Wild west: part ii

29 October 2009

On Friday, Laura called me,

"Hey, do you want to hike Havasupai next weekend?"

I've been working on being spontaneous, so I said, "Yeah, for sure!"

I didn't say what I was thinking which was, "Where's Havasupai?"

It is, in fact, at the bottom of the Grand Canyon: a 10 hour drive and a 10 mile hike. I borrowed from my adventurous friends a backpacking frame, sleeping bag, headlamp, chacos, fleece jacket, water bottles. The next Thursday afternoon, I packed Grammy's (practically vintage) orange pack with top ramen, cliff bars, pringles and my gear, strapped on my sleeping bag and met the other seven who were already packing their bags into the back of an SUV, like a giant game of tetris.

We took 4 days: two of driving, two halves of hiking and one glorious day playing and exploring in the beautiful waterfalls of the canyon.



Road trips are a creature unto themselves. We were quite cozy in that little white car, but we knew from the start we'd be best friends by the end, so we dispensed with formalities and sprawled across each others laps, feet up on the seats, and passed around the pretzels.



The hike itself was beautiful. The canyon, like God's enormous lego set, was stacked rocks to the sky. We stopped, frequently, to snap picture and climb the rocks and walls- more than once I wished I had brought a climbing harness.



And then, we heard the water. It was getting late in the afternoon when we saw the first streamlet, but we knew that just around the river bend... and someone started singing Pocahontas. We hiked up over a bluff and saw the new falls where Navajo falls had been washed out in the last flood.

I have never seen water so beautiful or so blue-green. It looked like an advertisement for Cancun, not some obscure river in the middle of the desert.



We camped that night after a quick swim in the twilight shadows of Havasu Falls. We boiled the fresh water that ran so perfectly blue and clear, and made spaghetti for dinner. We sat up late talking and enjoying our newly made friendships, then unrolled our sleeping bags and slept under the stars.

The next morning, after pancakes, oatmeal, hot chocolate and trail mix, we hiked on to the next falls. The day was warm-- nearly 80°, with just enough wind to keep us cool as we hiked in the sun.

Moony falls drop a spectacular 200 feet, so we inflated the plastic dolphin James brought and sent it down the river and over the edge. It shot down the falls and then bobbed up in the artificial pool beneath Moony to the applause of all the onlookers. We climbed up the rock face and jumped into the cool water- swimming around we shivered and laughed and no one remembered that it was cold and rainy back home.



But it was beginning to get late. We knew the hike out would take several hours, so we began our trek back out of the Grand Canyon.

About half way out, the canyon opens wide to a rocky meadow, and there we stopped to pass around the fruit snacks and gatorade. It was dark by now, and we all sat back on our packs, turned off our lights and watched the wide sky fill with stars as our eyes adjusted to the black. We lay there for some time, chatting and wishing on shooting stars. Sitting there, resting my tired feet, I wanted to soak in this land, this beautiful red rock and sage brush. And then I realized that this western beauty had finally become my home. And I loved it.

Wild west: part i

27 October 2009

I remember crying when the moving van pulled away from our Midwest house and turned onto the westbound freeway. In the rear view window, the dark green forest framed the yard that had been my playground for so long. We were leaving this verdant paradise for the desert, for a tiny old rental home perched on the edge of a hill of dead grass and snow. I hated Utah. The brown and gray of desert landscape: rocks and dead trees, tall, dark buildings that reach to the perpetual smog of the Salt Lake winter.
I cried because there was no green, and I was sure nothing would be beautiful again.

Lunch date

22 October 2009

I invited myself over for lunch because I had to return Grams' camping things, and because I had missed cousin dinner, and because I love lunch dates.

In college I eat out of tupperware, generally, and sometimes strait out of the can. Grams severs milk out of a glass pitcher, and she had set the little deal table with beautiful green place settings and silverware that matched.

I offered to bring a bell pepper- the only fresh food I could find. Grams chopped it up and served it with her homemade bean and ham soup, homemade bread, homecanned bread-and-butter pickles from the neighbors, grapes from her back yard and cookies one of the grandkids had brought by.

And she wouldn't even let me do my dishes afterward, but insisted rather than I come outside to enjoy the beautiful sunshine and her freshly planted daisies.

I can't wait to be grownup like Grams.

I love

14 October 2009

Courtney was sitting on that ugly, worn couch in the living room, and I stood in the kitchen doorway. I'm not sure why, but she called out this first line, and I, like some beatnik lounging in a smokey club, picked up the cadence and added my own stanza. Call and return, we yelled to the ceiling, to the clouds, to the world.

It was therapy, and poetry, and lovely.


I love
by Courtney Bullard
and Me

Rain on me every day
and I will still love you.

Open your gloomy clouds
and let down your sorry sodden paint
and I will still love you.

Downpour on me and I will stand beneath
with arms open wide,
and I will call out:

Pour down on me!

Rain, rain, rain!
and I will still love you.

Simple joys

01 October 2009

1. I get sick with the flu every year around Christmas time so I am now classically conditioned to get the same excitement and anticipation from a fever and chills and that slimy youreabouttothrowup feeling as I get from the smell of gingerbread and Christmas candy (think Pavlov's dogs crossed with the King Singer's Christmas Album). I am always a happy feverish kid.

2. On a different note: I love the radio scan function because I never like what's playing on the radio, but I don't like driving in silence, so instead of listening to every lame song for 5 seconds and then changing the station, the radio does it automatically for me.

3. On the same note: At 5:00 pm, every 3rd station in Utah valley is playing Taylor Swift.

100

Read me, a treasure map. See me, my language which draws in the style of Monet: impressions of my mind in brush strokes of type. Count me, my words which add to multiply: the some-thing of all is the greater part. From your crow's nest look over, in and under--standing, look out through your telescope of reading glasses. Measure and triangulate the latitude of my thoughts; take a sounding of my paragraphs for the sandy bottom. Find me, what's buried at the center: X marks the spot. Read me, lost thoughts sketched on velum, floating in an old bottle.

 
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