Some things I love about living here
After 25 years of immersion in this very special place, I have recognized many features and attributes that make being here an extraordinary experience and that have kept me here. These ten hallmarks below are a small number of the many that I could catalog interminably and they do not even begin to approach a comprehensive list.
The River
The primordial Potomac flows by like the ages, its character constantly changing with seasonal and weather conditions. Whether wading, swimming, kayaking, bathing in, or fishing it, the river offers a welcome respite on hot summer days. At its surface, temperatures are cooler than the ambient average of the air and its cool, glass-clear waters draw heat from my body. Drawn by the murmur and motion of the rapids just upstream of my property, I wade to the shallows where ribs of bedrock span its width. Through millions of years of erosion, the water has hollowed out bowls and smooth, rounded ridges interspersed with sandy pools. Here I find seats where I can recline facing downstream against these rocky ribs and lay my head upstream with neck supported into these stone bowls. The water flows over me and massages my head, scalp, and shoulders while baitfish pluck gently at my body, picking off bacteria, tiny insects, and shedding skin. It is a wonderful, invigorating, incomparable experience, a natural cleansing unattainable through any other means.
The Aquascapes
Floating the river in a kayak like a leaf offers an entirely new perspective on the terrain in its aquatic state. Aquascapes are landscapes underwater seen through its calm or lightly rippled surface. The rocks, trees, weeds, and grasses are all there but take on entirely new appearances through the flowing glass. Long-dead trees stripped of their leaves lie in casual repose, their branches and limbs shuddering and swaying in the currents while fish and other creatures seek refuge among them. Living trees grow from the water while shore-bound varieties grow into it, their branches laden with leaves waving in the currents and sweeping away all nearby debris as waterlogged brooms. Long-tendrilled, flowering weeds sway gently like horizontal, long-haired dancers all leaning downstream while shoreline grasses wiggle like giggling worms standing upright.
Massive rocks refuse to move and anchor the riverbed stoically, providing breaks in the water’s force behind which life and small pebbles seek rest and shelter. Sunlight dappled and broad streams through the water lighting undulating wrinkles below and highlighting these subsurface features in a constant visual ebb and flow. Brilliantly lit bubbles swirl wildly while rising to the surface before bursting into countless popping prisms, rainbow droplets scattered in the sun reminding me of champagne-fueled, colored laughter. Kayaking the upper Potomac is one of the most pleasurable, relaxing experiences I know even when I’m admiring the surrounding landscapes which are equally amazing. I only need to watch and correct my course occasionally because when I am transfixed by what’s below the surface, I forget the hazards above it. And getting wedged into a log jam with the river forcing itself against the side of my boat is never part of my plan.
The Fishing
As a very enthusiastic, life-long fisherman, I had been eager to fish the upper Potomac. While living in Washington, DC, I had fished stretches of this beautiful river from Harpers Ferry down to White’s Ferry and around the DC area. I had heard of the blue-ribbon smallmouth bass and rainbow trout fishing further upstream in West Virginia but had never explored that area.
After visiting this property with the seller’s realtor in 2001, I contacted him again to ask if I could visit alone for a day before deciding whether to buy it. I needed to explore it further, needed to assess the old buildings more carefully, needed to connect with the surroundings. I needed to feel this place. And, most importantly, I needed to get on the river.
My request was granted and early one morning I drove back out from DC on my fact-finding mission. After roaming the land and examining the antique structures, I slipped into my river clothes and slid into the refreshing water. Wading to the fast water upstream, I started casting my lures while working my way down toward my starting point.
Later, around mid-afternoon and while fighting the currents, I pulled out my cell phone and called my wife back in the city. “Hey, baby, we should buy this property! The fishing is exceptional!” That’s all we needed to know and all I needed to say.
The Storms
Mountain thunderstorms project a raw, startling power that is augmented in every way as they travel through river valleys. The wind and rain are concentrated between the mountain ridges, their force focused almost as if by compression as the storm follows the valley’s path. The thunder echoes repeatedly as it bounces upstream, downstream, and side-to-side off the mountains and is thrown back on itself. The deluges channeled into the valley can completely obscure the view of the mountains opposite my home. At night, the lightning strikes sometimes seem uninterrupted and the flashes of light animate all forms of mass into a dancing display of perceived motion. When the storms pass by evening and the late sun lights the lingering edges of thunderheads, the swirling clouds color like alpenglow. In all, these storms stimulate all of my senses and leave me in awe at the spectacular power of nature.
