One Man’s Journey (Part 4)

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MuseItUp Publishing, photography, Stan Hampton author, travel

Here’s the 4th and final excerpt from Stan Hampton’s Journey Of The Spirit. I don’t know about you, but I’ve enjoyed making this trip with him via his wonderful photographs. At the end of this post I’ll share  an excerpt from The Ledger, available in Stan’s Intimate Journeys Anthology. Thanks again to Stan for sharing. You’re welcome back any time.

 

Did I mention I am a published writer? Not self-publishing, though. Several years ago on an author loop run by Melange Books LLC, I met the very talented Charmaine Pauls. We have become very good friends, and she is one of two authors that I regularly pepper with questions, particularly regarding female dress and perspective. (Ahem, she is the friend who came to my rescue by calling from Montpellier for a taxi in Vers-Pont-du-Gard—and, don’t ask why I don’t know enough French to call my own taxi.) After my arrival she took me on a quick walking tour of Montpellier, and we stopped for lunch.

One of the sites she showed me was a 700-year old church. Beautiful and incredible—I’ve used those words so many times since arrival in France, and especially during Winter Break, that I must find other words to use. But words really do not do justice to what I have seen and experienced.

Charmaine showed me the bookstore Le Bookshop in the old town where she once held a book signing. This is the cellar—the ground floor is just as fantastic. And no, the stones are not mere decoration. Imagine, a bookstore in the cellar of a building several hundred, if not a thousand, years old!

After resting and visiting with Charmaine and her wonderful family in Montpellier, I returned to Pau on Sunday night, 5 March.

This has been incredible. I have gazed upon what I had only read about and finally I have walked where Romans, Gauls, and Medieval men and women once walked. My journey of the spirit has come to a close for now. But there are more journeys in the next two months.

And after that? I want to return to France to live for a year or two, to write and especially to photograph. And you know what? Such a happening is a very real possibility—I can do this rather than simply dream and wish as I once did. I can do this.

Intimate Journeys Anthology, Melange Books, February 2012.

ISBN: 978-1-61235-332-6

BLURB: Every journey through life is an intimate journey simply because it is someone’s personal journey. Sometimes the journey is like being alone in a small boat at the mercy of wild ocean currents, and sometimes the journey is like being part of a crew in a strong ship with billowing, wind-filled sails…

EXCERPT: The wintry night of New Year’s Eve 1899 was filled with excitement, hope, and wonder. The world was leaving the 19th century behind and entering the 20th century and no one could guess what wonders the new century offered.

Except Caleb Winston could care less. He was a heavyset man with a thick gray beard and mustache, and long gray hair slicked back over his head. As he sat in his favorite office chair brought from Fort Abraham Lincoln to the newly built home in New York, he let out a sorrowful sigh.

“It’s time to retire,” Abigail, his wife of thirty-six years, and his grown children had reminded him for several years until he gave in.

It was with a heavy and sometimes resentful heart that he turned over the operation of his sutler stores, convenience stores that served the soldiers in their far-flung forts, the local civilian population, and sometimes the Indians, to a long-time and trusted employee. He had two stores each in Montana, Wyoming and Arizona, and a pair of Indian trading posts in Wyoming and Arizona. Before he retired, management was usually conducted by mail and telegraph, though he sometimes visited his distant stores and posts. Though he was no longer a young man he enjoyed the travel.

At last, he and Abigail packed up their home and moved east that last spring of the 19th century; Abigail was ecstatic as their three children and their families lived within walking distance of their new home.

Yet, settling into a comfortable retirement was difficult. Caleb missed the vast wildness of the west with its beautiful snowy, forested mountains, isolated mountain valleys, full rushing rivers, and grassy prairies that extended to the edge of the world. During his travels he sometimes felt that he was watching a hard, yet pristine world, vanishing before the onslaught of endless settlers and a growing, yet mystifying technology. Future generations would never know the West as he had known it.

His resentment and unhappiness wasn’t only due to leaving a beloved life and world behind, but a realization that he was old. His health wasn’t the best and he sometimes felt his path in life was becoming narrower and darker, as if he was entering a deep sunless gorge that he would never leave…

The Ledger

http://www.melange-books.com/authors/sshampton/intimatejourneys.html

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One Man’s Journey (Part 3)

Tags

One Man's Journey of the Spirit, photography, Stan Hampton author, travel

After Lunch, Les Voutes, Vers-Pont-du-Gard, France

 

 

I’m back again with another installment of Stan Hampton’s journey. Please join me for this wonderful experience. The pictures are absolutely stunning. Actually being there is the only thing that would make it better.

