Category Archives: Garden of Heaven

Location Settings: The Other Florida, featuring Panacea and St. Teresa

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TOaksMaphis is the fourth in a series of posts exploring the location settings I’m using in my fantasy adventure novels. I hope the settings are interesting and that my rationale for selecting each place will help provide ideas to other writers who want to set their novels in settings that sit their stories.

Terms like “the other Florida” and “the forgotten coast” are often used to describe the swamps and beaches in the Florida Panhandle. The glitz, glitter and crowds of Orlando, Daytona and Miami are missing from these settings only thirty to forty miles from the state capital where I grew up.

In this post: The former Oaks motel and restaurant in Panacea at the end of the long bridge across the Ochlockonee River. This bridge is often crowded with fishermen. And, about ten miles away, the former Wilson’s Beach Cottages near St. Teresa. Author Julie S. Bettinger tells me those cottages began as efficiency rentals for soldiers. Both the restaurant and the cottages have been closed for ten years or so. Author Rhett DeVane and Florida big bend poet laureate Mary Jane Ryals have told me how The Oaks fells on hard times. What a pity. Since I couldn’t find my own photographs, I’ll be using some images here from old postcards to show what my protagonist David Ward sees in my upcoming novel The Seeker.

Why I Used The Settings

David Ward, who grew up on a Montana ranch, travels to north Florida to see his prospective fiance Anne Hill. Since she is at home on Florida’s blackwater rivers and coastal swamps, I wanted their meeting to occur in a part of the state that remains natural and relatively unspoiled and, most especially, without the usual sterility of Florida’s crowded and over-developed tourist locations.

The Oaks Restaurant and Wilson’s Beach Cottages were known to locals and to in-state tourists and were also very typical of the more-utilitarian motels and restaurants in the Florida Panhandle during the 1960s when the novel is set.

While I haven’t been to Panacea or St. Teresa in over thirty years, I grew up a few miles away. I enjoyed seafood and hushpuppies at The Oaks dozens of times and stayed at friends’ cottages a short stroll down the beach from Wilson’s. My memories, then, allowed me to put David and Anne in an old Jeep and drive south out of Tallahassee to the Gulf Coast.

The Oaks

theoaksThis short excerpt from The Seeker shows how I used The Oaks setting:

At Panacea, where one could still see the remnants of a spa where the mineral waters were once thought miraculous, Anne turned in at a relatively non-descript bait, tackle, gift shop and restaurant called The Oaks.

Business was booming.

“Nothing fancy here,” she said. “Just good food.”

“You better do the ordering,” he said, glancing over the menu.

BayBridgePanacea“Anne chose mullet, French fries, hush puppies (with onion), a wedge of lettuce with thousand island dressing, and sweet tea. The waitress brought several small boat-shaped bowls containing garlic butter in the prow and crackers in the stern to munch on while they waited for their entrées.

The setting here is also a device to show David the kind of world where Anne feels comfortable. Since he’s a mountain climber and she’s a “swap lady,” she wonders if they are truly compatible. As a writer, I wanted to give the reader a down-home, close-to-the-land setting that would feel much different than, say, a beach setting at either Daytona or Pompano Beach. Writers can enhance moods and themes via the location settings where their stories unfold.

Wilson’s Beach Cottages

Like The Oaks, these cottages were not only non-glamorous, they were also very typical of the 1940s and 1950s detached cabin style of motels.  In later years, such beaches would have highrise hotels, bars, fresh water and salt water swimming pools and multiple other attractions that—as you see in Daytona Beach—pretty much block the view of the water from drivers on the highway. At present, the location where these cottages were sits vacant with, so I hear, with a remaining cabin or two rotting away back into the earth. That’s too bad: it’s a wonderful beach along a bay sheltered by the Nearby Alligator point.

wilsonsbeachcottagesHere’s an excerpt set at the cottages:

Now—as that blind poet once said—“when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared,” they went into the sea and he heard women’s voices singing a far-off hymn while Anne walked close through the incoming tide. They walked in the company of gulls and sandpipers, and a playful cocker spaniel puppy that stayed with them until they reached the end of Wilson’s long pier. Anne was saying, as the wind blew her hair toward the high water outside the confines of the sheltering bay, “we were good last night.” David kissed her and said “yes.” Last night in this place she had worn a sheer cloak of starlight in the diamond spray, her face no longer in shadow, and they had seen fire howling between their legs until the waves drove them down with murder in their eyes and all was claws and blood.

