Phoning it in

Literally! I'm somewhere without wifi and expect to dancing until after midnight so I am on my 'Berry making the deadline early so I don't blow NaBloPoMo!

Have an awesome Friday night my peeps.

Alone Again, Naturally

Last night as I dived under the covers with a book, as is my nightly habit, I was taken with a deep hit of loneliness. It was a surprise because it is not something I normally feel at that moment. Rather than burying the feeling immediately, I decided to just sit with it, examine it a tiny bit but without a tinge of obsession or a sense of needing to fix it.

Since taking residence here in my nest in early May, I have been alone, slept alone in my bed more than I have in decades. This is not an exaggeration at all, it is plain fact. Mostly I enjoy it endlessly. It has felt a bit like a revelation to go food shopping without thinking of anyone's needs, wants, or palete; to only have myself to answer to regarding my spending; paying off debt rather than accruing more has been heavenly - I used a credit card this spring, an act I haven't done in about five years. Somewhat sadly I have discovered I sleep better when alone - what I lose in dream recall is made up, somewhat, by waking more rested. I now recognize the trade off in having someone in bed with me - it is delicious, comforting (among other things, ahem), but the sleeping is more fitful.

Spending hours, days even by myself holed up with no one for physical company has been restorative and instructive. I have learned that I know how to reach out for companionship, seen how I resist it but know I can choose to stand up for myself by seeking out people. I can sit in the lonely and see what it brings up; interestingly the lonely doesn't show up all that often. It has been nice to see how I "keep house" when it's just me. It has been informative to see where my limits are, to discover my internal motivation on things because there is no one to prod me.

Another thing I have realized, and am working to make peace with, is my life is rarely tidy and structured. When I look back over the years (and at this point there are many of them to review) there has always been something of a nomadic thread, myriad projects and interests, friends and family fun and drama that result in a lack of rut. This is something that largely suits me, but I have occasionally fought it; thinking my life ought to look different, more like some other people's lives, more like how the overall society thinks life should look like, that we should all have a sort of resigned ennui existence. What I am also seeing is that I also am able to manage a great deal of integrity in this lifestyle, that I keep connections, keep commitments (as best as I can given my predilection for procrastination), am good at networking, and have a great sense of humor (which is required for a life as odd as mine).

I am not lonely though I have moments when loneliness is my core feeling, usually quite briefly. There is nothing inherently scary about these moments, they are good reminders about innate vulnerabilities that we all have. In addition that are good reminders about our innate resilience, that we are stronger than our fears.

Movement to conclusion

Around the end of August, or maybe the beginning of September while chatting with a friend, it became apparent that I had a strong yearning to retrieve my things resting in storage in Dayton. There were a few things driving this I believe - one the option to have access to my things that I haven't seen in 1.5 years; a desire to have all my belongings in one state; and perhaps finally to close the Ohio chapter of my adventurous life.

A bit ago I began researching storage places close to either my nest here in New Paltz, or near Sunny. The other problem was figuring out when to go since the drive would be long and with all my traveling, meetings, housesitting it was hard to figure out. Initially I thought I would go in October, clearly that was a bust. Plus with the DNE weekend, well, just wasn't happening. Looking at the calendar, thinking about the weather shifting, and Thanksgiving, well this coming week is the time!

Today I booked a storage site here in New Paltz, let the Dayton place know I was coming to collect my belongings, and reserved a U-Haul trailer. Whew! It feels so good. All of me in one state, and I can have a kitchen table downstairs, a coffee table upstairs, and unearth my fridge magnets! Also I can get my kitchen gear off Sunny's porch and put it in storage close by so if I desire my Cuisinart to make latkes I can. Friday I will drive to Boston to go to Dance Friday, Sunday will be my CCG meeting, then Monday I hit the road. My travel buddy needs to be back in Boston by Friday so it will be a quick turn around but so worth it.

This feels so good, exciting even. It's also been a long time in coming. Of course it means another week away from my cabin but I think it will result in a lot of peace for me.

Utah Day 9, April 27

Dance Hall Rock was exceptional, it is such a wonderful spot and we were lucky enough to be the only ones there. The afternoon into evening was easy and simple.

Janet and Greg, and later Katie as well, were painting while

seated on the same shaded alcove.

