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Everett Ruess and Chris McCandless

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There are two individuals that have influenced me heavily in their outlook; Chris McCandless and Everett Ruess. Both discovered truth in ways most will never imagine. They saw a beauty as distant and far away as the stars. It was ignited through their visions and words. Everette explains my sentiments so well and I have affinity for his thoughts:

“I have always been unsatisfied with life as most people live it. Always I want to live more intensely and richly. why muck and conceal one’s true longings and loves, when by speaking of them one might find someone to understand them, and by acting on them one might discover oneself?” — Everett Ruess

Teachable Moments in Grand Canyon

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Inner Gorge, River Mile Marker 187

A couple of years ago I was giving a Hummer tour in the Grand Canyon with a bunch of Back Easterners. It was mid-July and about 110 degrees Fahrenheit, outside. We pulled off the rocky road road to take a short break and stretch. The road winds it’s way down into the inner gorge of the canyon via Whitemore Wash to river mile marker 187 on the Colorado River. It is one of only two access points that can get you that close to the river in a 4×4. During the break we walked over to a cluster of Barrel Cactus and I began some interpretation on the flora of Grand Canyon when all a sudden we heard the doors lock automatically on the Hummer. Silence fell over the group. It didn’t take long to realize that the keys were still in the ignition and all the windows were rolled up.

For the next 45 minutes we debated and conspired in the shade of the Hummer, trying to figure out what to do? We were 6 miles from the lodge which would require hiking all the way up out of Whitmore Wash and out of the canyon. Nobody had water. That wasn’t even a choice for various reasons. Finally we grabbed a sharp basketball sized piece of basalt and proceeded to knock out the back window of the vehicle, then continued the tour. That was a teachable moment. What did I learn? I learned to always keep the windows cracked on a vehicle that has automatic locks!

The other teachable moment hit me later up at the lodge. My boss had me fill out an incident report and he called in for a price quote on a window replacement. I was surprised to learn the repair would cost around 800 dollars. Had I knocked out the windshield, it would have been around 200 dollars. The the next six months I was the butt of quite a few jokes.

All of this was on my mind today. Little moments like these educate you. The mistakes you make are teachable moments. They are experiences that create an impact that are still recalled years down the road.

by Nathan Cowlishaw

Storytelling & Snow Covered Landscapes

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Butte Draped With Cloud

The snow covers the land in a thick white blanket with sunshine sparkling all over the mountains and trees. The sky is hard turquoise with soft clouds traveling over the new winter-land. For three days it snowed continuously. It reminds me of the deep heart of Navajoland near the Four-Corners, Arizona. This is the Escalante Desert around Cedar City, Utah, which is usually brown and thirsty. This past summer monsoon storms were disappointingly scarce compared to what I remember as a child when rain would turn streets into rivers around town.

I miss those times traveling around the Navajo Reservation in the dead of winter back when I was a tour guide. Driving across a white snow packed Monument Valley was sheer beauty and stark winter clouds cloaking mesas and red sandstone buttes. That was quiet heaven on Mother Earth. I miss the orange crimson sunsets flooding the snow-decked plateaus chocked with Juniper and Pinion. As I was traveling, my mind would drift in and out of reality because the beauty would carry me far away. It would take me to another time in the past when things were sacred and simple. It was a place free from pop-culture nonsense and mindless vanity to a real heartfelt existence of solitude and hardship. There was a time when struggling was the main line of work and labor and you really had to tow the line to survive but you could listen to the storytellers instead of televisions and radios.

Winter is a harsh season but well worth the endurance. I love it in the Colorado Plateau and Great Basin. Tonight, I am dreaming of the supernatural. Something roams those white hills in the night. I am writing this as long after that turquoise sky turned to night. It is starting to snow this evening and people travel through it on interstates, being careful not slide or wreck. We need the moisture very bad so it is the perfect trade-off. It is the time to thoroughly enjoy Cabin Fever, be with loved ones and dwell in the past.

I wish there was someone around tonight to tell my stories to. There’s no one around to share my tales of the past, of what happened so long ago. If you are patient with me, I have many many stories. A lot of them are not written. My stories are for skeptics and nonbelievers and they are unreal to believers. When I get old, my grandchildren will have the opportunity to hear the stories and I will hope they will pass them on down. My life is short but I am determined to make the most of it. The Creator has blessed me tremendously.

Thankyou, Heavenly Father, for the beauty in this world and for allowing me to see it and realize!

