Climbing Waterfalls

On a crisp sunny desert day I found myself on a desert ride with friends. We wandered windy roads in a truck that seemed mountain goats designed. It clung to treacherous mountain roads and carried us onto the truly beaten wild roads that tame cars shudder to think about and mufflers clench.

View of Apache Lake and Mountains from Apache Trail

We eventually settled on the more sedate Apache Trail past Canyon Lake and through Fish Creek Canyon. Those who've driven that road know the irony of using sedate in it's description. Generously it is a lane and a half of winding dirt mountain roads with railings that seem to be made from pizza boxes. Rusting wrecks on the side of the mountain inspire caution as you navigate the washboard and washout areas. There is the ever present wonder if you will come around a corner to find someone coming the other way too fast. Somehow you make it through. It is worth it. The views are of vast distances where geology shows off it's capacity for artistic beauty. Mountains molded by water and wind, shaded by the minerals within them. We parked at the bottom, at Fish Creek Canyon. I love hiking there when the water level is low. I love seeing the slender waterfalls dropping hundreds of feet on days like this one. Three waterfalls over hundreds of feet in height brought recent rainfall from the tops of the mountains down to the plants waiting here.

Within moments of parking, my friend Elan and I found a waterfall we could hike up. We could go in any direction. We both were drawn like magnets to the shining, gurgling water. We danced over rocks and water, weaving back and forth like human needles making our way from the pooling short falls at the bottom up around to where we could stand within feet of water coming straight down the mountain over a hundred feet before working its way down to the stream it would join below.

Standing in the remote wilderness, crouched under a thorn tree within inches of ice cold mountain water I realized something. I am the kind of person who climbs waterfalls. There are people who do all sorts of things. It takes all kinds. I love climbing waterfalls. Getting behind them, beneath them, standing in them. The sound, the feel, the beauty. It can be dangerous. It can be foolish. What kind of nitwit seeks out wet, potentially slippery rock and says "climbing that is a great idea!" I am one of those nitwits. Now, I am not going to go up a break neck two hundred feet free climb up a waterfall. But I am going to boulder hop my way to the top or to hidden areas of twisty ones with terrain that practically begs me to climb it.  It is always worth it. I could have walked to the creek. I could have looked at the view down the canyon. Others did. Many did. I went to the first thing that caught my mind. The waterfall I could reach. The waterfall I could climb, in climbing I would see more of the waterfall and more of the vista. Two of us were drawn that way. Danny watched from the road until we went out of view, his face showed that he wanted to feel less exhausted- he wanted to see what was up there too.

Days of paperwork, beaurocracy declaring in it's way the necessity of paperwork in generating meaningless jobs of communication and miscommunication. Of people being numbers and categorized, shelved and stamped. Through each page and meeting it was hard to hear, hard to focus because part of me is still there watching the water fall and listening to the song of it playing on the rocks.

Days of being different fictions, concentrating on each separate experience then discarding it to create and complete the next. Another journey next week, eight more people to be. Danny faces his next surgery, his heart is strong but they have to get the electric working right. It is frustrating to find out your house is beautiful but the electric needs work to work right. It's more complicated than just changing a circuit. It is flesh and blood, cells and genes that the electrophysiologist has to use to work on the electrical system within us. Hopefully after this surgery everything will heal right. Hopefully in a month we will go back and climb to that spot together.



We all face different challenges. The funny thing is that we externalize them. The barriers to our happiness we identify are outside of us. The reality is inside of us. The monsters in our own heads, assumptions and inaccuracies that our own personalities and beliefs arise from. The worst are ones that other people feed without knowing about. It is daunting to sit down and say to a friend that their words or feedback they've given to other ears that made it back around to you hit a sore spot. It is easier to slip away to the sound of birds and water, where the monsters have no footing and no one's actions or words to use against you. Eventually you can let it go or you face the tedious monsters in your head again, fighting each other with logic accepting it's painful assessments or disproving them. When life is going your way, it is easy to stay up. When challenges come up or you feel down it is easier for the monsters to take center stage. It is hard to smile past their non-stop unfiltered assessment of you; it can be hard to even hear or see what those around you are really saying or doing and they never see or hear the enemies they don't even know you're fighting.

