Category Archives: Ohio River Valley
Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous 2011 & memories from the gutter
Musicoligists disagree on what was the first musical device. They generally agree that the first musical instrument was the voice. So it’s a simple leap to believe our ancient ancestors figured out whistling, and from there, the flute. The whistle imitated birds, the flute imitated the whistle and thus, music was born.
But it’s always been my theory, without any scientific evidence mind you, that the first musical device was the drum. Consider this …
Our paleolithic ancestors are sitting around the fire, and one of them discovers that he or she can make a sound with their mouth, which will later come to be called melodic. And now this is way before anyone figures out whistling, keep in mind. So they’re humming away, and before long, another ancestor, most certainly a guy, starts making rhythmic noises with his mouth. Kind of like a prehistoric beat box. Which in turn leads another (again a male of the species) to begin drumming rhythmically on his legs. And we all know how irritating that is, unless the primitives in question had some form of libation, in which all of them would soon be beating on their legs. Next thing you know someone picks up a couple of sticks and musical instruments are born.
What does all this have to do with the 2011 Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous, in Vincennes, IN?
Like most historical reenactments, the participants fall into two camps. The first is those demanding authenticity, most notably in dress. And in this The Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous does pretty darned well, at least among the reenactors. The merchants are a different story, but that’s neither here nor there.
The other camp doesn’t really give a fig for authenticity, as long as it looks right. Or in the case of music, sounds like what people expect period music to sound like. And reenactments aren’t the only victim of this. No less notable a personage than Ken Burns, with his award-winning PBS specials blows it when it comes to musical authenticity.
So at the Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous, let’s face it, the music isn’t authentic (discounting Common Stock, a wonderful pair who I have to believe are as authentic as you’re likely to find). Ironically enough, the guitar might not have been entirely unknown in colonial Vincennes, as the French quite possibly brought it when Vincennes was still trading in furs. But the whole ensemble playing would likely never have happened. And perhaps most inconceivable to many people, the bodhran, or Irish frame drum would never have been played in an ensemble setting. We all would love to believe that the instrument has been accompanying early music for centuries, but it likely dates from no earlier than the 1960s.
Now cast your mind back in time to the Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous, 2001 or therabouts. Your author is playing non-traditional music for non-traditional dancers at the event. It’s hot, and thirsty work. The day’s activities end, and we wander around the encampment and along the river, which is when the site feels most like the 18th century. Darkness falls, and libations are produced. Many libations. At the far end of the encampment, a large fire is drifting sparks up into the sky, in contrast with most of the smaller fires of the reenactors, and we wander to it, where a well-known and unnamed musical act is camping. There are kids being kids, adults being adults, and a ring of people around the fire, which we join. More libations are produced, including a fiery elixer with golden flakes suspended therein, Goldschlager. This bottle and several others are passed around the circle, along with a guitar and songs, and pretty soon, the twentieth century is long gone. I have to believe, based on as much as I can remember, that this was the most authentic experience I’ve had at any reenactment or historic site. Bar none.
I also seem to remember that I slept much of the night in a ditch, which felt pretty authentic as well. A gutter might have been more appropriate but we make do.
‘Twas an evening in October, I’ll confess I wasn’t sober,
I was carting home a load with manly pride,
When my feet began to stutter and I fell into the gutter,
And a pig came up and lay down by my side.
Then I lay there in the gutter and my heart was all a-flutter,
Till a lady, passing by, did chance to say:
“You can tell a man that boozes by the company he chooses,”
Then the pig got up and slowly walked away.”
Clark Van Ness
Of course that was long ago, and certainly not a sanctioned Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous activity. And I’m certain that such a Bacchanalia would no longer be tolerated. The event is wonderful enough without it.
The 2011 Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous was held this past Memorial Day weekend, and I managed to spend most of an afternoon there, before being called back on the road. It’s nice to see a historical reenactment that is so consistently great, especially considering that it’s organized almost entirely with volunteers. So perhaps the music isn’t authentic, it’s still enjoyable. And I still choose to believe that after dark, around some campfire, authenticity still reigns.