The Heart is Innocent

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Horse in the Pasture

The heart knows not reason just what it feels. It isn’t any more complex then a child that likes to play in all their innocence. So because the heart is like a little child it doesn’t always know better and it makes so many mistakes. Perhaps that is why logic is there to keep it in check so it doesn’t run too wild. My heart knows love and can hardly be contained. It leads me into a lot of pain on occasion. I’m learning to keep it in check but I also listen to it more then anything else.

I’m kind of a rebel when listening to my logic because most my dreams come from the heart and it has never led me astray. Yes, I know pain and affliction but I also know the greatest forms of happiness and joy because I have always listened to the heart. Whether it’s hearing the spirit of the wild or the mysterious soul of a woman, I always listen.

Even when I feel pain, the heart inspires me to write and formulate words properly so that you can read what I am feeling. The love of life keeps me going strong and gets me through the hardest times. The relationship I have with my heart is the truest form of love. My spirit is strong and compassionate because of what my heart has done. I thank the Great Master for giving me such a gifted heart.

Earth’s Silence

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Nathan Cowlishaw, Southern Utah

Away from darkness a dreamer’s journey begins towards incredible healing. His vision conjures up images from the bottoms of waking hours. Those spent thoughts were turning up nothing. The imagination was sad because it did it all in vein and trial.

Yet, here he wanders beneath the shield of sky, crossing the beautiful Desert that flows through him like a river. Out there is where all of the hidden wounds have been sewn. When young, he knew not his fear. Now he knows.

This is my own walk on the Red Road across a cheerful landscape, a vista of quality and color. The bad things in my life are forgotten. They matter not. They are just small thoughts easily cast from the mind. In peace, I shout it all out until I feel unworldly silence.

A bush, a stone, the sound of crickets, a river in the mountains; all of it is beauty. The meadowlark hides in the sunflowers sounding it’s incredible whistles. The desert heals my worn-out soul and renews the spirit. The deepness thereof is possessive and I am a castaway. As far as I am concerned the raft may carry me forever.

Supernatural clouds sail along the bronze horizon and I hear the beating heart of our Mother Earth. I am grateful for all of creation. The ageless wind stirs the forces of life and I am in the corners of God’s imagination. Free of any pain I may have suffered.

My love is the wilderness and those that destroy beauty are my enemies. I am personally sovereign and free.

As it is Happening

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On the River Bottoms Calf Creek Canyon

That old familiar wanderlust is coming back and I am once again listening to the wind. Talk about footloose! Why is it happening? It’s like Jack London’s Call of the Wild. I am fighting a strong temptation to flee and travel into desolation, isolation and utter solitude. One day I may tempt fate and head into the unknown… I’m listening to the chaotic-symphonic chorus of crickets outside my backyard door with two blue heelers sleeping in the tall grass. Their feet twitch in miniature spasms as if they are sprinting in their dog-dreams. Animals do have visions.

Much time has passed and it will continue. With each passing day I get older and hopefully wiser. When will my restless heart tire and my wild passions break? Yes, I am a crazy dreamer disconnected from everyone. It really seems that I live in dreams. It’s hard for me to understand anything else other than howling winds rushing through pines.

Please… if you are reading this. Come and talk to me and tell me how you feel? Try to help me find affinity and relatedness with you so that we can both understand our humanity; so we can communicate intelligibly because we are surrounded by a chaotic-psychotic world of greed. Come and lets find harmony in the simple. It would be so nice to connect with other dreamers. Are you one of them? If you are, how far have you traveled to my little abode? Because I have been traveling far and wide. As it has been said before; the more I learn the less I know.

I have in my possession an incredible beauty that can never be put down. When I discovered it, it became apart of me. It is what I am. I defend it with all my heart!

Classes and Havasupai

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Well I may be heading back to Havasupai even though it’s closed for the next several months. They may let me back in if I volunteer to help reconstruct the campground and trails below the village. Every year for the rest of my life, I will travel to Havasupai because it is forever tied to my soul. The introspection I went through the night of the big flood was life-changing and the muddy water really spoke to me. Now I dream and contemplate the beauty that surrounds my life and I am grateful to be SO ALIVE!

Classes began this week and I am going full-time – eighteen credits. I borrowed the maximum amount on my student loan and purchased a Macbook and some photo editing software. Two of my classes are in photography and I’m seeing these big purchases as worthy investments to develop my talents. There is a strong need for me to produce more content but I need some industry-standard tools to do so.

Stay tuned! I’m going to write many thoughts in this journal…

Flashbacks of Havasupai

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Mooney Falls on the Havasupai Reservation

Last night I went hiking down in the Narrows. There were no clouds in the sky. I returned to Cedar City around 7 P.M. and spent that evening reading Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey.