 

 

 

 

On the morning of 2 March I missed the Continental Breakfast at the L’atelier du Midi where I was staying in the old town of Arles, but I had to be sure I found the pick-up site for the Camargue tour. The morning was chilly and sprinkling—which describes most of my stay to date in France—and out in the Camargue, there was a fog. But I saw my first white horses of the Camargue.

 

At the town of Les Saintes-Maries-de-lar-Mer, at the southwest edge of the Camargue, we reached the shore of the Mediterranean Sea. It is beautiful. One can imagine wooden merchant ships with billowing sails on the horizon bound for the Middle East or perhaps some forgotten port along the Mediterranean coast.

 

That afternoon, because I had forgotten the day before to use a camera provided by a friend to get some photos for her, I returned to the amphitheatre and arena. The inside of the arena did not really excite me because there were so much modern additions, perhaps because it is used for bullfighting. But I climbed one of the stone towers and from there found a view of the top of the arena that interested me.

On the morning of 3 March it was time to go again. In the early morning light I photographed the bed and breakfast L’atelier du Midi; my room was on the second floor, the window on the left. On the side of the building, beneath the light, is the entrance for guests.

The morning of 3 March—now this is the Continental Breakfast that I missed the previous morning. I suppose sacrifices must be expected when heading out to the Camargue for the first time in my life. This was a very good breakfast. Afterwards, I rode in a rickshaw to the train station to catch the train to Montpellier.

Come back next Tuesday for the last installment of our journey as well as excerpts from some of Stan’s books. See you then.

One Man’s Journey (Part 2)

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MuseItUp, One Man's Journey of the Spirit, Stan Hampton author

As promised we’re continuing Stan Hampton’s journey today. It’s been fascinating so far, and I admire him for it. At this stage of my life I don’t know if I’d ever have the courage. So I’m going to live vicariously through Stan’s adventures. Join me!

 

The morning of 27 February I traveled by train to Marseilles where I changed trains for Aubagne. After that I had to take a bus to the village of Vers-Pont-du-Gard, a mere 4 kilometers from the famous Roman aqueduct, the Pont-du-Gard. Actually, I attempted to call a taxi, but that did not work. It took the help of a good friend in Montpellier who called for a taxi that took me to the “a Gauche du Pont,” a friendly bed and breakfast that was a momentary home. And a very nice home it was—my room was 200 years old and had a stone ceiling.

After a Continental Breakfast the morning of 28 February, Fabian, one of the owners of the “a Gauche du Pont” showed me the way along 4 kilometers of winding trails through the forest to the Pont-du-Gard. Though I walk over a mile every day at the Université and so am in better shape than in January, carrying a backpack filled with camera equipment was a bit tiring. But soon, I caught my first glimpse of the famous 2,000 year old Roman aqueduct that I had read about for so many years.

The Pont-du-Gard from the banks of the Gardon River. I did it! I was actually looking at, and had touched, the 2,000 year old architectural monument built by a people long gone.

Fabian and Veronique, the owners of “a Gauche du Pont”, and I had dinner in the nearby Medieval village of Castillon-du-Gard, then we went for a brief walk because I wanted to get some photos at night. It was a very brief walk because it was cold and windy.

After a Continental Breakfast the morning of 1 March I caught the bus from Vers-Pont-du-Gard to Avignon. Faced with a 4-hour layover for the train to Arles, I opted for a bus—within an hour of my arrival I was on my way and arrived in Arles just about an hour later. Within an hour I set out to register for a tour into the famous Camargue the next day, plus spent the afternoon visiting the Roman amphitheatre and arena.

And yes, I did it. I was standing where, perhaps 2,000 years ago, actors, musicians, and singers performed for a packed audience who spoke Latin and ruled an Empire that encircled the Mediterranean Sea.

Wow. These pictures are fantastic. Readers, can you imagine actually standing there and snapping the photo? Not seeing it on a movie or television screen. Not reading about it. Actually being there. We have more of Stan’s journey to come. Come back next Tuesday for more.

One Man’s Journey of the Spirit

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MuseItUp, One Man's Journey of the Spirit, Stan Hampton author

Friend and fellow writer Stan Hampton has agreed to share photos of his travels with us. This post is just the first of several. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing more.

