Uncategorized

The Mystery is in Control

by

I’ve been posting to this blog since 2003. I’ve owned this domain since I was a teen. My heart has changed very little since my younger years. My perception of the world has morphed completely and I’ve come to realize the most spectacular beauty in this world is the Mystery. Allowing things to be dictated by the Mystery always puts me on the right course. Everything happens for a reason and we don’t always know why. It is best to let things move along after leaving a track, a mark, or a simple word, whether it’s for another human being or a group. Life is only complex if you try controlling it. I’m in harmony with my life. It’s lonesome at times, but it has been a good experience.

It is quiet outside… Only the ancient wind howls. It comes to visit in dreams.

Driving into the Desert

by

The power lines run alongside the road with each pole leaning one way or the other. They have become a part of the western landscape. Every road follows a string of power lines. Every sunset is filled with airplane exhaust trails.

There is a rooster tail of dirt behind my wheels and I watch the far flung city disappear in my rear view mirror. To the mountains I go, to the lovely isolation. Beneath the fall sky and wintry clouds, the sun is glazing the Great Basin. Somewhere in those Junipers, it is waiting, a place to visit long ago. It’s not hard leaving the madness and bickering behind for the quiet universe. There is a beauty inside that I can never put down. And to the world of rocks, animals, and trees, I go.

Land of the Nuwuvi

by

I’m working two jobs at the moment. One is Bar 10, out in the Grand Canyon. The other, Bundu Bashers, out of Park City. My last tour is on the 6th. I guess, I’m done with work for the season. This is a three-day tour beginning when I pick folks up on the Vegas Strip. The first day we visit Zion National Park and Grand Canyon. One of the days we have Navajo guides take them to Antelope Canyon and then over to Monument Valley. On the third day, we go to Horseshoe Bend, Bryce Canyon, and then back to Vegas. For three more hours I drive back up to Cedar City. On the way, I stop at the Moapa Paiute Travel Plaza to gas up and look around the shop.

I’d like to go camping in the Mormon Mountains pretty soon. They are apart of the Mojave desert and north of Moapa. Maybe to a place called Welcome Springs. It’s warm during during the fall and real isolated. For a week I went into that country and never saw another two-legged, just wild horses. Of course that was more in the high country on the way to Pioche, through Rainbow Canyon. In the old west, Pioche was one of the most lawless towns in Navada. It is said that there were more then 75 men killed in shoot-outs before anyone actually died of natural causes.

So after these tours, I’m going to travel the Mojave this next winter. Most of Central and Southern Nevada are part the ancestral homelands of the Nuwuvi, or Southern Paiute. I just finished reading a fictional account of a great Southern Paiute Warrior by the name of Mouse… The chairman of the Moapa tribe is quoted on the back of the book, giving it praise. The author isn’t native. I thought it was pretty good read. Although I know books are all-to-often, subjective. There’s a place in the Valley of Fire, which is also known as the Place of Birth to the Southern Paiute, where Mouse hid out and continually resisted the European invaders in his homeland during the 19th century. He was a thorn in the side of the Mormons that lived in his country. Good for Mouse! If you visit the Valley of Fire, north of the Moapa Indian Rez, there is a place the locals call Mouse’s Tank where he spent his days of resistance. There’s a lot of history in Southern Nevada, and it’s pretty interesting. Most of it is unknown to a lot of people.

Some of the folks are getting to know me at the travel plaza, because of all the stops I make while doing this job. When I was younger though, my cousins, brother, and I, we would usually stop there to load up on fireworks before heading off to go camping. We’d travel to places like Hamblin Valley, or north of Pioche, up into the Pinon country. In the fall, you can gather pine nuts. The Travel Plaza itself, is a truck stop, book store, gift shop, clothing store, casino, and everything else. It has one of the largest stock piles of fireworks in Southern Nevada. Pyro Heaven!

So this winter, I’ll venture where wild horses roam and the wind constantly moves. Nevada is a big sky state. It isn’t hard to get lost while roaming hundreds of miles through the interior. After all the time I’ve spent, I have barely scratched the surface.

Southern Nevada is a land of the Nuwuvi and I will always remember it as such. When I take visitors through, I tell them about the Southern Paiute and the folks that run the Plaza. The last time I was there, I locked my keys in the shuttle van while getting gas. Luckily one of the employees had some knowledge about opening locked doors. He unlaced his shoe and made a noose out of a shoelace. Carefully we pried a side window in the van. He slipped the noose through the opening. It took about an hour before this boy was able to get the noose onto the locking mechanism, and unlock the door. I was amazed!