Sometime in the wee-hours of morning I had a strong dream about the entire Grand Canyon getting inundated with water ripping down every gorge and side canyon. Imagine the destruction to Hoover Dam? At the Bar 10 lodge where I used to work on the North Rim, I dreamed the employees had gone crazy and were gambling and playing poker. When I awakened images of what happened in Havasupai last weekend came back to me. I could hear the roaring overflow, snapping wood and boulders. Oh, how I miss Havasupai though with the hiking trail that meanders from the campground onto Mooney Falls and down to Beaver Falls, ending at the Rio Colorado. What a spectacular thing it is to day-dream of Havasupai!

Next week I head to Canyon Lands and Horseshoe Canyon. I’ve invited some people to join me on that excursion but doubt anybody is going along. Surviving Havasupai helped me discover my humanity and the big realm of possibilities. My heart is not going to be bludgeoned by the suit and tie world because I am forever individualistic. Life is a short-lived paradise and my intention is to take advantage of every quick moment. The sheer ruggedness of Canyon Country awaits my return and I will seize every opportunity to be in the wild.

It is nice to have friends along though because you develop a camaraderie that goes totally unrivaled in the materialistic world. Friends become buddies and memories are created that never fade!

Four Havasupai Men Saved Us

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havasupai_flood13

It was a beautiful and pristine weekend on the Havasupai Reservation in Grand Canyon. Late on a Thursday night we hiked eight miles into the Grand Canyon to Supai Village and arrived at the tourist office shortly before day-break. After we paid our dues we headed straight for Supai campground two miles away to set up camp for the weekend. That very same day, I wanted to head back into the village while others went swimming in the falls. That afternoon I visited with various Supai villagers and engaged in small talk. This was my first time to Havasupai and it turned out to be a life-changing experience.

Friday and Saturday I spent hiking with my buddies Robert and Joe. Saturday I wanted to hike 7-8 miles down to the Colorado River from the campground but couldn’t get anyone in our group to accompany me that far so I settled for Beaver falls about three miles down from Mooney Falls. My first impression of the waterfalls in Havasupai was the sheer beauty of the turquoise green waters going through the canyon and the travertine formations that sculpted each spectacular waterfall. It was utterly amazing, it was almost like the first time I set eyes on the Grand Canyon when I was eight years-old. All my life I’ve seen various waterfalls around the Southwest and nothing was on par with Havasupai. Every outdoorsman should go to Havasupai at least once in their lifetime!

Late Saturday night as we were hiking up from Mooney Falls and were told to evacuate the area around Mooney because there was a flash flood warning in effect until ten o’clock. Joe and Robert headed back to camp and I hung around Mooney Falls to shoot a few more images as the waterfall began turning reddish brown. In camp everything was calm that night and we enjoyed an evening with only mild rain.

Around midnight early Sunday, I woke up to people screaming and a man shaking my tent alerting me of the massive flood. As I emerged from my tent I saw the ravine next to the tent filling with a raging torrent. The evening before it was bone dry. Boulders rolled through it with ease being pushed along with sticks and driftwood. On the other side was Havasu creek. It was completely overwhelmed looking more like a muddy Colorado River. All kinds of debris went rushing by including an outhouse, tents, water toys, cottonwood trees and boulders. The floodwaters completely surrounded the high ground that stranded our group of twelve people. There were others; a scout troop with six boys and one other couple with their friend. It became a long night as we all waited for morning to swing around. The water kept rising until 4 A.M. and then slowed down. We made a camp fire and everyone huddled around waiting for morning.

There was a lot of confusion, panic and uncertainty even in the morning when rescuers hadn’t arrived. It wasn’t until around 9 A.M. that four Havasupai men came to our rescue. By this time we saw a couple of private helicopters arriving on the scene. One of them dropped an old rope on our island. The Havasupai men helped us construct a line across the floodwater about 40 feet long but no-one wanted to cross because of the strong flood current. The first to traverse the line was a guy named Jerry and he barely made it. The rest of us would follow after being warned that another wave of flood water was just minutes away from slamming us. One of the Havasupai men said we had three choices; we could cross the line, climb a tree, or drown in the flood! My buddies ran up some trees but I couldn’t get into a tree and that’s when my survival instinct kicked in. I ran towards the ropes with a pack on. The only thing I was carrying was my flute, my camera, a blanket my mother made me when I was a child, and my 150 dollar cowboy boots. Everything else was lost to the flood. I zipped across the rope line. It was easier than I had expected though I did slip but was able to pull myself to safety with the help and encouragement of the Havasupai men. Two more people had crossed before me and everyone else followed across the line except Joe and Robert, my friends from Parowan, Utah. They were still up in trees on the island!

