Day 2- A Horse With No Name

"On the first part of the journey 

I was looking at all the life 

There were plants and birds and rocks and things 

There was sand and hills and rings 

The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz 

And the sky with no clouds 

The heat was hot and the ground was dry 

But the air was full of sound 

I've been through the desert on a horse with no name 

It felt good to be out of the rain 

In the desert you can remember your name 

'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain ."

-America

I guess I should start this story from the beginning.  I left Phoenix bright and early this morning and headed toward Tortilla Flats and Apache Junction.  As I was driving, the Superstition Mountains started springing into view.  And as they did, the song "A Horse with No Name" by America came on the radio.  My first visceral experience of the day.  

One of the first experiences that I wanted to check off of my list was to see a real, live cactus up close and personal.  Done!  I also got my first cactus prick today as I was walking around the desert.  

These are the gorgeous Superstition Mountains.  Apparently, someone buried treasure in these hills and it is reportedly still there today.  I was really freaking hot outside, so I didn't go looking for it.  Maybe next time.  

Also, there were these warning signs all over the hiking areas... so no seeking out the lost treasure for me.  I'm simultaneously adjusting to the time change, altitude change, and critter change.  My mom would be happy to know that I'm carrying Benadryl in my backpack.  

On the Apache Trail, I stopped at this cute little rest area that was a preserved ghost town.  Pioneers had the right idea with sustainable wind energy!  But not with wiping out the American Indians.

My Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman fantasies have come true!  Now if only I could find a Sully on my trip out here.  

This evoked the memory of playing with the Wolf Jaw Gypsies in Plattsburgh, NY:

"The gallows are high and eternity near.
She stands in the crowd and sheds not a tear.
Sometimes at night when the cold winds moan
In a long black veil, she cries o'er my bones.
She walks these hills in a long black veil.
She visits my grave when the night winds wail.
Nobody knows.  Nobody sees. Nobody knows but me."

I jumped over the "Do Not Cross" cable and climbed to the top of this.  I can't believe that this was actually used to hang someone.  

No, Mom, I did not end up in jail for trespassing on the gallows.  

So after traveling 20 or so miles along the windiest road that I have ever driven on (and no shoulder for most of the time), I stumbled upon this lake.  I believe it's called Canyon Lake?  I can't believe this is how I got to spend my morning!  Totally unexpected.  Visceral experience #2 of the day.  I remember seeing this and thinking, "There's nothing that I will see today that will be prettier than this..."

Fast forward to this afternoon.  Oh. Wow.  I randomly decided to take a little detour from Rt 17 on my way from Tortilla Flats to Flagstaff in order to drive through Sedona.  I had NO CLUE that I would happen among the Red Rocks on my way.  I choked on my own breath when these came into view.  And then I cried a little.  How can anything this beautiful exist?  How does that happen?  How could I have gone 27 years of my life without seeing this?!?  How can I not travel all over the world and get to see things like this on a regular basis?!?!?  Now I know why Jer wanted to bring me out here all of these years.  I should have listened to him sooner.  This was the most astounding scenery that I have ever laid my blue eyes on.  Sedona is my new favorite place on this Earth.

One thing about traveling solo is that you get really good at taking self-portraits.  This is me, a happy little snowbird, in front of some of the Red Rocks.  

Another picture of me in front of some of the Red Rocks.

I have no words for the rest of these pictures.  Visceral experience overload.  I hope they can speak for themselves.

I'm a big fan of cacti now.  

After spending hours and hours and hours driving and stopping and driving and stopping through the Red Rocks, I happened upon this gem.  I believe it's called the Red Rock Canyon.  All I know is that it's really high (6,000 ft in elevation?) and really beautiful.  I had no clue that Arizona would be so green and have so many trees.

This is a picture of the switchbacks that I had to drive to get up to the canyon.  I'm so glad I let the Alamo Rent-a-Car dude talk me into going to the next size up in cars (I was in a dinky 2 door that was much like my Hyundai Accent... aka- no power or oomph).  I'm positive that I will continue to appreciate the upgrade when I drive through the Rockies.

So after those adventures, I continued to drive the scenic route up to Flagstaff.  I'm staying the Grand Canyon Hostel for two nights.  Everyone here is super friendly!  I've made some new friends from France and from Macedonia.  The guy at the front desk recommended a delicious place for dinner.  And I have plans to jam out with one of the accordion players that is staying here as well.  

Mostly, I am so grateful for this experience.  I'm grateful that my foot has healed so that I can walk along the edge of the Grand Canyon.  I'm grateful that I have a job that I love so I can pay for this trip.  I'm grateful to have friends who have guided me as I planned my journey.  I'm grateful for the new friends that I am making.  I'm grateful that I can look upon such beauty.  I'm grateful that I feel no shame in crying at such beauty.

I'm grateful for all of the joy and heartache and pain and loss and happiness that has brought me to such a place at such a time.  I miss all of you back home!  I'm carrying you in my heart as I go on this quest.  

Down in the Valley of Dichotomy

I found this little post from an old journal entry when I recovered my laptop this month:  "And I love how every spring I somehow rediscover who I am- like all of the layers from the winter are slowly being peeled off to reveal this fresh, new person.  I seem to find my roots again and remember that I should always follow my bliss, no matter where it leads me."

I wrote this back in 2005, when I was 20.  And it still rings true to this day.  Spring has always stirred up long-dormant feelings that are covered by layers of detritus during the winter months.  I become restless and anxious and have this never-ending feeling to flee.  Spring also reconnects me with mother earth and brings sunlight back into my life.  But going through this rebirthing process year after year gets exhausting.  My soul feels ripped between the choice of taking off in the wind like the snowbird I am or rooting myself into my life like a willow tree.  Generally the rooting wins, especially during the past 5 years.  As always, I'm find myself stuck between a dichotomy: run away or be super rooted.  And again, I have to make myself walk the middle path for my own health and sanity.  This is the most important lesson of my entire life- how find balance between my moods, my feelings, my pushes and my pulls, my ebbs and flows.  I'm so colored by my feelings that finding clarity can be quite difficult and the middle path often evades me.  I never want to minimize my feelings- just temper the intensity of them.  As the years pass, I learn how to do this better and better and I become more balanced.  Time and self-reflection are the best therapists.

One attribute that has carried me through my life is that I have always known what I want and have always worked hard at getting it- not in an abusive, exploitative way (at least I hope not).  Once my mind is set on a goal, I'm not easily swayed off course.  This can be dangerous for me, considering some of my exploits have been less than healthy in the past.  But once my internal compass arrow is pointed in a direction, I bushwhack my path to the top of the mountain.  And I've come to realize that some of the darkest points in my life have been when I don't have a mountain to climb and I get lost in the valleys.  So I find myself in an eternal pursuit of mountains to climb.  Is this sustainable?  Who knows.  Maybe it is an uncompromising part of my makeup- to always have a project in my life.