Posted on June 22, 2025
©2025 Donald M. Scott. All rights reserved.
“Synchronicity,” from Carl Jung, describes “events that coincide in time and appear meaningfully related, yet lack a discoverable causal connection.” (Wikipedia)
When he was a boy George R. Stewart found a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island in his grandfather’s attic, took it downstairs and devoured it. Stewart later taught the lesson he’d learned from the novel: Maps and the places mapped were keys to a story.
Stewart learned the lesson well. He gained a love for maps and became an amateur cartographer. He was inspired to live a life like that of the novel’s young hero, Jim Hawkins, of adventure and place, of exploring the land and mapping it into his works. His graduate thesis identified California places Stevenson used in the novel. In Stewart’s great ecological novels the land would always be a protagonist. Here’s Robert Louis Stevenson’s map of Treasure Island:


∞
My third birthday gift was a recorded version of Stevenson’s novel. It was an enthralling discovery for a child on his way to boyhood. I played it so many times that our old family friend Bob Broughton, who was at the birthday party with his family, laughed when he recalled the record grooves worn flat as playas and my 3 year old voice constantly quoting: “If ever a boy loved adventure, Jim Hawkins was his name!”
As it did with Stewart, Stevenson’s tale inspired my life-wander through maps, places mapped, and adventures.
In 1956, our family moved to the Valley of Heart’s Delight. One day our local Librarian pulled a copy of George R. Stewart’s Earth Abides from the shelf and said, “Here. I think you’ll like this book.”
Stewart’s novel taught an understanding – that, as he wrote in Ordeal by Hunger, “…the reader [will hopefully ]…come to feel the land…as one of the chief characters of the tale…” Reading Stewart’s ecological novel on a foundation of Stevenson’s Treasure Island, I’d gained a ‘ecological’ understanding of human affairs: the land is a character in the work.
That way of looking at the world eventually led to work as a Ranger in a small state park near San Francisco. One day in the spring of 1974, I sold an annual pass to a regular visitor. When he signed his pass “George R. Stewart” (and I recovered from the shock) we became friends: He and his wife Theodosia ‘Ted’ Stewart, and later their daughter Jill and son Jack. With George and Ted’s and Jill and Jack’s help, I would write the authorized biography of GRS – which includes the story of how Treasure Island influenced Stewart.
The unexpected meeting with George R. Stewart at Thornton State Beach would be only the first of what I’d eventually see were a long series of the stacked synchronicities of George R. Stewart.
∞
In the 1920s my Grandfather B. H. Scott II moved his family to De Beque, Colorado, where he prospected for shale oil. Decades later on a cross country trip with Dad to visit De Beque, we passed Glenwood Springs. Dad, not usually garrulous, began sharing stories of happy holiday times his family spent at the Springs during their De Beque days. When I planned an Amtrak trip decades later Dad’s stories came to mind and I chose Glenwood Springs as the journey’s destination.
Heading east to Glenwood Springs on Amtrak’s Zephyr, past the Book Cliffs and through the dazzling vari-colored sandstone “gateway” canyons along the spring-rushing Colorado River, I had a strong feeling I was entering an enchanted country.
Here’s a work of art that captures that feeBy Andrew Alfred-Duggan. Used with permission. Andrew produces custom life maps and retro travel prints (like this one). His website is on WordPress at andrewmaps dot com.

By Andrew Duggan. Used with permission. Andrew produces custom life maps and retro travel prints (like this one). His website is on WordPress at andrewmaps dot com.
Glenwood Springs is an historic town in a beautiful Rocky Mountain setting. The town’s population numbers just over 10,000 people – small enough to be neighborly. Hiking mountain trails or sauntering the pleasant streets brings plenty of chances to stop and chat with others.
On the first day, I wandered across the Colorado River for a look at the town; then hiked the 1.7 miles of steep streets and trail to Doc Holliday’s gravesite. The good neighbors of the trail always said hello and several offered water on the warm day.
Along the way I took time to explore the Hotel Colorado. The grand hotel played its role in history – the Unsinkable Molly Brown visited the place, Teddy Roosevelt used it as a summer White House, and (according to legend) the Teddy Bear was born there. On a day when his hunting for real bears had been a failure hotel staff gave TR a stuffed bear. His daughter Alyce named it ‘Teddy Bear’.
Hotel Colorado then….
…and now
Heading back to more modest lodgings I saw an old curio shop like those which still border Route 66. A fan of old highways and their culture, I went in to take a look. After browsing, I stopped to talk with the woman at the register. I learned she’d spent a career in the US Forest Service, where she worked in (among other things) interpretive outreach. She also shared her commendable plans to create an arboretum in the Glenwood Springs area. Considering I’d met Stewart when I was a Ranger, meeting a fellow Ranger-Naturalist in Glenwood Springs added a sense of rightness to the place.