We all took turns hiking about on and around the rock. We had a simple dinner, made a fire and had more wine. The moon rise was awe inspiring as it was almost full as it came up over some rock formations.

Moonlight cast a shimmering glow over our camp.

In many ways it was my best sleep which while not saying much, I am grateful for nonetheless. I woke pretty easily around 7 a.m. to the everyone breaking down camp, which I began to do as well. I was rather unreasonably please with my

first start to finish take down of my borrowed tent.

We headed back up Hole in the Rock Road the way we had come to Dry Fork Gulch; the trail head was packed, filled with folks about to enter the trail. It was close to 10am by this time. We turned around in search of a suitable camping site. Finding one where an older gentleman was working on his vehicle, we weren't thrilled is it was very open. The man, who was from Oregon, suggest we go down the path, heading further towards some more varied terrain. We found the perfect site and I set my tent a top the highest mound, playing Queen of the Hill.

Unloading quickly Greg sussed out how

we might hike from our site to our intended goal for the day. Heading out it soon became clear we were blazing an infrequently, largely unused trail. Lots of scrambling down slick rock and building cairns to mark our return route. My knees let me know they were less than thrilled with this plan but such is life.

We found what we thought was the chalk narrows we were aiming for but later we learned we were mistaken. Leaving there we heading toward Brimstone Canyon, entering it was cool and shaded. The stone he

re has more of a pink cast versus the orange of Zebra. Here at least was the Dry Fork Narrows that we thought we had come upon earlier. We partook of lunch here and after some guidance from fellow hikers we gathered ourselves to see Brimstone.

The heat was not bad, the rock was gorgeous. As we turned up stream (no water, just the language and shadow of where water once flowed) we entered a beautiful sandy stretch with a line of trees in the distance directly at the base of the rock face. We marched through the sand around the bend and I did a body check - my ankle had began to ache again, the right thumb joint that is sometimes troublesome was hurting. Taking into account that it was close to another mile in and we still had to head back to camp I made a judgement call and turned around, back to the Narrows. While I tempted to go further than the Narrows and test my trail skills I knew it would make Greg nervous if I was not where I said I would be for meeting up.

At one point a group came by where I was resting and asked if I was from the party of 5 or 6. Yes, I replied. "They said to say hello". It's a largely sweet, affable world this hiker's universe.

(a shot from back at camp, the end of sundown)

It feels like Sunday

Seriously, it does. My out of town friends have all left and are home. I felt nappish and napped rather than studied. Had challenging dreams. Janet says that one's unconscious is six months behind life. I'm not sure I agree.

(my desk area)

At this point it's hard to remember if this was a theme in my dreams before but certainly since leaving Dayton in March 2009 I have had a lot of moving dreams, not surprising since I wasn't living anywhere until a few months ago. Even since getting here to the cabin I haven't been here without an overnight or three for probably more than two weeks. Okay that might be a slight exaggeration but not by much. During my nap I had a dream about Her Geekyness, who I ended things with in February 2009 (hence my move); we were fighting about money and work. Not unlike real life in some ways as finances were always an issue. For me, dreaming about exes seems to be like a check in with myself that I made the right decision. What is funny about that is I never regret leaving relationship, not really. I feel badly sometimes, like maybe I didn't try hard enough before leaving, but I digress. I had to wake myself up because I just couldn't stand the arguing anymore.

Earlier today it sleeted, making for a good sleepy sort of day and a day when keeping the fire going was important but not always easy. Luckily I have done just enough so the temperature downstairs has not sunk below 63F. It seems way too early for such weather but I suppose not.

(another view of that room)

Almost Blew It

It's been a crazy, odd time zone kind of day what with the time change, the weekend event, plans shifting at the turn of a corner and a face wanting time, accommodating newly emerged needs but somehow I am managing to post before midnight, barely.

The weekend was a successful, from what we can tell financially and it certainly seems from the responses many of the organizers heard, it was emotionally successful in that it fed people's need for a DNE dose as winter begins to emerge and the long stretch of cold is before us and dance camp seems far away. Overall I am please with how things went but per my usual I was concocting a "next time" document and the bones of time line for 2011.

