Grand Tour travel poster

Sea of Stones - 5

Silent Whispers

The Cabin of Duuran is a conflict of choices for visitors, but a resolution of demands for Trigor – and it should be so; as the tales I might tell will bring peace of spirit to some, while stirring the cauldron of mystery for others.  This log structure, built by my own hand, has no floor that I might sleep directly upon the earth – and listen to the silent whispers.  On the sunset side is the spirit mountain Triglav, claimed by some as the hiding place of the Divine Egg.  The sun rises above the valley called Logarska Dolina, which means ‘beautiful valley, but in ancient times was known as ‘Khamici’, the place of ‘shifting dreams’ – but also “here lies Chemmis” – sigh, I get ahead of myself.  The early Romans called it ‘
Pannonia’, theland of
Pan – and those whispers are heard by all.If you enchant up a travel-log by ether-magick, you might read, “The peaks are steep, the valleys deep, and the streams full of clear water. The slopes are blanketed by thick forests and the meadows filled with wild flowers …one mountain visible from far around reigns supreme. Celebrated as
Mont Blanc, the
Matterhorn or
Grossglockner, mount
Triglav rules over a dream world and therefore has no equal. Majestic, dreamlike in its monumental and filigreed steepness and at times dangerous beauty, it is the true representative of the Slovene Alps. But Triglav is also the mountain where Slovenes touch the sky. Deep valleys, springs, waterfalls, rivers and lakes, romantic panoramas and countless picturesque details are along the trails.” 

Between the valley of ‘silent whispers’ and the ‘three headed god’ is an area of barren loneliness called the ‘Sea of Stones’ – a karst field where strange animals live but man cannot – when glacial waters flow underground to surface occasionally in seven lakes – each of a different color – footprints perhaps of the Seven Beasts, but that myth must wait.  So much to tell –

As a tutor I should be able to simply provide facts and information and allow you to form your own beliefs; but as a son of the Alan my blood course back eight thousand years – as a child of Varengian brigands Thor hammers upon the anvil of my soul – as I hear also the echo of Celtic Goddesses and Gypsy dancers and the Golden Eagle cry – I must tell of things that I know – beyond believing – of the spaces between the stones.  I did not choose to come here – it chose me.

But I will offer a few thoughts born more of fact than dreams –

when the Western world was small and mostly limited to the lands touching the ‘Middle
Sea’, and wandering more than a day or two from home was guaranteed of strangeness.  From the entrancing Adriatic beaches one might follow an emerald river up the a high pastures, enjoying twisted canyons and myriad waterfalls, and is called by many the most beautiful river in
Europe (the Saca).  From here would be seen mountains higher than any imagined – pristine white with limestone and the only glacier they would ever know.  They might stay a while to enjoy abundant berries and grapes, but would also find the chamois which could climb vertical rocks and the mufflon with angry horns, and the Linden Tree beneath which everyone fell asleep.  It would be easy for you then to imagine that this place not be part of the natural world, but from another – a place of dreams caught upon the claws of the forbidding peaks – and understand that here those truths called myths live a bit longer than by the shore.There is room for you by my evening fire – a place to hear whispers; but you must do so as an innocent child, soul naked upon Mother Earth, or you might only hear the screams of man’s history.  But do not fear – for ‘Duuran’ also means Watcher, and I will be near.

Trigor

 

Waiting to Depart…

My travelling companion looks trim and elegant as she waits on the Queensland shore before our departure on the Grand Tour.

Why did I choose Edith Wharton as a companion - why did she choose me? I have long loved her books, and I was enchanted to learn that she wrote in bed until noon, tossing the sheets of paper on the floor as she finished each page.
She was not a woman of her time, but a woman who lived in her own time - here is a sample of her writing:

“You have hit upon the exact word; I was fond of him, yes, just as I was fond of my grandmother, and the house that I was born in, and my old nurse. Oh, I was fond of him, and we were counted a very happy couple. But I have sometimes thought that a woman’s nature is like a great house full of rooms: there is the hall, through which everyone passes in going in and out; the drawing- room, where one receives formal visits; the sitting-room, where the members of the family come and go as they list; but beyond that, far beyond, are other rooms, the handles of whose doors perhaps are never turned; no one knows the way to them, no one knows whither they lead; and in the innermost room, the holy of holies, the soul sits alone and waits for a footstep that never comes.”

“And your husband,” asked the Spirit, after a pause, “never got beyond the family sitting-room?”

“Never,” she returned, impatiently; “and the worst of it was that he was quite content to remain there. He thought it perfectly beautiful, and sometimes, when he was admiring its commonplace furniture, insignificant as the chairs and tables of a hotel parlor, I felt like crying out to him: ‘Fool, will you never guess that close at hand are rooms full of treasures and wonders, such as the eye of man hath not seen, rooms that no step has crossed, but that might be yours to live in, could you but find the handle of the door?’”

Who would not want to travel with this woman? And why does she want to travel with me? I don’t know, she just smiles and says that the time is ripe for adventure, and leaping into the unknown off the Queensland coast seems like a great adventure.
We have discussed the places we want to visit - New Zealand, Tahiti, Egypt, Peru, Italy and Spain. Perhaps not in that order, and perhaps we will actually wander off our plan when other places of interest show themselves. We have a globe of the world, and we will will spin it to see where we go. For what is an adventure if there is no mystery, no chance?
So I hand her the globe and with one white, elegant hand, she spins…

Day Three - Froglet’s Itinerary

I have an open-ended cyber ticket, so I will not assign dates to my itinerary, but I plan to visit the following cities in order, with possible unforeseen side trips thrown in:

Dover, Calais, Paris, Geneva, Florence, Venice, Rome, Naples, Innsbruck, Berlin, Dresden, Vienna, Potsdam, Munich, Holland and Flanders.

For now I will ponder the significance of leaving the most secure fortress on the British Isles for the open waters and uncertain future on the Continent.

 (for details, plus tidbits about Dover, visit http://mosaicheart.wordpress.com/)