The Cold is Coming

by

It grows cold tonight. The twilight is winter red. The leaves are gold and orange. Not long now and cottonwood skeletons will be exposed in canyon bottoms. Time to go to Cal’s ranch with my next paycheck and get me a Carhartt jacket for the winter snow and muck.

The Colorado Plateau has some of the most spectacular landscapes when they are decked in snow. The good thing about this time of year; no more tourists, no more commercial RVs crowding the back roads. The highways are mostly quiet in the winter, especially out by Tropic and Escalante, Utah.

Wagon of Ashes

by

inside the doorway of the traveling sky,
there is quiet peace in this world.

although there is a lonely wagon filled with ashes
it wonders past sea and mountain, and through the valleys.

when it gets dark and black.
without sight, does it wonder
and cannot find peace.

the children that knew, are crying,
while their parents lay in bed dying.
and so the only mother of them all
went to her autumn grave,
and soon the peaceful snow gathered.

the wagon wonders,
with it’s ashes.

In the dark it wonders.

but in dreams, the children are free
where burdens do not exist.
where suffering has no season.

sad world, sad people.
God has been abandoned,

in a hidden place,
the wagon of ashes has stopped,
far away beneath the treeless moon.
the stars are freezing in the bitter cold.

the children that knew are crying,
while their parents were dying,
in the realm of this sad, sad world.

Go into the Wilderness My Friend

by

Dream of the old way.,
Vanish into the back woods.
The power of the wind is strong.
There is a shadow in the trees.

The powerful mystery speaks.
Dream of the spirit life
Where boundless solitude is found.
Go into the desert alone
Because it is calling you.

There’s a spirit home for every soul.
And the shadow waits.
In the hills over yonder
The mystery sleeps.

The sun is shining in a quiet world
of peace and stillness
Where the forever hills sleep,
that is where you should go

If you are a child of the mountains.

The Sound is Strong

by

The sky is full of storm,
As I retire for the night,
listening to the dense wind blow.
The rain begins to tap the house.

This past summer
the trees were buzzing with ghosts.
And there on the edges of reality
a fiery noise did grow.
The noise is unquiet.
Listen as the coyotes howl…

Praise to those that can hear
the powerful song of beauty.
Beware to those
who do not recognize anything.

The beauty of the wilderness
is beating inside me.
Scenes from an ancient ponderosa forest
flower in dreams, deep at night.
These dreams radiate with the glow
of black sun and turquoise sky.
Wind dashes through the pines
like white water rapids.

The sound is strong, listen.
Love the beauty.
For whatever may come,
be ready!

Thanks to the Folks that Make My Day!

by

People are awesome and lovable. Taking them into the outback to see the beauty, we grow to become close friends and acquaintances. It makes me realize that I could not be happy without good company in my life, and when we are able to connect, we all listen to truth and there is no hard feelings. When hearts are open and listening, truth flourishes and that has been happening on the tours I’ve been giving. The experiences go beyond the commercialism. Folks from all over the world come to see the Southwest and when they are with me, they learn about the cultures and the history of the landscape. They walk away with worth-while knowledge. People ask questions and have a deep desire to learn. When they are given correct info, to the best of my capabilities, they are thankful and responsive. Now folks are sending emails to the company I work for, with good things to say on my behalf, and I am grateful for those words of kindness.

I’m going out to Toroweap to camp with my brother today. So I have something to do. I’m just kicking around here in Cedar City for the rest of the winter, pondering a move to Santa Fe. Last night I dropped my guests off on the Las Vegas Strip (Uglyville), and stopped in at the Moapa Piaute Travel Plaza to buy some powwow music. I’ve become a regular there, getting gas every time I pass through. This job is almost done for the season! It sure didn’t last long. On the way home I was listening to music; From The Underworld of Redboy, a really good native recording by Robbie Robertson… Amazing stuff!!!

Between Sleeping and Waking

by

The glorious evening was chilly with late monsoonal clouds entering Cedar Valley. They were on the outer limits of the city. Lightning exited a massive thunderhead that lead other cloud soldiers. Trees were bending and swaying to the relentless gusts that brought fine sediments in from the bone-dry Great Basin. It is getting late, the sun has already vanished behind bellowing clouds.

It is dark outside. No stars. In my sleep, I hear the rain and thunder as it plays out in dreams. I’m hiking somewhere in canyon country, surrounded by contrasting red and yellow cliffs, stained by desert varnish. In the vision, the cottonwood grandfathers are talking to me with their creaky branches in a creek bottom.