The water was beginning to rise and that’s when I began to snap a little. I felt guilty for crossing the line and having my friends still on the other side. It was tear-jerking! It was hard dealing with the uncertainty as to whether they could make it out or not and I couldn’t bear the thought of them dying in the the flood. The others in our group were from Vegas and when they saw me, they began shouting in unison for Robert and Joe to come across the line. Not long afterwards they arrived and both crossed to safety. The scouts were still on the island as well but there was an old Havasupai man that was able to find an access route to the island on foot and they were able to bring the scouts across quickly and safely before the next surge of floodwater hit. Everyone on the island made it out alive. I was so overjoyed that my friends made it across safely. We all made it higher ground. We followed the four Havasupai up some steep inclines and a hidden trail that lead back to the village two miles away. By the time we arrived in the village there was FEMA warnings posted on the trees letting everybody know that an earthen dam up the river had failed. We were airlifted in Blackhawk helicopters out of the Canyon.

Almost two days have passed since we left Havasupai behind and already I’m missing the beauty, solitude, and tranquility of the water falls. Late last night I dreamed about them. The campground is only thing that really sustains the Havasupai people. Without the tourism they would have a very hard time indeed. Our group is forever indebted to the four Havasupai men that risked their lives to save ours. I may not be writing this if it hadn’t been for them.

I’ve seen the best and the worst of Grand Canyon. While we were all on that island death was a constant reminder that life is short. Looking into that floodwater all night really forced me to introspect carefully about my life. Now I want to experience all that my life has to offer. The blood that runs in my veins is that of a pure desert rat and I’m grateful for this experience and having survived. I hope everyday becomes an adventure or misadventure!

Click Here – For photos of the flood!

Correction made to this post – Only twelve people in our group became stranded on the island. Seven others left earlier before the flood hit.

To the Hitch Hiker and Recluse

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My prayers go out to you tonight wherever you are. May God bless and protect you in your journeys far from home and family. When I’m driving down an empty road I’ll give you a ride and be a friend. I love your stories and how you write poems on leather shoes and how you sing to the southwestern moon. In the darkness on the edge you possess a strong connection to your Creator and he has not forgotten your sleepless wandering soul.

Dreams and Sacred Places

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I’ve dubbed the basement apartment where I’m living “the cave” three houses down from Southern Utah University. Lately I’ve been having vivid dreams at night in the windowless bedroom where I sleep. You can smell the soil of the earth in the foundation. At night I leave the door open to hear the crickets. I share my living space with several room-mates; spiders, ants and centipedes. Those varmints and me, we co-exist! lol… There is a mystery linked to the bedroom. These dreams are wonderful. Some of them are on par with waking reality. Early this morning I dreamed I was floating over a very steep granite canyon somewhere far away. There was dark green grass growing in deep pockets and crevices and calm pools of water reflecting clouds in the sky. It was surreal. The aesthetics surpassed anything I’ve experienced in waking reality. I’ve always been a dreamer. It was Crazy Horse, the great Lakota man that referred to the dream world as closer being to reality and that our waking life was just a shadow of it.

For the past few weeks I’ve been doing quite a few solo hikes. The experience one gains hiking alone in the hills is quite different than hiking with groups of people. You drown in isolation and it swallows you like a blanket. A dense forest surrounds you and takes you far from life’s travails and into the corners of God’s holy mind. The wilderness is my home forever.

So I traverse through life a happy man of gratitude and I am the happiest of individuals. Nothing will take that power from me because it is a part of my spirit. I’ve discovered a beauty that most will never know. There are those who cannot recognize beauty when it surrounds them.

One day I may find my better half and then everything will be complete. There is a song that my mother always sung to me when I was a child, a song that I will sing to my future children. It is one of the most personal songs in my life and it goes like this:

“I know a place where no one ever goes.
There’s peace and quiet, beauty and repose.
It’s hidden in a valley behind a mountain stream.
And there I can find a place – a place where I can dream
Only a place of beauty to the eye,
Snow capped mountains rising to the sky.
Now that I know
That God has created this world for me.
For me. For me!

The songwriter or poet is unknown…

Something Weird Happened in the Hills

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I’m sure glad that things like that don’t happen on a regular basis. Something uncommon and rare doesn’t usually pop out of the bush like it did today. I’m not worried about anything paranormal or to do with wildlife. What I’m worried about are the few two-legged varmints that seem to haunt the hills.

Anyone who spends enough time out there will know that it is common sense to carry some kind of self-defense whenever possible. You don’t want to stumble across someone’s marijuana field in a remote canyon and end up meeting the farmer. Or how about the poachers, cattle rustlers, artifact diggers and fugitives running from the law?