Notice the trees across the highway from the cottages. This is typical of north Florida then and now, and provides a much different kind of ambiance than a south Florida motel that would have endless city-scape on all sides.

Choosing Settings

Writers are often advised not to use their familiarity with a setting as a primary reason for making it part of their characters’ world in a short story or a novel. I can understand the reason for that advice: using a place close to home might be taking the easy way out. It might kill the story because it doesn’t have a realistic connection to the theme, characters and plot. One has to be sure that writing about a setting they know well isn’t like a beautiful shoe that just doesn’t fit.

I see stories as being, to some extent, organic to a place in the same way that legends, tall tales, many ghost stories and folk tales arose out of certain places and never would have happened anywhere else. Perhaps I look at places first and ask “What kind of story would happen here.”

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Here are the other posts in my location settings series:

Malcolm

Coming March 2013

Coming March 2013

A dark and earthy fantasy adventure that twists the results of magic and visions in the opposing worlds of Montana’s mountains and Florida’s swamps.

Magical realism novel moves to new website

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When my magical realism novel Garden of Heaven: an Odyssey (Vanilla Heart, 2010) began going through the editing process prior to publication, I started a separate web site for the book. I appreciate all of you who stopped by that site to learn more about protagonist David Ward and his attempts to sort out who betrayed him and why.

Now you can find the book along with my other three novels on my primary author’s site at malcolmrcampbell.com. The story begins in the high country of Montana and sweeps through Chicago, north Florida and the South China Sea before reaching its unexpected conclusion on a small college campus in central Illinois.

I had the luxury of seeing my location settings first hand. I grew up in north Florida, served aboard the aircraft carrier USS Ranger (which made stops at at the former Subic Bay Naval Base, Republic of the Philippines), worked as a seasonal employee in Montana’s Glacier National Park, and had family in central Illinois.

Excerpt from the Novel – Sailor Town Liberty

Olongapo

Night was settling down over the hazy first lights of the bars and hourly rate hotels along Magsaysay Drive and the razor-sharp edges of Kalaklan Ridge like an old whore.

David dropped several 25-centavo coins over the railing, heard an explosion of whitewater, heard the laughter and the shouting, ‘Salamat, Joe, Salamat.’

He crossed Perimeter Road, ignored the hopeful greetings of the money changers behind their well-caged windows, then dodged a badly mixed throng of sailors, girls and honking multi-coloured jeepneys that swelled out into the Gordon Avenue intersection. He cut across the street, smiling, waving at imagined friends in the distance, and moved with the deliberate intent of a man who had crossed this street hundreds of times.

Casual alertness, that’s the key to surviving Olongapo’s jungle of thieves, gangs, girls, high-strung Marines, bored Shore Patrol and Hard Hats, and drunk boatswain’s mates and snipes, Lowell had said.

“Hey Joe, cold beer cold beer cold beer, nice girls.”

Malcolm

Glacier National Park’s Garden of Heaven

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Section of current NPS map

The Garden of Heaven was a name suggested for a valley between Glacier National Park’s Morning Eagle Falls and Lake Josephine by naturalist Morton J. Elrod in 1924.

Elrod, who wrote the park’s NPS-approved hiking handbook called Elrod’s Guide and Book of Information of Glacier National Park described the Garden of Heaven as follows:

“The open narrow valley along Cataract creek for perhaps two miles below Morning Eagle Falls, beginning where the trail comes out into the open, is a very beautiful flower garden in July and August. At the foot of the towering Garden Wall, flanked on all sides but one by protective mountains, the writer has called it and wishes others might call it, ‘The Garden of Heaven.’ By wandering away from the trail and examining the mossy banks of the meandering streams, the fully beauty of the wonderful garden will be understood.”

