on-one interaction worked. I showed Jonathan my draft of the lyrics and made a woeful attempt to sing him the melody. He liked the poetic conceit of the person saying they are the animal and suggested some very simple changes to the lyrics. In the verses, rather than something complex like “I am a white-tailed deer,” the stark “I am a deer,” would be better. This change helped me to choose some other ways to simplify and the entire piece tightened up before my eyes. 

After my “audience” with Jonathan, I had until the next morning to finalize my song. There was this phrase and melody stuck in my head that didn’t fit with the new streamlined style, yet it seemed to have to remain in the song: “I am an American black bear, and I’m following an ancient trail.” I realized this would hold space as a little introduction to set the tone for the song—and it ended up working perfectly. 

When Sunday morning came, rather than “performing” nervously in front of the group, I recorded my version of the song using Zoom and played it back for them. My new friends all loved the composition and the lone hand-drum accompaniment that gave it the Native American feel I was going for with the melody. 

Making a music video

Over the next six months or so GSMA’s marketing coordinator, Elly Wells, helped me to locate the right band to record the song. I loved The Fates from the moment we met, and they have their own story about how they worked with River Guerguerian to create the awesome harmonic piece that you hear on the music video. You can read about that in this column I wrote for the Asheville Citizen Times. 

The Fates: vocalist and guitarist Natalie Karrh, vocalist, pianist and bassist Lexi McGraw, and vocalist and violinist Bella Wells-Fried (left to right) captured inside the graffiti-riddled tunnel in Unicoi County, TN, that provides their “safe passage” under the highway in the video. Image courtesy of Frances Figart.

Before they even finalized the recording, The Fates got to perform “Safe Passage: Animals Need a Hand” on a special show dedicated to the Safe Passage project by Jonathan Byrd and the Pickup Cowboys. This occurred in March of 2021, timed with the launch of my book, A Search for Safe Passage.

Next, I had in mind to create the music video in a way that would ignite the wildlife crossing movement. Somewhat unpremeditated, I picked up the phone in early April to ask the person who was my first choice of director. Joe Lamirand became one of my best friends during the early 2000s. I had seen him create music videos before and knew how much he loved the editing process. Since that time, he had married my best friend from childhood, Mary Elizabeth. The two have several properties to manage in addition to their jobs. Would he take this on? 

I was thrilled when Joe agreed to lend his talents to the project for which I had shared such passion. We began to plan the video shoot for late June and for several months Joe and I enjoyed the creative process in the roles of director and producer. After considering several locations in Asheville, we realized the simplest place to do the production was at my house and property in East Tennessee. This would allow us to get all the shots we needed in just one weekend as well as have a place to house The Fates. With Joe arriving a week before the shoot in order to plot out the entire script, the stage was set for a hectic but rewarding weekend of work.

The Fates on the set of the video shoot in Flag Pond, Tennessee. Image courtesy of Frances Figart.

“Working on the video was a very fun and exciting experience,” said Natalie Karrh of The Fates. “We camped out for a weekend in Tennessee on Frances’s beautiful, lush property. Filming took place over a couple days and the first day was spent acting out the storyline of the animals’ journeys. The second day entailed the more musical aspect of the video. We were so lucky to have such talented and supportive people working with us the whole time. Frances was such a gracious host and made sure we were all comfortable and well fed. Joe was a very encouraging and patient director with a clear vision that he helped us all execute. Many other people came out to help, each bringing a sense of joy, community, and dedication.”

All of those wonderful people are named in the credits at the end of the video, which overlays footage of young black bears frolicking in the forest with Interstate 40 traffic raging by in the background, just visible and audible through the trees. Many folks heard about the project and sent small amounts of money to offset my costs. Some came and physically helped to make the shooting a success. Road ecology professionals from around the country helped us obtain b-roll. It was a true collaboration!

All this is not to say that I am now going to be writing songs every day, as does the immensely inspiring Jonathan Byrd. But I am content to have allowed my spirit for a fleeting moment to soar like the bird I used to be and to say “yes” to a notion that maybe I could do something that I didn’t think I was designed to do. 

“In my dreams, we fly.” ~Joni Mitchell 

Frances Figart, who wrote the song “Safe Passage: Animals Need a Hand” and produced the music video with director Joe Lamirand looks on as the Fates sing her song in her backyard in Flag Pond, TN. Production assistant Jane Maurer, now also working at GSMA, can be seen behind the lighting device. Image courtesy of Sarah K. Schuetz. 
The Fates’ vocalist and violinist Bella Wells-Fried singing “I am an elk” in the music video. Image courtesy of Joye Ardyn Durham.
The Fates’ vocalist, pianist, and bassist Lexi McGraw singing “I am a bear” in the music video. Image courtesy of Joye Ardyn Durham.
The Fates’ vocalist and guitarist Natalie Karrh singing “I am a deer” in the music video. Image courtesy of Joye Ardyn Durham.
The Fates’ violinist Bella Wells-Fried performing her solo in the music video. Image courtesy of Joye Ardyn Durham.
Videographer Joye Ardyn Durham captures a take while Director Joe Lamirand monitors the lighting.
Director Joe Lamirand and Videographer Valerie Polk of Great Smoky Mountains Association look over the shot list with help from Dukkha.
Production assistant Jane Maurer helps Director Joe Lamirand with setup of lighting equipment.
Ivy hugs her aunt Joye while Production Assistant Sarah K. Schuetz looks on.
Production Assistant Terry Deal happily poses for her daughter Taylor who works in filmmaking.
Bella holds Oki, a normally unmanageable feline, in between takes as Natalie comments.

Tags: , , , , , ,

New Book and Song Support Safe Passage Movement

13 May

Most of my writing is now part of my work in the Smokies. I blog at Smokies LIVE and write a regular column called “Word from the Smokies” for the Asheville Citizen Times. But I realized that I still needed to post here—where my essays began—about my new book and song that are helping to make people aware that we need a paradigm shift when it comes to roadkill.