I’ve had my share of awkward and strange encounters with a few creeps and I hope to keep them minimal! Today was rather trippy and I would prefer to end this here for now! 🙂

Mysteries, Miracles and Unknown happenings

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A couple years ago I had an amazing experience not easily explained. In fact I was baffled at first and then totally overjoyed. It all started when I received a fix-it ticket from a highway cop about a month before for a dead tail-light on my Suzuki Samurai. I ended up replacing the whole tail light assembly and was able to find it used at the local junk yard. The problem arose when I neglected to get the ticket taken care of.

I left town for Spring Break that spring and was attending Dixie State College. When I returned I received a letter in the mail from the Hurricane City Justice Court informing me that I had failed to dismiss the citation and also failed to show up in court. In the letter they were threatening to suspend my license, increase my fine and issue a warrant for my arrest. The notice was dated March 9 and the day I received this letter was march 20th. The letter stated that I had to pay the fine within 10 days or these additional charges would apply. I became pretty distressed and called the Hurricane Justice court asap.

When they looked up my case number they said that the ticket had been dismissed and that Nathan Cowlishaw had come in showing proof that the tail light assembly was replaced. The fact is I never went in. They asked me if I had sent someone on my behalf and I told them I did not. The truth is I told no one about my ticket except two family members and they were living hundreds of miles away. During that phone call I had the lady on the other end reverify this information twice and was reassured that my ticket had was dismissed with proof. There were no clerical errors. The citation verification number they had matched the ticket I was holding in my hand. So I hung up the phone and called a few relatives about this.

After all that, I still wasn’t convinced! Being a little obsessive-compulsive I decided to call the court office about twenty minutes later. They located a woman by the name of Lisa. She was the original employee who had engaged in the transaction with the individual that was supposedly me. I spoke with Lisa and she verified that she had spoken to this individual and informed me that his name was indeed Nathan Cowlishaw. She reiterated that he had presented proof that my tail-light assembly had been replaced and they dismissed the ticket.

This is amazing! I don’t know who it was that showed up on my behalf? I don’t know who to thank? I never was at the Hurricane Justice Court to get the ticket dismissed. Lisa said that I must of been doing things right and should thank my lucky stars. To top all that, I was supposed to have a peace officer inspect my tail light and he was supposed to sign the ticket in order for it to be dismissed! Which I never did! That is what makes this a miracle.

I cannot even explain how this could happen logically? Miracles come out of the woodwork when you least expect them. That’s why you never stop believing and always remain hopeful even during those dark struggles in life. Never forget the beauty of this world or the blessings that you’ve been given. I want to thank somebody but don’t know who? I am being watched over and this was one of those unknown happenings.

Early in the Morning

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This morning I listened intently to whistling robins. They were chirping and cheering with an early morning joy. The lovely noise filled me with a bright primordial bliss. There’s a storm rolling in from the desert. The whirling gusts of cold shifting air whip the Ponderosa trees in the yard. The past three days the summer temperatures have spilled into the 90’s but alas the nimble clouds have come to pay Cedar City a visit. Their approach is most anticipated. Never curse the moisture that the Creator provides!

Thankyou God for Canyon Country

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Thank you Heavenly Father for this blessing of harmony. I am so grateful to be a part of the colorful landscape. Canyon Country runs in my blood. It is a part of my soul. When I become old, I want my carcass dumped in a flash flood gully where coyotes may discover my discarded flesh and laugh with joy. May they fill their empty bellies and be content. That is a powerful and pleasant thought.

All around is sand and plateau, the homeland of the Anasazi. Their presence is felt on the ancient wind. Their whispers whistle through pinion and juniper. A spectacular thunderhead trails across the landscape with a cloud shadow dumping rain on the thirsty landscape. The aroma of lightning and wet sage fills the air. Red Indian Paintbrush, Yellow Mustard and Prickly Pear flowers paint the pretty desolation. Welcome to the beauty of Mother Earth and a turquoise Father Sky.

My heart is filled with love for all of God’s creations – for the wailing wind that sings in desert pines. Listen to the old ways when the wasteland shimmers and conjures the past. Like a flickering movie the vision comes alive. My imagination evokes the dreams and they mix with hot summer daylight and rolling thunder. The sweltering sun bakes the land while the thunderhead is an escape from the ultraviolet furnace.

I sweat profusely in the intense dry as the dark rain heads towards my camp. The wind pushes the thunderhead swiftly. The junipers sing with the oncoming assault. Amazing! I’m taking cover in a red nylon tent that flaps and whips violently against the oncoming gusts. The thunderhead descends on my camp ground and strikes full throttle dropping golf-ball-sized rain drops that pound the earth without mercy. The dry beige colored dirt quickly turns dark and saturated rusty brown. A sudden flash of lightning strikes the ground followed by a deafening crack of thunder. As the ground trembles I feel the humbling power of nature.

