I’m racing the Big Basin Skyline to the Sea 50k on Sunday. Today’s run was supposed to have been run yesterday, but I didn’t get to it. But this morning I got out there, under the bright sun, and did some repeats and strides to tune up for race day. On my return to the car I came across two ravens.
I like ravens, I’m not sure why. I probably like my idea of them more than the real bird. To me they are solid, wise, mysterious sages of the forest and mountain airs. They make cool noises and can imitate our speech. They’re clever, and they like to collect things. They glide on great drafts higher and higher, over and over. I like to watch them.
The two ravens I came across were perched on a post near a memorial bench with a great view of Loma Linda and the mountains to the north. I tried to act like I didn’t see them as I pulled my phone out. But I noticed out of my peripheral one raven fly off. The other remained perched, but edgy. I maintained my camera-hand momentum and kept raising the phone up, but the second one also took off just before I clicked the shutter. Still, I like how the photo turned out, backdropped by the hazy mountains, surrounded by a desertlike landscape of hills. I bumped the exposure and desaturated it a bit to add to the feel. Thank you, Mr. (?) Raven.
I was listening to a compilation of stories about roguish characters edited by George R.R. called, you guessed it, Rogues. Though a raven did not star in either of the short stories that overlapped my run, I could imagine it playing a role in one of the stories at some point. They are certainly easy to imagine being in RR’s other famous series. I’m enjoying the various takes on rogues by the many different authors. It’s incredible the collective creativity we people can muster.
Along with ravens, redwoods are another favorite creature of mine. I even attempted to meld redwoods and ravens in a story of my own during a novel writing class a couple years ago. Probably no one will ever suffer the reading of that attempt. But I’m excited to head north to camp a couple nights under the redwoods. And especially to race there. I suspect it won’t be as magical as I’m imagining. I’m likely overthinking it and bloating my expectations to the point of a serious bursting later on. But maybe it will be even better than I imagine. (See what I’m doing there? *Burst.)
Either way, it will be an adventure, and all adventures are worth having, whether it’s a small one with a raven, an imagined one from a story, or an anticipated one down the road. Or trail, as the case may be.
Christoffer's Life 