As most of you know, I grew up in Eastern Kentucky at a summer camp for which my parents acted as overseers. I spent summer days swimming, canoeing, hiking, and horseback riding, immersing myself in a landscape of Appalachian wildlife. The only sadness I recall was seeing animals hit and killed on roads.

In my 30s and 40s, I traveled the world as a tourism professional, and lived for a period of time in both Canada and Costa Rica. These experiences raised my awareness of wildlife road mortality as a global problem.

Not long after I began working in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, I got involved with a group of federal, state, tribal, and non-governmental organizations discussing the need for wildlife-crossing structures along Interstate 40 near the park boundary—in the Pigeon River Gorge between Asheville and Knoxville. I was drawn to this group because I had been seeing black bear, white-tailed deer, and even an elk killed on Interstate 26 north of Asheville, near my home in Flag Pond, Tennessee.

Flash forward to late March of 2020. The pandemic ground most of my travel and social interaction to a halt. But sitting out by the creek on my six-acre property, Taylor Barnhill popped a startling question: “When are you going to write a children’s book about the need for wildlife crossings?”

I must have spewed a five-minute litany of protests. At the apex of my career as a creative director managing five leading-edge innovators, being involved in a plethora of engaging projects with my colleagues at Great Smoky Mountains Association and in the National Park Service, how could I begin to think about taking on such a project?

The next day, I found myself at the creek again with a yellow legal pad and a pen. I filled six and a half pages with a story draft, and about six more with detailed notes. I created an outline for eight chapters, drew a crude map, and charted out personality types for 16 characters of various species. This was just the beginning: For the next six weekends, I typed on my computer, finishing the narrative of a children’s story in early May, now one year ago.

But it wasn’t just for kids! I was writing something that my mother and I would have enjoyed reading to one another when I was about age 11 or 12. And I was including humor, allusion, and allegory that epitomized my education as an English Literature major and would appeal to others who love great books with a journey motif.

A Search for Safe Passage tells the story of best friends Bear and Deer who grew up together on the North side of a beautiful Appalachian gorge. In the time of their grandparents, animals could travel freely on either side of a fast-flowing river, but now the dangerous Human Highway divides their home range into the North and South sides.

Many animals have died on the Human Highway trying to follow the ancient trails. So, to keep everyone safe, Turtle, the elder, has created a law forbidding anyone to try to cross, and a Forest Council has been formed to look for solutions. Hawk and Owl scout the area each day for other ways to travel from North to South, with no luck. But on the night of a full moon, two strangers arrive from the South with news that will lead to tough decisions, a life-changing adventure, and new friends joining in a search for safe passage.

To book’s illustrator is Emma DuFort, a publications specialist on my staff at Great Smoky Mountains Association. This is her first book to design and illustrate, and I’m so thrilled with the result of all her efforts from May 2020 through January of 2021. She rendered my characters with perceptive grace, understanding them as dignified, smart, and sensitive and conveying this in her anatomically accurate portrayals.

The story is fiction, but it is based on the real-life problem. The setting is a microcosm of the Pigeon River Gorge, a beautiful, wild landscape with a treacherous highway bisecting ancient wildlife corridors. In the back of the book is an interpretive section about the real-life animals and their actual wildlife crossing needs.

And there is also a song: Safe Passage: Animals Need a Hand. It came together through a songwriting retreat with Jonathan Byrd of White Cross, North Carolina. I’m getting ready to produce a music video of the song performed by the Asheville band The Fates, who performed it in March on Jonathan Byrd’s Shake Sugaree Americana Residency. My dear friend Laura Rod in Lausanne, Switzerland, just made a wonderful video of her band, Smile, doing a Laura Nyro-esque version of the song with a completely different melody than the one I originally composed. I welcome others to record their own versions so it can become an anthem for the wildlife crossing movement.

All the while I was preparing the book for publication by GSMA, I was supporting the collaborative effort to collect data, plan, and help implement wildlife crossings along the dangerous 28-mile stretch of highway in western North Carolina and east Tennessee. On February 25, the public became aware of Safe Passage: The I-40 Pigeon River Gorge Wildlife Crossing Project. Six partners—The Conservation Fund, Defenders of Wildlife, Great Smoky Mountains Association, National Parks Conservation Association, North Carolina Wildlife Federation, and Wildlands Network—have made it possible for donations to be collected for future road mitigation and wildlife crossing structures via a fund at SmokiesSafePassage.org.

Through all this work, I have come to the realization that humans must refuse to accept roadkill as a natural part of traveling in our modern world. There are viable and affordable solutions that have succeeded all over the planet—and the time has come to do something about this issue in our biologically diverse Southern Appalachian landscape.

If this work interests you, here are many articles where you can read more about road ecology and the work being done in the Pigeon River Gorge. You can purchase A Search For Safe Passage at smokiesinformation.org. If you would like to buy it with a bookplate signed by me and illustrator Emma DuFort, you can call 865.436.7318 Ext 226 and the awesome folks at the GSMA warehouse will take your card number and ship you a signed copy.

Tags: , , , ,

Free Goats – Mid July update

21 Jul
Mid July update: the goats are doing well and there is a brown baby not visible in this shot.

Last fall, my husband and I were driving up to Wolf Laurel in Madison County, North Carolina, to a post-Thanksgiving gathering. Around a bend in the road we encountered a group of five small goats—four white and one black—running in our path. “Whose are you guys?” I mused while shooting a short video of them. The goats, who were wearing bright red collars, leapt off the road, trotted up a hill and disappeared into the forested landscape as we passed by. Later, one of our group said they thought these particular goats belonged to someone in the area, and perhaps had gotten loose. 