Stan is a wonderful photographer as well as writer, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy his journey as much as I did. Welcome, Stan. I’ll turn it over to you.

Imagine for a moment that you have spent years, if not decades, dreaming and wishing to travel and explore. Not as a typical tourist wanting to visit the big foreign cities and famous sites—though there is nothing wrong with either goal. But traveling and exploring for a specific purpose. And imagine that after decades, the dreams and wishes actually come true.

I am retired and am a full-time university student working on my Bachelors degree with the ultimate goal of attaining a doctorate. My long-held dreams and wishes began to happen after I applied to the Universities Study Abroad Consortium (USAC), Reno, Nevada. USAC was founded in the late 1980s and is one of several academic organizations that assist American students in studying overseas. I wanted to study in Ireland, but after talking with a senior director, I decided to apply for France instead.

In January 2017 I set out from Las Vegas, Nevada to Pau, France, where I would spend the Spring Semester studying French at the Université de Pau et des Pays de L’Adour. (Ah, Pau is pronounced “Po.”)

Imagine, a person my age (senior citizen, I think) being a full-time university student studying in a foreign country. And this is where, in a very real sense, my journey of the spirit begins. And the journey is not yet complete—there are a couple more sponsored outings before the semester ends in late April, after which I am signed up for an optional tour of the Normandy region. Then, on my own I go to northern England before boarding the Queen Mary 2 in Southampton to cross the Atlantic back to the States. At least, that’s the plan.

3 January, the journey begins when I fly out of Las Vegas, bound for Paris via Philadelphia, where I will catch a flight to Pau, a small town in the shadow of the Pyrenees Mountains in southwestern France.

During the first week there were a pair of walking tours of Pau for the American students. This is my view of the Chateau de Pau, birthplace of King Henry IV. Did I mention I am a photographer? I always try to look for a different and interesting angle when photographing. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes…

The Winter Break began on 25 February. That morning I traveled by train from Pau and changed trains at the rail station in Toulouse, and again at Marseilles, bound for Aubagne, France.

 

The Foreign Legion Museum in Aubagne, 26 February. All of my life I have been fascinated by the French Foreign Legion, particularly their role in the French-Indochina War (1946-1954) and the French Algerian War (1954-1962). Indochina, especially the Battle of Dien Bien Phu (November 1953-May 1954), always reminded me of a Greek tragedy—no matter how much courage the ordinary Legionnaire and French Union soldiers displayed, a tragic end awaited all. And so, units like the 1st Foreign Parachute Battalion, 2nd Foreign Parachute Battalion, battalions of the 13th Foreign Demi-Brigade, and battalions of the 2nd and 3rd Foreign Infantry Regiments, with other French metropolitan, colonial and African units, fought until destroyed; the survivors were marched away into captivity.

Stan has sent me so many wonderful photos that I’ve decided to post them once a week for the next few weeks instead of all at once. Come back to see more of One Man’s Journey of the Spirit in a week!

 

A Walk In The Clouds

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A Walk In the Clouds, MuseItUp Publishing, photography, Stan Hampton author

Multi-talented fellow Muse author, Stan Hampton, has agreed to share some of his stunning photography with us today. Thanks for coming, Stan.

Wind Sculpting

When was the last time that you watched the clouds?

Not looked, in between tweets, text messages, and other social media, let alone computer games, but actually took the time to watch the clouds?

I am fascinated by the slow movement of the clouds and how their shape changes while you are watching. Add the play of sunlight across them—even the time of day—and the play of light and clouds take on a whole new sense of being. The clouds can look fluffy white, or thin grey, and during storms, a mixed hue of dirty white, greys, and blacks. Sometimes the clouds move lazily across the sky as if in no particular hurry, while other times they are racing as if bound for a distant destination.

And at night, particularly during the full moon, clouds take on an entirely different aura. Some might say the moonlight adds a mysterious, perhaps haunted ambience to clouds that become dirty white, light grey, or dark grey, particularly when drifting across the face of the moon. Especially in moonlight, when the clouds change, alter their shape, it seems as if in response to invisible, ghostly hands.

