It
wasn't all that bad, they decided at each turn. At least one person, however,
was unknowingly succumbing to a slight bit of heat stroke. It approached
unnoticed. There was very little shade in this part of the hike. All four began
to feel the need to "have a discussion" around 1:00 p.m. Joel kept
pushing for a continuation toward the great reward, of course; but where a
convergence of trails met -- one from the left, one from the right -- at a
pleasant, palm-shaded and breezy setting, another unspoken decision was made:
Sit down. As they rested for a bit, Joel named the spot "the convergence
of two ecstasies," amusing himself as always, and insisting, "I
really, I really do, I think I see some petroglyphs right up there on the side
of the hill -- let's get there." He was ignored. Nate, Takiya, then Joel all
remarked on what each in turn had had for breakfast. Nate, who had brought
along a full gallon of water and some oranges, lugging them all the way up the
trail in his backpack, brought everything out and lunch was served. Laurie had kept
begging him to let her carry the water, because surely his 64-year-old back was
not appreciating the assault of being bent inward right at the lumbar region. But
he, the good Marine (and he was), would have nothing of that.
Laurie
was not completely present any longer. She tried a bit of orange and gave it
away, no hunger anymore. How heat stroke feels was not lost on her, but at this
point she couldn't have cared less. She began to lean forward with head in
hands and eventually to wander ahead and hang on the face of a cool boulder
against her forehead, becoming intimate with the rock as she splayed out both hands
on it and spoke silently with the breezes in the high palm fronds. Upon
inquiry, Laurie said she felt fine. But in reality, she wanted to be alone with
Nature in the worst way.
Joel,
the desert expert, had a very clever little electronic GPS device that fit in
his pocket. It was like Little Red Riding Hood for tracking and backtracking on
trails. He began to study it, thinking that they would want to use it getting
back down. Soon, Nate, Joel and Takiya announced, "Okay, let's head down; Joel,
shut up." Laurie wanted, as badly as air, to get away from all humans,
their voices, their very presence, in fact, from her own self. She said to the
others as they beckoned expectedly for her to follow along, "No, I'm
staying here right now. Please just leave me alone," her face and closed
eyes still plastered against the boulder.
Nate was
frustrated and pissed off. He knew his wife's intransigence, the same as his
own; and he was willing, with defiance, to let her stay and "go to hell
for all he cared." He never said this, but he thought it in his own
fatigued mind and simply walked away with the others. It would be obvious to
anyone that this is not done when out in the wild, in the heat, with the
snakes, with no water, no food, no sunscreen, and no directions. But nobody in
the group was feeling particularly clear at the time Laurie pushed them away,
and they just left.
It
didn't take long. Laurie sat and listened to the breezes and the bugs, being as
silent as possible. Suddenly, as usually happens when real silence is met, a
loud inner voice blasted through her mind like fire from a gaping mouth in the
distant mountaintops. She was up and on both feet in a nanosecond, the
perceived voice admonishing, "get going, wake up." Not violently,
just with absolute authority.
She
stood, uneasily at first, and looked down to the left and to the right.
Conflicting emotions cluttered her like Lilliputions: betrayal, confusion,
fear, alarm, guilt, uncertainty, elation, excitement...and a bit of anger that
not a single human body could be seen as far down as she stared. Not having
expected to be left on her own, Laurie had no choice but to start walking;
first to the left because it appeared that they had come up the right, rocky
side of the arroyo (which they had). But that felt completely wrong and
unfamiliar. She turned back and headed down the right side. But...this appeared
to be a completely new and different trail. Ummmm,
Laurie hummed. She yelled out Nate's name and then Takiya's. No answer. Fear lingered
near the back of her mind, but wonder and excitement were mounting with every step.
 |
| The Guide |
Suddenly,
she spied a blue ribbon attached to a tree on the right side of the trail next
to the rock faces. She remembered that the old man had mentioned something
about azul mas arriba ("blue more
up," basically), pointing up the riverbed. It was a bright blue and she
saw it only from the periphery of her visual field. Just like every thought,
all was becoming peripheral, nothing was straight on. Laurie had no idea what
she was doing or where she was headed. It even felt unnecessary to repeatedly
yell out Nate's name, as though she was somehow interfering with Nature's
voice.
At one
point, Nate yelled from nowhere -- not close, but not far -- "Just keep
going downhill, and you'll be fine." That was buoying. Very buoying. This
did feel like the right direction even if unfamiliar, so for the next half hour
or so, she ceased the calling and listened closely to her own instincts,
feeling it was a most excellent and exhilarating exercise. The feeling grew as
she found more and more blue ribbons, still only from the corner of her eye.
The arroyo itself was her path, and she bounded down, wondering why they hadn't
come this so-easy way in the first place. Laurie still held her bamboo stick,
using it in hopes of creating that musical, penetrating reverberation that
someone may hear.
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