The farther up the mountain we went, the smaller the road became. I was on the outside and for most of the way the drop was severe–with no siderails or walls or shoulders. Vertigo? Yes.
The Zen of Fear
I don’t know what’s in front of me,
can’t recall what’s in the rear.
Don’t know if I should run full force
or if I should veer.
I guess I will just take what comes
and enjoy the ride.
Life is so much better spent
with fears all set aside.
The Pensivity Three Things Challenge prompt today is Front, Rear, Aside.
Postscript:
Forgottenman says I should include our Skype conversation that took place between my writing of this poem and its posting, so here goes:
Judy, 11:54 PM: what should I name the poem I’m about to post? Yeah I know yer drunk, but you do some of your best thinking in that condition! ;o)
Forgottenman, 11:56 PM: Heh, yep. I’m thinking! My first drunken thought is The Zen of Fear.
Forgottenman: 12:01 AM: Wow – you actually titled it that!
Judy, 12:01 AM: Well I always do. I used the title you suggested yesterday, too! It was a good title. I could write poems all day long but I am usually stymied by the titles. I still don’t have a title for my Ethiopia book after twenty years!!!!! Can’t finish and publish it until I do.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
I have been paralysed in that position
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In the late forties and early fifties there was a church camp only accessible by such a road. If you met someone on it, one of you had to back up for a mile or so…sheer dropoff on the other side. We had to drive it to take my older sister to camp and it scared me to death! It is not the road pictured, which was on a Greek island. Later they moved the camp to another site—the one depicted in my hail post a few weeks ago. I guess we need faith on all counts..ha.
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Nuts to ever have used that road for that purpose.
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That was long ago. Some day I should go and see if they’ve widened it. Surely they have.
Actually, I finally found it. The lake is now known as Pactola Reservoir and it sounds like the walking trail mentioned here is the old one-way road. As I recall, they had signs making it one-way according to the time. i.e. from 7-7:45 in and 8-8:45 out to give time for cars to clear. I don’t think it was even paved…just the mountain on one side and a steep drop-off on the other. Here is what I found: “Walking on an old forest service road you will travel about 3/4 mile from the starting point. This is the site of the old Methodist Church camp from 1924-1955.
From the parking lot just off Hwy 385 at coordinates of 44 04.391 and 103 30.556. Set off on the forest service road right behind the gate. Following the road you will see on your left the Centenial Trail. You will actually cross the trail as you get closer the the cache. Total distance from the parking lot is 3/4 mile and you drop about 300 feet in elevation. Currently the water level in Pactola is so low that the once submerged foundations of the old camp can be seen. The large concrete slab was the old dining hall and meeting room. Next to it going towards the lake is a couple more foundations. Old cabins and storage buildings. Right now at the waters edge is a rock/concrete slab with initials and dates from 1942-1944 inscribed on it. The cache is an ammo box located just above high water mark. When Pactola lake was created it flooded 4 different camps that needed to be relocated. Old photos of the camp can be seen at the Deadwood Archives Office or at the current United Methodist Camp at Storm Mountain Center near Rockerville. Come and see the photos and then climb and do the cache on top of Storm Mountain.”
My oldest sister went to Pactola, but I went to the Storm Mtn camp near Rockerville in the Black Hills every year from the 6th grade through my Sr. year in high school and later was a counselor at both it and the Lake Poinset State camp. It was the highpoint of my summers. (And, was the setting of my hail story a few weeks ago where my folks brand new car was totalled by a hail storm we went through when my older sister drove me to camp.)
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What memories were stirred!
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I love both the poem and the title.
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Love it Judy, thanks for playing along. I know exactly what the Zen of Fear is like, going up a dirt track road, in the dark, with few passing places and a sheer drop on one side and cliff face on the other. Not much fun when a bloody tractor is coming towards you!!! Adrenalin is definitely brown!!
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I see those mountain roads in obscure places with thousand foot drops and tires on the edge and vertigo reasserts itself. Couldn’t do it!
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Breathing in at the narrowest parts did not help!!
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I discovered the same, but it made me feel I was helping. I found it helped to peer out the back window to see what we had successfully passed through rather than forward at what we had not yet confronted.
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I’ve just spent four hours copying my poetry for 2023 as it just took so long to view the relevant posts!
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Do you find the spacing between lines changes if you copy it from computer document to blog or vice versa? I do. So annoying.
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Love the last two lines – that’s the spirit!
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I find drives like that terrifying — so I avoid taking them. It’s just easier on what remains of my nerves.
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Me, too.
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There are people that actually enjoy it. I always see me in my car in a crushed heap at the bottom of a canyon where no one will notice me until the coyotes have finished off my remains.
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