When awake, reality is a stunning vision. Life is not easy, but the beauty is constantly all around me. The mountains, clouds, animals, trees, rocks, and the rugged Southwest. Away from the towns, the manzanita and tammerisk grow wild. Sunflowers crowd the shoulders of dirt roads. Juniper choke the vast foothills. Off the beaten path lay the remnants of archaic peoples. Looking at sacred images on the rocks, it is hard to imagine the monsters that must have co-existed with humans. Were they supernatural entities? These rock paintings are alive and radiate with spirit. I leave them a gift.

Over in Page

by

Unpublished Journal Entry from 11/09/2007:

The Stars are out. I’m in Page, Arizona finishing off some Blue Corn Mush, Mutton Stew and Frybread; the perfect Navajo Dinner. Delicious! It was abnormally warm in Bryce Canyon, today. During this time of year it gets real cold.

I love moonless nights, with a candled skies. It is that way tonight! I’m going to Monument Valley tomorrow. A place I always love to visit. Tomorrow we stay in Tuba City on the Big Rez. I’d like visit another Navajo Flea Market they occasionally host; a lot of neat stuff to see.

I’m missing summer. Soon the landscape will be calm and painted in snow. An occasional Mule Deer will stroll through the pinion, foraging.

A Supernatural Wind

by

The ferocious wind
whips through tree branches.
I close my eyes and imagine
it’s a dark and supernatural wind
blowing civilization into oblivion.
The wind is singing, howling, and rushing.
The sound is perfect, superb, and beautiful.
Into the ocean deep mind, I descend
remembering ancient days.
It is summoning the anarchy
that burns in my soul.
Where’s an escape
that leads to the past?

Good News, A New Job

by

Well, I’m falling into a rut they call a career. As of late, I accepted a much anticipated job working for Bundu bashers. They give tours all over the Southwest, to many National Parks, and I really look forward to giving this company by best effort, for the last part of the season… The job goes until the mid part of November or whenever the tours die down. More and more, I feel comfortable working as a tour guide, and educating people about the Southwest and its history. The real reward from this type of work is all the wonderful people that I get to meet, who are coming from all over to see and experience a beauty that has been my back yard and stomping ground, my whole life! It was amazing and fulfilling to work as a wilderness guide in Grand Canyon. The Creator has truly blessed my life!

Tonight, I just got back from the family ranch where I was cutting Alabaster stone, and down-sizing it for our ndn customers. The stone was excellent, it almost rang like a church bell! That is the sign of good carving Alabaster. I’ve been thinking hard about sculpting more stone, as this is a resource, available at my finger tips. Are there any beautiful female stone carvers out there, that would be interested in a guy like me!?

Anyways, I’m really trying to frequent my blog more often and post. I even changed the layout! There’s little things that are driving me through the wall though, about the design. It’ll take time to iron it out to my liking. Rome was not built in a day.

I love life, I really do!!!

A Slight Hint of Autumn

by

Autumn is coming. The rain was cold yesterday, but I’m always wearing cowboy-cut wranglers which provide good insulation. In the dead heat of Central Arizona, I’m wearing blue jeans, good protection against rattlers and thorny bushes. The trees in town are still dark lush green. The oak on the mountain has not turned yellow, yet. Autumn is a season for whirl-winds and dust-devils, which I see more of in September and October. The harvest brings warm weather but colder nights on Southern Utah’s high desert. It is a choice time for camping in Canyon Country. The heat isn’t so intense and the threat of flash flooding is small. The monsoon storms are quieting down. And soon the rattlers and blow snakes will hibernate, together. The landscape will become still, with a rush of autumn leaves in the wind.

This weekend, my brother, his wife, and I, are going camping for my birthday. I turn twenty-six. In many ways, I still feel very young, but the days are creeping by. Will I ever find another person to share my life? The loneliness does not bother me, which surprises a few. I’m actually very content. Folks are saying to me, hop on the band-wagon, get married, have a bunch of kids! That’s fine, I’m in no rush! That is the small town mentality of Utah. It ain’t uncommon to see a family of twelve walking down the street. There’s a Brady-Bunch in every extended family!

Joe’s wife has never been camping without a tent! She’s a city girl from Mesa, but not so sophisticated. She’s become countrified by Southern Utah culture. With a slip of the tongue I’ve already heard the words, ain’t, gots, reckon, and ya’all! She promised my brother she would sleep in the desert, under the stars, without a tent! We’re going to Toroweap, Calf Creek Falls, or the San Rafael Swell? It’s my decision. She’s never been to the Toroweap Overlook, in Grand Canyon – A 3,500 foot drop to the Colorado River.