Learn more:
Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous main page
2010 Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous images in the History Trekker Shoppe
2011 Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous images in the History Trekker Shoppe
Driving through a disappearing countryside in the midwest
To view more photos or order prints from the midwestern country side, click here
I’ve always felt a kind of freedom when I get out of town, off the highways and onto a gravel road, winding through the country. When you grow up close to the country, you always end up at one time or another out there, just wandering. Every house is a bit of history, some notorious but most just the remnants of generations past – people who lived good though often hard lives.
As a photographer, a road gives you an automatic focal point. And it’s very easy to return to the same places over and over again, in all seasons and all weather.
This fall a friend took me to where her grandparents used to live in the country. The house is gone – nothing left but memories. A ditch where kids used to play, an abandoned well, a tree left standing alongside the road – these are the mementos of lives long gone.
Time was, when feeding your family was the first priority, and selling what was leftover an added bonus. Now, when only the largest farms are capable of turning a profit, the farmhouse and the world that revolved around it is becoming a thing of the past. And much is being lost in the process.
As a teenager, the country was where you went when you wanted to escape – from school, parents, friends, police – and it’s also where you went to form relationships. In the town where I was born, there weren’t many places to just sit. And when you’re that age, there has to be a place where two people can figure it all out. We all had our version of Pooh’s thoughtful spot.
Ancient America comes alive at Angel Mounds State Historic Site
I’ve always been a fan of crackpot science. There’s something about the unknown and the unknowable that spurs the imagination. I love ley lines, standing stones, the pyramids – be them in Egypt or Central America. I’m frequently asked if I believe in UFOs, to which I always answer yes. After all, there are certainly flying objects that are unidentified. Just what they are I can’t say, otherwise they wouldn’t be unidentified now would they? I’ve made my pilgrimage to Avebury, Glastonbury and even used to brew beer that always included a dash of water from Joseph of Arimathea’s holy well, which might very well have the grail resting at the bottom.
It was about the time that I discovered John Michell’s New View Over Atlantis, that I learned that some of the greatest mysteries of prehistory existed right under my very nose. Back then you did your research in a library, and the extent of your knowledge depended on what books your library had on hand, or that you could persuade the librarian to order for you. It was there I discovered the moundbuilders of North America, and particularly Cahokia, near St. Louis, and Angel Mounds, closer to home in Evansville, Indiana.
I have no memory of the name of the book I found in the library that brought the moundbuilders to light for me, only that it dated from the first part of the nineteenth century, when the theories for who built these mounds ranged from noble savages, to the lost tribes of Israel, to the same European tribes who had built Stonehenge (who had of course also had contact with those who built the great pyramids), to extra-terrestrials. As I recall, the book in question had put forth a theory quite popular at the time, that it was a northward migration of the same peoples who built the pyramids of Central America.
There’s something magical about walking the grounds of Angel Mounds. Covering over 100 acres, the complex was begun around 1000 CE, and thrived for almost 500 years before mysteriously fading away about the same time Columbus came skipping across the water. There’s a distinct lack of things ancient in this country, and to stand in the midst of an abandoned city a thousand years old is a heady experience. It was almost a hundred years after the discovery of sites like this that the world culture was used to describe the people who built them. But what an amazing culture it must have been, in the middle of the wilderness, to sustain a large enough population to have the free time to build these huge mounds.
The Central Mound at Angel is 644 feet long, over 400 feet wide, and climbs in two levels, with a third conical mound standing in the southeast corner. Angel was a chiefdom, and it’s thought that it was from the top of this conical mound that the chief would address his people. The Temple Mound, which once had a reconstruction of the temple built to the Native American’s sun god at the top, lies on the same axis as the Central Mound. It is believed that the structure that originally stood on top of this mound held the bones of the ancestors of the chief, as well as sacred statues and other ceremonial items. A beautifully carved statue of a deity was found buried in the top of the mound, thought to have been done ceremonially at the end of Angel Mound’s occupation.