I've learned to use meditation, to take time to myself to refocus. To reach out to friends who've made it past the walls and know the shape of the fiends. It is amazing how quickly one well placed quip or even the sound of a beloved friend's voice can turn the tide. These monsters, they aren't fought with violence. They are fought with patience, love and communication. I know as I tell you this that every day, in your head you face your own. I just want to you know, I understand. We are the most powerful weapons in the fight against these monsters. Giving each other time, respect, kindness, trust, a chance to communicate and destroy dangerous assumptions. Are you up for climbing waterfalls? Navigating past the tears and through the challenges of healing?

Brittlebrush Flowers Brighten the Winter Desert 

On the Road Again

After several months in Apache Junction, our feet were feeling the itch to move. We watched the last few sunsets on the Superstition Mountains, trying to keep every second and every nuisance of color. Relieved to know that come winter we have a place to stay with a kind friend and a fun, wonderful job with great friends.

We made our way out of the Valley to Arcosanti. Have you heard of Arcosanti? Urban laboratory is a description that leaves enigma and the thought of beakers and goggles. Wrong thought! Soleri bells, cement walls, austerity, simplicity and function. Ideals, ideas and a positive low environmental impact model proposed for urban future. It is only 4% built, yet is sustaining itself through educational programs, environmental and urban impact studies, and bells.

We toured the buildings, learning about their water reclamation balconies and cisterns. We delighted at the taste of loquat grown on a tree at the amphitheater. We admired the use of solar and wind power, how the buildings were oriented to catch light and heat. Models were proposed for the Mojave desert and Siberia, ways to build cities that are self sustaining with low impact on the environment unlike the current urban sprawl method.

Why not choose to fund the other 96% instead of a few nuclear bombs? Why not improve our methods, the plans created at Arcosanti are constantly updated with newer materials and techniques. Ecology is part of the design, instead of destruction it is maintained.

The tour taught us all the things we hadn't quite picked up from the urban laboratory description.

We wound north throught the colorful mountains of Sedona, past vortexes and tourist attractions, slipping by neon signs and statues being photographed by tourists in shiny new clothes and oversized sunglasses.

We stopped in Flagstaff among many RVs at a Wal-Mart parking lot stunned that the forecast called for snow. Every time I go through that area the weather chases me off. It succeeded again, we decided to wait and see the Grand Canyon on a sunny day perhaps in the fall.

In the morning we headed east on the 40. We stopped at a tourist store that was long closed, the glass from its double doors lying like unclaimed diamonds on the cement walk. The giant cement tipis were fading and the huge dreamcatcher had holes. Could that be why our society lost our dreams to materialism? Here at this empty store I saw what the world will look like when we are gone. Petrified wood in front of our cars sparkled with crystal veins lasting beauty of enduring nature in contrast to the random debris and graffitied detritus of unwanted bottles and plastic goods.

A little unsettled in thought we went on, stopping at Homolovoi. Hopi settlements from the past. The wind blew as we looked at the rooms that have stood since the twelfth century. Danny called my attention to beautiful pot shards and artifacts. We took only memories and photographs. We were saddened by the sight of pits dug by people who had looted and vandalized, there were rows of them. We appreciated the serenity, the peace of the place. The stones were green, red, and beige with glints of sparkle. Perhaps the settlements were built there because of the beauty, the feeling of contentment, and the water of the Little Colorado River. 

We made our way past the Painted Desert, enjoying a look at beautifully crafted Native Artisans pieces at the Painted Desert Trading Post. We were downcast at having missed the frybread at Chee's but Danny mugged in their storefront for a photo before we settled for the night at the state line. 

Watching the last rays of sunlight on the vast mountains around us we were humbled. No photograph or description would really do justice to the vast, profound natural beauty around us. The wind and water sculptured the rocks, the minerals accent as natural as paint could be. 

New Mexico. Every time I drive through the state there is interesting weather. A cold rain rose behind us and seemed to push us past points of interest. The drizzle and constant cutting wind raced us through Gallop, past the ice cave and volcano which tried to lure us, and further past Acoma and Sky City. We are just fickle enough to want our appreciation and memories to come on a warm, sunny day. The drive seemed surreal at the last rest area. A man called to me as I passed and told me this rest area is too loud to sleep at, that we should try the one in Santa Fe near the Camel Rock Casino. How did he know what we were trying to figure out, that we wanted a place to pause for potential adventure in Santa Fe? I thanked him feeling eerie and wondering if the advice was good or ill. 

