Blink and You'll Miss It...

     For the most part, deviation as far as the route on this trip has been kept to an absolute minimum.  However, as I sat on the side of the river in Waycross, chucking pine cones into the coffee tinted bed of water we were resigned to camp by, I decided a little research into other areas wouldn't hurt.  In a flash, I geared up and scootered on over to the local public library, checked in at one of the computers, and started investigating.  It didn't take too long, I soon discovered, as I stumbled across a cyclists' blog who highlighted a particular spot in Brunswick, Georgia: The Hostel in the Forest.

Raised eyebrows. Open new window.  Scan their information page.  Jackpot.

  My brow is softened in relief as I punched the number into my phone.  A creeping suspicion attempted to plant some doubt into my plans, but that was quickly squashed.  A handful of rings later, and a voice crackles to life at the other end.

"Hostel in the Forest, how can I help you?"

     "Hi, my name is Myles Chung, and I am traveling with a buddy of mine...."


  

 As luck would have it, the pieces started to fall in place as I talked with the man at the other end.  Being only fifty or so miles away, the hostel already seemed like a detour that was worth the effort.  And, seeing as how a severe thunderstorm was ready to bear down on us on the day we left the area, I figured it would be nice not to pack up in blankets of rain and tumbling tree branches from heavy winds.  I went into detail about our mission, highlighting some of our more unique encounters and experiences, and the man's interest was appropriately peaked.  Eventually, I brought up the topic of their work exchange program, which would potentially replace our one night stay charge in place of a few hours working in their gardens or wherever they need an extra couple pairs of hands.  Crossing fingers, at this point.

     My anxiously tight grip on my pen relaxed as the man's voice crackled back to life on the other end, confirming a possible work exchange at their site. My fist silently punched the air above my head, followed by a string of "Thank you's" on my part and a couple "Looking forward to seeing you's".  I hung up, and relayed the good news to Dan.  Come twelve noon tomorrow, and we'll  have a roof over our heads and a pillow to lay on.

     The next morning we shuffled around and rolled up our belongings, going through the motions as we packed up our 49cc mules and puttered off to the hostel.  It was a fairly quick ride; perhaps our eagerness gave us a MPH boost.  Missing the signage for the place, we backpedaled and finally made our way down their crater speckled driveway.  One of the first things I noticed was how absolutely lush this forest is with its  Gothic architecture like tree trunks reaching out towards the sky and its vibrant foliage canvassing the skyline.

  Involuntarily, my body pumped out its chest as it took in a large breath to taste the beauty we stumbled across.  We dismounted in the parking lot and I ventured out in search of the main office.  My none- too-dainty boots stomped on the path as I spotted some of the facilities "tree houses", remarking to myself how naturally they seem to be a part of this area.  The main office came into view and I ventured in, converging on the hole in the wall where a man by the name of Andrew Douglass sat behind a computer.  I come to find out that this was the man who confirmed our stay just the other day on the phone, and it was nice to finally connect a face with the voice.

 

 We exchanged greetings and I already felt at home here.  Dan and I checked in with our I'D's and gear, but not before being warmly hugged by some of the staff members who crossed our paths, and at that point I realized how much I despised the stagnant feeling of handshakes for first encounters.  After successfully checking in, Andrew informed us that there is need of some work in their garden and blueberry plants, and we changed our clothes in anticipation.  Andrew himself had quite a large checklist to finish that day, but we eventually made our way to the garden.  We were given a nice little tour of the area, and made our way with tools in hand to the blueberry plants.  We could tell that there was a lot of work to be done here, and we proceeded to clear the choking vines that were wrapped around the branches and deep in the soil underneath the plants.  It was refreshing to be doing something that didn't feel at all like work. We put in some solid gardening time and headed back to our rooms, and I commissioned the camera for a little photo shoot of the facility. 

     Every aspect of this place left a sliver of envy in my awe as I marveled at all the quirky intricacies littering the area, while at the same time soaking in the sights and sounds surrounding me.  Granted, this all may not be noteworthy for some who have experienced this before, but being a shut in of sorts myself, it all felt like some sort of intoxicating aphrodisiac, to me.  It surprised me to learn that this facility has been around for quite some time, being founded by a man named Tom Dennard in 1975.  It's had its share of facelifts since then, but its primary focus is to leave a lasting impression on its guests and on the Earth.  From its composting toilets and outdoor showers to the thoughtful and loving attitudes of all who live there, I came to understand the wholesome impression this place left, what with its emphasis on embracing a lifestyle that is not only good for the body and soul, but also for the soil and leaves that I squished in between my toes.

     Tearing myself away from this other world, I made my way back to the main house and we were invited to pick some items from their garden in preparation for the group dinner.  Making our way back to the garden, and we start to pluck some lettuce leaves with the subtle sounds of our greedy munching on the offerings filling the air.  Dan and I at this point have contentedness written all over our faces, as if some sort of drug was being gleaned and leaked into the air from the compost pile itself.  We pick our fill, and headed back to the main area, chatting a bit with some of the residents before the dinner bell rang.  We hurry on over to the dining area and form a circle of hands with staff members and guests alike, highlighting what we are thankful for and opening up to each other.  We make the rounds, and then proceed to pounce on the Mexican inspired meal, including a salad made with the lettuce we picked.  Despite their produce output being only around 11% , they do an admirable job with keeping their meals wholesome and clean, and its only bolstered by their own little chicken farm that is right on the property.

     Our bellies pleasantly lined with bone sticking goodness, we took turns cleaning up the dishes and transferred over to the fire pit and conversed amongst each other as the smoke stung our eyes and the cool night air lapped at our backs.  Exhaustion eventually laid its hands on us, and we slunk back to our respective beds, cataloging all the sensory details of the day as my head sank into the pillow.  I have no way of telling, but I like to believe a permanent grin was languishing on my face as I dreamed about composting and howling roosters.

     I can't avoid being sappy about this place.  The reception towards us when we stepped onto the property was humbling, and the love for Mother Nature is interwoven into every nook and cranny as we investigated even further.  I wouldn't even call it low impact: just living like we should be.  If you take away the constant overbearing sheen of money, power and superficial life requirements, and in turn embrace not only your own health and sanity but also your neighbors and the world,  then what excuse do we have of having such epidemics cripple our livelihoods?  Cure homelessness.  Evict costly and blood stained wars.  Refuse a foothold for hunger.  This place is a tantalizing glance through a window to a world where common sense and love for your fellow man should be aplenty, and it's a vine that should not be ripped out from the ground, but instead allowed to be invasive in its influence and spread throughout our society.