The interpretative center at Angel Mounds contains a wealth of information about the settlement, including life-size dioramas and a reconstruction of part of the village. There are other reconstructions scattered around the site, including a section of the wall which once encompassed three sides of the 100 acre site. Yet most of Angel Mounds remains blessedly undeveloped. The trees are kept cleared, the grass short enough to allow you to see the shape of even the smallest of the mounds. In short, it’s a blank natural canvas which lets the mind do its magic.
The exploration of the mounds of North American began when Thomas Jefferson decided to excavate one on his property. Even Benjamin Franklin got in on the act of trying to figure out who built them and why. For a long time, many people believed that there was a golden age on this continent, when advanced civilizations built these amazing cities. The same theories used to be tossed about in Britain over sites like Stonehenge and Avebury. I’ve always believed that it’s a natural inclination to want to believe in golden ages, in part because there’s a certain romance to be found in their decline and disappearance, as you find in the myths about Atlantis, or the realities of the antebellum plantations in the south. Even golden ages of the imagination had their real-life horrors, from the slavery of the old south, to the human sacrifices at Cahokia and Angel.
And yet the magic lives on in these sites. The keys to truly understanding the moundbuilders, and their cities like Angel Mounds, Cahokia Mounds and Kincaid Mounds in southern Illinois, might never be found. Then again, perhaps all it takes is seeing the landscape at the right angle, in the right light, and like Alfred Watkins discovering ley lines stretching across the English countryside, it might all come into focus. The focus might be cracked like an old teacup, but for me, the key to history isn’t just in the facts. It’s also in the imagination, which drives us to look deeper for answers.
Also posted in Native Americans
Tagged "fine art prints", mississippian culture, mound builders, moundbuilders, Native Americans, travel photographer
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Stepping back in time and into the muck at Cache River State Natural Area
To view larger or order prints from the Cache River Natural Wildlife Area, click here
Tucked away in the southern tip of Illinois you can find places which don’t seem to belong there. When you think of Illinois – aside from Chicago, or references to Abraham Lincoln, you tend to think of acres of flat land covered in corn, wheat and soybeans. What you might not think of are sheer bluffs, canyons, waterfalls and in the case of the Cache River State Natural area, cypress and tupelo tree swamps.
Formed in the remains of of a floodplain created long ago by glacial runoff coursing through the Ohio River, the wetlands that make up this area are fed by the Cache River and its tributaries. Boasting trees which were saplings when Vikings plundered Europe, as well as much younger trees which date to the time of Christopher Columbus, Cache River State Natural Area gives you a chance to immerse yourself in an area little disturbed by human contact.
My companion had been there before, and suggested the Todd Fink-Heron Pond Trail. The gravel trail which wind through the area, as well as wide and stable boardwalks which take you out over the water itself allow you to experience features of the planet which otherwise would be pretty much off limits. The 1.5 mile trail is labelled easy, which is true, though in July when we visited, the heat was pretty intense. You can’t count on much of a breeze, and the bugs are pretty much what you’d expect in a swamp.
The bottomland forests of the area surround Heron Pond, and a boardwalk extends out to the center. The shallow water is home to towering cypress trees, rising high above the duckweed which covers the surface of the pond. It’s easy to spot signs of life in the green duckweed, including trails left by snakes swimming along its surface. The curious bird-like sound heard frequently is actually the sound of tree frogs, which live in the cypress. What you see while standing on the boardwalk and looking out is a sight relatively unchanged for a thousand years or more.
To view larger or order prints from the Cache River Natural Wildlife Area, click here
It’s a miracle that its survived to this day. In the nineteenth century, only a few sturdy settlers occupied the area, trying to make a go of it harvesting lumber. With the advances in technology however, the wetlands were cleared quite rapidly. It was only when concerned citizens stepped in to stop the harvest, that about 15,000 acres were saved. Almost a quarter of a million acres of wetland were lost.
