He’s going to kill us. This is it. Who? This park ranger. He is sick, unhinged. 

We were in the pitch black underground of Oregon Caves National Monument. He made the small group of us on his tour extinguish the candles in our lanterns, and now he was talking about the ills of humanity and death. I didn’t think he was trying to be playfully spooky at all, for it seemed no conscious effort was pointed in that direction. His gloom seemed to emit so naturally from some deep-seated bitterness and hatred within his soul. 

I didn’t trust him from the start. There was something impersonal and antisocial about him. He couldn’t relate to the guests. He didn’t know how to interact with the common pleasantry of any ordinary human, and my spirit was not at ease. I could sense discontentment within him and a resentment towards humanity. It was so evident, and now at the end of this tour, I felt things had really built to a climax. This would be a sick man’s ideal moment to take his disdain for humanity out upon us all, brandishing his weapon of choice.

Let’s backtrack. How did I end up in such a situation? Well, in the morning,my travel buddy Zach and I packed up camp at Mill Creek Campground in the Redwood Forest in northern California. Zach was not mad I had made s’mores after he went to sleep so early the evening before. It was a new day. Today’s car trip was only about sixty miles, so we had time to piddle and peruse. We started our day briefly by visiting the Tolowa Dunes State Park next to Crescent City. Essentially it was more beach access and nothing too distinct from what we had already seen, that it doesn’t even reside much in my memory. After visiting the dunes, we stopped for some breakfast at Jack-In-the-Box to appease Zach’s wild hunger. Though a small, skinny guy, he always was the hungry one. Then, after a quick breakfast,  we were on our drive into the forests of Oregon on our way to Oregon Caves National Monument and Preserve.

This would be my first trip to Oregon, and I really did not have any preconceived notions about the state other than I just imagined it as a lot of moist pine forests mysterious and deep. I was right. I had no judgment on the people. No stereotypes had ever presented themselves to me. I didn’t and still don’t know what it means to be an Oreganian. The only place in Oregon I had heard of prior was Portland. It had recently become the epicenter for Millennial hipster culture and the Leftist’s ideal progressive city. It had received much attention by the media as the place to be. I didn’t pay close attention to all that, but I heard the buzz in passing, and I learned of the city eventually showing its true colors. I have learned through my travels that you should never judge a state by its big cities. Chicago is not a reflection of the rest of Illinois, Louisville is antithetical to the rest of Kentucky, and I feel the pain of rural and small town Californians whose reputation is so tarnished by the state’s big cities.

Anyhow, we were nowhere near a big city. We were in the wilds, driving through Klamath National Forest along the border of California and Oregon. I did feel the need to stop and take my picture by the “Welcome to Oregon ” sign to add to my ever-growing collection of state welcome signs. At one point we stopped at a wayside National Forest river access called Myrtle Beach. There were some big boulders on which people were climbing up and jumping off into cold water. Zach wanted to partake. I knew I would not. It was way too cold for me, and cold water is just something my body doesn’t handle well at all. It has no appeal to me, for I turn white and blue and shiver to the greatest extremes. In contrast, I love the heat. Stick me in the scorching desert sun at 120 degrees and I’ll revel in it, well at least for a while, until I pass out, but we know that’s another story.

It was pleasant and peaceful to sit on the rocky shore of the river within this grand forest this young morning. Its water was super clear and pure. There were little cares this morning, and no pressure on time, so I simply watched the others do flips and dive into the water from the tall rocks. 

When we departed and finally reached the turn off to Oregon Caves National Monument, the road narrowed into a winding, slithering little thing, going upwards. One big feature of the monument is the historic Oregon Caves Chateau circa 1934. I had booked a room there far in advance, before I knew Zach was even coming on this trip. Luckily this room, although small,  would be just big enough to accommodate us both. From the outside I admired this dark, elegantly rustic gable roofed masterpiece. It was tucked in the forest alongside a small waterfall and babbling brook which actually ran inside the building. We followed the small wood-railed path that led to the lobby. I loved it. It was so picturesque. 

I very much favor the idea of being in a place and leaving the car behind, and this was one of those places. Here we had our accommodations, dinner, trailhead, and the cave all at our disposal. The lobby, though quite large, felt quite intimate in its very inviting aura. It was “L” shaped. Towards the front was a big stone fireplace with a large pile of chopped wood next to it. Placed throughout the lobby were leather couches, floor lamps, and rustic end tables. An old brown piano stood on dated forest green textured carpet. Through the large old windows, light filtered through the pine trees and into the lodge. The place certainly fit the classic style of the National Park architecture movement which I’ve written about before, in which the design aims to blend into the natural environment. Everything about this lodge fit its surrounding forest just perfectly. It’s character was just right. At the front desk, a friendly attendant checked us into the room, reaching into the old-fashioned wooden cubbies behind the desk for a skeleton key.

 

When we set out to locate the room, it was quite an interesting maneuver. The room was on the very top floor of the Chateau. It required going up the main grand staircase but then up an additional few flights up stairs, walking to the end of a hallway, making our way across a sitting area and game room, and there at the far end of that common space was a small door, which looked to be just a closet. Any casual visitor would never have known there was a staircase here which led to a room, but we opened the door and found our own private small staircase which wound up to this attic room.  We had this secret nook high above the Chateau. It felt very much like something out of a book and would be a great break from sleeping in the cold damp northern woods.