About the Great Change

by

I believe in the existence of aliens, bigfoot, and most other phenomena. I think it naive to say nothing is there, because we live in a universe where the possibilities are infinite. Just look at the stars on a clear night out in the middle of nowhere! We do not always understand what is happening in our world, but it should be our responsibility to observe nature. Those mysterious entities may be spiritual manifestations, warning us! The earth is teaming with life, but even the power of life is unknown. Can science even begin to tell us about the soul and meaning of life? Hell no!

For a long time now, I have ventured into the wild, avoiding the every day rut. When I enter a mega-store, I feel the artificiality of our pop-culture, the greed of our doing, and I see all this ugly consumerism trying to drown me in its depths. Is this a culture of greed? Yes. I will not conform. I will not accept the status quo. My enemies are those that destroy beauty.

I’ve listened to the silence of deep canyons, of isolated desert landscapes. The beauty keeps me alive and moving. The natural world seems to be telling us that a great and powerful change is on the way…

The physical warnings are the earth quakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, tornadoes, and record weather patterns. These are physical precursors. All over the world, things are not the same any more. It is undeniable. People are gathering who hear the mysteries. A growing chorus of them are trying to do something about it. When I was down on the Colorado River, they were talking about strange things going on in the canyon! They say there is more radiation in the Grand Canyon then ever before.

Perhaps more folks will see the mysteries of the unknown, as time draws further towards a close. I’m moving away from the consumerism and secularism, and from those that say there is no spiritual power in this world! That is how I’ve become personally sovereign. Even my personal relationship with the Creator has been a lonely one, but it is strong. My advice, follow the roots of truth, and listen to the unknown!

Thinking of New Mexico

by

I feel the winds of New Mexico up here in Utah, I think the time draws near for me to spend a season or so in that country? I’m thinking of moving to Santa Fe, Gallup, or Farmington, and get out of Utah for a while. I think when I go to settle down it will be over in Blanding, or Moab, Utah. I really like the high desert country of the enchanted state. So much beauty!

Always live life to the fullest. Never quit or fall short of the goals you set, or the dreams you have. Go all the way, the whole way. Life really is too short. I’ve fulfilled two goals of mine; living and working in the Grand Canyon, and running the entire length of the Colorado River in Grand Canyon! Another goal of mine is to live within Canyon Lands National Park for a year. How do I go about achieving this?

Yes, New Mexico is a happy thought, tonight.

The Old Ranch House

by

Our ranch house was never finished, it is a dream that remains incomplete. Construction began in the late 80’s but money problems hindered us from ever finishing it. Luckily my grand parents have a small home in Parowan, Utah. I live in Cedar City, and work for them part time. The ranch has the silence of a ghost town and the building itself is aging slowly. All around lay huge piles of Alabaster that we’ve collected and hauled in over the years. Native artisans from all over the Southwest travel to our stone yard to buy or trade for Alabaster carving stone. It is located near the town of Summit, Utah; between Cedar City, and Parowan. If you are traveling down I-15 and approach the Summit exit, look for a cinder pit mine to the south on the mountain, right below is the ranch. You’ll see all the rocks! It is not a business where we’ve made the greatest living. We have struggled like most other folks. In the winter months, life grows difficult with no customers coming for several months at a time. The Alabaster has allowed us to survive, though. There is something associated with the stone that adds to the silence. In the hills that surround our little ranch lays ancient ruins, rock art sites, scattered fire pits, and so many other things. All of Iron County seems entrenched in those ancient remnants!

By default, we like to call our retreat; Meadowlark Ranch, because of all the birds that congregate there. My grandfather emulates the meadowlark and sings, Summit… is a pretty little place! We have a 78 acre piece of land with a meadow to the east end of the property. Mule Deer gather in fall and winter to use it throughout the cold months, so we have a horrendous problem with poachers. Over the years I’ve spent hiking around the property, I’ve come across deer that were shot dead for no reason at all except to have their antlers removed. When I was younger, I seen two dead bucks leaned up against each other and stuffed in a basalt crevice with the antlers sawed off. Such experiences really anger me. I cannot stop stereotyping the rednecks that do this. They are the worst breed of Southern Utah White Trash; they are those that destroy the soul of the wild. Damn them!