Elrod’s guide was published in 1924 and revised in 1930. Unfortunately, the name for this valley on the trail to Piegan Pass didn’t make it into park naturalist George C. Ruhle’s Guide to Glacier National Park when it replaced the Elrod guide as the official park trail handbook in 1949.

Instrumental in forming the park’s ranger naturalist program, Elrod and Ruhle worked together. So, it’s probable that Ruhle was well aware of Elrod’s name for the valley. In fact, much of the information in the Ruhle guidebook–which went through three editions–closely approximated Elrod’s facts and descriptions.

I have found no other park reference to the Garden of Heaven other than in Jack Holterman’s encyclopedic 1985 Place Names of Glacier/Waterton National Parks, on which I worked as an editorial assistant at the Glacier Natural History Association. I have never found the name on a map or mentioned in any other park trail guide.

Elrod’s description is apt. The trail above Lake Josephine between Mt. Gould and Mt. Allen is a wonderful spot. The falls itself is a little over five miles from Many Glacier Hotel. Hikers can “cheat” on the walk by taking the Swiftcurrent Lake and Lake Josephine launches.

The rare, long out-of-print park guidebook by a prolific writer and photographer is the origin for the title of my 2010 novel Garden of Heaven: an Odyssey. (Some readers have thought that took the title from the 14th-century poet Hafiz’s poem by that name.)

If anyone ever finds a postcard, guidebook, or trail map that refers to the park valley by this old name, I would appreciate hearing about it.

–Malcolm

All Aboard for Glacier National Park

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When Glacier National Park, Montana, celebrated its centennial last year, 2.2 million visitors came to the park, setting a new attendance record. While Amtrak’s Empire Builder serves the park, most of today’s visitors arrived by plane and automobile.

The park’s hotels and early infrastructure were developed by James J. Hill’s Great Northern Railway (GN), now a part of the Burlington Northern Santa Fe (see downloadable history), as a means of increasing passenger rail traffic on the route between Minneapolis and Seattle. The route, which went through North Dakota, Montana and Idaho, is the northernmost transcontinental railroad in the United States. Hill and his railroad prided themselves in the fact that, unlike other transcontinental railroads, GN used no federal land grants to built the track.

Before Amtrak took over most U.S. intercity passenger rail service in 1971, Great Northern delivered visitors to East Glacier and West Glacier via many named trains over the years, the last of which were its premier Empire Builder and the Western Star. Considered a secondary passenger train, the Western Star (train #27) left Minneapolis daily for the west coast, arriving in East Glacier before breakfast the following day. When Amtrak took over passenger service on the route in 1971, it kept the Empire Builder and discontinued the Western Star which had been in operation since 1951.

Carol Guthrie’s All Aboard for Glacier National Park (2004) captures the heady days of passenger rail travel and the park.  Even though the trains are mostly gone, you can still see the Great Northern Railway’s influence throughout the park, especially in the hotels managed by Glacier Park, Inc. (The company was owned by the railroad until 1960.)

When I worked as a bellman at the park’s Many Glacier Hotel in the 1960s, I traveled from my home in Florida to the park by rail, and that included the Western Star. The railroad still offered hotel employees reduced-fare tickets even though most railroads’ passenger trains were, by then, operating at a loss. Since the train ride was part of my Glacier National Park experience, I couldn’t help but include the Great Northern Railway and the Western Star in my novel Garden of Heaven.

Garden of Heaven Excerpt

In the novel, my main character David Ward gets to do what I always wanted to do: run the Western Star for a few miles just east of Glacier National Park:

“Climb up, Mr. Ward, it’s only 24 miles, and I’ll be close by.”

“You run like a god damned freight engineer,” said Jim as he lit another cigarette, “and there will be hell to pay.”

“I won’t spill a drop of coffee,” said David.

They followed him up into the cab. Jim slouched in the fireman’s seat with his newspaper and Big Ed stood by silently while David sat, noted the positions of the brake handles and the needles on air gauges, then looked out the window at the track ahead of them. There was seldom any rust on these rails lying easy on the fine, well-drained roadbed, and now as the day wound down, the tracks were becoming a true hi-line into night. Ahead, in the middle distance, two tall trees stood equidistant from the center of track—the right bathed in full sun, the left now in shade—a gate to the future, all aboard for Blackfoot, Sundance, Cutbank, Shelby, and points east with connections to RTC Great Lakes and Vietnam. He stepped on the dead man’s pedal and looked back at Ed and said he was ready.