My out of town dear friends leave in the morning which is bittersweet, it was such a treat having them on my turf for a change, and there isn't much likelihood of all of them returning soon. At least they were able to see a bit of why I adore where I am as much as I do and play hostess just a tiny bit by offering soup and wine.

Given the weekend, late hours, and the damn daylight savings time my body clock is feeling very off kilter. Tomorrow begins a buckling down of work - school and A&A as well as some DNE. If I use my time wisely I can also begin to make notes on the NY Weekend. Of course I will need to blog as well.

Thus ends the first week of NaBloPoMo, year 5 I believe.

A Quickie

Hello! I am about to dash off again because it's the New York DNE Weekend. Helped with get the site set up and danced quite bit which was great. Was up very late last night, slept in a bit and now am hoping to make it back to the site to catch lunch, my breakfast.

Yesterday was a slow but speedy sort of day catching up on things and also not under a lot of pressure for the weekend in other ways. As Scott said last night, "we have not overtly f*cked up, so it's a success". My bar is way higher and I already have a long set of notes structure ideas for next year, because that's how my brain works.

Unlikely that I will take classes today but will have a lovely time catching up with folks and doing oversight.

Ta ta for now!*

*Who says this? Consider yourself getting life bonus points if you know.

Evidence of Yesterday's Stove Adventures

The soup came out great. Very basic: sauteed onions, carrots, and baby portabello; add water; add package of Manischewitz "mushroom soup"; add reconstituted dried porcini mushrooms with the water (strained).

For the last two days I was able to keep my home in an high 60's to about 71 using the wood stove. I am inordinately proud of myself. When my guests were here last night they were impressed at the toasty quality done by stove alone. For the last two mornings I found some glowering embers still in the midst of ash - again very pleased.

Little House on the Prairie Goes Post-Modern

Since May I have been living in a cabin on my friend's property. I love this place, it is my home, my nest, my sanctuary. I have no idea how long I will be here but I am grateful for it each and every day (whether I'm here or not - in October I was gone about 23 days in total!). The property (the main house and the cabin) has a deer fencing around a great deal of it which is part of why I have nicknamed it "the compound".

Anyway. It's up the mountain a bit from the center of New Paltz and the temperature up here is always different from town. Though there are other options, I have decided to heat primarily via the wood stove - not that I know anything about maintaining one for heat in the depths of winter. It also occurred to me that I could cook via the stove, since I don't have a cook stove or oven here. About three weeks ago I attempted this just a bit by halving a butternut squash - grown by the gentleman farmer that is my friend. Putting a bit of water in a cast iron pan I put them in, covered with aluminum foil and attempted to "roast" it to use in a soup the next day. Yeah, well the fire didn't stay all that hot overnight. They were partially cooked. Oh well.

Fast forward to today. Picture this if you will:

I am tidying my nest in part because it was FILTHY and in part because I have out of town friends coming over (go me!). After dusting and vacuuming I decide to do this soup thing on the wood stove but I need a shower too. Besides my hair is already wet from dashing out in the rain to cover the hopelessly damp unstacked wood and grab some of the drier stacked, covered wood so I can make soup and keep the house toasty. Well while I'm at it, I thought I'd color my hair for fun. So there I am in black sweats, topless, my hair wet with water and dye, a towel around my neck and back with a pan on the stove heating up while I slice onions. Mind you I am facing a huge picture window that is visible should the kindly landowner wander by on the way to his car. Luckily it's a week day and it's raining so odds are good that he is hard at work in the house. I finish dicing the onions, tend to the fire to try to get the oiled pan is heating, then dash into the shower.

My hair has warm tones, the nest is tidy, the onions, carrots, and mushrooms are sauteed. I have wireless internet, lots of warm blankets for chilly nights. Laura Ingalls never had it so good.

Utah Day 8, April 26

Yesterday we made our way to the Boulder Mountain Lodge where they did our laundry - oh happy day! This place is beautiful, just sumptuous, after a week of camping even more so. I walked over to the Burr Trail Outpost which is an artisan shop and cafe of the most charming arrangement. Met a woodworker, Dennis Bertucci, who is originally from Brooklyn; when I told him a bit about my work with G & J, he said I should get in touch with a local artist, Amsel Springs (who Janet and Katie met by chance a few days earlier - small world, no?) because he thinks Mr. Spring should be shown in NY. It was a delightful encounter.