The Ghosts of Braffits Creek

by

I spent a day in the silence of our ranch, reliving some those experiences that still lurk on the outer edges of time and space. A supernatural wind howled and groaned, pushing cloudships across blue sky, and causing the empty ranch house to creak. Alone, I felt an intense euphoria as if something from the deep hills had come to pay me a visit! There’s a canyon nearby, Win Canyon, and Braffits Creek trickles down the left fork. The brush and undergrowth chokes the creek bottom, all the way up into the aspen and pine forests above. Braffits Creek may not seem like much, but to our family, it is somewhat sacred. We have stories that originate from there; even I have had personal experiences while hiking and exploring the area.

Braffits Creek is truly a strange place… My uncle and I came out of there late one summer night, with experiences that are hard to describe, like a child’s footprint in the middle of a mud bar near the creek, or the crazy laughter of an unknown animal rushing through the dense bushes. How do you describe those experiences? Will folks ever believe? In so many way, I’ve allowed those amazing experiences to fade into history.

Navajoland and Beyond…

by

I have the wanderlust bug. There are so many places that I want visit. My dream is to move around the Southwest, and visit all those desert landscapes between Los Angeles and Santa Fe. I’ve admired those hitch-hikers that travel great American highways, like the famous, but deceased, Chris McCandless…

I have become somewhat a transient, myself. Not like those folks that spent so much personal time in isolation. I haven’t always been the best of friends and have fallen short of promises to keep, but I constantly need the human element. I depend on human acquaintances, friendships, and close family. I go to them for social replenishment, even nurturing, but often fail to return the favor. Without people in my life, I would be a dead man.

Instead of hitch-hiking, which I did a little in my teen years, I prefer to drive a camouflage-brown Samurai all over the West. This last summer, I spent a lot of time in Navajoland. I pick up every hitch-hiker out there on the rez, just to visit. Going places and meeting new people is always worth every mile. The summer before, I gave one of our stone customers a ride clear from Cedar City down to Tuba City. It was a good excuse to travel. He is one of our long-time customers, who had hitched a ride all the way up to our rock yard from off the rez. He needed sculpting Alabaster bad enough, and so I volunteered to drive him home. Later on, I went to an event in Flag, then headed up to camp near Lake Powell, in the hills north of Big Water. All the while, the suit and tie people continue to flourish and so do I! Not many people have the opportunity to wander all over tarnation, surely what this means is to experience true freedom instead of an illusion…

I made two very unique trips to Navajoland and Hopiland this summer. I drove on back roads around Big Mountain and Black Mesa. One major reason was to see the gaping wounds of Peabody Coal, one of the largest strip mining operations in the West. The first trip started in Chinle; I drove up through Keams Canyon, entering Hopi Territory. Just before dusk, I left the small village of Shungopovi and journeyed all night, careful not to rush. The stars were enormous in the heavens, there were deep ruts in a dirt road that leads to the coal fields. The wash-boards were nightmarish. Small communities, homes, and ranches were dispersed all over. Out there, folks seem to worry about outside travelers, reminding me of people back home… While checking the oil, three different individuals had stopped out of concern. One guy asks if I was lost and another wanted to know if my engine was having trouble.

After traversing some of those roads, I cannot imagine what it would be like to commute these routes on a daily or weekly basis; having to haul water or go to work, etc!? The nearest highway is 20-40 miles away. Approaching Peabody Coal Mine in the middle of the night with bright orange industrial lights was coming face to face with a monstrous and fiery industrial dragon that pierces wilderness at the very heart. It’s all found on top of a high plateau covered in Juniper, Pinion, and Cedar. Big Mountain and Black Mesa are at the heart of the Navajo Nation. It is an area considered sacred to Navajo people. On my second trip out there, it was mid day, and the landscape changed. It didn’t look as bad. The hills surrounding the mines were green with sage. Healthy monsoon clouds poke-a-dotted the sky. The air was fresh. It tasted and smelled good. Of course looks are deceiving, I’m aware of that!

Speaking of This Beauty

by

There are so many good things in life like the sunset that bathes the sandstone mittens of Monument Valley, Arizona, or the soft whistle of a meadow lark on the high desert of Southern Utah. The clouds are constantly changing while the rock filled landscapes change slowly beyond our reality in geological time. It would be a once-in-a-lifetimes experience to witness a natural rock slide from the side of a granite mountain, or weathering mesa. These deserts of the Southwest endure the hottest summers and most frigid winters, but their surfaces soak in the deepest evening sunlight of every sunset, and warmth of every sunrise. It makes the landscapes of the Southwest part of the supernatural realm. It is where one can find peace between Father Sky and Mother Earth.