The Fabulous Fireflies
What could be more captivating than flying bioluminescence? Every June, the fireflies return in numbers and dance their entrancing dance through these woods and especially over the flood plain. And every June evening I perch in my chair or stand on the deck gazing out over this phenomenal display of light. Flitting about in their frenzied festival by the thousands or tens of thousands, the fireflies illuminate the darkness like tiny greenish-white holiday bulbs that refuse to sit still. Buzzing around ceaselessly to attract mates and discourage predators, they float, stream, streak, bounce, meander, dart, and drift about in the trees, weeds, and open spaces oblivious to winds and rains and governed only by their limited visitor hours and biological imperative. They spark, flash, and blink their signals like baby beacons as they whirl about and the more casual specimens leave long trails in the darkness. Fireflies are light at play, aerial acrobats in radiant costumes. Their arrival sparks joy in my heart and signals the start of summer. Their departure inspires melancholy by signaling that summer will soon be gone as they have gone and that I’ll need to wait another year for their return. The fireflies here are glorious to behold.
The Night Sky
While the fireflies are the main attraction from mid-June to mid-July, the night sky offers other wonders, too. The nights can be very dark here so that I can’t see my hand held in front of my face. Light pollution is minimal. Under these conditions on clear nights and lying supine in my anti-gravity recliner, the stargazing leaves little to be desired. The Milky Way is scattered out across the deep indigo dome like twinkling dust spread by a broom, its massive scope and its edges clearly defined. Innumerable points of light sparkle and fade and sparkle anew. Planets shine brightly and sometimes the phenomena of redshift and blueshift are visible to my naked eyes. I often see colors in the starlight and planetary reflections of the sun. Satellites move steadily across the darkness on their unbroken paths. During thunderstorms, lightning flashes brightly and illuminates otherwise invisible clouds while also highlighting the mountains and trees. Dazzling, momentary flashes from the river’s flowing surface turn light to liquid.
Cloudy nights under a bright moon bring a different experience entirely. When surrounded by a moisture halo, the ring around the moon glows with the colors of the spectrum. When the clouds are heavy but scattered and especially under the full moon, they appear as enormous cotton masses with glowing edges as if lit from within and cast well-defined shadows that crawl across the landscape as the clouds float along. Through this effect, the earth and its features are animated, visible one moment and gone the next only to reappear again in a constant shift of perspective. Tall cumulus clouds disappear at their heights to infinity while appearing solid and grounded at their bases. Cirrus clouds gleam like gossamer and sometimes also flash colors.
Much less common but even more fascinating are the extraordinary, exceptional experiences. Some of these are easily understood and explained. The aurora borealis falls into this category. I have witnessed this phenomenon three times in my years here and each event is as wonderful as the last. The fantastically colored light first creeps and then floods over the mountain ridges opposite my home, flashing, undulating, swelling and receding like tidal surges in the sky. Continuing for hours until my neck can no longer support my head for the strain of gazing upward, the northern lights return to visit me again and again before the unique atmospheric and climatological conditions that delivered them steal them away and leave me wanting for more, much as all of the events listed here do.
But the most uncommon events are the most intriguing and inspire the deepest contemplation. I have experienced two absolutely singular nighttime events that defy explanation through generally accepted knowledge and understanding. Both raise esoteric questions about the essence of reality itself and the nature of existence. Both have compelled me to ponder deeply the concept of a multiverse or alternate reality and the very real possibility that we do not exist as the sole “intelligent” life forms in the vast cosmic expanse but are in fact primitive animals among life forms that are much more advanced than we are. Out here, the night sky is a main attraction that holds secrets more obscure and mysterious than those hidden by day.
