Back and Forth and Back

Well, it's been a while since I've put pen to paper, or finger to keyboard. I don't know about you, but I get a little less excited about reading about these things so removed from the present. Nonetheless, some of you want me to keep up this chronicle, and for my own later reflections I guess I do too. Why do I write? Well, that's a good question. Perhaps better would be "Why don't I write more?"

So, I stopped cycle touring and have gone back and forth across the country by car, something over 7000 miles in a month and a half-ish. I did manage to stop and smell the flowers here and there, see a number of friends, and spend good time with family.

In late June I went out to the Grand Canyon, leaving my puppy behind in Austin. I went out to take a Wilderness First Responder class, run by WMI - part of NOLS. The 11 day class was intense, and the first formal education I've had in years. We spent more time doing role-playing than sitting in lecture. Some lessons began with role-playing, and dealing with symptoms pointing to something we didn't know how to deal with. This hooked me good; I'd pay attention, take notes, and remain engaged in what was going on.

Of the 30 students, maybe 18 of us camped out together at Mather Campground, which made for an outside dorm-like atmosphere. Students had varied backgrounds, part of the reason I took this class and not one offered at a college, which led to both some natural cliquing and a lot of cross-cultural interchange. Not all were experienced campers, which became quite evident in the first day of class. The ravens had a wonderful feast at the camp, tearing into all sorts of goodies left about. My bivvy was left decorated, but undamaged.

Over the week and a half we became more of a coherent camp, cooking for each other and dining together. Meals bring folks together. Playing injured and rescuers again and again and again again also brought us close. We were all helping each other learn, all of us trying to master the material. It's one of the best intensive learning experiences I've had.

At the end of it, Andrea came out to meet me for some backpackings. She had designs on some marathon adventures (ok, so did I), but I was exhausted. Nonetheless, the day after class ended we set out for a rim to rim hike of the Grand Canyon.

I have a special relationship with the canyon; it grabbed me hard the first time I saw it, maybe age 11. During the WFR class, I avoided seeing it until I could go at night. I wanted it free of so many tourists. After a couple of night adventures, I could deal with it surrounded by tens of thousands of people - daily lunch picnics at the rim are a good thing.

So, knowing about tourist patterns, and more importantly forecasts for 120 degrees at the bottom, Andrea and I set out in the evening for an overnight 22 mile hike. I was so worn from marathon class sessions and such, that I was dragging by the time we were at the bottom. Instead of hiking straight through, we stopped at mile 7 for a nap for me, and again at mile 14 for some sleep. Still, we made it through and out in less than a day, down 5500' and up about 6500'.

The canyon is like nothing else. It's hard to fathom; hard to digest. It's best at dusk and dawn, when changing shadows show the shape of features. While there was less to see at night, there were still treats for the senses. The honey mesquite was indeed meliferous. Scorpions skedaddled from our steps. A ringtail nearly walked up to us, curious what was about. The moon rose bright and we crossed raging streams, walls high around us.

And then we went down the road, driving along the Mogollon Rim. We day hiked and swam by Lake Roosevelt, in the Sonoran desert again. We walked through a forest of saguaro, across steep hills dropping to the lake. We dropped in on Catfish and caught up a while. On the road again, we day hiked into the Catalinas, going for a swim in a deep cool creek hole, stained red with tannins. Froglets lined the sides. Again through saguaro, agave sometimes in full bloom, sun high and hot. And then on the road down to the Chiricahuas.

We hiked through most of the amazing rhyolite hoodoos of the park. There's nothing like this place. It's a great natural ruin, columns and partitions and hallways lacking only a roof. The terrain is intricate; wonders abound.

We breezed through Portal, it was on fire near to the South and the town was hopping, organizing. We were back on my bike route, and indeed camped at Pancho Villa State Park in NM, and dined the next morning at the Pancho Villa Cafe. We drove on to Terlingua; it'd been calling me back.

We picked up Sheilita in Alpine and drove through small monsoon onto Terlingua. Over frito pie at the Boathouse we waited through a torrential downpour. It rains in the desert like nowhere else, sideways at first, thick drops smacking into buildings, bending trees over. I've been in calmer hurricanes. Soon the rains pass though, and the creosote-clean smell fills the air. We went out to La Kiva that night, for an awesome open-mic night. With few tourists in town, this was a mostly locals event. Great music, great people, and cheap beer - good times.

Andrea and I spent the next several days hiking up in the Chisos. Rain showers in the mountain Basin had clouds pouring over the saddles between peaks, and then provided us with a fine double rainbow in front of Casa Grande. This is indeed the place where rainbows wait for rain, and mountains float in the sky. Hiking the next day, I saw my first mountain lion in the wild as we approached the South Rim. Andrea chased after it, having missed my sighting, she wanted to see it. It's hard to find a cat that wants to hide. The South Rim was still nothing less than spectacular, with huge views in so many directions, over desert, mountains, down to the river, into Mexico, and out to the ridges in the distance. Redtails played in the air, probably some mating display, wrestling in the sky. Peregrines tore past, ripping through the air, driving away vultures. Nearly stepping on my first rattlesnake of the year, we hiked up Emory peak in growing clouds. Then down in a hail storm. It wasn't cold if we kept moving, through and out of the mixed oak juniper pinyon madrone forest back to the Basin. Back to Terlingua, I got to reconnect with a handful of folks, and then it was on the road again to Austin. There Andrea's tour through the SW ended.

I spent most of July in Austin, practicing karate again at the dojo, mountain biking with friends, and catching up with Christine. It was odd to spend so much time with one ex and then another, and gave me a bit of perspective on where I've been and how I value my friendships. I got to get back to my puppy again, guilty of leaving her for travels for a month. I made quality time for the dog on a daily basis, tugging her around with sockey games, trail running in a number of Austin parks, hiking and swimming in state parks in the Hill Country, and throwing the frisbee for her many days. Muki especially liked spending time with sensei's dog, so she'd come with me to karate, and recognized my preparations for such. Christine's geriatric ward, three thirteen year old bitches, was a bit oppressive for her, and she liked time with other playful younguns.

I got all of my things sorted out in Austin, having shipped it all ahead about 9 months before. I got rid of much, but still feel burdened by what I put in storage. I took care of some administrivia after so much time traveling, but still feel burdened by what I left undone. Such is life. I don't sweat it much, and soon it was time to move on.

I'm writing now from my sister's house. I've been here the last several weeks, spending time with Elise and Kevin, and Rhys and Sylvie. My folks were here a week with my as well, though we didn't seem to have much time together. Assisting in nannying is demanding of time and attention, but more than that it's mentally taxing insofar as there's a lot to do and little to think about. Still, I wouldn't trade this time for anything, as Rhys and Sylvie will only be this old once. They're both precious - Sylvie full of smiles and Rhys full of imagination. Muki likes the dogs here too, she can chew on Zoe and even play with Milo sometimes.

And now I somewhat like I'm marking time. I'm ready to get back to Texas and stop traveling far and wide and sink in a bit. I feel ready to for more bike tourings, with a dog in tow. So that's what I'll go and do.