On the
way up the paved road, Nate and Laurie had been talking about the near-record
temperatures in Death Valley, California, at the present time. Laurie, not
having been there, asked if Death Valley looked like this desert or if it was
just sand, or what. Joel affirmed it was very similar. Laurie could not imagine
running through the rocks and stickers to finish any of the famous races through
Death Valley that intrepid ultramarathoners run each year -- in July. At least one
she knew of: 135 miles called "Badwater," straight through that very
Death Valley, from 282 feet below sea level to a height of more than 8,000;
celebrated and feared races with legendary runners from around the world.
Laurie, a distance runner herself, kept up on these events. Onward toward the
trailhead they crawled at about 30 km/hour max.
Each
hiker had well-fitting, light and functional hiking shoes and socks, and three
of the four wore 40+ spf (sun protection factor) clothing. It was all light and
breathable and very environmentally correct; but in the case of the fourth
individual -- Laurie -- absolutely untenable, similar to wearing a straitjacket.
Out of the question. Laurie therefore, put on plenty of spf 30 cream with
backup in Nate's rucksack. She wore a running top and short shorts, and a
safari hat with a strap to keep it on her head -- this was the only bow of
respect for the burning sun that she could reasonably accept -- whether any of
this was reasonable was also conjecture. But everyone was happy in anticipation
of all going well, if less than sure what to make of what was popularly called the
Wild Card in the bunch.
Tourist
taxis schlepped cautious visitors up the highway toward San Xavier in
air-conditioned vans. Nate and Joel made rude and cutting remarks that won't be
repeated in text. The SUV was locked and the gang set off straight along a
massive wall of what appeared to be layers of slate, just waiting to crash down.
Very tenuous looking. There was no
geologist in the group, although any curious traveler would most surely appreciate
having one along. Syncline, anticline, shale, slate, stratification,
fault...familiar terms but not anything the four travelers could point to with
a walking stick wand with which to give a treatise; not even Joel, the most
heavily over-educated of the group and considered knowledgeable regarding desert
rocks.
Joel, a dream analyst, was happy
to stare just beyond the rock faces into his own inner mind, or go sit on a
lone stone and contemplate. Just as well. Definitions seemed limiting in such a
place when excited fingers pointed continuously to everything imaginable, and
light (very light) breezes blew in the high palms. Slowly all thought began to
wash away. Making their way along the canyon in this desert jungle (picture
this not being an oxymoron), minds
and mouths became quiet. At least quieter.
Takiya, a Japanese native whose
second language is English and who tended to be quiet in places of reverence
anyway, didn't talk much. Nate, Mr. Definition himself, was content to make use
of his digital camera to take as many photos as possible to memorialize the
event. This was his own silent manner of describing and telling a story about
the world around him. Laurie felt the wind and wanted only to follow it. She sensed
magic, but spent much time looking down so as not to fall over the rocks and
become a liability to herself even though she felt her body was limitless -- this
would grow to a frustrating contradiction as the day unfolded. But indeed, Laurie
had enough memories and scars from a lifetime of playing the
"limitless" card to have long since made a compromise with Nature.
There was
hundreds of old, dry bamboo canes lying around, and they looked like great walking
sticks. Laurie grabbed one and began walking with it just to have something to bang
against the side of rocks and such. This always created a great reverberating sound
throughout the canyon. She kept it with her even when it began to crack apart from
too many bangings. In Laurie's endless fantasies, it felt like a connection with Nature, a type of call-and-response musical harmonic. She never thought that maybe later it would come in handy.