Our dinner at Hell's Backbone Grill was lush with beautiful presentations and complex flavors. (I want their cookbook!) After dinner Greg and I worked on sorting all the food in our traveling pantry by meal category then by meal, then by car camping versus backpacking. By the end I was tired and my right arch was aching. Heading back to my room the disaster of my belongings exploded on the bed faced me and I moaned with exhaustion, wishing for a fairy godmother to magically pack it up. Instead I called BC while lying on the bed in a stupor; eventually packing while talking. Per my usual I did not fall immediately asleep - my mind was racing over details. While talking to BC, I spoke about how much I was pushing myself physically and in other ways, the tears of pent up emotions leaked out but I would not, could not fully let go. Perhaps it would have been better to have done so. There was something about talking to her, or talking with someone not part of this allowed all the vulnerability of this come to the fore.

For the first time this trip I got too hot while sleeping - it was a delic

ious annoyance. In the morning I showered again, just because I could! We all met up for breakfast at Hell's Backbone, again the food was excellent and oh my god, real coffee! I decided to pass on the Anasazi Museum which was fortunate as I had forgotten that I had scheduled an interview with a writer from the Art Calender, which went very well(I'm in this issue).

During this trip I find myself randomly sexually hungry and wish BC were here. It feels a little different out here, more primal, organic. Maybe in all the big silences out here one can feel, hear their body better. I just feel it ride through for the moments it's present until some other stimuli takes precedence.

Now we are in Devil's Garden, inside the Escalante Staircase National Monument. We will head next to Dance Hall Rock where we will camp for the night. Tomorrow is another night elsewhere. All of us are in different dyads or alone right now. There is a nice breeze floating over the landscape which obscures the sun's heat a bit. At one point while walking around the hoodoos, I could not hear or see any of our party - thought about what having that sort of space is like, to be connected and yet not at all; each of us in

our own world within arelatively small acreage. It is a luxury few of us have with any regularity, some almost never. I wonder if some folks, particularly the very city bound would find this scary - this big sky, silence except for pure nature, meandering paths that exist in the wild. No lines, or lights to help them pinpoint themselves in place and time; how many would cower under the moonlight, hearing the wind careening through these canyons, find

the layers of flaking mud on the Harris Wash unearthly.

The silence at night, on cold hard earth is one the loneliest moments for me, even as I take pleasure to be far from what I know. Physically uncomfortable, little is soft, the air cold, confined by a mummy sleeping bag, I suppose some would find this almost akin to torture. I rather relish the discomfort of the body and soul in this discreet time. It is a

challenge to let go of expectation, to be in the now, to try not to yearn for the other world.

Utah Day 7, April 25

The hike back took a little less time and initially I had a really good pace but after a while the climb back up out of the Harris Wash and up from the canyon floor took it's toll. I worked hard not to gripe even as my left calf started to howl at the strain. Finally we made it back to the cars and I don't know that I've been happier to be in front of a car.

We settled back at camp where I orchestrated a great dinner of brown rice, canned corn with chipolte, canned salmon with wilted spinach and a squeeze of orange juice. Thanks to Meredith we had delicious wine - Menage a Trois from Folis a Deux (a place I visited when

I lived in California); it was a very indulgent night; a very jovial dinner with all six of us recounting the day, telling other stories, and generally

joking around.

The evening air was warmer than it had been, which was nice for my sore muscles and joints. In the lower campground the sound of the stream

was a beautiful accompaniment to the sounds of our laughter while a three quarter moon rose over the cliffs behind the raised campsite where Meredith and I had our tents.

Earlier Greg and I had been talking about how I was doing; I was trying to use words that were not too demoralizing in my self-assessment (being fat, out of shape, last in line, low lung capacity when he said "inexperienced". My response was that was a much kinder frame than I had for myself.

As every night I am amazed I do not simply crahs as soon as my head hits the floor. At 10:45pm I woke needing pee out in the cold. Crawling out of my bag I found a suitable spot mere feet away, promptly returning to my cocoon. For some reason I resisted the notion I was cold and foolishly did not add a layer until much later. Throughout the night my left knee woke me with a great deal of pain, to the point of my whimpering pathetically in my tent.

