Left - Walkin Jim Stoltz
Forever Wild
A personal hero of mine is Walkin' Jim Stoltz. Jim has spent the past 30 years promoting the wild places in America. Of course, Jim does not only talk the talk, he literally walks the walk. For a good part of the year Walkin' Jim can be found out on the long trails throughout North America. The remainder of his year is spent sharing his experiences and images of the wilderness he experiences with others as he tours the country. Through schools and public concert he raises consciousness of a nation who's leaders sometime seem unconscious of the importance of leaving wilderness areas wild. The Bush push to develop America's sensitive area's is but the latest assault on our collective natural heritage. Perhaps National Security should start at home, by insuring future generations inherit a healthy planet and can experience the wonder of the wilderness.
But on to Robert Service.
Jim has finished his incredible Yellowstone to the Yukon hike. During his adventure he hiked through wilderness corridors which provide some of the last untouched lands on the continent. Jim passed this note via e-mail concerning a Service Station en route.
Hey, I thought of you as I finally got to the Yukon this summer. Just to the BC/Yukon line, but Robert Service was with us in spirit. One night in an old trappers cabin my pal, Jack (who hiked 16 days with me), found a book of Service on the shelf. He read a few poems to me by candlelight as the rain poured outside and woodstove crackled. Very appropriate place to read Service. All for now. See ya in a couple weeks. -Jim
So here's to Walkin Jim, and to the wilderness he helps secure.
The Lure of Little Voices
Robert Service
There's a cry from out the loneliness -- oh, listen, Honey, listen!
Do you hear it, do you fear it, you're a-holding of me so?
You're a-sobbing in your sleep, dear, and your lashes, how they glisten --
Do you hear the Little Voices all a-begging me to go?
All a-begging me to leave you. Day and night they're pleading, praying,
On the North-wind, on the West-wind, from the peak and from the plain;
Night and day they never leave me -- do you know what they are saying?
"He was ours before you got him, and we want him once again."
Yes, they're wanting me, they're haunting me, the awful lonely places;
They're whining and they're whimpering as if each had a soul;
They're calling from the wilderness, the vast and God-like spaces,
The stark and sullen solitudes that sentinel the Pole.
They miss my little camp-fires, ever brightly, bravely gleaming
In the womb of desolation, where was never man before;
As comradeless I sought them, lion-hearted, loving, dreaming,
And they hailed me as a comrade, and they loved me evermore.
And now they're all a-crying, and it's no use me denying;
The spell of them is on me and I'm helpless as a child;
My heart is aching, aching, but I hear them, sleeping, waking;
It's the Lure of Little Voices, it's the mandate of the Wild.
I'm afraid to tell you, Honey, I can take no bitter leaving;
But softly in the sleep-time from your love I'll steal away.
Oh, it's cruel, dearie, cruel, and it's God knows how I'm grieving;
But His loneliness is calling, and He knows I must obey.
* From "The Spell of the Yukon"