When I opened the door to the woman's restroom it was to a bloodcurdling scream. I always thought I knew what abject terror sounds like. I was wrong. At the receiving end, it is like a physical blow to the face and chest. I stopped stunned by the shrill tone. I looked at a short, stocky older woman perplexed. I asked her what that was for, softly, confused. She mumbled and I asked more firmly. She had been writhing to catch her glasses and recoil as if the door and I were the fangs of a rattlesnake. She apologized saying she thought I was someone else. She rushed past me and out into the gray. A mystery I will never solve.

We decided not to stay at that rest area, it was the least restful area I have been in despite the mountains and valleys it looked out on. We are on the road again. Slipped past Albuquerque with a thought in our hearts for local friends but an undefined urge to move further into the journey. We are on the road again, sometimes we travel as slowly as chilled molasses, other times we move like beads of water dancing in a hot skillet or mercury freely sliding across a linoleum floor. We appreciate the sights we find. We learn, we gain perspective, we laugh and we live. There is a world of potential, chances and moments are everywhere if you know how to appreciate them in the moment. It's all in the choice: fly or fall.   

Devil's Canyon soon to be lost...

Have you ever heard of Devil's Canyon?

That is what my friend asked as she talked about the hike she found. She talked about the rock formations, the hiking and climbing and potential for seeing ruins. I wracked my brain but had no recollection of the name. It was just a couple of evocative words thrown together that a quick Google search revealed was facing imminent hand off to private mining along with Oak Flats Campground. Why had I only heard of Oak Flats? Was Devil's Canyon lame? No, just obscure.

A View approaching Devil's Canyon, Arizona

We went to explore. It required a high clearance vehicle. When we got to the dirt access road it was a little confusing, it seemed as if we were driving into a mine but it was just a mine you have to go past to get to Devil's Canyon. A preview of the potential future of Devil's Canyon if we choose to apathetically allow one of the most beautiful and unspoiled sights to get neatly handed off.

Sunset viewed at Devil's Canyon, Arizona

Devil's Canyon has historical significance to the Native Americans who live in the area and who's ancestors used the land. They as a group did not hand the land over to our government, the individual who signed the rights to the land away did not speak for or represent all of the people. That individual, given divination into modern affairs, would not have signed had they realized their signature would herald the destruction of a place they highly valued.

It is not okay to destroy Devil's Canyon. Have you been there?

Devil's Canyon view, Arizona

Breathtaking views surround you as you hike Devil's Canyon

We drove slowly up and down the steep dirt road, over rocks and down winding switchbacks. We followed the trail and found a gorgeous canyon. Rock formations more amazing than any human architecture surrounded us. I felt like I was in a natural Cathedral, looking at what the world once was. Beautiful, natural, unspoiled. Lichen, lazy pools of clear, cold water, and red rocks piled like bricks, statues and faces. A playground for adults! We climbed rocks, we listened to the sound of the wind in the canyon, knowing that we could be among the last hikers to do so. What would the wind say if it could?

Another amazing view at Devil's Canyon, Arizona

It would say, dream and live. The wind plays through the canyon without breaking the rocks, cactus and plants grow from every surface they can. Green accents the views in a combination of shrubs, cactus, and lichen patterns almost glowing green on the rocks. Gorgeous. In my mind, I could hear the heartbeat of a drum in the distance. In my heart I refused the image of dynamite and metal mining trucks lurking in the future waiting to deconstruct the sights I was falling in love with for copper.

It was like falling in love with someone you already know is dying; who is fiercely living because they just do not know how to die. How can you tune that out? Why would you?

Spread the word, contact legislation especially in Washington. Let them know that it is not alright to mine Devil's Canyon, Oak Flats Campground or Apache Leap because it is not alright. It would be yet one more black mark demonstrating that we value short financial returns for a company over the natural world. It isn't all about profits. What will be there in the future? A mine or a Canyon? It REALLY is up to you.