Although goats are often “kept” by people for their milk, meat, fur and skins—or even just as pets—their cloven-hooved ancestors once roamed free. Today’s common goat is probably descended from a beast called the bezoar ibex—a wild bovid that still clambers around the rocks in certain parts of the Middle East and likely dates back to the prehistoric period; the earliest known remains of goats were found in Iran. Capra aegagrus hircus was one of first animals to be domesticated by humans about 9,000 years ago when Neolithic farmers started herding them for their milk and meat, and to use their dung for fuel. 

Goats are extremely gregarious social animals and love to be with others of their kind or with any other animal so as to form a hierarchy and structure within which to carry out their complex and often humorous shenanigans. They possess high intelligence, are extremely aware of even minor changes in their routine or surroundings, and have an astounding memory. I know because, once upon a time, I had three goats. 

Back in the early 1990s, I had a job at a newspaper and lived in a rambling old farmhouse between Winchester and Lexington, Kentucky. I shared this well-preserved turn-of-the-century manor with several roommates, each of whom had his or her own large room and fireplace; we heated with wood and propane. Maybe it was over-zealous joy at having my own cool pad in the country or maybe I wanted to make life more complex than it needed to be: I’m not sure how it started, but a got a yen for goats. I found and bought three young kids—two brown males and a white female—for a very modest price, carrying them home in the back of my teal Geo Metro; they were so small, it was a perfect fit. Being an English major, I named them Virgil, Dante and Lysistrata—those of you with the interest can probably discern why. When it was time to take the two males to be castrated, the vet at first was going to perform this necessary act sans any anesthesia, as was the typical practice for livestock. But I insisted these were pets, and deserving of any decency due a cat or dog.

A couple of seasons were spent delighting in the goats and their cavorting antics. They loved to “dance” with me by jumping towards me with their stubby horns and butting up against my hips. It seemed to be their form of a hug. We fed them hay and sweet feed from Southern States and they frolicked in a large fenced-in area inside which a large pink doghouse-like enclosure served as both shelter and jungle gym. I cannot remember why it was pink; maybe that was a paint color from one of the rooms and we had some to spare. What I do recall is that the goats’ primary pastime was escaping the fence—which had actually been built by some farmer, years back, and was now vulnerable to the goats’ tenacious ingenuity at many junctures. Sometimes we would come home to find “the goaters” nibbling smugly on the plastic that we had painstakingly used to cover the farmhouse windows for warmth during winter; other times we would find them skipping and capering through our vain attempt at a vegetable garden, having ravaged the freshly grown lettuce, beans, corn and potatoes. They never really wanted to go far, but they did want to use their smarts to sassily obtain their freedom. They wanted to frisk, gambol and romp their way to exercising free will. 

After what I realize now was probably only a few months of this, it became clear that my three prancing critters named for literary legends would be happier and better cared for on an actual farm than at a farmhouse full of young writers, designers, teachers and social workers who were gone all day and didn’t know the first thing about making a goat-proof fence. So I loaded the now much larger goaters up, bleating and baaing, into the Geo Metro and drove them about 20 miles to my good friend’s well-fenced acreage on Wills-Rupard Road in the community of Trapp, near where I had grown up. Here they were welcomed into a complex social structure that included cattle, horses, mules, pigs and a family of other goats. The addition of Virgil, Dante and Lissie brought the herd to a dozen goats in all; we adoringly referred to them as the twelve disciples. 

Any time I visited them, although they hadn’t seen me in years, my goats would recognize me as soon as I got out of my vehicle—even when I had graduated to a Toyota RAV4—and would greet me enthusiastically with plaintive baas and hip butts. It was great fun to go visit them and all the other farm animals my friend kept in her care. A few years into the goats’ tenure there, a pack of coyotes attacked and killed half the Wills-Rupard herd, leaving only hooves, horns, beards and a few other select pieces behind. My three goats, who were now some of the larger and stronger members of the group, made it through this natural atrocity physically unscathed, yet apparently emotionally shaken from the trauma of seeing their comrades slaughtered. 

Over the years, as I traveled farther from home, my visits grew less and less frequent, but I always knew the goats were in good hands, and eagerly absorbed any news about them. Years later, Virgil, who had grown the longest horns, died suddenly of unknown causes in his teens; the vet said it was possibly a heart attack. Both Dante and Lissie lived into their 20s; Dante, who for some reason grew only nubs for horns, finally passed away only a few years back. 

Not long ago, my husband and I were traveling Highway I-26 from our home in Flag Pond, Tennessee, down to Asheville. Climbing up the mountain to what’s known as Sam’s Gap, we spotted some color and movement on a field adjacent to a runaway truck ramp. Three white and one black furry bodies basking in the sunlight and dining on green grass: It was the Wolf Laurel goats! They were missing one of their white cohorts, but these four still sported their red collars and looked healthy and happy. 

We’ve been seeing them up there for almost a month now, living on their own, not near any shepherding caretakers or fenced lands. Sometimes during the day they are grazing the open field, but early in the morning or closer to nightfall, they can be seen high up in the rocky outcrops and out on the dizzying precipices of the high-elevation pass, acting like true mountain goats. 

However wonderfully they may have been treated by the humans who kept them in the past, the Wolf Laurel goats followed their instincts and their intellects and chose a home on their own. They took risks to get there, crossing several miles of various properties, and losing one of their herd mates, which I know is a painful thing for them. No one knows exactly how far they traveled or how many roads they may have crossed. But they are doing what they want to do. No longer burdened by the perpetual desire to be escape artists, they are fending for themselves, living the life they choose—at whatever cost, for however long. 

Early in the morning, sometimes late at night, I wonder about their fate. How long can these rogue goats keep up their tenuous livelihood on the edge of the cliff beside a busy highway? I expect to one day find some disaster has befallen them. But I delight to know that, at least for now, they are free.

 

 

Epiphany of a normal day: Keep being you

5 Jan

On this Twelfth Night, eve of Epiphany, when my mother would have turned 85, I reflect on the fact that many of the people I am closest to today—both geographically and emotionally—I did not even know in January of 2011.

