“Wulumbo Falls lay near the northern end of the valley, and this was the wellspring of the Kwa River. The headwaters formed where the drainage funneled down through lava cliffs and spilled forth between two jutting peaks that stood like parapets atop the wall of rock. Now the falls were diminished by the season’s long drought. The water spilled lazily down in a straight, slow shower. The banks of the thirsty basin were now dried cakes of hard mud that bordered a tiny pond like a nearly empty birdbath. Here and there, shallow dens housed unmoving crocodiles. Plovers nested near the water’s edge. The hippos had all abandoned the dried up water hole and headed into the forest seeking shade.” (From Bentari, ch. 19 “How It Goes”)

In Bentari, the players’ fortunes ebb and flow like nature herself and the seasonal rhythms that challenge them, even as they plummet toward open war. In the dry season, reptilian giants are no more harmful than the stone statues they resemble. Imagine the change when the first rains awaken them from the torpor of the drought.

In the photos, my daughter Caitlin, lovely as ever, wades in a shallow punch bowl up Oneonta Gorge. No crocodiles here, thank goodness! In the Great Northwest, waterfalls, rock walls, punch bowls and creeks and rivers ebb and flow in a timeless landscape. These are the backdrop of our culture and our souls.

Photos by Rebecca

For another view of Onenta’s splendor, see:http://web.oregon.com/hiking/oneonta_gorge.cfm