Posts Tagged ‘American history’

Recovering from near bronchial pneumonia takes a toll on the healthiest of people.  It zaps a person’s energy and drains motivation to do anything constructive.  After a week of sitting in my chair like a zombie I decided I had to force myself to do something constructive. Looking out the window at the winter landscape reminded me I needed to resist the urge to go out in the cold winter air where I would be sure to relapse.  I needed a mindless project that required little consideration yet occupy me enough to keep me inside by the fire.  That’s when I decided to construct a set of reproduction Plains Indian arrows.   Sounds crazy I know, but our home is decorated in a western motif and it needed a set of framed Indian arrows.   Besides, it was all I had the energy to do at the time.

Years ago I used to enjoy spending winter evenings sitting in front of our old open fireplace chipping obsidian into arrowheads.  It was a hobby I enjoyed to pass the time and after a while I became fairly proficient at it.   I had constructed a bow out of a branch of seasoned Mountain Mahogany and backed it with artificial sinew for both spring and strength. I back twisted hair from my horses tail into a very strong cord to be used as a bow string. It worked well enough and after some practice I became fairly proficient at constructing arrows accurate enough to shoot an occasional rabbits or other small game for the dinner table.  I wouldn’t have wanted to rely on my skills for survival, but I thought if the chips where down and all else failed I could use what I had learned to provide the basic needs for my family.  Learning survival skills such as identifying edible plants, constructing small animal snares and starting fires without modern convinces fascinated my innovative nature. 

Remembering these old skills that once brought me so much enjoyment I decided to see if I could remember how I   constructed arrows out of natural materials. In those days I collected such things as flint or obsidian, animal sinew, bird feathers (usually from road kills) and willow or Rosehip shoots for the shafts.  I even rendered down plants to produce die colors to stripe the shafts. Not having immediate access to most of those things I used what I could find around the place. I used a set of reproduction Flint points that I had bought a few years before. For sinew I resorted to frays of a nylon cord and when all was said and done I was satisfied with the authentic look of the final product.  Nancy wanted to put me in business selling my arrows on the internet of which I didn’t have the time, but after seeing the price of arrows in Indian craft stores in Scottsdale, Arizona a few weeks ago I thought it would in fact be a good way for someone living on the land to pick up a little extra money.

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Rendezvous on the old California ranch- 1979

For me, there’s something almost magnetic about the simplicity of the past.  I often dream of a slower pace and a more manageable self reliant lifestyle than the one the present world offers.  It disturbs me when I think of how my life’s umbilical cord has become so utterly and completely plugged into modern technology even to the point that disconnection would be fatal.  We have all subtlety become dependent on the computerized world of electronic banking systems, bar codes, power grids, medical care, transportation systems and communication.  Even in my fantasies of going back to a disconnected simpler way there seems to be no option but to conform to a post-modernized world.   It frankly frightens me to know that I can see my pickup parked in front of my house from space on Google Earth; and so can everyone else.  It’s downright scary not only that it can be done, but that we have all somehow accepted it.  The world has been transformed and so have we.

 Sometimes I dream about taking a trip back in time before things became so complicated and technical.  Ever since I was very young I have had an inner longing to have had the chance to experience the rawness of the American West before it was developed.  It has been such a strong desire that one time many years ago I decided to do something about it.

 I had done my master’s thesis in part on the Mountain Man era of the American West.  In my research I had read every book from the Lewis and Clark Journals to the beginning of the pioneer movement. I became familiar with nearly every main character of the Rocky Mountain Fur Trade Co. and had a quiet longing to experience the country in those days as they had.  Of these historic heroes my favorite was Jedediah Smith. Smith had a love for the country he explored and had the ability to describe it in vivid detail.  He experienced extreme hardship being mauled by a grizzly bear, nearly dying from lack of water time and again, and miraculously survived three brutal Indian massacres which took the lives of most of his comrades.   Jedediah Smith was a man of deep Christian faith and was admired and respected for his courage and leadership. He was the first to discover the southwest crossing through the Mojave Desert into California. The things he did and the country he explored in his short life was surreal.  Jedediah Smith was killed by Indians while scouting for water on another attempt to make the southern crossing.

 Our old ranch in California was very near to the place that Smith crossed the western plain of the Mojave Desert.  From our living room we could see this endless western desert that Jedediah Smith had ridden across.  After rereading his memoirs I decided to not only ride his historical path, but try to do it his way.  That included my dress, provisions and gear.  I had heard about a reenactment of a Mountain man rendezvous that would take place on the western slope of the Tehachapi Mountains and thought it would be a perfect final destination.  Two friends decided to join me and together we rode four days across the west end of the desert and into the Tehachapi’s.  It was a small thing really, not even close to the experience they had, but it was better than not doing anything.  We carried muzzle loading rifles in hope of shooting a rabbit or two, flint and steal to start our fires, and animal skins to store our water.  We searched for water and discovered desert and canyon springs as we picked our way across the country only crossing pavement once or twice and avoiding barbwire fences whenever we could.   On the fourth day we rode into the rendezvous unsaved, dirty, and ready for a real meal.

Kate & Brook ran out to meet me

It was a historical fact that often times the original mountain men would ride into their annual rendezvous at a full gallop firing off their old rifles to announce their arrivals.  The temptation to do the same was hard to resist.   I know it was just a pretend experience, but riding into that historical camp with everyone dressed in full mountain man regalia was a thrill.  As we entered the camp that afternoon Kate and Brook (our two kids) ran out to meet us which made it all the better.  Nancy had brought the horse trailer to take me home.

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