At that time, I was in Kentucky, and suffering terribly because of a breakup a few months before that had left me feeling completely ungrounded. I had temporarily lost my identity in another, one with whom I finally had to sever ties in order to regain my self. I remember sobbing in my friend Candace’s bedroom, “I’ve had to break up with Bruce, and I’ve realized I have no idea who I am!”

During my time of healing, I sought counseling and found, through a trusted friend’s recommendation, a wonderful therapist who I will call Ryman. I saw him only five or six times, and I shared my story and brought him texts that I wanted to use to help me weather the storm until I found dry land again. They were passages from Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now and Melody Beatty’s The Language of Letting Go. Ryman and I made recordings of his voice and my own that I would play in solitude, reminding myself how to get back to center, where I needed to be.

Ryman was a huge help in keeping me on course, though he constantly told me that I was the one steering the boat—I was doing all the work, and he was just there to watch and listen. Months passed. I reached the shore and regained myself… just in time to be of some comfort to my mom in her final months.

2756313819_b2fe9026c4_b

by Warren Lynn

Now, living in North Carolina, I have a whole new social pathway, but I keep in touch with many friends and acquaintances in Kentucky and the world over. I reach out to Ryman about once a year, and he always sends a message back to tell me a bit about his life. During the Twelve Days of Christmas this year, I wrote a note to him, and his response left me reeling. Unbeknownst to me, during January last year he lost his wife, his soul mate, to a sudden illness.

“It has been a year filled with sadness, joy, thanksgiving, longing, some despair, etc., all fine and part of the process,” he wrote. “Your experience after your Mom passed was part of a continuing reminder for me that she is alive and well in my heart and in every part of my existence and everything around me.”

I responded: “I can tell between the lines that you are allowing yourself the privilege to be fully immersed in ‘the luxury of grief,’ which is a very individual experience, as unique as your relationship was. I can say nothing that will help, but only to allow all this to flow over you and into you like a river, without trying to map its course. I feel that at the 3.5-year point since I lost my mother, I am actually done with grieving because I have always allowed the grief to overtake me fully and take me wherever it wanted me to go.”

I thought about what it really was that helped me get through the first year after my mom’s death. I remembered that I felt the most lost and bewildered on the first Mother’s Day (which was almost a year after she passed) and that I wished to be able to be counseled by Ryman, but I was far away and alone.

“I read a lot of things but really, what’s helped me most was just listening to my own heart and staying tuned in to my mother through common friends and through my writing about my grief,” I wrote him. “Something that helps me that I’ve never really tried to write down is the notion of how we experience time as linear, when truly it isn’t. Because of that, it seems that one person has to ‘go’ before another, but actually, we are all already everywhere together at once. During this horrible time of separation, you are forced to remain in this linear time illusion, while she is actually free of it. So as much as you can join her in that knowing that you are truly still together, the more free you become.”

Ryman responded the next day: “I just read your email and thanks so much. I copied it onto Word and made a copy to keep in front of me as a reminder about getting centered with this experience. Today, I have been sad and had moments of feeling sorry for myself. It’s of course all okay, but I want ‘to allow it to flow over me and into me like a river’ and be open to creating something new and different. I love your ‘linear time illusion,’ which nails the reality, leading me to say, ‘Oh, I forgot about that!’ Thank you for reminding me!! So much of what you said was a reminder of what I sometimes forget. One wise person said, ‘We teach those things we most need to remember ourselves.’ That has always been true for me.”

I’m overjoyed that I could be of some help to this person who helped me remember who I was at a crucial time of self-doubt.

2757145654_1a0a67516c_b

by Warren Lynn

Even though now I am so much happier and centered than I was five years ago, I still have days of frustration and need reassurance. On one of these, recently, I received a wonderful message from my new colleague, Tina—one of those people I didn’t even know five years ago, but who is now a treasured friend—who texted me:

“Just keep being you: dedicated, visionary, warm, professional, deeply caring, funny, experienced, creative, kind, with a smile and laugh and deep heart that naturally just draws you in… what struck me when I first met you, then played out deeper as we started to work together is that you do all these things with poise and class. Keep being you…”

One of the coolest things about that message was that while I read it, I felt somehow disoriented and seemed to travel back in time. For an instant, I thought I was reading a description written long ago about my mom—but then I realized, this was about me.

When I start to take any aspect of life for granted, I want to always remember Ryman and how he helped me get back in my boat and get back to shore in late 2010 and early 2011. I want to remember how sudden was his loss and how effervescent his ongoing resilience. I also want always to remember being with my mother in her last days and hearing her say, “I would give anything if I could just get out of bed and come to greet you when you get home from the grocery.”

A message came to me today from someone I don’t even know, as part of a chain of uplifting quotes:

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are.
Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you, before you depart.
Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.
Let me hold you while I may, for it will not always be so.
One day I shall dig my fingers into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or raise my hands to the sky, and want, more than all the world, your return.”

~Mary Jean Irion

0145f86a6aac3325a754e4215d60fe9a

 

Intention, practice and writing your own future

25 Dec

I once heard Kurt Vonnegut deliver an absolutely riveting talk. At its climactic crescendo he exclaimed, “You want to know the future? Just wait around for about five seconds. It’s happening right now. You are creating it through your every thought and intention. You want to change the world? Change your thoughts!”

STL14KURT_336623kI remember including this and several other kernels of Vonnegut-inspired wisdom in a presentation I gave to various writers’ groups in Kentucky. One was: “Not sure you’re a writer? Check and see if you’re writing.” In other words, aptitude alone doesn’t make you a writer; you need to make writing a daily practice.

About five years ago, a fork in my life’s path could have easily swayed me from that practice. But I chose instead to use the circumstance to deepen it… and to add a new element to my writing: intention.

In October of 2010, I had just stepped away from an adventurous career in Costa Rica to spend time with my mom in Kentucky. I knew that I would be staying with her for the rest of her life. As the marketing and communications director for a kayak ecotour operation, I had been immersed in writing every day—handling all company communications and maintaining the web site and social media program I had created.