It is a constant search to learn about the native history and stories of the Southwest. I am not indigenous, but have an strong desire to know the truth and history of the land of my birth. It is important to understand the people that came long before me or my ancestors. There is this knowledge unknown to most common folk. Another desire is to come to understand the mysteries of the land and find affinity with the unknown. History goes beyond the text book, deeper then our modern life.

There is this tree that I know and I’m working very hard to find the roots. When I was younger, I discovered a beauty that I can never put down. It is with me every day, guiding me slowly, but carefully. The Creator is watching out for me. It’s all about this beauty, learning and finding ways to show respect.

On the Way to Tuba City, AZ

by

It was cool enough this morning, but the sun is now cooking the desert alive and I’m sweating pretty badly. Venturing across Navajoland, I come across the aged shell of an abandoned gas station bathed in graffiti. One mural is two large eagle feathers tide together, with the phrase, STILL HERE, sprayed in red paint below. On the other side K-Town is written, slang for Kayenta, a town close to the east. The wind is cutting through the power lines along the highway and the monster cottonwood creaks. There’s a bunch of dogs barking from a nearby residence while an old Navajo drags a pallet on a chain behind his 77 Chevy, grading the dirt road back to the house.

Traveling and Moving Around

by

I’ve been moving around the Southwest far from home. The first journey was a 1,600 mile loop around Arizona passing Hoover Dam, traveling along Route 66, down through Prescott, and as far south as Tucson. This is around the time my brother was getting married to a girl from Mesa, Arizona.

On the ancient Colorado, I had the opportunity to be Swamper for Arizona River Runners for one trip and worked my tail off. That is because one of the gals that was susposed to go had a medical condition at the last moment. So this oppurtunity was pretty rare and was told that getting a paid position on the river in my situation was like winning a contest. So I was able to skip the volunteer (work-your-way) position somewhat. My whole life I’ve been visiting Grand Canyon, but never had the chance of going down the river. Folks down there get a little trippy; they’re the whiskey-vodka drinking crowd, but I enjoyed the company. Sleeping on the pontoon every night, the stars were incredible. The river’s current rushed just feet from my head and it plays out in dreams and visions.

After the river, I traveled around Navajo land, going over to Shiprock, up to Blanding, down to a Tuba City flea market, and stayed in Monument Valley for two days. I went to several look out points above the Goosenecks of the San Juan River, like Muley Point. My whole idea was to venture up to Canyon Lands, but was missing Navajoland, so I returned to Monument Valley.

I’m back home in Cedar City, but already anticipating another road trip; maybe something more than that?

Note: Edited June 26th to add a few more details.

Last Day at Bar 10, Tomorrow

by

Well it’s my last two days at the ranch, ten miles from Grand Canyon. Where my path goes from here, is unknown. Bruce at Arizona River Runners is giving me the chance to run the Colorado this summer. It looks like a dream coming true, finally! After an experience on the river, I’ll have enough material to stay busy writing for a while. Tomorrow is the last day for me, so I’ll make it the best one of them all.

Today, the desert was a furnace. The mens bunkhouse felt like a greenhouse in Death Valley. There’s honey bees and bumble bees all over the place. The tree in front of the Bar 10 Lodge is flowering and sounded like electricity with all the bees.

Everything seems to be flowering; the cliffrose, Hedgehog Cactus, the prickly pear with yellow or pink flowers, and dozens of other shrubs and cacti. The canyon is coming alive. Foot-long dragon-like lizards are basking in the sun, and running around on the men’s bunkhouse. The Great Basin Spade Footed toad has made himself known scaring some of the guests at night… they think there’s a yanni lurking nearby; after hearing a few stories of course!

Life is grand. I’m here at the ranch alone, again. It’s times like these that I find a chance to write a little in my journal. Things are working out just fine. I shot my Uberti 357 at some rocks down in the wash tonight, while listening to the crickets and wind. The dusk set in, and the shadows of Whitmore Canyon grew long.

