Same. I’ve viewed Jupiter and three moons through the 8 inch at Mount Wilson in LA and was fairly dumbfounded for the rest of the night.
That Hubble Deep Field tho. HFS. I can’t even.
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All the more reason for inclusion. An earlier draft of the writeup used the words “maybe I cheated” in conjunction with Big Sur–it’s a huge area so I wasn’t super specific. That said, your spots are even better as they’re once-secret gardens that we get to enjoy now. Admittedly, I’ve had that feeling of entering a previously secret garden a number of times, mostly while hiking. Reaching the top of the switchbacks to cross the ridge and you get that long, stunning view through the trees? Or stepping through a poorly maintained trail to see a waterfall with Elk drinking from the base–I know people have seen that stuff a thousand times before but I still get chills when it happens to me.
Never had the chance but it’s definitely on the list. Waimea is a special spot for me just for the natural power of the place.
Sublime. Reminds me a little of the PCT through Oregon. The White Mountains just east of the Sierra Nevada are also beautiful. I’m going to try and section hike the AT, starting next year, and looking forward to it.
That’s a beautiful story, thank you.[quote=“M_M, post:6, topic:89827”]
I’d count both of these.
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That second image looks a bit like the spring-fed rivers in North Florida. I grew up going to Ichetucknee Springs in the summertime. Hot as hell outside, but the spring and tributaries were ~68-72 F year round. That was before I was old enough to drink beer, but I’ve since had the pleasure of coasting down the spring in an old truck tire tube, casually admiring the scenery while sipping from a tall, cold, one-of-six beers (with the others in a net bag, attached to the tube). Yum.
Absolutely. I can sit on a ridge in Big Sur and spend the whole day watching the Earth move around the Sun.
I’ve taken some shot from DA, but never from that vantage point (I’m jealous). I’ll find one a little later…and that site is kick-ass not only because of the arch, but also the ‘ancient’ rock drawings (quoted as I’m not so sure how old they technically are–1000 years? 500?). Moab is an area that I definitely need to visit again as that whole area is rife with beautiful red-rock country.
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I once worked for the summer as a cook for a Lord and his family on a private estate in the western Highlands of Scotland. At the time, there was no ferry from the ‘mainland’ – if you didn’t have access to your own boat, you offered a couple of quid to the postman who took his little speed boat around the coast to deliver mail 3 times a week – no public overnight accommodations, only a handful of Land Rovers due to the lack of paved streets (and basically only one gravel road connecting the few houses and the tavern and leading out to the southern edge of Loch an Dubh Lochain), no store other than a few items in a front room of someone’s house (the same someone who ran the “post office”, which was a shed with a Dutch door just outside, open for a few hours at a time. Truly remote, despite technically being a peninsula on the mainland and halfway between the mainland port of Mallaig and Armadale on the Isle of Skye via ferry.
About 10 years ago, people got together to buy the area from the titled landholders. It’s bittersweet to see how much modernization and general build-up has occurred, making it a viable place to make a living now without having to work for landed gentry but in the process much less remote and unspoiled. There’s even a regular ferry there, and houses to rent.
Anyway, at the time my work hours were basically about 7:00am-11:00pm, but obviously there were down times during the day, and I really did not feel overworked in the slightest. However, it did not allow for ever wandering off. But one day, the oldest son (trained in martial arts) and his close friend (an officer in the British equivalent of the Green Berets, SEALs, etc.) decided at breakfast to take on an astonishing challenge – all THREE Munros on the peninsula in one day – and when I expressed envy asked me if I would like to go along. I looked at my employers and the other cook, and everyone said it was OK for me to take that one day off, so I didn’t argue! I was wearing Keds, jeans, a flannel shirt, and did not pack any food or water, just up and left with them. I’ve never been more unprepared for a hike in the wilderness before or since. Stupid, but I’m so glad I was that young and stupid to not think twice.
We were late to dinner that evening, but we achieved our goal. 
I could go on for hours about the beauty and rigors of the day. Suffice it to say it was one of the most memorable and strenuous days in my life, right up there with giving birth. I will take that day’s hike with me forever. It is the home place in my mind’s eye.
I had no camera at the time, but here are links for each of the three Munros, if you’re interested in see other people’s photos and descriptions of climbing them:
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A little clearing full of wildflowers and wild garlic ringed by five oak trees on the farm where my old job was in cumbria. The deer were the only things that went down there apart from me, and it was and is the most beautiful, peaceful spot I have ever found. I really miss my five beautiful dryads.
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Stunning. For my own world, if I’ve been on foot and had the time, high places were always where the action was. The high Sierra taught me the valuable lesson of, “no, that is most definitely NOT the top, it’s just another shoulder to climb”, i.e. patience, but the high spots have always called to me–or, as I’m not a dedicated “summit seeker” per se, more of an always-on searcher for the best vantage point available (and those usually tend to be at higher altitudes). In this, I totally get the feline instinct to climb whatever new thing has been discovered within reach.
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It’s a set of springs in NZ. A very special place.
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Right? Talk about a holy sense of tininess and vastness!
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Thanks.
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It always gives me a sense of awe that even many of the stars we see with the unaided eye are images from centuries ago, if not longer.
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I’d like to share a couple of places that are memories as yet largely unaffected by the passage of time. City Creek trail in Pocatello, Idaho is sacred to me as a place of refuge. Pocatello is commonly called Poky, I used to refer to it as karmic debt prison. Perhaps because of that perceived darkness the light shines all the brighter. It was an easy escape from any part of town I ever lived, even without wheels. This is one of the best parts of the best trails there:
Red Hill is another sacred place for escaping the poky. Lots of meditating and other activities on this hill and its trails with bonus city cemetery off-shoot.
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For me any natural space, where there is little or no influence of human built environment, is a good place to practice kensho. I tend to be drawn to the minute details of human handiwork in ways that oppose the experience of wholeness and unity that is sacred to me.
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I spent a lot of time at my local park growing up. So the first thing that came to mind for me was Paradise Falls, Wildwood Park, Thousand Oaks, CA.
(The fact that the “river” is mostly suburban grey water does not lessen my enjoyment of the park)
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