Rather than set aside the practice of writing each day, I started this blog.

Any body of work starts with a consideration of its audience. Even if we don’t realize it, the person or group for whom an article, essay, poem or book is written is with us on a subconscious level. Sometimes we know the audience, and sometimes we write to attract an audience not yet within our sphere.

I started this blog with two audiences in mind: one general, and one very specific.

First, I wanted to keep my broad network of travel industry contacts abreast of what I was doing and to express myself personally and professionally to that global audience, which included members of The International Ecotourism Society, Sustainable Travel International and the Adventure Travel Trade Association.

Another, as yet invisible, audience was more specific: I was writing to an unseen publisher who would someday discover my work through taking the time to read this collection of reflective essays (as well as the parts of my blog that are a virtual résumé) and deem me worthy of investing in as a writer, editor and leader. This person would not just think that I was good, but would completely “get” me and fully recognize and utilize my potential to take a product or company to the next level.

I was setting an intention with the blog site. While I was putting my career on hold in order to care for my mother, I was at the same time creating a way to continually demonstrate my abilities by writing about my current role as a caregiver.

It’s good to have intentions. What is sometimes hard is waiting for the time to be right.

IMG_0679Many lessons were learned and incredible growth took place in the fertile ground of my commitment—though I felt hopelessly unqualified—to help my mother die and then manage her estate. I didn’t do it perfectly, nor did she. It was hard, we were awkward, but we muddled through. While I could never master patience while she was here, once she was gone, miraculously, I had somehow become a much more patient person. All along the way, I wrote about the experience. Four of my best essays came to be penned throughout four difficult seasons: the spring of my mother’s last days; the summer of her passing; the fall consumed by the luxury of grief; and the winter when I finally understood… she wasn’t really gone at all!

That last essay, Changes are shifting outside the world, tells what it was like for me to be with my mother during her transition. It concludes thus: “The way we experience time in this realm of form brings a horrible finality to this type of separation from someone we love. But, we need not lose interest in the plot as we might do when watching a movie where no transformation seems to be occurring. Change can still be going on—and who are we to say that it couldn’t be? For all I know, Mom is now on some level of the hero’s journey that is beyond my comprehension. My continued closeness to her essence gives me the impression that changes are indeed shifting outside this world and that she is still learning, growing and changing as she has always done.”

IMG_3051

A year later, I had relocated to Asheville, North Carolina, and was trying to find a job in which I could use my writing. On the morning of February 1, 2014, I got the following response to the essay Changes are shifting outside the world.

“Beautifully stated! Your heart was opening to a wonderful knowing, love transcends all that is…. Peace of mind only comes thru the heart and is felt sometimes long before it is known. I am happy for your knowing so thoughtfully expressed.”

As I read that comment on my blog, I knew that my intention was now actualized. I had found my publisher.

P2P filler copyAnd so, largely because of the events that have transpired through the act of visioning and creating my own future, I now have the great privilege to work as a magazine editor once again. It is my J.O.B. (joy of being) to direct the work of some 50 contributing writers, photographers, illustrators and members of an advisory council for a fledgling print publication that celebrates the farm-to-table culture and community in the foothills of South Carolina, western North Carolina and east Tennessee.

Because of the magnitude of energy required in this new role, I have not posted an essay on this blog for an entire year—since my marriage January 1, 2015. It is my new intention to return to this practice of blogging, even as I devote myself wholeheartedly to my role as editor of Plough to Pantry.

12143356_1031905556839960_1656737984944827605_nMy audience for this blog has multiplied since my move to the Asheville area. So I write this to all my new friends, as well as all my long-time friends everywhere. I also write this essay for and dedicate it in utter thankfulness and humble appreciation to my very specific audience: To Jerry, who took the time to read, to see, and to believe.

“You want to know the future? Just wait around for about five seconds. It’s happening right now. You are creating it through your every thought and intention. You want to change the world? Change your thoughts!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

View the digital Winter edition of Plough to Pantry here:

http://edition.pagesuite-professional.co.uk//launch.aspx?pbid=241bbb12-ba78-484a-9b9c-d9e37ccf4782

 

 

 

Asheville Red Barn House for Sale

12 Nov

I am excited to announce that my house is now for sale; interested parties can contact me about the price. It’s close to Biltmore Village, Brother Wolf Animal Rescue, Oakley (Fairview Rd.), Target, Lowe’s, Home Depot, Whole Foods and Tunnel Road Mall shopping, and is not far from downtown, the River Arts District and West Asheville. I-40, I-240 and I-26 are very accessible.

photo 2-3On 0.6 acres and just under 1,000 square feet, there are two bedrooms upstairs, a full bath upstairs and half bath downstairs with a freestanding shower in the laundry room. There is electric heat, central heat and air conditioning, ceiling fans in bedrooms and double pane windows throughout the house. The kitchen comes with refrigerator, dishwasher, and electric oven. There is a fenced-in back yard and two convenient outbuildings: a shed for storage and cabana with bunk bed for extra guests. There is ample private off-street parking.IMG_0909

The house was renovated in fall of 2013 with completely new kitchen, non-toxic paint in every room, new hardwood floor upstairs, and sustainable marmoleum flooring in kitchen, baths and laundry. There is an eco-sound barrier between the first and second floors.

I am happy to show the house at any time. Please feel free to get in touch with me at ffigart@gmail.com.

IMG_3922

IMG_2217

IMG_2212

IMG_2210

IMG_2204

IMG_3589

IMG_2206

IMG_2208

IMG_2205

IMG_0602

IMG_0587

IMG_0583

IMG_0589

IMG_0530

IMG_3951

IMG_1229

IMG_1329

IMG_1324

IMG_0906

IMG_0845

IMG_0844

IMG_0903

Tags: , , , , ,

Hike #8: Laurel River Trail

18 May

A week ago, I found myself alone in my new town on Mother’s Day weekend, and decided to do a solo hike to a place I’d been before, the Laurel River Trail.