The attendant at the desk said this was the last summer to stay in the Chateau in its present state before it would undergo a major renovation and remodeling. The room was certainly dated but in the most charming of ways. Its bathroom features and lighting seemed to be straight out of the 1930s. I felt privileged to be able to be among one of the final people to see the place in its original state and also sad that it wouldn’t ever be the same. I like old things, such as decor and amenities, as long as they are kept up. It may be the historian in me that loves the novelty of being passed back in time. Sadly, I learned later that the Chateau closed indefinitely after this summer. Funds and gumption never surfaced to keep it running, despite it being on the Register of National Historic Places. It still could one day open again. 

Zach and I were in the room briefly, enough to drop off our bags, use the bathroom, and scarf down some cherries we had bought the evening before. Then we were off to our first cave tour. We simply walked a few yards outside the front of the Chateau to the small entrance to the cave. I enjoyed the plaque that read “Oregon Caves National Monument set aside by President Taft July 12, 1909.” The fall before I visited Taft’s home in Cincinnati, Ohio and later learned he was a distant relative of mine. I like being able to connect the dots and locations of people in American history.  

The tour was the standard “Discovery Tour.” It was very pleasant. The cave was not enormous like Carlsbad Caverns, but had way more character than something like Mammoth Cave, which is very uniform in appearance. Oregon Caves, is more miniature in size, and wanders and winds through a labyrinth full of a plethora of cave formations and glistening flowstones. When we finished the tour we had a quick turnaround before our second cave tour. I had booked the Lantern Cavern Tour for the novelty of such an experience. Between the two tours I thought to squeeze in a short hike. It became more of a run, however. We completed the paved Cliff Nature Trail. It led to a beautiful lookout point which presented the pine forest stretching out over the Siskiyou Mountains. It actually resembled the Smoky Mountains in the Appalachian chain in terms of the height of the mountains and how the pine forest just rolls over them. On the way back to the cave there was a friendly dear walking right on the path in front of us. It was not startled but actually turned around and started to approach us. I suppose it was looking for a handout. I’m sure it would have eaten out of our hands. 

 

After our quick run of a hike, we were back in the cave on the Lantern Cave Tour guided by the creepiest of park rangers. There was something so unsettling about this rangers persona from the beginning. Something was not right. He told dark tales of people dying in caves and  about numerous wars that went on in the world, while here this cave sat in silence untouched. He talked about how people during the Revolutionary War and Civil War hid out in caves. I’m not going to question the validity or the extensiveness of that, for it’s irrelevant. However, he spoke about how people remained in caves because of fear of the world. He talked about how the cave is quiet and peaceful, but the world outside is full of hate and war. He talked about God, and for ages how people were disillusioned by a belief in him. “God is not real,” he claimed. It’s a tale to control the masses and keep them living in darkness, he explained. To summarize things, in his beliefs there was no God, no good in humanity, and we were all trapped in the darkness. “There is no light. There is no hope in the world,” he said. My heart began to race. He’s going to pull out a gun and murder us all right about now, I thought. 

Then…there was an intense moment of silence. Panic was setting in…

He opened the cave door. “…Then there came the light of science,” he said. “Science takes us from darkness to light. Science illuminates our misunderstandings of the world and our fear about life. So as we walk out of this cave, walk into the light of science.”

Phew! Get me out of here! I will gladly walk into the light after being in this dark cave with this creep! Get me out into the Chateau or out into the forest. I rushed out of there and took a deep breath. That was a stressful fight or flight moment, and I had a lot of thoughts and feelings to express. 

First off, I found it extremely audacious to take this analogy of light amidst darkness and apply it to science, while denouncing and attempting to demean the religious faith of so many. It would be one thing to simply use an analogy of light and darkness with science, but to take it a step further and walk on the religious faith of others, is grossly disrespectful especially given that the analogy is so prevalent in the Bible and engrossed in religious faith. 

I would expect someone representing the United States as a U.S. Park Service ranger, preserving the nation’s natural and cultural treasures, to have a bit more sensitivity than to  flippantly disregard the deeply held religious beliefs of so many people of the country he serves.

Going back to the 8th century B.C., the prophet Isaiah, in reference to Jesus’ coming, wrote, “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” (Isaiah 9:2). Then when the prophecy of Isaiah was fulfilled and Jesus walked this earth, Jesus is quoted in the Gospel of John saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12). Also in Scripture we read, “This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all[a] sin.” (1 John 1:5-10) . These are just a few of the Bible’s references to light. 

 The religious analogy of light is certainly deeply entrenched in religious faith, and it does raise a lot more questions than the scientific one. It’s multifaceted.  What does the Scripture mean by light? And why is Jesus described as light? And at a more personal level, how is Jesus light to me?  I did not appreciate this ranger’s assault on faith, but I will take it as a challenge to examine my own beliefs. I would conclude, God is light, the source of all clarity and Truth. Science can be a search for Truth, but is a human operation, and can get things wrong, and even when science gets things right, it points to God.

Freed from the cave and the most worrisome of rangers, I enjoyed the rest of my time at Oregon Caves National Monument and Preserve and the delightful stay at the Chateau, and I’d have some food for thought and the impetus to unpack some of my beliefs about what is light in the philosophical and spiritual sense. 

If you enjoyed reading this, check out my book “Still, Calm, and Quiet“

Check out my previous entry here: “Crescent City: Tide Pools and Tsunamis”