Weird pregnancy dream: Dorm/Doctor resident setting. Not sure who I was but there was a woman who was pregnant, but hiding it. She birthed a baby boy and asked me to hold/hide it. Somehow the baby pushed himself back up into my uterus and then I searched for a place to rebirth it, away from our colleagues.

On an odd block, vaguely desolate, ghetto like, I found a medical storefront of some murky nature. Entering a stall I pushed the baby out along with other matters which I initially thought was the uterus lining like from a menstrual cycle but when i touched it, or flipped it, it more resembled an early fetus that had stopped growing inside me, slightly deformed, as if it were further along than the size indicated, very red. Not sure but I think it registered as male to me. Suddenly someone was there and suggested I nurse the baby I had rebirthed. I had some kind of pump attached to my breast with a tube that could go to the baby's mouth. I was stunned to see milk but realized if i had also been pregnant than of course I could produce milk. (I suspect the tube/pump/breast is in part because of using the camel packs for water.)

I dumped the excess blood in a medical waste container at this place and made my way back to the dorm. I ran into two women, doctors, who asked if it was my baby and I said, "No, it was ____". Later I saw the mother hidden away in her room nursing the baby and wondered what was going on. Then we were having a meeting and she announced how she had lost that weight they were bugging her about and showed off her new svelte figure. I found the two doctors and said she clearly wanted the baby a secret and to forget what I had told them. They were amenable to this.

I am very confused at the meaning of the dream. Pregnancy and birth are often about creativity and growth. Does the dead fetus represent something I lost or let go of that I don't remember, that I didn't fully release? Why are all the babies male in my dreams? Rebirthing someone else's baby, after being given the baby? I don't think I have my own innate talent? Or am I both women and I am showing myself the way - the old me has moved on?

As I write today I am sitting along the Escalente River, on a trail beside beautiful rock face, hearing the river rush by, the sun is out. Greg is near me painting, the scent of turpentine perfuming the air. My body is greatful for the day off from hiking. I cannot wait to get to Boulder Mountain Lodge to take a shower, wash my clothes and sleep in a bed where it's warm.

(This photo is of Janet surrounded by trees near the river.)

(The photo below is from the drive to our next stop.)

NaBloPoMo

Somehow or other I have realized it's November 1st, and thus the start of National Blog Posting Month, which I have done for 3, or is it 4 years now and while it sometimes stretches my patience, it also stretch my habits in good ways. Besides it will get me to finally finish posting the Utah trip and move on to other topics.

It will be a busy month, what with the DNE New York Weekend happening in the next few days, Publicity for the Frolic (a new role for me), very busy with DNE (new look coming soon!), working for Arts and Adventures, taking an online certificate course in Victim Advocacy, studying for my GREs, figuring out how to cook on the wood stove here at the cabin, and knitting because I have way too much yarn and I need wintery things to keep warm up here. However I often do well when I have many plates to juggle.

Soon I will need to start a fire in the stove because it's chilly in here, coursework needs to be attended to, some straightening up would be nice and may even happen today, or tomorrow. The chill is making think that starting a pair or three of fingerless mitts need to happen as soon as the mitten are finished. And a sweater. And maybe some felted slippers.

Stay tuned for more ramblings, boring photos of knitted projects, rants about my procrastination habits, how slow committees work and how much I don't want to take the GRE!

The Little Extras

Tuesday night I receive word from a dear friend that she needs some help - in Massachusetts. Of course I will go, she is family, her children are like my surrogate kids and I was there when each one took their first breaths.

This morning I rise, shaking off sleep and the sick that has been dogging me for days. Heading off with the intention of being at her home before the kids get home from school, not that I know what time that is but no matter.

Arriving there, with autumn in all her glory, I am back in the area where that always comes to mind in the month of October. Going into the garage I see that the two black labs have torn apart a cushion, making a huge mess. Making

a note that I will clean that up, I head into the house and pet the tiny but powerfully noisy toy dog of some unknown breed that it weighs less than any cat I have ever owned and therefore in my mind is barely a member of the canine family.

Since I did not partake of any rest stops on the 2+ hour drive I head to the powder room. With ease and calm I walk back out to the family room only to find that I did not shut the door firmly enough. Argh. That means that long haired yippy

thing has probably escaped. Dashing outside the perky beast runs up to me licks my fingers and before I can grab her, takes off, along with the bigger lab. What proceeds is an amusing chase-not chasing - calling-not calling-thing as I try to calmly pursue the dogs, in particular the tiny one, terrified she will get hit by a car and I will have to explain to the eldest child how I let her beloved dog that she carries like a baby die. Charming way to start a visit, no? No. I alternate between the road and meandering through people's front and backyards while the little beast races back and forth across the road, looping around sheds, mailboxes and the like.

One good thing about a small dog racing, they tire fast. When she had expended her energy she stayed still as I came nonchalantantly upon her, scooping her up and calling the large lumbering dog to drop the 5 foot tree branch and follow me home.

This began my stay in Hatfield MA.

Day 6 - Saturday April 24

Given the long day I had had, it was annoying to feel awake rather then sleep hitting me like a lead anvil. Eventually sleep did come and morning came far too soon. Hearing voices, I resisted rising until Greg came up to the plateau where Meredith and I had perched to ask if I could be ready to go in fifteen minutes to head into Escalante to partake of our breakfast invitation from the Lions that Meredith and Matt received night before. Turns out that we actually went to breakfast with The Church of Latter Day Saints folks, they were only using the Lion's Club hall the night before. After breakfast I declared that they were lovely people but I could never be a Mormon what with no caffeine or kinky sex.

After a carbohydrate heavy breakfast we headed to the Visitor Center to check on the trail since it is a primarily unmarked path. We drove down Rt 12 until we hit Hole in the Rock

Road, proceeding something like 7.8 miles, just past the 3rd cattle fence to a parking area. Slathering on sunscreen, packing lunch we readied for about a two mile hike on a partially marked trail on the hunt to find Zebra Slot Canyon.

At various points I was cursing my decision to do today's adventure, maybe even the whole trip. My left knee was cranky during the night, both knees were tired. Given that it got down to about 25F overnight I slept well but not nearly enough. Most of

the trail is hot, unprotected from the sun. I'm tired. The stunning rock formations, contrasted by shots of hardy green trees are compelling. The textures, the rippling color on the rocks are unbelievable. But

learning from yesterday my camera is not around my neck, instead resting securely in my bag. It would be great to shoot more of these vistas but there is a limit to what I can do.

We eventually find Zebra which is where I am as I write this, finally having the silence I so need. Stopping just inside the mouth of the canyon we eat lunch, also much needed. Leaving our packs against the canyon walls we snake and shimmy our way throu

gh the undulating walls, some places to step are literally the width of my boot. The views are glorious, sensuous; the walls beg to be stroked.

Everyday here I am stunned to be here. Greg said something about what a resource this place is; I thought a

ccessing it is such a privilege. My awareness about how fortunate I am to be here is not taken for granted, not for a moment.

Matt and Meredith have headed up to the find another canyon (Tunnel) in the area. Greg, Janet and Katie are doing their art further inside the slot. The silence is so good. I am dreading the hike back but hopeful the temperature will have dropped some by then. We started the hike at 10:55am, making it to the canyon by about 12:30 I think.

Walking deeper in to find shade, and take more photos, stumbling on Katie who was working on lovely small paintings. I find a shady spot, just settling in when a dog, two kids, and pregnant woman and her partner came through. Calling ahead to the ar

tists I let them know a dog was coming. I told the family about the wood plank and told the woman she might have trouble passing through it with her lovely belly. I hunkered back down enjoying the coolness, feeling a sweet, moist breeze coming from de

eper in the canyon. Some ravens started flying over me and the sound of their wings flapping echoed and resonated in a way one usually only hears in documentaries. Then I heard the whistling noise of one diving towards another. It is a sound I associate with planes, not birds and it struck me as one of the coolest things ever.

As we prep for the hike out which will take about 2 hours, I am wonder, once again, why I came. My endurance is so much lower than everyone else's. I don't like being the slowest, the most tired, etc. It makes me feel like a hold back, something. Janet has been very supportive, talking about often being the slowest many many times. It helps, a little.