(Stop the presses! A news story and a phone conversation with Julie Williams of the Sioux Villa brings the news that this is the 70th anniversary of the store.)
The next day, walking around the town, I kept bumping into a couple. After the third encounter she said “We might as well introduce ourselves.”
He said, “We were hoping to visit the book store – they sell my book – but they’re closed today.”
He handed me the copy of his book he’d tucked under his arm. “Here. Take this. Not great literature, but interesting memories of my years as a fireman.” [1]
I glanced at the cover. The author’s name was Jim Hawkins!
“Jim Hawkins?!” “Why, I met you when I was three, listening to Treasure Island.”
He laughed. “My teachers had me read that book every year.”
Jim, Sharill, and I talked until Rocky Mountain thunder roared and rain splattered. A willing student, I listened as they described their ranch and shared some lore of the Roaring Fork River Valley. Then we shook hands and went our separate ways.
As the skies opened up, I rushed to the 1904 Amtrak station to wait for the westbound Zephyr. In the quiet station, (recently revitalized so women and children no long need sit in a separate waiting room) I mulled over the meetings with Jim Hawkins and the Ranger of the Curio Shop – an extraordinary pair of coincidences.

You need be careful about leaping from coincidence to synchronicity; but once coincidences start stacking my “ranger radar” kicks in to say they could be synchronicities, and I might be on a portage between two stages of life. And stack the synchronicities would.
∞
The next leg of the trip took me Salt Lake City to visit Granddaughter Megan. She picked me up at Clearfield Station and we drove to “our” place, a nearby Cracker Barrel restaurant, to catch up while we gorged on her birthday dinner. In the middle of dinner she burst out with “I love food!” Megan’s Cystic Fibrosis means she “ate” through a tube until her late teens when the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation funded research to create miracle medicines. They saved her life. Now she can drive and now she can eat, and she loves food.
While we talked, Amtrak messaged to say there was a major train delay on the Westbound Zephyr. I rebooked for the next day, found a motel in Salt Lake City, and decided to spend the bonus day exploring.
Far larger and busier than Glenwood Springs, Salt Lake City has an urban bustle to it. Yet I walked through streets enjoyable and parks beautiful to the Main Library (stopping along the way to talk with legendary Bookseller Ken Saunders).
The Main Library is worth a trip to Salt Lake City. As you approach, there’s a quote by George R. Stewart’s old friend Wallace Stegner to help shift the mind into Enlightenment mode: Culture is a pyramid to which each of us brings a stone. As I sat sipping coffee under the light from the over-arching windows that enclosed Library, book and art stores, and an auditorium, music began floating through the air: Musicians were filling the space with masterful Celtic song. It was a cathedral of enlightenment and the light and music were part of the worship.

After finishing the coffee, I walked through the music and light to look at the auditorium‘s schedule of events. Trenton B. Olsen, Robert Louis Stevenson Scholar, Editor of The Complete Personal Essays of Robert Louis Stevenson, and Director of the Robert Louis Stevenson Cottage Museum in Saranac, New York, would be speaking that afternoon! The museum is the first site in the world dedicated to Stevenson, who lived in the cottage for several months to heal his lungs and otherwise re-create himself while writing essays and The Master of Ballantrae. (https://www.rlscottagemuseum.org/ )
There was no longer a doubt. The Ranger/Naturalist, Jim Hawkins, and now Dr. Olsen: the coincidences were synchronicities and the synchronicities were stacking.
Dr. Olsen’s talk seemed worthwhile. Indeed, on this stacked-synchronicity journey, essential. So I took a seat and gave a listen. It was a potlatch. Dr. Olsen shared his research on RLS’s time in Saranac. Informally, English teacher/ Stevenson scholar Mark described how he taught Treasure Island in his classroom, and I explained Robert Louis Stevenson’s influence on George R. Stewart.
Then I picked up my luggage, wandered the city until late evening, and then headed to the Amtrak station to await the midnight arrival of the train.
∞
I was born to teach about George R. Stewart. In the ups and downs of life, I could never be sure I’d done that completely or well. But the stacked synchronicities of the Glenwood Springs journey were a reassurance that the quest had succeeded. The Mt-Shasta-high summit was the publication of the George R. Stewart book, a way to teach hundreds or thousands of readers about the man and his works. Now, after a life filled with the encouragement of friends, family, and colleagues, and several stackings of synchronicities, I stand satisfied that a life’s quest had been fulfilled.
As the Zephyr rocked through the night-darkened deserts of the West I knew I’d reached a summit. I’d climbed my Mt. Shasta; and at the summit inserted one small pebble into the pyramid-shaped Cathedral of Humankind. Like all such wanderers I found helpers along the way who granted gifts. On this part of the journey a “magic” cord and Jim Hawkins’ book. This writing is offered in return, a freely-given boon, in the belief that some of you will find it encouraging , hopeful, and offering a road map for your quests.
∞
A few days later friend and Literary Agent Sally called, excitement in her voice.
“Don, do you watch The Last of Us? [I don’t]. In last night’s episode one of the characters (Gail) is reading a paperback novel when another character (Joel) interrupts to ask a question. The book is George R. Stewart’s EARTH ABIDES!” She sent a couple of screen shots of the scene: “Gail” reads a classic paperback of the novel with George R. Stewart’s name prominently displayed on the cover.