All is quiet as I head to bed, ready for the final day…

Bad News

by

Every river company I have spoken with have no volunteer work available for folks like me. Yet, river guides like Tom Vail are telling me that I must go down the river 6-10 times as a volunteer before I can be considered for any real job on the river. Maybe I’ll go down the Colorado like good old Buzz Holmstrom; a man with real courage, who by himself, traversed the entire length of the Grand Canyon. It’s larger then life and I am forced to dream. I’m tired of dreaming, I want a piece of the action, thrill, and beauty. Give me constant adventure, that’s all I crave on this crazy planet. The beauty of the hills is all that makes any sense. I’m sick of going everywhere else. I’m an explorer always feeling restless. If I don’t find some way to break the tension, I swear I’m going to go do something funny like attempt a solo river trip!

Slow Moving Storm

by

Buzzing power lines cut the wind
The wind howls and moans as darkness grows.
Winter pushes spring feelings away,
And brings dark cloud ships
that hug mountains,
shrouding them in eerie mist.
Fog enters the desert basin.
Mule Deer gather in cottonwood groves.
Flakes of snow start to invade.
The sun’s heat has faded.
The storm moves slow.
By morning, theres eighteen inches of
Fresh powder and growing.

Far from Civilization

by

Last week the boss gave me a chance to go out alone on a quad, so I packed some food, water, and a camera and left to explore some of the real remote parts of the Grand Canyon. I stopped and looked out over Parashant Canyon, went up to Whitmore Point, and explored countless ranch roads. There is nothing like feeling solitude in the most isolated pockets of Grand Canyon. You don’t feel the same when others are with you. The beauty and aloneness is unrivaled. I spent the majority of time scouting cliff edges, deep ravines, and spiraling canyons. Man I’m going places that even river guides never see. Now I am back in town and there’s nothing to do but daydream of the quiet beauty. I know what I want to do for the rest of my life, live peacfully, far from town.

Fact is Stranger then Fiction

by

I am always reminding myself that fact is stranger then fiction, it gives me the ability to have faith in the unbelievable. It is not hard to feel the power of this world, but the truth isn’t always in reach. There is a strong force running through my veins to seek the unknown. I have the oppurtunity to experience the world, by the grace of God, and seek infinite truth. Life itself is a miracle and a mystery. The quote below is from a movie titled; Second Hand Lions. It carries a lot of weight in my book. Truth is always within reach if you’re willing to accept the things which cannot always be seen…

“Hub: Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things a man needs to believe in the most. That people are basically good; that honor, courage, and virtue mean everything; that power and money, money and power mean nothing; that good always triumphs over evil; and I want you to remember this, that love… true love never dies. You remember that, boy. You remember that. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. You see, a man should believe in those things, because those are the things worth believing in.”

Out of the Woodwork

by

In three months my job is done. It is a stepping stone to achieve greater things, and I am thankful to the folks at Bar 10. I’ve been a tour guide sense August. When April swings around, I’m going camping for a week, alone. I’m tired of people. It’s time to be alone in the pines. One day I’ll start looking for a companion, but I don’t feel the time is right now.

This morning I awakened from a strange and terrible dream. But I don’t mention these things often, as dreams are very personal. The events in a dream could be very imortant so I choose not to exploite them; even if they are just for the individual. I will reveal one truth, a lot of my writings have been inspired from those sleep-time episodes!

To change the subject quickly, I’ve gotta admit that I’m a strong a believer in the unseen. This world is all about finding truth. And I don’t base my truth in science and philosophy, but in how I feel deep in the spirit. I know without a doubt there is a Creator. What bothers some Christian folks, is that they cannot invade my personal sovereignly and cannot comprehend my love for the Creator, and the beauty and power of this world…

To end this post in an abstract and confusing way, I have one good question to ask! When are people going to stop depending on Western Civilization? I’m saying that straight out of the woodwork.

Quiet December Night

by

It’s another dark night at the ranch, in the lodge. I’m spending the evening alone, but I love the isolation and personal time out here. A few minutes ago, I got back from turning the generator off for the night. The batteries have enough juice to power a few lights, the T.V., and the computer in the lodge. They are generous to allow me to use their PC, which uses a satillite connection. It’s dark in the deep desert. The grand canyon is covered in black with nothing but the stars. The moon will probably come out later.

