This performance is with the Boston String Quartet. This piece was commissioned by the Vermont division of the Music Teachers National Conference as part of their "Composer of the Year" commissioning program.

Originally, this quartet was supposed to be about The Long Trail of Vermont, or that’s what I said anyway. The idea was to hike the length of VT (or at least a good portion of it, from the Winooski down to the Walloomsac river, almost 200 miles) and capture the experience in sound. So two summers ago, I did that, hiking for almost two weeks by myself and sketching along the way. It was an amazing trip. What I love most about long distance hiking is the way that time is stretched out. You enter a more natural, primal progression of events which is much slower than our “civilized” world. The sentiments that develop when one spends weeks alone in the wilderness are quite powerful. I was working with these ideas once I got back and settled in for the fall semester working again at Bennington College.

And then in October things changed a bit; I got lost in the famed “Bennington Triangle” during a hike up in the Glastenbury wilderness. It had been a beautiful day, and that wilderness is one of the most pristine in the area. Life was so wonderful that I did not want to leave the mountain. When I finally brought myself to head down, I still had about 2 good hours to walk the 3 miles down hill to my car. Well, I kept walking, and kept going, and no car. It was as if the trail just continued forever. Then it started to get dark, and the famous “woodford fog” started to roll in. Within 5 minutes of dusk, it was pitch black. I got out my headlamp, but the thing was not working. All I had with me were my clothes on my back, some matches, some paper, a blanket, a hat, and my composing books. Things got really dizzy and spun around. I heard somewhere off in the distance a fisher cat cry his mournful, loon-like call. I was off the trail, no sign of it anywhere. I could only see about a foot in front of my face. I bumped into a tree, a large maple. This maple was powerful, and I felt a strong energy coming from it. I knew I had to spend the night, and i knew that I had been drawn to this tree. So I set out to try and build a fire.

Building a fire proved difficult; there was a fine mist falling now. This combined with the fog made everything damp and hard to light. I spent some time working on a fire, but gave up out of exhaustion. I wrapped my raincoat around my body and lie down to try and rest.

I drifted off, in this strange still night where no animals made any sound after that fisher cat. I was awoken by an intense shivering. I knew the signs, I knew I was coming into hypothermia. I was freezing and my tendons were seizing up. I knew I had to build a fire our I might die. I knew even the act of trying to build a fire would keep me warmer than lying on the wet ground. So I tried again, this time with more persistence.

I was scrounging around in the dark looking for more wood, and I came across an area where I kept finding animal bones. I would find what I thought was a stick, and hold it up close to my eyes, and lo and behold it would be a leg bone. I was pretty sure that I didn’t want to start a fire using animal bones, so I kept looking. Didn’t know what sort of spirits I would disturb if i burnt their bones.

Then finally I found what I was looking for: a big old white birch tree, with bark peeling off all over. I took what I needed and thanked the birch. I still thank that birch. Birch bark is the most magical substance in the world. Next to the birch there was a low hemlock. I piled that birch high and lit it up. What a glorious fire that was, and It kept me warm till the morning. I fed it and it was quite cozy after a while.

After the fire was going, I could relax and reflect upon the beauty of the situation: I was able to spend a night in this beautiful stillness, with nothing but my clothes between me and the ground. It was a magical experience, quite life affirming.

The sun did not rise the next morning. It was one of those mornings where the fog lingers, and the clouds are so thick that there is not a globe of light above, but instead a diffuse light white gray. Seems like so many days of my childhood were filled with this light, a serious, sombre, real Pennsylvania light.

With the light I found the trail. I followed it the direction I though I should go, yet withing a mile of hiking I found out where I was: coming around a bend I saw the sign welcoming you to Glasenbury Mountain. Well, that was about 8 miles from where I thought I was. It still does not make any sense to me. The Native Americans had stories of rocks swallowing people up in the area. And then there are all the other missing people (google “bennington triangle”). Just lots of unexplainedness.

And then I got back to Bennington, saw my lovely Christine who was in terrible shape, and then went off to teach “Aural Skills” (it was a Monday morning, I had missed my work accompanying for Terry’s dance class). Didn’t know what else to do in aural skills that day, so we just sang Bach.

I am very thankful to Bennington College, and especially Allen, Kitty, Nick, and everyone else there who I lived with and worked with for three years. It was because of them that I was able to write this piece. They gave me the support, time, and facilities I needed. I am truly in debt to them and I thank them for everything.

There is an epilogue too. The quartet took all year to write, even after the experiences. I got stuck on the end and had to return to Glastenbury. This time I walked the length from Bennington College. From my apartment door I walked to the top of the mountain. I had to bushwack about 15 miles off trail to get there this time. It was another crazy night, I lots a good chunk of a tooth this time.

Strange to me: on that hike I felt another energy, early on. It got stronger as the hike went on, until my skin was feeling warm and fuzzy. I kept thinking what the energy was, and then, when it was starting to feel really strong, I found myself wandering off the trail. I walked straight into the woods about 100 feet and found myself beneath that same maple tree. Around the bend was the Birch and the Hemlock.