The Rock Art of Canyon Lands

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There is no way to put into words how you feel when looking at huge murals of strange painted beings floating on canyon walls…

These images predate the Anasazi and when they arrived in Grand Canyon perhaps they were perplexed by the archaic pictography scattered throughout Canyon Country? They give you a sense of awe when hiking to remote places like Horseshoe Canyon or the San Rafael Swell in Central Utah.

I have always been fascinated with rock art. When I was in my early teens I’d check out stacks of books from the library on the subject. It developed an interest that became so powerful I started traveling to all the various sites that I could access and have since visited over 800 panels of rock art in Iron County! I’ve been able to locate 23 different sites with the help of old-timers, ranchers, sheep herders and friends. I’ve stumbled across sites that may not even be known to the general public? The majority of sites found around Iron County were left by the Anasazi and Freemont and not the Western Archaics. What really generates the deepest interest for me is the Barrier Canyon styles of rock art that dominate Horseshoe Canyon, San Rafael Swell, Glen Canyon and the Grand Canyon. I’d like to see some of the locations in Grand Canyon but they are closed off to the public.

My imagination is tempted to roam wild when visiting these places because they have an intuitive power to paint images and create scenes in my mind about the lives and times of these ancient people. They used the atlatl for hunting and created Split Twig Figurines that have been discovered in caves all over the Southwest. Very little is known about the Western Archaic peoples that lived in Utah and Arizona. When it comes to the rock art, one can only speculate and it adds to the power and awe of the Barrier Style that leaves you totally amazed. When looking at the images I do feel a power coming from their forms that suggests; perhaps they are real living entities painted on stone as I’ve heard some Ute people say. When viewing photographs of the images I feel the same lurking emotions. A Paiute friend of mine once said that it was appropriate to leave something of value for the pictographs because they are giving away spiritual power, so it is an exchange… As an artist, I feel compelled at times to incorporate them into my; paintings, sketches and doodles.

One thing that really bothers me is when folks have no respect for these sacred places. One of the biggest problems in the Southwest is the vandalism of rock art. It is disheartening to realize that someone would actually hurt a site. In my years of exploration and visiting various petroglyph/pictograph sites I’ve always been vigilant of those that destroy beauty. Anyone who would vandalize, deface or destroy anything sacred or beautiful is an enemy of mine. So when visiting these sites it is my belief that you should do so with respect and learn to hear the voices of the past. When they are disturbed it destroys the tranquility. When people destroy something so priceless and impossible to replace they are muffling those ancient voices. If you believe in the unseen and mysterious you’re best bet would be to protect these sites from those that would do harm to them. For those that do anything to hurt rock pictures will have unanticipated consequences later down the road; a family member could get sick or something? Over the years I’ve heard the many stories of how people mysteriously vanish in the wilderness without a trace. What goes around comes around and I’ve always remembered that and remain vigilant.

The Lonesome Wasteland

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I am resting by alcove deep in Canyonlands, dreaming of wasteland shadows and the ancient voices from the past. Thank goodness, I am far from town and listening to the sweet sound of crickets and mourning doves in a cottonwood. A dust devil sweeps the arid plain whipping tumble weeds. A dark black raven trails the light azure sky. The sandstone is baked enough to fry and scramble eggs. The desert is an enormous frying pan. The distant elevated plateau dances in a mirage.

I’m alone and surrounded in pure isolation. Sure do miss those monsoon thunderheads that appear in late July. The crazy wind crashes through Juniper and pinion making the sound of white water rapids. Descending into a narrow slot canyon, into purple shade, I feel the cold red sand rise up between my bare toes. And I must admit It’s very lonesome… but its okay!

Where are you my fellow comrades; desert rats, rock climbers, river runners, outlaws and rugged naturalists? Where are you my beautiful sandstone queen?

Outdooritis

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Yes, I’ve been diagnosed with this and too much homework at school is the cause. Right now I am working on a paper about Ethnomethodology and how it has become revolutionary in the field of Sociology. It basically invalidates all the old conventional theories like Marxism. Even society is an illusion to the Ethnomethodologist! Maybe I should become one?

Thanks to desert beauty and crickets on warm summer nights, I know what I crave. I miss the dark monsoon storms of late July rolling over high desert plateaus and listening to the distant rolling thunder. The days are growing longer and trees are becoming green. It is time to go sit on Grandma’s porch and watch the hummingbirds.

