O’Brien, Patrick.  ”Chapter Six.” H.M.S. Surprise.

It seems to give certain English writers peculiar delight to stigmatize the Japanese as a nation of imitators and copyists.  From the contemptuous manner in which disparagements of this nature are flung into the faces of the Japanese who are engaged in their heroic work of establishing sound methods of government and education, one would think that in England had originated the characters by which the English people write, the paper upon which they print, the figures by which they reckon, the compass by which they navigate, the gunpowder by which they subjugate, the religion with which they worship.  Indeed, when one looks over the long list of countries upon which England has drawn for the arts of music, painting, sculpture, architecture, printing, engraving, and a host of other things, it certainly comes with an ill-grace from natives of that country to taunt the Japanese with being imitators.

It would be obviously absurd to suggest as a model for our own houses such a structure as a Japanese house.  Leaving out the fact that it is not adapted to the rigor of our climate or to the habits of our people, its fragile and delicate fittings if adopted by us, would be reduced to a mass of kindlings in a week, by the rude knocks it would receive; and as for exposing on our public thoroughfares the delicate labyrinth of carvings often seen on panel and post in Japan, the wide-spread vandalism of our country would render futile all such attempts to civilize and refine.  Fortunately, in that land which we had in our former ignorance and prejudice regarded as uncivilized, the malevolent form of the genus homo called ‘vandal’ is unkown.

Believing that the Japanese show infinitely greater refinement in their methods of house-adornment than we do, and convinced that their tastes are normally artistic, I have endeavored to emphasize my convictions by holding up in contrast our usual methods of house-furnishing and outside embellishments.  By so doing I do not mean to imply that we do not have in America interiors that show the most perfect refinement and taste; or that in Japan, on the other hand, interiors may not be found in which good taste is wanting.

“I do not expect to do much good in thus pointing out what I believe to be better methods, resting on more refined standards.  There are some, I am sure, who will approve; but the throng – who are won by tawdry glint and tinsel; who make possible; by admiration and purchase, the horrors of much that is made for house-furnishings and adornment – will, with characteristic obtuseness, call all else but themselves and their own ways heathen and barbarous.”

Morse, Edward S.  ”Concluding Remarks.”  Japanese Homes and Their Surroundings.

Note: Edward S. Morse (1838 – 1925): mechanical draftsman, wood engraver: zoologist, ethnologist, archeologist, author, inventor, recipient of the Order of the Rising Sun (issued by the Emperor of Japan), Director of the Peabody Museum (1880 – 1914): Japanese Homes and Their Surroundings is an informative read on classical Japanese architecture and landscape design- not to mention its value as a repository of intricate diagrams and aesthetic depictions crafted  from an idyllic place, culture and era of history.

I sometimes make a quick stop in Orleans, to refresh the water bottle with a sports drink, but there’s a water fountain at the main entrance to Nickerson Park, so, with no fee for admission (at least not while on a bicycle), it’s possible for the entire experience to be completely free of charge!

Be sure to pick up a free trail map at the main entrance and to make any type of inquiry- the rangers have proved both incredibly helpful and enthusiastic.

Nickerson Park has a paved roadway for vehicles, a paved bicycle path, unpaved logging roads, horse trails and primitive hiking paths, as well as designated group camping sites- all that curve between pristine kettle ponds, through cedar groves and over gentle slopes, fast declines…

I like to ride the bicycle path to its terminus (about 3 miles out) and then jump off to explore the more beaten trails.  Some of the hiking paths, that loop around the kettle ponds, become very technical- with steep, narrow and winding inclines over loose rock,  gnarled roots and overhanging branches, so there are areas that are extremely dangerous and definitely not recommended for the novice.  And Don’t Forget: there are families walking along these paths and they have the right away!

I’ve crashed several times, picked up poison ivy and have emerged from the brush with bloody scrapes and bruises from thorns and branches that reach out into the trail and entangle the handlebars, thus annihilating their ability to steer… But, once such tribulation is surpassed, there is a great notion of resplendent accomplishment once such trails spit you out upon serene, unfettered beaches without any hint of humanity’s influence.

Shedding sweaty, trail spoiled garb upon the sand, I walk steadily forward- into the warm, yet wholly refreshing water of private utopia.  I cycle between floating on my back, curling around and sinking face first into the fresh depths of dark coolness, below.