There are about a hundred species of endangered wildlife which finds a home in the Cache River State Natural area. Bald eagles, red-tailed hawks, great horned owls, barred owls, great blue herons, great egrets, little blue herons, green herons, least bitterns, wood ducks, mallards, snow geese, sora rails, woodcock, quail, mourning doves, red-headed woodpeckers, pileated woodpeckers, prothonotary warblers, black vultures and turkey vultures are among the birds often spotted. White-tailed deer, squirrels, raccoons, beavers, gray foxes, red foxes, opossums, skunks, mink and the occasional bobcat are among the mammals of the area. And a plethora of reptiles inhabit the wetlands, including ird-voiced tree frogs, southern leopard frogs, spring peepers, western chorus frogs, bullfrogs, American toads, cottonmouths, copperheads and timber rattlesnakes. So it’s best to keep your eyes peeled, as those last three are rather venomous snakes.
In addition to hiking, it’s possible to take canoe tours, ranging from three to six miles. There’s also a bike trail which winds through the area. And for fishermen (and fisherwomen), the catch could range from Channel catfish, crappie, bass to bluegill. Authentic swamp fish might also end up on your hook, the bowfin, needlenose gar, grass pickerel and yellow bullhead catfish for example. Two state-endangered fish which live only in forest swamps are the pygmy sunfish and cypress minnows.
We were content to hike the easiest of the trails, and sit on the boardwalk in the middle of Heron Pond and watch the filtered sunlight dancing on the duckweed, changing the color from a bright emerald to a rich green, and listen to the tree frogs high above us. There are few places where you can lose the sound of humanity, and here the only human sounds were the occasional far off sound of a truck out on the highway. My companion said once, that it was a place that felt like we shouldn’t be there. And she was right. It was humans which almost destroyed the Cache River wetlands for all time. But it’s also humans which have managed to preserve at least a part of it, and given us access to areas we could never otherwise reach.
As a reminder, when we got back to the truck, my friend noticed her ankles were swarming with deer ticks. These carriers of Lyme disease are a reminder that even though we might go someplace, we might not be designed to survive in those places for long. Leave no tracks, and wear boots!
If you go:
For more info:
http://dnr.state.il.us/lands/landmgt/parks/r5/cachervr.htm
Directions
To reach Cache River State Natural Area headquarters from the North, take I-57 south to I-24, go east toward Nashville, get off at exit #14 (Vienna), turn right at the stop sign onto US Rt 45, go south on Rt 45 through Vienna, 7 miles, turn right on the Belknap road for 4 miles to the stop sign in Belknap, turn right at the stop sign on Main Street and go 2,000 feet and turn right onto Sunflower Lane (past the Belknap Methodist Church) and go north 1 mile to the park office. The park office is located in the white metal pole building.
To reach the Henry Barkhausen Wetlands from Vienna, IL, go West 5 miles on Route 146 from the intersection of Route 146 & US Route 45, turn left or South on Route 37, then 9 miles to Wetlands Center entrance – follow signs.
While groups of 25 or more are welcome and encouraged to use the park’s facilities, they are required to register in advance with the site office to avoid crowding or scheduling conflicts.
At least one responsible adult must accompany each group of 15 minors.
Pets must be kept on leashes at all times.
Actions by nature can result in closed roads and other facilities. Please call ahead to the park office before you make your trip.
We hope you enjoy your stay. Remember, take only memories, leave only footprints.
For more information on tourism in Illinois, call the Illinois Department of Commerce and Community Affairs’ Bureau of Tourism at 1-800-2Connect.
Telecommunication Device for Deaf and Hearing Impaired Natural Resources Information (217) 782-9175 for TDD only Relay Number 800-526-0844.