Well, I’ve spent most my life living outdoors and being in the hills. This summer I am going to photograph areas of rural Southern Utah. Here’s a new twist, I’m also dating and enjoying a social life. Heck, I’m more sociable than I ever imagined. It’s a piece of cake with the right amount of confidence.

This summer my goal is to do some serious hiking in the outback. Running is a new passion. What I need is a good backpack for trekking. My old one is busted. I have an S.A. 44 Magnum to spook off cougars and black bears, so I feel safe going into the wilderness alone. I’ve already come face to face with a black bear and only pots and pans to bang!

Thoughts on Patience

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It is a real virtue to remain calm when storms unfold. As you think you are getting old now, just keep advancing forward through different levels of maturity. Then you will look back and realize your own immaturities. You will see that wisdom and love are not derived from arrogance or selfishness. Peace and solitude come from selfless introspection and trying your best at finding a way through darkness and suffering. Sadness plays an important role in your progress through life but true happiness is the beauty that brings balance when struggles abound.

King of Trees

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It has become Methuselah
while the sweat of black sun
drips from its wooden claws
which break
timeless howling winds

Daily
the cloud people travel
beyond its barren branches
into the ages
of silence

On the furthest edges
of God’s Holy Imagination
stands the test of time

With dark sandstone
plateaus below and
High above
on it’s heavenly throne
rules the ancient
Bristlecone Pine!

The Beautiful Quiet

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In town I feel like a stranger and so I go home to visit the hills. Them rolling mountains have always been my friends. They are always there waiting. My love for the wild is my inner peace. On deep summer nights the thunder rolls over canyon country and I hear the sound of rain when sleeping on these cold winter nights. Oh, how I miss summer’s warmth…

In a dream, the cottonwoods sway to and fro on a heavy wind. I look into the sky and see patches of cumulus cloud ships as they journey through turquoise blue. And all of this fills an empty void inside. Even in hard times, the beauty gets me by from day to day. It helps me to remember and acknowledge the Creator’s hand in all things.

Life is like a rugged dirt road. It has washboards, puddles, and deep ruts, but my happiness has always been in four wheel drive and I can go anywhere I please. So I don’t let sadness or loneliness creep upon me. There is too much at stake. There is too much to be thankful for.

In the Candled Night

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It is a candled night
in dreams they sleep
vast distances lay between

the firelight dances in their minds

with each passing hour
the dream fades
then grows

an empty void fills
the interior walls
of yesteryear
even yesterday

a vision of pairs
walks carefully down
an imagined street

the soft candled
sky shows fiery hues

spiraling galaxies throw
colorful intensities

all the while
in the deepness of the soul
the heart rakes the
rugged densities of life

the feeling of absence
grows arduous in
dark moonless hours

when a beautiful song
cannot be sung
…i know a place
where no one ever goes…
that is how the song is sung
but silence reverberates

no careful peace is felt
on a moonless night
when stars ignite the heavens

and with the silence
comes no certainty

it is peace and quietness
that claims forested hills
in the isolated mansions of earth

the quietest of solitudes
are discovered

i hear the song in my mind
while sleeping as rip van winkle
under a wise cottonwood
of thick, rattling leaves

it all seems a dream
even the labors of life

when basking
in beauty and repose

in the candled night
i dream of the azure sky
beside a mountain stream
singing the same careful tune

it is in a far off place
somewhere
far away

Changing Course Just a Little…

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I’ve returned to Southern Utah University to finish my schooling. I am not too far from finishing a degree in Sociology. I will pursue graduate school after that and get a masters degree. My interest is Cultural Anthropology or a related field of study. So I’ve returned after a two year absence.

I’ve been working as a wilderness guide, and have enjoyed many life changing ventures. Being able to traverse the vast distances of the Desert Southwest is a blessing. Being footloose and careless though hasn’t given me the happiness that I would like that usually comes from human affection and finding someone that truly loves you. While the isolation and separation from society is something that I desire, I would like to experience the freedom and responsibility that comes from settling down and raising a family someday. Finishing school is important to a stable and secure future! As much as I love the mountains and prospecting the mysteries of this world, I also have the same desire to start a family one day!

Life is short. There are many blessings in my life. The other night, I was reading the works of Robert Service, and read a poem about men that don’t fit in. I tend to feel like one of them, but I am not going to be one that dies a lonesome and sad hermit. Life is not going play a jolly good joke on me! The truth is, being human and being happy, means having loved ones around and being surrounded by those that care for you. For without love, beauty could not exist. It is my love for the mountains and deserts that make them beautiful! But love is powerful, it is drawn from so many different faucets and they are all interwoven.