The Colors
The palettes of even the greatest, most resourceful artists pale in comparison to nature’s artistry. The colors here change through all conditions whether seasonal, climatological, lighting, perspective, or perceptive. Every shade of green imaginable, every blue, all grays, browns, reds, oranges, yellows, whites and combinations or derivatives thereof are seen above and below water, in the air, over the mountains and on the ground. From tiny flowers in pink and fuchsia to larger varieties in lavender and blue, daisies and weeds in yellow, white, and lilac all set against rich greens, living color covers the ground in spring and summer. The trees are adorned in greens while the sky constantly changes. In autumn, the woods blaze with rusty reds, yellows, oranges, crimsons, violets and purples, browns, golds, silver, copper, and bronze while the earth gets carpeted in the same shades. Winter brings darker browns, sepia, silvers, grays, and whites and all the while, the lichens on the trees and the ground mosses glow with luminous, unfading greens tinted with mint, olive, and chartreuse. The sunrises and sunsets splash bold washes of color across the sky and the land and bathe the scenes in saturated and subtle hues so varied and nuanced that some cannot be named. All visual splendor to please the eyes, stimulate the brain, and inspire your inner artist.
The Abundant Life
Of the many luxuries presented by this place, the opportunity to explore the abundant life is a favorite. In the Darwinian tradition, I have often felt compelled to closely examine my surroundings and the innumerable life forms with which I share this property. Every year I discover insects, birds, plants, and fungi that I’ve never seen before.
From tiny button cap mushrooms in orange and gold to turkey tails, lion’s mane, and others that I cannot name, fungi come and go like mysterious visitors as environmental conditions change. Some prefer the moist undersides of decaying logs or the deep shade under the weeds and barely rise above ground level. Others reside on tree trunks and make no attempts to hide. Some dwell in the deep crevices eroded between the rolling earth swells of the varied topography at the mountain’s base, the earth channels through which water runs off the mountain ridge above to the river below. Minuscule, medium-sized, and large as catcher’s mitts, these mushrooms spring forth suddenly and disappear as fast often with even the slightest adjustments in temperature and humidity.
Moths of many varieties are here, some in neutral dress and others in designer colors and patterns. Butterflies visit here, too, similarly adorned. Beetles crawl everywhere and when many of these creatures fly, I know that nature has not perfected her designs as they slam randomly into immovable objects of all kinds. How they survive without shattering their shell-like carapaces or poking their eyes out, I know not.
Innumerable insects inhabit these woods and plains, bugs that run, jump, crawl, fly, strut, stand still, shuffle, slither and slide, dig, emerge, disguise themselves, and freeze their motion on my approach, so many examples of evolutionary adaptation that I am bewildered by their variety. Spiders and flies so small that they easily go unnoticed abound in great numbers. Different species of all of these inhabit different microcosms within, on, and above the ground.
Of course, there are larger creatures, too, from reptiles and amphibians to birds and mammals, all staking their claims in their own ways to their property rights. Through studying these animals closely, I have learned a great deal about human nature. I have learned, too, how all living things are inseparably interconnected and have directly observed this in practice. Through understanding this truth and knowing that with every step I take I’m probably harming some tiny animal that is crucial to the delicate balance of the whole, I have become more aware of my impact on this magical world regardless of how great or small and I am consequently more mindful of my actions. Because I never really know what counter-actions I might trigger and what effects they might have, I have learned mindfulness and rarely abandon my live and let live approach. A life well lived is about so much more than satisfying our selfish desires and disregarding how our actions affect other organisms simply for our own gain. Learning about our world contributes to that life. And here, learning opportunities are as plentiful as the subjects.
Arriving Home After an Absence
When I’m here, I don’t want to be anywhere else. Sometimes but certainly not always, when I’m elsewhere I’d rather be here. This place has a draw, a magnetism that can be difficult to resist and that power goes far deeper than the features and attributes listed herein. It influences me as Stonehenge and Mecca influence millions of others. Often, even when I’m in need, I have to force myself to leave.