IMG_9851When I left Asheville around noon, it was starting to rain, but I decided to think positively and by the time I’d passed the turn for Marshall and reached the gravel parking lot near the intersection of Hwy 25/70 and Hwy 208 in Madison County, I’d made it out from under the clouds.

Not long after you set off from the parking lot, a string of out-of-commission train cars can be seen resting peacefully through the trees on your left. Converted from an old railroad, this trail follows the tumultuous Laurel River as it reaches the larger French Broad River, for which many things are named in Western North Carolina, including my favorite chocolate lounge.

What’s most energizing about this trail is one’s proximity to the ever invigorating river. Not only the sights, but the accompanying constant rushing sound of water gushing through the rocks, keeps one feeling perky and quite alive!

When I visited here two years ago, I saw highly skilled and experienced kayakers making their way through the awe-inspiring rapids, which are ranked at Class III-IV at normal water levels. But on this day, if I’d seen a paddler, I would have considered them “loco,” as the water level was very high from recent rain and the current extremely swift through the boulder-strewn passes.

IMG_9842

I usually keep my camera in my pack until something comes along to prompt me to get it out. Last Saturday that something was a cute young garter snake, which I watched glide off into the woods and into a hiding spot from which she peered out at me curiously for quite a while. I thought how many times we are probably watched as hikers by a silent and camouflaged resident that we’d never be able to spot unless we happened to see them retire to their hideout.

IMG_9834

The Laurel River trail is ideal for families or groups in which someone is moving slower, as it’s fairly level and there is little elevation gain. However, low areas can retain mud and in many places your path is covered with thick roots, and in others laced with embedded rocks. Footing can be tricky in these sections.

IMG_9864After about two miles in, the sky began to turn dark and I took this as a warning sign to turn around. About a mile from the trailhead, the rain did come – and I was prepared with my trusty Patagonia rain jacket, in which I stayed dry and warm. I kept a slow pace in the slick mud, made my way out while watching the water beside me slowly rising, and headed for the French Broad Chocolate Lounge.

Distance traveled: 4 miles

Difficulty: easy with some mud, root and rock obstacles

Flora of note: rhododendron, mountain Laurel, pine, maple, oak

IMG_9867

IMG_9859

IMG_9848

IMG_9846

IMG_9841

IMG_9857

IMG_1776

Tags: , , , , ,

Hike #5 Mountain Springs Road

13 Apr

DSC06454“Look, Daddy, it’s a natural tree tunnel,” shrieked the six-year-old girl in delight.

From behind the wheel of the sky blue Valiant Station Wagon, Ross Figart clapped his strong, olive-colored hands together once and smiled his biggest, sweetest smile. This signified his approval of the moniker his daughter had coined for sections of curving mountain roads where the trees were so old and their branches so outstretched that they literally joined each other over the roadway, forming a canopy.

The diminutive child arched her back, lifted her pointed little chin, pushed her unruly camel-colored hair behind her elfin ears and breathlessly took in the overwhelming vision of deep green hues rushing by and encasing them in wonder.

“It’s like a dream world,” she cooed, peering out the window and into the shady branches as they careened past, hoping to glimpse at least one fairy.

DSC04799The year was 1970 and the roads took us through the forested hills of Eastern Kentucky, where my father made his living as a Southern Baptist minister. He preached not hell and brimstone, but compassion and forgiveness. People adored him wherever he went, whether it was to Hyden or Hazard, Pikeville or Prestonsburg. And he adored the mountain people and their culture, a love he also instilled in me – along with his love of nature and of trees. The greatest gift he and my mother would give me was an idyllic childhood that could rival that of Wordsworth in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, on the wooded premises of a summer camp that was part of their ministry.

After I grew up and left Kentucky, whenever we would connect on the phone, I could hear Dad smiling as he’d say, “You’d like where I went today.” He would have just returned home from a trip to some remote community like Whitesburg, Grayson, Pippa Passes, or Booger Branch (yes, this is an actual place). “There were lots of natural tree tunnels.”

DSC04853

Thirty years later in 2000, eight years after my dad had passed on, I finally got an opportunity to realize a lifelong dream: I went on a quest to find some forested property to purchase in Eastern Kentucky. I will never forget the first time I ever drove down Mountain Springs Road in Estill County, in search of a remote cabin that was listed for sale in an area called Furnace.

DSC06151My sidekick that day was my spiky-purple-haired New Yorker friend Cindi, who had implanted herself in Estill County a few years prior, and quite staunchly I might add. Even streetwise Cindi, who is rarely caught off guard, was taken somewhat aback when I began to shriek like a child at the amazing trees, whose branches bent and met as if in prayer over the winding gravel road. “These are the natural tree tunnels!” I screamed at her over the din of the Rav4’s tires on the thick gravel.

DSC06050

The cabin itself was situated on a knoll that crowned six acres, two miles in at the head of this heavenly mountain “holler.” The greater forest of which this small plot of land was part teemed with wildlife! To a wood spirit like me, the place was perfect. Tree-covered, rustic, comfortable, private (the nearest communities were all 30 minutes away) yet accessible (I could get to my office in Lexington in an hour) – and with a few improvements and embellishments, it became utterly and completely home. My plan, very simply, was to live out my life on Furnace Mountain.

But fate had other ideas. In a few short years, everything would change. And it all started because I loved – and lost – the trees.

DSC06115About five years into my stay, much of the land around the cabin was unsustainably and mercilessly logged, the beautiful forest habitat ravaged by the largest and most ruthless equipment used in the state. Catalyzed by this catastrophe, which I worked for a year to try to prevent, changes would lead me to let go of the one thing I thought I’d always keep: I sold the cabin.