Faith and Steadfastness

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When the hardest trials come knocking on your door, that’s when you have to have the strongest faith and steadfastness. That is how it feels. That is the way it always will be. You will not be rewarded until after all the trials of your faith. The truth is that life is unpredictable. The way people react is completely unpredictable. Having a lot of faith is not for the faint of heart. My faith is strong this Sunday morning. I believe strongly in the Creator and am grateful for a powerful blessing that has come into my life. But the truth is, the path through life isn’t an easy path, but it is up to all of us to stay the course. It is my belief that all of life is a test to see if we will remain true and faithful, and endure to the end.

Early this morning, I awakened to the soft winter light seeping through my window as I was pondering everything in reality like what should I do with my life? Where should I go? How hard am I willing to go, to reach my goals and to find true happiness? Faith is for all things hoped for that are not seen…

Between Birth and Death

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My love of life is incredible and God made me into a pillar of light. Because I am happy to be free, to roam the quiet folds of reality, to travel the haunted night. I drive a small vehicle down the back roads and dirt roads of a big sky desert. My time is short on earth, but spectacular! When I die, allow the coyotes, buzzards, and varmints to eat my satisfied remains. in the end, I want to give something back to the world of creation that spawned me. How grateful I am to be a part of the grand scheme, from birth to death, in a world of the thriving unknown. Where ghosts lurk behind creaky doors and phantoms float the sandy canyons and the wind truly wails.

Remember Beauty When Feeling Uncertain

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I’m gearing to go somewhere in the next few weeks to go camping for a few days alone. I’m looking at Canyon Lands, or over to Cedar Mesa, by Blanding.

Life is good you know, but times can be rough. That’s why sometimes you have to get out and smell the juniper and pinion, and listen to the wind whistle and cut through pine needles. It is a healing song almost, just to hear the wind and the creaking wood of those old trees. You know what I really love to hear? The thunder late on a summer night, somewhere in Canyon Country, and see the faint flash of lightning in the distance. Think of a flash flood ripping down a slot canyon towards the Pariah, out there on the Great Escalante Grand Staircase. It rattles the earth with boulders, logs, and uprooted trees. The power of this planet is awe-inspiring.

The beauty of life is extraordinary. But we only have a short time on this earth to find harmony. And when I am sad, or lonesome, all I have to do is think of the immense beauty that this world brings to all of us. Surely, I am grateful for such splendors and mysteries.

In a time when materialism and greed dominate the earth, and the heart of mankind is deteriorating at rapid speed, I can think about the quietness that lurks in the shadows and this harmony carries my soft heart away. It is those quiet places that most of us choose to ignore, but something is always there, waiting, unconditionally.

And so when I venture far from town, into the deep woods or into the desert, I feel like I’m going home, especially in these difficult times. They are uncertain times, and I know where beauty is found, it is a quiet peace in my heart that is all-too-hard to describe.

Busy Bees They Are

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In the darkness, when the stars flood the heavens, there are unknown things that prowl the night. The heavens bathe sandstone outcroppings and the landscape in soft, faint, interstellar glow. Coyote laughter disturbs the silence. The border collie begins barking wildly into the black, waking you from sleep. The coyotes head up the dry wash past the ranch house, chanting and singing an ancient song. The clamor grows faint until nothing is heard, while the wind softly carries an aroma of juniper and wet sage from off of higher plateaus. Earlier that day, a small sprinkle of rain was powerful enough to release the sweet smells of desert flora.

While the darkness grows thicker and the heavens deeper, there is a celebration going on. They work feverishly and tirelessly, moving in and out of unknown channels. Those cobweb networks are teaming with life, and they are busy bees, they are… Can you barely hear the noise, when alone in your camp? Do you see a faint glow from the mountain-side? Maybe it was just a mere shimmer of light… or it was nothing at all. Do you care to venture into the abyss?

Feeling Those Instincts

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My writing is picking up. I am sitting alone in a motel room and extremely satisfied. What do ya know! At the moment I feel liberated after traveling long highway stretches and winding through steep rocky canyons. I am the nomadic vagabond!

Tomorrow, I’ll be tearing across the Colorado Plateau from high ponderosa desert to sage covered sandstone mesa. The sweet smell of life and laughter is just fabulous, joyous, and spectacular. I sit all amazed at the center of this Creation. This world is apart of me. My mind is with the shifting clouds that roam colorful vistas.

Life is about love. Loving life is the key to truth and happiness. My thoughts are very active tonight. Something unusual is about to come out of the woodwork. These feelings are like clock work and I’m vigilant. The world is about to change, maybe.

Goodnight Folks. Freedom Rules!

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