In order to save lower body strength for the duration of the ride, it helps to tread water at the surface with just arms and hands.  When its time to finally collect belongings, I am sure to approach the shore in a deliberately slow fashion, for therein is a great opportunity for spotting an inquisitive  turtle, or two.  On my last trip, a turtle paused near to my feet for close inspection.  There was no wind and the water was placid with scant distortion, so we continued to study each other for a good while- just little turtle and I.

I regret doing so, but after a while of wanting a more intimate view, I ventured a makeshift snorkel mask out of cupped fingers to forehead, pressed palms to each temple, and face lowered a few inches below the surface of water before blowing air from out of nose to produce a trapped bubble lens.  It was the first attempt at doing so in many years, so, needless to say, it proved an awkward failure of stinging, washed out pupils.  By the time water had been wiped from the eyes and my head had returned to its accustomed incline, my little studious buddy had vanished…

Later, while on route back toward the CCRT, I rode in upon two deer (does, I believe), grazing along a cedar grove trail.  They were just as surprised to see me as I them, but , even at twenty feet, neither party felt compelled to flee.  We all three stood, pondering the nature and character of the other.  Hoping to to keep my hosts at ease, a soft, non-threatening hum was imporovised throughout.

As it were, however, several more miles stood between me and home and, being excited to return (my mom and little nephew were scheduled to arrive for a week’s vacation of Audubon Camp and kite flying galore), I forced myself to emerge from yet another spell of Nickerson Park and to hurry both pedals onward, home, and away.

O’Brien, Patrick.  ”Chapter Thirteen.” Post Captain.

Stephen made no reply, but wound his cloak higher against the biting wind.

O’Brien, Patrick.  ”Chapter Three.” Post Captain.

There was, too, a subtle reaction against the idea of a purely mechanistic universe, the mathematical world of Newtonian physics, the hard material world of objects and impacts.  These doubts, expressed especially in Germany, favored a softer ‘dynamic’ science of invisible powers and mysterious energies of fluidity and transformations, of growth and organic change.  This is one of the reasons that the study of electricity (and chemistry in general) become the signature science of the period; though astronomy itself, once the exemplary science of the Enlightenment, would also be changed by Romantic cosmology.”

Holmes, Richard.  ”Prologue.”  The Age of Wonder.

The scientific revolution, of the seventeenth century, is familiarly associated with the names of Newton, Hooke, Locke and Descartes, and the almost simultaneous foundations of the Royal Society in London and the Académie des Sciences in Paris.  Its existence has long been accepted, and the biographies of its leading figures are well know.  But this second revolution was something different.  The first person who referred to a ‘second scientific revolution’ was probably the poet Coleridge in his Philosophical Lectures of 1819.  It was inspired primarily by a sudden series of breakthroughs in the fields of astronomy and chemistry.  It was a movement that grew out of eighteenth-century Enlightenment rationalism, but largely transformed it, by bringing a new imaginative intensity and excitement to scientific work.  It was driven by a common ideal of intense, even reckless, personal commitment to discovery.

It was also a movement of transition.  It flourished for a relatively brief time, perhaps two generations, but produced long-lasting consequences – raising hopes and questions – that are still with us today.  Romantic science can be dated roughly, and certainly symbolically, between two celebrated voyages of exploration.  These were Captain James Cook’s first round-the-world expedition aboard the Endeavor, begun in 1768, and Charles Darwin’s voyage to the Galapagos islands aboard the Beagle, begun in 1831.  This is the time I have called the Age of Wonder, and with any luck we have not yet quite outgrown it.

The idea of the exploratory voyage, often lonely and perilous, is in one form or another a central and defining metaphor of Romantic science.”

Holmes, Richard.  ”Prologue.”  The Age of Wonder.

Her silver visage in the wat’ry glass,

Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,

A time that lovers’ flights doth still conceal”

Shakespeare. “Act One: Scene One: Lines 209-212.”  A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

O’Brien, Patrick.  “Chapter Eight.” Master and Commander.

Young woman in yoga attire, suggesting (in earnest) to her young, shirtless, dreadlocked friend, a sojourn into deep realms of ancient philosophy.