DSC04808But letting go of what we can’t imagine letting go of always leads to new adventures – to realities that before could have only seemed like dream worlds from a childhood fantasy. Before long, I would be riding through natural tree tunnels in the lush forests of Costa Rica. And from that land of diversity, I’d eventually return to Kentucky to help my mother die, two decades after losing my father.

As I write this, I’m getting ready to spend my last day as a Kentucky resident. Tomorrow I’ll head south and try to make a new life for myself in Asheville, North Carolina. I’ll be living at 3,000 feet elevation overlooking the city and surrounding Blue Ridge Mountains, with abundant bird life, resident white squirrels, black bears passing by and natural tree tunnels surrounding me once more.

IMG_1838

Last week, I returned to Mountain Springs Road for a hike with my dear friend Jane, who now has a small cabin not far from my erstwhile home, which is well cared for by its new owners. Every bend in the two-mile road brought memories flooding back. We hiked on Forest Service Road 2057, which I used to walk with my dogs almost every day for the six years I lived there; I was walking on that road when the planes hit the towers. We visited the special rock sanctuary there, a sacred formation known only to a handful of locals. And I said my goodbyes.

I love Eastern Kentucky. And, although I’m not sure what is coming next, I cannot deny that I also love change – probably as much as I love mountains, mountain people, and trees. North Carolina, ready or not, here I come.

IMG_9283

IMG_9262

IMG_9281DSC06452

IMG_2668

IMG_2666

IMG_9269

Tags: ,

Hike #1 of 2013: Bent Creek

10 Jan

I had planned to go to the gym after today’s lunch meeting with a tourism industry colleague in downtown Asheville. But when I emerged from Tupelo Honey, it was a whopping 64 degrees and the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds hovering over the mountains. So I called Nate and suggested we get outside for exercise instead.

117Today we explored the Bent Creek hiking area, located just 15 minutes from downtown Asheville in the northern tip of the Pisgah Ranger District of the Pisgah National Forest. This watershed is a federal Research and Demonstration forest that backs up to the Blue Ridge Parkway to the south and a moderately high ridge to the North. The trails here connect with the Mountains to Sea/Shut In Trail, two of Pisgah’s most popular long-distance trails.

The easier trails are close to Lake Powhatan, which features a swimming beach.  Three loop trails – Deerfield Loop, Pine Tree Loop, and Explorer Loop – provide short, easy hikes. We stayed in this area and shared the trails with families, other hikers walking their dogs, and mountain bike enthusiasts.

Bent Creek has a community vibe, yet it does not feel at all crowded. The trails offer plenty of birding opportunities, and run alongside the creek or skirt the lake, allowing many chances to see and hear water. My favorite moment was lying down on the ground near the beach area under some huge white pines and listening to a kingfisher making its rattling call while darting about in the marsh area nearby.

132Distance Traveled:
Approximately 3 miles

Difficulty: Easy

Birds spotted:
Belted Kingfisher, Downy Woodpecker, Fox Sparrow

Flora of note:
Hemlock, White Pine, Rhododendron, several varieties of moss

Photos by Nathaniel J. Miller

Learn more on the Hike WNC web site, from which some of this information was derived.

110

124

106

105

Tags: , , , ,

How can tourism be responsible? Let’s ask Ged.

23 Mar


I expend a great deal of energy supporting and promoting various forms of responsible travel, including types of tourism known as “ecotourism” and “sustainable tourism.” And so I often encounter the legitimate question: How can tourism be sustainable at all? Doesn’t it, by its very nature, contribute to the planet’s demise? You bring hoards of people into pristine natural areas, altering indigenous cultures, running roughshod over endangered species’ habitats, and releasing tons of carbon into the atmosphere with all the flights and other nasty forms of transportation.

Touché. True, if we all wanted to do the most sustainable thing possible, we’d each stay put, on our own plot of land, grow our own food, create our own homes, draw on natural resources for energy and building materials, manufacture our own supplies, and NOT travel, or at least not go very far from our respective communities. However, few of us in this day and age have the skills to go into the wild and live off the grid – much less the disposition to stay in one place. Whether international or regional, travel is how we expand our horizons, how we learn about the world around us. And, as long as we can, as an enterprising species, we are going to do it.

So, then, given human nature, the more practical question becomes: How can those who offer travel experiences ensure they improve the lives of the local people and the ecosystems their trips affect? Fortunately, there are many answers to this question. One of them is to build into the price of the tour funding that will go directly to conservation partners and programs that help the animals and the local people on the ground in the places visited. That is the approach taken by Ged Caddick, who runs Terra Incognita Ecotours. What follows is an interview I did with Ged last month for my Sustainable Travel International column, The STI Inner View.

Nominated for Best Tour Operator in the 2006 First Choice Responsible Tourism Award, Terra Incognita Ecotours is based in Tampa, Florida, and operates tours to Belize, Borneo, Brazil, China, Costa Rica, Galapagos, India, Madagascar, New Zealand, Peru, Rwanda and Tanzania. Gerard “Ged” Caddick founded Terra Incognita Ecotours in 2004 after more than fifteen years of working in expedition travel. Ged worked for Lindblad Expeditions as an expedition leader from 1992 to 2004, and for International Expeditions while living in Belize in the 1980s. He has led trips for the World Wildlife Fund, National Geographic Society and the American Museum of Natural History as well as many College Alumni groups, the National Audubon Society and the Smithsonian Institution. He has a Bachelor of Science degree in Geography from the University of Liverpool, and a Master of Science degree in Wildlife Ecology and Conservation from the University of Florida. As one can imagine, I had a hard time getting Ged to sit still for this interview as he’s usually on at least three continents each month. We spent a little time together recently when he had just returned from at trip to India setting the foundation for yet another ecotour.

Frances: Where were you in India and what did you see?