Particularly impressive, out on the Kansas plains, are the late afternoon thunderstorms. Huge thunderheads with anvil shaped tops peek over the western horizon; as the hours pass they grow larger until you have to crane your head back to see the face of the thunderstorm towering over you. By then the clouds are bathed in angry and strangely hypnotic pastels of red, yellow, white, grey, and almost black. When such thunderheads are lit by flashes of lighting within, or lightning arcs across the outside face of the storm, they are particularly awe inspiring. And maybe a little frightening.

Ultimately—at least to my way of thinking—clouds, and the way the wind sculpts them minute-by-minute, is something primal and eternal. The sculpting has been a part of life since the wind and clouds first appeared in the world. Invisible fingers mold the clouds into pleasing or puzzling patterns, take away from the shapes, or add to them.

Just like no two snowflakes are alike, no two clouds are alike. Each is unique and ever changing; they always have been, and always will be.

And then, I wonder. In a world, in a time when there was no speech other than an early proto-language, how and what did our distant ancestors think of the changing shapes of the clouds overhead? How did they try to explain the clouds, or what first stories were created from watching the clouds?

 

 

 

How would you explain the clouds to a child, or what story would you come up with, from watching the wind-sculpted clouds?

 

 

 

Stan Hampton, Sr. is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a divorced grandfather to 13 wonderful grandchildren, and a published photographer and photojournalist. He retired on 1 July 2013 from the Army National Guard with the rank of Sergeant First Class; he previously served in the active duty Army (1974-1985), the Army Individual Ready Reserve (1985-1995) (mobilized for the Persian Gulf War), and enlisted in the Nevada Army National Guard in October 2004, after which he was mobilized for Federal active duty for almost three years. Hampton is a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle (2004-2006) and Iraqi Freedom (2006-2007) with deployment to northern Kuwait and several convoy security missions into Iraq.

He has had two solo photographic exhibitions and curated a third. His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories and in anthologies from Dark Opus Press, Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy, Melange Books, Musa Publishing, MuseItUp Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and as stand-alone stories in Horror Bound Magazine, The Harrow, and River Walk Journal, among others.

As of April 2014, after being in a 2-year Veterans Administration program for Homeless Veterans, Hampton is officially no longer a homeless Iraq War veteran.

In May 2014 he graduated from the College of Southern Nevada with an Associate of Applied Science Degree in Photography – Commercial Photography Emphasis. A future goal is to study for a degree in archaeology—hopefully to someday work in and photograph underwater archaeology (and also learning to paint). He is currently studying in a double major in Art and Creative Writing at University of Nevada-Las Vegas.

After over 14 years of brown desert in the Southwest and overseas, he misses the Rocky Mountains, yellow aspens in the fall, running rivers, and a warm fireplace during snowy winters.

Hampton can be found at:

Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sharing-rachel-ss-hampton-sr/1120349766?ean=2940046334791

Dark Opus Press https://www.createspace.com/3685965

Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy Publishing http://www.edgewebsite.com/books/dansemacabre/dansemacabre.html

Melange Books http://www.melange-books.com/authors/sshampton/index.html

MuseItUp Publishing https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore/index.php/museitup/mainstream/better-than-a-rabbit-s-foot-detail

Ravenous Romance http://www.ravenousromance.com/anthologies/back-door-lover.php http://www.ravenousromance.com/anthologies/virgin-ass-first-times-tales-of-anal-sex.php

Amazon.com Author Page http://www.amazon.com/SS-Hampton-Sr/e/B00BJ9EVKQ

Amazon.com. UK Author Page http://www.amazon.co.uk/SS-Hampton-Sr/e/B00BJ9EVKQ

Goodreads Author Page http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6888342.S_S_Hampton_Sr_

“Better Than a Rabbit’s Foot.” Ed. Joelle Walker. MuseItUp Publishing.

ISBN: 978-1-77127-078-6

BLURB: Sergeant Jerry Stanton is a young soldier serving in the War in Iraq. He is a gunner on a gun truck nicknamed “Lucky Bear,” one of those tireless workhorses that escort supply convoys from camps in Kuwait to destinations scattered throughout the war-torn country. In the early morning hours before a scheduled mission, a dust storm howls across his camp and threatens to bring convoy operations to a halt. Worse, the camp receives word that a gunner from his company was killed by an IED while on a convoy mission. Unlike most soldiers, Jerry doesn’t carry a lucky charm, but upon receiving news of the death of the gunner, he begins to mull over/ponder the merit/virtue of a good luck charm—for him? Perhaps mail call will provide the answer.