“It’s 5:12 and we are clear to proceed,” Ed said. “You won’t need the transition lever, go easy out of here and then one day tell your grandkids you ran the Western Star.” Ed punctuated the sentiment with two loud blasts of the horn.

He put the reverser lever in forward, pushed the throttle into notch 1 and felt the engines load as he carefully feathered off the independent brake.

“Good,” said Jim. “Big Ed didn’t leave any slack in the train.”

“Damn sure didn’t,” said Ed. “I care very deeply about those Pullman passengers and their eagle eyes conductor back there.”

David eased the throttle out a notch at a time, slowly, so far so good, he hadn’t jostled anybody, felt the automatic transition as they passed between the two trees and throttled back to avoid any wheel slip, then began easing the throttle forward again until they reached track speed.

For More Information

The Great Northern Empire

Glacier Park Sets Attendance Record in Centennial Year

Glacier by the Grace of God and the Great Northern (scroll down to the bottom of my web page)

Malcolm R. Campbell is also the author of “Jock Stewart and the Missing Sea of Fire” and “The Sun Singer.”

Siobhan – a ‘Garden of Heaven’ excerpt

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E-Book only $5.99

“Garden of Heaven: an Odyssey” is the story of a man’s spiritual journey through the mountains of Pakistan, the swamps of North Florida, the beaches of Hawaii, the waters of the South China Sea and the ivy-covered halls of an Illinois college as he attempts to sort out the shattered puzzle of his life.

In this excerpt, David Ward’s significant other, a woman well-practiced in the old Huna magic of Hawai’i, is ready to discuss the clues, if any, she found in his journals about who has been trying to kill him.

David sits on a fence post, a comfortable, familiar spot, and looks across the creek to the house. The creek is the same; the house has shrunk with time. Too perfectly symmetrical when it was new, the structure’s roofline, doors and walls have aged randomly and grown more natural into the place.

Complacent while Siobhan keeps the Komondor puppy inside, the remaining Dominique chickens peck at the hard path between the kitchen door and the clothes line. The path turns west into a gravel road that leads to an old house lying down in weeds and ruin where his grandparents lived until one became too frail and the other became too psychotic to be left alone, where they said that his mother was born on a cold January night in 1914, where lies and truths were sown and bore hybrid fruit.

Along the road between the houses, grey sheds linked by fences lean into the earth. Dry and empty, like old nooks and crannies and secret places, they were always the first full focus of spring–humid and rich as sea fog, dripping with the juices of birth and new life. Jayee’s timing was as precise as nature allowed. Today he would be moving the last of the lambs from the jugs to the bunch pen if he was on schedule, or the first of them if nature wasn’t.

From this vantage point, David sees the pros and cons of dreams; he views his visions from the other side, and—remembering everything that has happened between then and now and then and now and then and now—must decide how much of history is too broke to fix. Siobhan refuses to tell him who tried to kill him and why because he’s not ready to hear it, much less re-live it; Sikimí will take them back to the scene of the crime soon enough.

She steps out the back door carrying old notebooks, an envelope labeled remnants, and grandmother’s blue-on-white eight-pointed star quilt. The door slams, stirring memories. She smiles and her pony tail dances when she nods at the circle of box elders where she heads at a brisk walk.

In her khaki cargo shorts and light blue sleeveless crew shirt, she radiates a well-toned athletic health that sings of perfectly managed energy conceived in Aries fire and transformed into infinite zest down through her well-developed shoulders and sun-browned legs. Siobhan is Wind’s daughter. Grandmother would love her for that alone. It’s a matter of breath control, he thinks. When Siobhan is open to the world, she inhales those she meets into her presence, pulling them in with her smoky eyes and the fluid caresses of her hands. At such times, she drags out the first syllable of her name in a shhhhhhhhhh of light breezes. David heard that endearing shhhhhhhhhh when she ran into him like a pro-football lineman on the day they met. When Siobhan is closed to the world, she exhales those she meets outward beyond the reach of her hands. At such times, when there is no still escape from her eyes, she clips off the first syllable of her name into a harsh shh that shushes even the most determined people into quiet.

