How You Know When it's Cold

At a yoga class my backpacking buddy was asked about her purple middle toe. That's when I knew it was COLD crossing the Coyote and Escalante rivers a few week-ends ago. We plowed through the penetrating FREEZING ankle-deep water to hike the other shoreline. The sunshine was heaven and hell: the joy of the warming rays to piecing pain as my feet rapidly de-frosted. The group agreed to find a higher route to Stevens Arch Canyon and stay out of the streams.

We found a faint trail high-up with the tops of hoodoos and an orange monolithic locomotor. We followed a winding single track and filled our bottles with sweet spring water. Our original Stevens Canyon destination was below us, shrouded in dense shade and unmelted snow. Our sunny side was the place to be in the beginning of March. We'll save Stevens Canyon for a hot summer day when the cool water is welcomed and after our war-wounds have healed.

Finding Inner Peace in the Desert

As I flipped over my January calender page, I read the inspirational message by Erkart Tolle: "All the things that truly matter- beauty, love, creativity, joy, inner peace - arise from beyond the mind." The desert brings me pleasure and inner peace. If I think about the loveliness of the wilderness I'm not getting Tolle's point: going beyond the mind. I do sense the timelessness yet ever changable characteristics of the desert. Rocks are alive, absorbing the stillness. Clouds come and go, never the same. Animals enjoy eating succulant plants and hording food for upcoming seasons.
At times I may see heat waves shimmering and undulating in the distance. This maybe what Buddhism calls "dissolution." This is where elements begin to dissolve and flow into each other: earth into water, water into fire, fire into air. Here I go again, into my head. Out in the unpeopled desert I just try to be. Later I reflect on the beauty and my love for the untamed wilderness here at my doorstep.

Ricki Bagged Zebra Canyon

I have this fantasy of leading a trail running group to Zebra slot canyon and back. The problem was I couldn't remember how to get there. My initial approach to Zebra was different. Ricki, my husband, wasn't with me when I bagged (conquered) the twenty yards of Zebra-striped slot canyon years ago.
Ricki and I tried different routes. Once we went over the mounds of slickrock and discovered acres of Moqui marbles but not the treasured banded canyon. Another attempt we went deep down Harris Wash to other interesting side canyons worth more exploring. Others ventured with us but water pools stopped us.

When I entered the twisty tunnel the walls progressively became tighter and more streaked. At one point I had to squeeze through a close slit that opened into an obstacle to climb. The others wedged their agile bodies up and over. I was stymied. I couldn't get my butt up to scoot across the tall wall while bracing my feet against the opposite wall. Several scrapes and bruises later I rammed my backside along one wall as my feet supported me against the other wall.
I scooted horizontally across the walls until I reached the famed stripes of Zebra. The effort was worth it. Symmetrical bands wound through the wavy slot canyon. Another difficult climbing hurdle stopped me from going deeper. I went back through exotic Zebra-land and up and over my previous climbing challenge with confidence.
I'm now closer to fulfilling my trail running group fantasy.