Ged: We were in Banhavgarh and Corbett National Parks and had some incredible wildlife experiences. We saw tigers and Asian Elephants on multiple outings, but also the monkeys called Common Langurs, Plum-headed Parakeets, Jungle Cat, Wild Boar, lots of Spotted Deer, Brown Fish Owls, eagles and much more. It was very, very cold in the mornings and hot in the afternoons. We will be offering India in early 2012, probably in February.

Frances: In a nutshell, what is the philosophy behind Terra Incognita Ecotours?

Ged: We are committed to making a difference to our guests and to the places we visit. Our commitment is to provide travelers with opportunities to participate in ecotours that explore the world with a sense of discovery and wonder, and to preserve our environment for future generations. We draw on our legacy of adventure, experience and knowledge to do this. And as we do so, we strive to create ecotours that are as enriching and memorable as they are comfortable and fun.

Frances: How did you decide upon the name Terra Incognita?

Ged: Terra Incognita was chosen as this was the term you saw on the edge of the maps drawn by early explorers to show that the edges of the map were undiscovered, uncharted or unknown land. I love the romance and idea of exploration this invokes.

Frances: How did the experiences and dreams of your formative years foster your leadership skills and shape your interest in travel and animal conservation?

Ged: I grew up on a small farm on the outskirts of Liverpool, the oldest of ten children! We had dogs chickens, geese, pigs and various other animals as pets, as well as horses for riding when I was a young teenager. Always being around animals and loving them, I dreamed of being a game park warden in East Africa, Kenya or Tanzania. I even applied for such jobs there as I finished University. I traveled a lot within the UK, to the Lake District every summer with my family and as a teenager all over England, Scotland and Wales, plus a couple of trips to France.

Frances: What was the event that first interested you in environmental conservation?

Ged: During my university days in Liverpool I spent vacations working as a volunteer for the “British Trust for Conservation Volunteers,” doing trail maintenance, cleaning old footpaths, canals and other such tasks.

Frances: Did you have a mentor who directly inspired you in terms of your ultimate career choice in working to protect animals?

Ged: My first job was a zoo-keeper at the Jersey Wildlife Preservation Trust, a zoo dedicated to captive breeding and conservation of endangered species. My mentor there was Gerald Durrell, the founder of the zoo.

Frances: How did you first get the inkling you wanted to work in travel or tourism?

Ged: In the mid 1980s, when living in Belize and working at the Belize Zoo, I started doing guiding for International Expeditions as they started tours to Belize. They needed local people who knew the wildlife and culture of Belize. It was then I realized how much I enjoyed sharing my love of conservation and wildlife by showing people natural spaces and species in-the-wild.

Frances: What were the challenges of living in Belize long-term and what did you love about it?

Ged: The biggest challenge to living and working in Belize was the isolation and the fact that simple tasks presented many more logistical challenges; communication, building, even getting supplies takes much more effort there. What I loved was that you could make a difference, that my work at the zoo was helping to change people’s perceptions of wildlife and nature in the country of Belize. You become a big fish in a small pond when working in a small country like Belize; when I was there, the population of the entire country was less than 200,000 people.

Frances: What were the things you most admired about Lindblad Expeditions? What elements of the job did you find challenging? Were there aspects of the travel experience you wanted to emulate when you started your own travel company?

Ged: My time at Lindblad was very enjoyable, and particularly important was the commitment to excellence. Dealing with “difficult” people was always the main challenge! I knew when I started my company it was going to be important that we made a positive impact on the places we visited, that we made a difference, that our presence was a force for good, for improved conservation efforts.

Frances: What are the greatest challenges and the greatest rewards of being a tour operator for you?

Ged: Attracting customers through marketing has been my biggest challenge – and I am still learning. The most rewarding facet of the work is helping the conservation organizations and other partners we work with in each destination.

Frances: Empowering local people is a huge component of ecotourism and sustainable travel. Give an example of seeing local people become empowered as a direct result of your tours.

Ged: On our Rwanda trip last September, many of the group were so moved by their experience they asked what they can do to help the kids we met around the Virunga Lodge where we stayed. Most of these children attend primary or elementary school as that is required by the government. But high school is elective and costs money, so many bright children do not continue their education as they simply cannot afford to. I have been sponsoring three children through high school, covering their fees and uniform costs etc. Well, many in the group wanted to do the same; they asked about each sponsoring a specific child. So on the next trip in December, I personally took over some funds gathered by these clients to sponsor about eight kids through a year of high school. And we’ll continue to do this sort of thing on a yearly basis.

Frances: Can you describe an “aha!” or “wow!” moment where your clients really “got it” in terms of ecotourism?

Ged: Every single time we take people to see the Mountain Gorillas in Rwanda, people experience an “Aha!” moment, they realize their presence is helping to save the Gorillas. Every single trip, someone is reduced to tears by the moment. I have had similar experiences when we see Pandas in the wild in China.

Frances: And I understand you got to meet someone very special last summer while on a tour to Gombe National Park in Tanzania. Can you tell us about that as a closing anecdote?

Ged: We were so fortunate last July to be in Gombe simultaneous to Jane Goodall being in Gombe, simultaneous to the 50th Anniversary of Jane’s pioneering work in Gombe and simultaneous to the visit of Lara Logan and the 60 Minutes film crew as they interviewed Jane and filmed the Chimps. Indeed several times we found ourselves being filmed by the 60 Minutes crew on the trails as we met Jane, and again as we arrived outside Jane’s house on the shores of Lake Tanganyika when we actually joined Jane for sunset cocktails! So we sat glued to the TV one Sunday night in the fall for the airing of 60 Minutes to see if we made the episode! We did not make the final cut, as not surprisingly the focus was on Jane, her research and the Chimps, not on our small tour party that overlapped so fortuitously with this filming! But we are in a behind-the-scenes clip that you can see at this link (the Jane Goodall segment begins at about the 8:15 mark).

To learn more about Ged Caddick and Terra Incognita Ecotours, please visit the company’s web site and follow them on Facebook.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

← Older Entries