Being away definitely has its benefits but when the decision to return is made, it is irresistible. When I start heading home, I can feel physical and spiritual changes in myself. Clearing the suburbs around any city, the tension in my muscles starts to fade. As ugly shopping malls, hideous strip malls, mundane residential developments and uninspiring townhouses piled on each other thin out and give way to grassy fields, I relax further. The traffic thins, the noise diminishes, the psychotic drivers with their faces in their phones peel off to their destinations and the trees become more prevalent. All the while, my sense of peace grows and my satisfying decision to return as soon as I can becomes more certain. As nature commands my views and the roads wind and wander with ever-decreasing traffic, I forget where I’ve come from and focus only on where I’m going. I’m going home to a place unlike any other.
The air smells different. The temperature drops. The environment feels different. The sights and sounds are pleasant, even inspiring, and when the mountains come into view, my excitement peaks. The stress melts away entirely and I know I’m almost there. When I arrive atop the mountain at the start of the final approach to my driveway, I pause for a moment just as I did 25 years ago to take in the fantastic view. Then, smiling, I slowly descend along the edge of the cliff and down into the woods flanking the road to the river. Rounding the last bend, I find my driveway awaiting my arrival and welcoming me back to where I belong. I am at peace, untroubled, unperturbed, and unbothered by whatever is happening elsewhere because nothing else matters as much as being home again.
A Life Well Lived
During my tenure here, I have welcomed more than 300 guests from 12 countries. Every one has been captivated by this place and most have departed reluctantly. I have hosted numerous parties and shared my hospitality and my wonderful property with all of my guests. I’ve sat around many bonfires and enjoyed many stimulating conversations. I’ve developed wonderful friendships and terminated lesser ones. I’ve said hello and goodbye countless times, the goodbyes often being painful. I have loved here, lost here, created here, and sometimes destroyed what I’ve created. I’ve lost and found myself numerous times and each time have discovered more of myself than the self I thought I knew before.
I’ve watched in wonder while nature has gone about her business oblivious to my presence. I have talked to the animals and they have responded in their own way. I have hiked, climbed, walked, waded, worked, wandered, and explored. I’ve had hummingbirds hover right before my face and newly born fawns bound away like puppies at play after nipping at my hands while I stand still in the grass and speak softly to their mother who recognizes my voice. I’ve watched others only hours old run up and lie directly at my feet while under the watchful eye of their mother who remains unmoved by my presence and proximity to her offspring. I’ve observed countless mating rituals and seen the circle of life played repeatedly on the turntable of time. I’ve danced naked in the rain and under the sun. I’ve laughed an awful lot and cried some, too, sometimes with joy. I’ve celebrated and mourned the passing days and eagerly anticipated those yet to come. I’ve been startled by lightning strikes too close, drenched by torrential downpours, and snowed in for days. I’ve eliminated toxicity in all of its forms and embraced clean, healthy living.
On this land, I’ve grown older by 25 years. I’ve watched the world go by and my fortunes change and change again. I’ve felt almost every imaginable emotion with happiness and contentment being the dominant ones. I’ve gone away and returned more times than I can count. I’ve pondered the big questions often and deeply. I have studied many subjects intensively. I’ve read a lot, listened to music almost ceaselessly, laughed at myself, other people, and the world. I’ve looked at, listened to, felt, smelled, and tasted what nature has to offer. I’ve abandoned a corporate capitalist life and embraced a spiritual, bohemian, creative one. I’ve turned status quo to “thank you, no.” This small world at the end of Frenches Station Road has opened larger worlds to me that I haven’t even begun to explore.
I have lived a full, satisfying life mostly devoid of all the trappings of modern society and being here has made that life possible. This place IS life; it epitomizes what nature intended for all of us. Being here offers meaning and context to my existence; it compels me to see all that I was missing in the city and inspires me to understand and appreciate the value of simply being. That value cannot be quantified in numbers; it is priceless. This property is so much more than acres and square feet; while important in making a well-lived life possible, those considerations are secondary. Living here is an experience; indeed, it is an endless series of experiences offering a fresh and refreshing perspective on purpose. It’s about satisfaction, gratitude, finding health and happiness in simplicity. If you care to look, a life well lived is what you’ll find. If you care to pursue that, you will become a better person than you’ve ever been and will finally understand what it really means to live the good life. That’s the only kind of life worth living and it’s the one I’ve lived in this amazing place.