A bobcat came across the lawn in front of the lodge just after the sun went down. They’re not very big animals.. I watched it for a few seconds then gave it a little surprise. It took of at incredible speed down the hill and through the wash, and was gone. Since last August and I’ve seen kit foxes, coyote, antelope, bob-cats, birds of prey, and most of everything living in the Grand Canyon. We have a pet road runner which hangs out like some close friend. He ruffles his feathers when basking in the sun. I’d like to know why he does that? The bobcat was quite a treat.
In the morning, I’ll drive one of the company vans across the Arizona Strip to Saint George, 85 miles away. There are some steep dugways as you head out of Whitmore Canyon, and climb elevation, passing by the Mount Logan Wilderness Area. There’s an old pioneer school house about 13 miles north, and then there’s the endless expanse valleys and mountains. The Arizona Strip is one of the most isolated areas in the United States. National Geographic magazine calls it The Tibet of the Americas, simply because it lacks human population. The main reason why there aren’t folks living out here is because there is no natural running watera. That means no rivers or streams, except for the Rio Colorado that formed the largest canyon on Earth. Luckily the folks I work for own a private spring.  They run water through a 7-mile pipe to the ranch from the spring. It is fresh and cold. The water pressure is gravity fed.

The Arizona Strip is hard and rugged country. It takes a tough and rough human to really survive. It can be a lonesome place, but the silence is a rarity. There’s mysteries to this land. The unknown is out here. I can feel it every day.

A Few Wintry Thoughts

by

The frigid weather that hung around for a while is now passing. It’s warming up. It was nice in the sun, here in Cedar. So I took my dog and went for a drive out into the desert. At night, I’m dreaming again like when I was younger. These dreams are very real and inspire me to write something tonight. As for today, my brother and I devoured pizza for lunch on top of a parking lot roof, downtown, while watching smoke rise from chimneys into the blue sky. The mountains and the desert sprawled beyond the outskirts of town. There was a simple and mysterious beauty about everything. What a splendid day!

There are things that I am able to understand about this desert that doesn’t require scientific data, or the intellectuals of western civilization. I feel happy to be apart of existence, and to live on Mother Earth. I may be ignorant somewhat in the way I interpret this info, but I’m no friend of a structured life. The wasteland is in my heart, and I’m personally sovereign and happy. I haven’t been able to find this peace with Western Civilization, America, pop-culture, or around people who live by and believe in a status quo. I don’t believe humans live in a world of suffering, and I don’t believe one can only reach salvation in the next life by adhering to certain religious laws in this one. Heaven is right here on Earth and I feel the love of the Great Creator.

Before dusk, I went to an old pictograph site. I arrived just as the sun was beginning to set. The smell of light snow and juniper filled the air. The wind moved gently through the trees. There was a gentle evening glow and the sky was cloudless. The air was crisp. The silence was soothing; away from town, away from noise. Those painted images tell stories of what happened long ago. I listen to what they have to say.

This world has gone through many cycles. The one we live in may change some day. So don’t take beauty for granted. The wilderness is still amazing. There is a great unknown that lives in those hills of eternal rest… The ravens were playing tag as I watched the evening sun. Their wild conversations echoed through the canyon, bouncing off steep rock walls. The images seem to know when I pay them a visit, because I never feel alone.

The Company of a Woman

by

I was storytelling with a co-worker tonight over at the old ranch house around a burning pile of weeds. The fire reminded me of simpler things; the isolation of the canyon, the smell of the elements, and all the mysteries of the surrounding mountains. Not too far north of the ranch is Hell-Hole wilderness where people rarely visit except for the occasional hunter or prospector. Up in there, it gets real dense with stands of Ponderosa Pine and hearty clusters of Manzanita. I’m thinking of the intense quiet and the dark shadows. I’ve been spending enough time in Whitmore Wash to learn a lot about the area, and I’m getting to know some of the folks around here.

The fire was somehow therapuetic? I don’t know how that is? I was feeling so much tension this morning because I’m always working it seems. It never lets up. We work from sun-up to sun-down every day. But it is nice to be so far from town in pure solitude. It must be some sort of Cabin Fever? Anyways, I want to get out into that desert and explore Whitmore Canyon more closely and maybe head up into Hell-Hole. I felt so restless tonight just wanting to grab a camp pack with food and disappear for a few days. I’d have to ask for work off a month in advance. It’s also not wise to hike solo in the Grand Canyon. I’ve been reading this book titled: Over the Edge, Death in the Grand Canyon.” It’s basically an almanac of every body whose perished in the canyon from death plunges, to over-exposure, flash-flooding, Colorado River drownings, and folks succumbing to the elements of extreme tempatures. A lot of things happen to the solo adventurers. The canyon says BEWARE to me, whenever I consider such things.

I need to find a way into the park service. There’s this small ranger station on the other side of Mt. Trumbell on the way to Toroweap overlook. That would be an ideal place to work and live. Sometimes I wander if I even need a wife. I haven’t thought about that much? It wouldn’t bother me too bad to have the company of a nice woman.

+ More