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- Apr 20, 2013
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- 1,456
In the desert.
It’s rare that I wake from slumber in a full belly laugh. I admit, it does happen occasionally. The dream had been outrageous, too insane to even share any detail with fear that you will label me insane.
I laughed for some time in the dream, only to awaken laughing.
It was 5:27am, and my tent mate bore my explanation with patience, just as he had with some of my hiking pace the day before.
The frogs were done, but there was one lone cricket and a handful of songbirds from the common finch to the canyon wren waking up in the early twilight. The canyon wren's call was losing steam, just like my laughing.
Fully awake and knowing the temperature was just going to increase with the sun, we grabbed a few things and headed downcanyon. The hike was easy enough, the sun and shadows fantastic. Across and along and then high above the creek and canyon we hiked. We were intent on a goal.
Until we weren’t.
The first sign of dissent was a plunge to the canyon bottom. The second was the golden sun reflected in the shallow creek. The third were a few different stacked waterfalls that gave way to a great pool. The final straw came as we ate breakfast and the sun started to make an appearance.
A short break stretched to several hours.
We found the rest of the trail, but our hearts weren’t in it. Or maybe my heart was not in it.
Eventually we left this mini Eden after smiling and soaking it in.
Scaring lizards and occasionally toads and frogs, we went back to camp. The desert was blooming, especially in several shades of yellow, but also primrose, datura, cliffrose, paintrbrush and more.
We had a late lunch of salami and provolone wrapped in a tortilla and ate some sweets. Shade was the scarce resource. We found a few places with water and shade, and passed the afternoon in recovery from life beyond and the distances of the previous days.
Out of necessity we each killed two deer flies, they were the only biting insects so far this trip.
Evening brought a dinner of birria and guacamole tacos. Shade became less scarce, clouds moved in, and still the temperature soared. Another feverish night of sleep where even wearing a shirt was one layer too many, seemed imminent.
The clouds thickened and brought thunder that decreased in distance. A sprinkle happened, but that was all. The thunder built with the increasing clouds, and then I saw the hint of a silver lining. A half hour to sunset and there was a little reflected light, and then some buttes and canyon walls caught the light.
The frogs and toads started to wake up; the sky lit with bright white. Mammatus, cumulus and more all caught the sun. It was probably the best sunset I had seen all year. We took it in; amphibians in full chorus, thunder rumbling in every direction, and sunset putting on a show the day was ending perfect. I was only wearing my camp shoes, having been ready to settle in for the night. The show went for some time. Wonderful.
Could it get any better?
Fortuitous, kizmit, luck, blessed, whatever it was, we had so far stayed at the edges of unsettled weather, avoided human contact, seen a bear on the drive in, and I had found a screw in my tire with a chance glance while loading the truck that could have been trouble outside of civilization.
Later, after a humid and densely warm first hour of sleep, where I tried to sleep, but instead had to settle with trying to watch a movie, the rain started splattering on my face through the bug screen door of the orange tipi.
Splattering turned to a consistent pitter patter and we had to close up the tent. A cool wind came with the rain and finally, we had a good sleeping temperature.
The frogs and toads started up again, wailing about their loneliness and advertising their availability.
Again, could it get any better?
Yes. We still had tomorrow and the next day.
Here is some photographic evidence:
It’s rare that I wake from slumber in a full belly laugh. I admit, it does happen occasionally. The dream had been outrageous, too insane to even share any detail with fear that you will label me insane.
I laughed for some time in the dream, only to awaken laughing.
It was 5:27am, and my tent mate bore my explanation with patience, just as he had with some of my hiking pace the day before.
The frogs were done, but there was one lone cricket and a handful of songbirds from the common finch to the canyon wren waking up in the early twilight. The canyon wren's call was losing steam, just like my laughing.
Fully awake and knowing the temperature was just going to increase with the sun, we grabbed a few things and headed downcanyon. The hike was easy enough, the sun and shadows fantastic. Across and along and then high above the creek and canyon we hiked. We were intent on a goal.
Until we weren’t.
The first sign of dissent was a plunge to the canyon bottom. The second was the golden sun reflected in the shallow creek. The third were a few different stacked waterfalls that gave way to a great pool. The final straw came as we ate breakfast and the sun started to make an appearance.
A short break stretched to several hours.
We found the rest of the trail, but our hearts weren’t in it. Or maybe my heart was not in it.
Eventually we left this mini Eden after smiling and soaking it in.
Scaring lizards and occasionally toads and frogs, we went back to camp. The desert was blooming, especially in several shades of yellow, but also primrose, datura, cliffrose, paintrbrush and more.
We had a late lunch of salami and provolone wrapped in a tortilla and ate some sweets. Shade was the scarce resource. We found a few places with water and shade, and passed the afternoon in recovery from life beyond and the distances of the previous days.
Out of necessity we each killed two deer flies, they were the only biting insects so far this trip.
Evening brought a dinner of birria and guacamole tacos. Shade became less scarce, clouds moved in, and still the temperature soared. Another feverish night of sleep where even wearing a shirt was one layer too many, seemed imminent.
The clouds thickened and brought thunder that decreased in distance. A sprinkle happened, but that was all. The thunder built with the increasing clouds, and then I saw the hint of a silver lining. A half hour to sunset and there was a little reflected light, and then some buttes and canyon walls caught the light.
The frogs and toads started to wake up; the sky lit with bright white. Mammatus, cumulus and more all caught the sun. It was probably the best sunset I had seen all year. We took it in; amphibians in full chorus, thunder rumbling in every direction, and sunset putting on a show the day was ending perfect. I was only wearing my camp shoes, having been ready to settle in for the night. The show went for some time. Wonderful.
Could it get any better?
Fortuitous, kizmit, luck, blessed, whatever it was, we had so far stayed at the edges of unsettled weather, avoided human contact, seen a bear on the drive in, and I had found a screw in my tire with a chance glance while loading the truck that could have been trouble outside of civilization.
Later, after a humid and densely warm first hour of sleep, where I tried to sleep, but instead had to settle with trying to watch a movie, the rain started splattering on my face through the bug screen door of the orange tipi.
Splattering turned to a consistent pitter patter and we had to close up the tent. A cool wind came with the rain and finally, we had a good sleeping temperature.
The frogs and toads started up again, wailing about their loneliness and advertising their availability.
Again, could it get any better?
Yes. We still had tomorrow and the next day.
Here is some photographic evidence:
