How far is cotton wood?
Hiking at Grand Canyon changed my life. Proximity to such an epic landscape provoked an internal examination of priorities and perspectives. I had experienced emotions ranging from serenity to curiosity to excitement to unabashed Joy. I rediscovered part of myself that’s long forgotten. It’s true when they said “spend time walking around Grand Canyon, and you’ll walk away as a different person.”
How we were cold up there waiting for the first shuttle to arrive, as we boarded onto it together chanting to ourselves “Let’s challenge ourselves and do something different. I want to have an experience that humbles me”.
slowly, twistingly with each step as we descend gradually stripped our accumulated excess until arriving pure in that cold night air becoming part of layers of time laid out before us.
How we began at the top ~ near that pinion pine overlooking everything and welcome the red dust beneath our boots as we set out,
then somewhere along the way after the mornings chatting had quieted down, we each turn to face the trail put one step after another and we were no longer near the top but now down in it.
vegetation became apparent that was hidden from above. Tremendous boulders come to rest for centuries now the rock came to be with us stratified descended on and on stunning in its silence and duration dominating our awareness side by side turned inward by the growing heat and dulled by physical exertion.
How afternoon lengthened into shadows ushering us to the cool sand along the Colorado river’s edge, swollen toe made better by boring through the nail and soaking in water in that cold even so the head was left pounding.
walking slowly into the canyon, reluctant to come back into the fold so soon and felt kindred with this place that humbles and instructs and needs no words to do it that invites us back always for more and leaves us feeling joy at even having taken part in journey such as this.
How we climbed and descended miles on the red rock wall crouched inside a shallow cave and saw freedom in that place. We looked at the rim and had that great vent broad-brimmed hat that suits hobo wandering so well, now each step upward became a mixture of joy at returning invigorated better defined yet also wanting to stay in that high walled valley still among river and rocks.
How the mules passing us triggered the inner child jumping with joy and happiness, glad to be walking taking all that energy up in the legs with us. Day becoming warmer and more weary
How we kept asking people on the way about the distance to cotton wood camp to hydrate ourselves with more fresh water, accumulating more energy with every passerby saying it as one mile away but lasted for six miles.
How the final hour of ascending was a renewal of the familiar faces of the squirrels and trees and finally people.
How we found laid out on the bed in the cabin, our legs showed symptoms of “I hiked the canyon”. It is the going out together, the coming back again more ourselves than before, It is the passing on to others that this is something of value, this what is real. This is what we know.
P.S: Cotton wood isn’t a mile away.