Add recent articles by John Hay and Kevin Mims, the MGM+ Earth Abides mini-series. and it seems clear to me that a George R. Stewart Renaissance is under way.
It’s also clear the Stewart Renaissance was influenced by the book I wrote and Sally agented. It was cited in Min’s article, by Kim Stanley Robinson in his [excellent] Introduction to the recent Mariner Press reprint of Earth Abides, and by ecolit author Nathaniel Rich in his Introduction to the NYRB Press reprint of Stewart’s ecological novel Storm. The reprint of Stewart’s Fire by the NYRB has a cover based on a Chiura Obata woodblock print, suggesting the cover designer knows my book since it describes Obata and Stewart at Thornton State Beach.
∞
As Dr. Olsen would later write in an email, the Glenwood Springs journey was a clear example of what Robert Louis Stevenson called the power of destiny. One set of coincidences, one stacking of synchronicities in a lifetime, would be intriguing. It wouldn’t be worth much comment, though. After decades of such stacks, each encouraging “stay the course,” each opening a new window of enlightenment, how could there be anything but a destiny in this?
Now near the end of things I understand the feeling of Wendell Berry’s Jayber Crow when he writes: I am an ignorant pilgrim, crossing a dark valley. And yet for a long time, looking back, I have been unable to shake off the feeling that I have been led – make of that what you will.
∞
Dag Hammarskjöld wrote “Never measure the height of a mountain until you have reached the top. Then you will see how low it was.” There were higher summits – I could see them from the “GeoS” Summit – but I’d leave those to others. So here I share a borrowing from George R. Stewart: Opus perfeci
Yet George R. Stewart had nearly a quarter of a century of work and accomplishment ahead when he wrote those words. So don’t write me off just yet.
Coda. Synchronicity is a concept that exists in the fog between art and philosophy, and experimental science. Yet Jung, who was a brilliant scientist, intuited that synchronicities and what they imply are “real.” Later, Wolfgang Pauli would work with Jung to explore strong analogues between quantum mechanics and synchronicity – like the concept of entanglement, which Einstein called “Spooky action at a distance.” So the idea seems valid, if not yet fully scientifically proven true.
One coincidence is probably just that. When coincidences begin to follow one upon another quickly it’s a clue there’s a pattern, and those coincidences are probably synchronicities. When the synchronicities stack and reinforce each other, (which has happened many times along the GeoS trail) it may signal an enchantment at work. When that happens in enchanted places, Jung’s concept feels as real as a growing redwood, a 14,000 foot volcanic peak, or the narrow sedimentary canyons next to a rushing river that welcomes a wanderer to the town of Glenwood Springs.
[1] The book is a good read.
In George R. Stewart’s classic novel of fire ecology, FIRE, one group of human characters has always intrigued me. Beginning on page 110, he describes smokejumpers parachuting into a dangerous location to fight the Spitcat, the fire that’s the protagonist of the work. Their accents are those of southern black men; and when the Forest Service Superintendent asks where they’re from the list is of cities up north and states down south with large black populations. As the novel progresses, the jumpers weave in and out of the story, always working on the fire with vigor and integrity. There is some dated language which contemporary readers might find offensive, but the portrayal of the smokejumpers is admiring and respectful. Stewart doesn’t focus on their race, but on their ability and character. Stewart was decades ahead of his time in his treatment of black Americans and this was one of his ways of portraying them as valuable members of society. 
. Mr and Mrs Edward Stewart at the Premiere of the MGM+ Earth Abides mini-series


Since the work here seems nearly done I’m chewing over the question on a hand-crafted card from old friend Denise Lapachet Barney: “Where to next?” 




