The Timeless Traveler

And The Adventures Of An Old Mountain Man

Shining the light on an underappreciated artist.

A picture of the monitor in my “office” with wallpaper by Ken Barber, a.k.a The Old Mountain Man on Substack.

If I told you that I recently had a time travel experience, you would rightly say this claim meets all of your qualifications for total rejection. You might even take caution to not trip over the marbles falling out of my head. But it’s true!

Well, okay, it’s sort of true. At least it seems real to me, but to be sure, so do hallucinations. However, this “time travel” is something I can do repeatedly - and so can you.

Yes, I hear you saying, “Okay, it sounds like he’s as unbalanced as a seesaw in the wind.” as you make a move for the “exit". WAIT! Stay with me! This will be sweet and darned worth your while!

t r u s t ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) m e

Tis often said that “A picture is worth a thousand words.” Fair enough, but them’s just words. I submit that the right picture, especially one from your past, will have greater value than mere words. A personal recollection triggered by a picture can evoke very powerful emotions reminiscing of times gone by, of people you grew up with, or places you may have called home such as your old neighborhood. They can unearth thoughts and feelings that may have been dormant, but not forgotten.

I mention this because I recently received a picture so uniquely special that it sent me into a reverie that cast me back into my childhood, a time before all the burdens and concerns were laden upon my shoulders like a rain-soaked overcoat, its pockets full of sand. When I gaze into it, I relax and allow my mind to wander. I feel as if I were young, light and more alive, recapturing the optimism and boundless joy of never thinking of time, of only living in the present. It isn’t a passing fancy but a moment that reinvigorates my soul with serenity and pleasure. Even if for only an instant, I am reminded of my younger self again, but I also gain something.

It’s like catching the smell of some flower wafting in the breeze on a spring day. As soon as you notice it, it is gone only to have that fleeting moment of ecstasy evaporate with it. But the experience remains in the memory, a momentary escape from the gritty reality of life before that too, fades away.

But it really doesn’t have to fade away. It is within you to hold onto that whimsical place. To understand this phenomenon, you must first appreciate that the best days of my adolescent years were spent roaming through the countryside of middle Ohio. Between the small farms and rural roads, the calm lakes and tiny streams, there were miles and miles of train tracks and trestles that crisscrossed the land and went through areas most people never see.

When I was not working to buy parts for my boat or imprisoned in the compulsory education system, I was free to jump on my bicycle and wander off the whole day exploring, often with my friends where we would frequently end up camping out. I also spent many a hot summer day wandering along all those train tracks, a good place to go plinkin’ as the sides of the roadbeds were littered with old glass insulators and beer cans. The heavy pungent smell of creosote filled the air. It may be nasty stuff, but I love that smell!

Ahhhh. Creosote. (╯▽╰ )

Whenever I mention this to my assiduously normal wife, she makes an almost comically squinched-up face wondering if I have been liberated of my senses. This is usually followed by an emphatic “Yuck!” to make sure that I understand just how utterly bizarre my cherished affinity for the nimbus of petroleum sludge is to sensible people. Go figure, I also like the smell of asphalt paving, the hot waxing of a car and peeling rubber, the floor of a machine shop, gunpowder - you get the idea, things that have been familiar to most guys and part of the life we have known and love.

I’m relating all of this because my long-time friend, Ken Barber a.k.a. The Old Mountain Man, posted an image I have on my monitor, (The picture of my “office” at the top of this page). A recent post on his Substack has this intriguing photo of train tracks wandering around the bend. See it here:

My Last Days in South Park

The instant I saw this picture it stirred something in me. Because I’m a subscriber, he made a special effort to post the FULL SIZE image. This beautifully detailed photograph is the one that really shot me back in time. The amazing clarity of it brings the smell of hot creosote seeping out of the railroad ties back to life!

When I fixate on this picture on my over-sized monitor, I can’t help wanting to walk down those tracks again as they go around the bend to who knows where. And for a moment, everything seems to be full of hope again, the excitement of discovery and expectation, the warm sun upon my face and the azure skies with giant lazy cumulous clouds rolling overhead and casting rainbow lined shadows on the ground. All worries of madmen and taxes and car trouble fall away and optimism has taken their place. I am a child, although for only an instant, the aspiration and hope stays with me. It was then that it became clear to me that I never forgot these times, I merely didn’t prioritize them. They are there all the time, and like clicking the heels of those famous ruby slippers, I realize that I can go home again whenever I choose. I time travel by just putting things in their proper perspective.

In other words, the conviction of my priorities were sorted out merely by looking at a picture.

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Red oak postcard stand I made for Ken.

If any of this makes sense to you, I highly recommend that you click here and check out the absolutely superb photography of Ken Barber. These are real photos, not the trendy click-bait of Photoshop enhanced graphics with oblique angles to make them look sexy. The decades of passion for taking the perfect picture is evident by the huge panoramas of some of the best a road trip across America has to offer. He even has 360° photospheres that are on Google Maps with some that place you in the middle of a desert, or deep in the woods, to the inside an ancient New Mexico ceremonial chamber cut in stone. And much, much more.

But the pictures are only part of his extraordinary posts. Ken relates his adventures with entertaining and amusing tales of the places he photographs all with a running narration of his life in a motorhome with his camera and a truly phenomenal cat named Pookie. Ken also knows a great deal about nature, from describing the flora and fauna in meticulous detail, to the rock formations, their composition and the geological epochs that formed them. Subscribers get breathtaking full-sized pictures that are of such detail that I feel as if I am going to fall into them, especially when he visits Colorado’s National Monument.

I’m not shilling for Ken, as of this writing he is unaware of what I am up to. He is the man I made picture frames for and a display rack for his postcards. Ken is one of the smartest guys I’ve ever known. We have a rather hilarious past that is too silly to go into here, but let me just say Ken is a worthy opponent!

Unofficial copy of Boreas Pass Railroad photograph by Ken Barber.

Alright, this post is waaaaaaaay to long, so I’ll end it here. Just head over to Ken’s place and tell him I sent you. He now lives alone on top of a mountain near central Oregon. Ken spent years going all across the country, so you should be able to do the easy part with the click of a mouse to visit his Substack and pay him a visit.

I promise that it will be worth your time, you may even go back to a place that you have forgotten, or perhaps somewhere you would like to go - you know, like me, a guy who believes that time is fungible and can be traversed with a little imagination.

Thank you for reading.

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(By the way, don’t tell The Old Mountain Man this, but I’m not sure if is HE is old, or the mountain is old, or which of them is older)

( ‵▽′)ψ hehehe. Surprise! I miss you buddy.