Tomorrow we will break camp, load everything in, do a smallish hike up the Escalante River trail, then head to the Boulder Mountain Lodge for our hotel night. Thank the goddesses without husbands. I will likely hike very little tomorrow as my body needs a rest day.

Day 5 - Friday April 23

We all woke at 6am to break camp down and load up so that we could make it to Calf Creek Falls and score two camp sites since this place is first come, first serve. Our car with M, M, G & I hit the road at 7:30. Katie and Janet stayed for a while to explore the canyons at the camp.

The road was beautiful, with a key sighting of Prong Horn Sheep - one was crossing the road ahead of us to meet up with his herd. I was able to get a few photos but none too close unfortunately. We arrived at the camp early enough to score two lovely sites near each other. Greg helped me set up my site since he had so much energy and his tent was with Janet. I t

ook a short nap while waiting for the rest of our party to arrive, which turned out to be fortuitous given the hike that was still to come.

At about 2pm all of us started on the Lower Calf Creek Trail, with M, M, & K quickly moving ahead. Janet and I took a lot of photos which slowed us more than my pace alone would. Early on I struggled with the climb even while enjoying the vistas. The path rose and fell with the landscape frequently shifting from marshlands, to plains, to a trickling creek to river. This area was overall much greener, almost lush compared to the first days. The presence of a stream changes so much; it snaked nearer and farther from the trail. It's hard to believe that all those colors in the rock are not the rock itself but the effect of minerals and rain shifting formations of blocks and stripes that dance across the surface. The beauty of all this is hard to describe because it is so vastness that it is almost overwhelming to absorb. The rock goes from barely having color to this incredible deep red streaked with rock varnish - a particular combination of minerals that is a black-purple coating sometimes in blocks

or great swatches of the rock face, other times mottled as to form a picture in w

hich everyone would see a different image.

The plant life included cacti, segmented scrub grass, safe, holly, some species of oak, juniper, and pinyon pine. there were a number of small flowering plants - yellow, pink, purple and white blooms abounded. There were also

pictographs high on the wall on the rock face opposite of our trail; there were also ancient graineries built into the hollows of an overhang.

At various point I heard what sounded like it might be the waterfall which filled me wit

h hope but it was the wind winding through the canyon. There were posts with numbers delinatinating interesting points of the trail. At #10 I saw the accompanying pamphlet which told me that the end point was #15 and I doubted my ability to to finish the full length. Just before #12 I told G & J I was going turn around. I had seen people coming back from the falls who were older than me, heavier than me but clearly I thought they were stronger. I had been using the image of a very old woman who was being carefully led down the trail as inspiration but in the end it all failed me. As we took a break M, M, & K were coming back towards us and encouraged me. After a time assessment, some swigs of electrolytes, and handing off my camera weight to Greg, I trudged onward.

Making it to the 125 foot waterfall was a grand reward. The pool of water looked like an oasis, greens on the rock face under the flow, ferns growing upside down on the canyon to the left of the water, the serenity of it. Here the tempe

rature was significantly cooler and the sweat running down my back chilled rapidly. Adding layers, eating some food revived me a bit, so I got up to explore just a bit.

Soon I decided to start back, figuring that G & J would easily catch up with me. In the stream I again spotted the trout with the leopard print design, saw a pair of mallard ducks and much to my surprise came upon a small stand of mule deer. Tempting as it was to unpack my camera, with them so close I declined, simply enjoying making eye contact in silence with them.

The light had changed by this time and the rock, scrub, and trees became beautiful anew. It looked like the sun, which was lower in the sky, was making the light rock even blonder on my left which then was reflecting onto the red next to me, causing it to look like a glowing ember.

I took great delight in the numbered posts descending as it marked my progress. Once or twice I got a little disoriented on the trail and had to take a moment to place myself. Much to my amazement G & J never quite caught up with me. It was during this time alone that I had my first epiphany. Back in January when I "accidentally" ran, BC asked me if it made me feel like I could do anything. My response was "No." But today? Today I felt like I could do anything. This was a life changing day for me. In the end I had hiked 6 miles, a large accomplishment for me. When I returned to the camp I was tired, achy, cold and crabby but I also realized that I had done something huge. I was a different person in some hard to define way that would live on forever.