She flips the quilt out into an even rectangle and sits in the centre of it surrounded by Blue Horses and Silver Bears, knowing Katoya stood on that very spot in the tall bluebunch wheatgrass 33 years ago and told him the secret of the universe before they watched the stars rise into the sky. When he stops at the northern boundary of the eight-pointed starry night lying across the grass, Siobhan looks up from an open composition book as though she’s surprised, but pleased, to see him there.

–I’ve finished reading almost all your journals.

As he takes off his boots, he’s enveloped by the scent of her lavender bath soap. He shrugs. What is there to say? He feels naked in spite of her smile which is so unwaveringly natural it seems to be borne up out of the grass.

–You know almost everything, then, and you’re free to run for the hills, he says.

Siobhan frowns and looks at him with her eyebrows raised about as high as she can get them. She waves an older Blue Horse in his face.

–Talk like that chased Anne Hill away, didn’t it?

–It seemed a logical thing to say at the time.

–How logical does it seem now? she asks.

He sits next to her and studies her face while she watches the noisy water of the creek bunching up at the base of the limestone bedrock.

–Hell, I was looking for reassurance.

She turned toward him now and her breath was warm and sweet on his face.

–No need and you know it, she says and kisses him. When he starts to speak, to say some inane self-deprecating thing, she kisses him again. Shhhhhhhhhh, she whispers, Anne is Anne, Siobhan is Siobhan, and you and I are the yin and the yang fitting precisely together.

She hugs him, wrapping him snugly in lavender.

–I see what you mean, he tells her. This hug could easily lead to more, much more, but I think you have things to say.

–I do.
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My publisher, Vanilla Heart Publishing, interviewed me and posted the result in AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT – Malcolm R. Campbell.

The ‘Garden of Heaven’ as an Odyssey

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An Odyssey is a series of adventures accompanied by changes of fortune. In Homer’s “Odyssey,” Odysseus’s trip ten-year trip back home to Ithaca after the fall of Troy is composed of one adventure after another.

Coming out of the oral tradition of storytelling, the adventures in Homer’s epic are similar to the stories told around campfires and family gatherings about a people’s heroes, demons, gods and ancestors. Handed down from generation to generation, the stories illustrated the exciting and fantastic events in a protagonist’s life while carrying with them an important truth or lesson to be learned.

“Garden of Heaven” is subtitled “an Odyssey” because it includes multiple stories about my protagonist David Ward. The major influences in his life were his grandparents. His railroad man and sheep rancher grandfather wanted him to take over the ranch or work for for the railroad.

David is highly tempted to sign on with the Great Northern Railway because it represents a clean, logical, physical world life.

However, David’s Blackfeet grandmother wants him to follow his spiritual gifts through teaching and writing and a life spent in the Montana mountains where his intuition and his visions are the strongest.

Yet he finds the “inner world” to be a chaotic place. It’s volatile and uncertain and not to be controlled. But he’s learning one thing in spades. He cannot follow both his grandparents. Juggling the values of the “inner world” and the “outer world” is turning him into a person he doesn’t like.

David Ward is at war with himself throughout the novel’s adventures: as a mountain climber attempting the most challenging peaks in the world, as a man whose first love is betrayed by a woman he does not know, as a teacher at a corrupt Midwestern college, as a sailor on an aircraft carrier during the Vietnam war, and as a man who talks to ravens, golden eagles and black horses.

David’s “hero’s journey” back home to his Montana ranch is as dangerous for him as Odysseus’ journey back home to Ithaca. En route, both of them meet women who want to teach them the greater mysteries or kill them.

David’s journey leads him through the mountains of Pakistan, the swamps of North Florida, the beaches of Hawaii, the waters of the South China Sea and the ivy-covered halls of an Illinois college as he attempts to sort out the shattered puzzle of his life.

A life of adventures, that’s for sure!
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“Garden of Heaven” is available as an e-book from Vanilla Heart Publishing at OmniLit and as a paperback at Amazon.