After the climb down, I rested in the car with the AC on for awhile. Drank a lot of water. Ate some sugar. Studied the trail map for the next hike. Since I had expected to hike a different trail, I'd prepared for something else. I had come expecting one pathway and chosen another.
I laugh when I think about this hike. It should have been so simple, but it was one of the most challenging hikes I've done. It was probably the hour of the day, what it took to get there, being alone when I'd expected to have a hiking buddy, and the August heat and sun. By the time I started this one, the temperature had reached 106 degrees. I'm not sure I'd ever been in that kind of heat before. Without the humidity I am used to on the East Coast, the heat was manageable. What I noticed was how quickly I became dehydrated.
I froze gallon bottles of water to take with me that day. I brought more than I thought I would need. The ice melted as the day wore on, and the water was still cool. I'd made a few sandwiches and took food with sugar - granola bars, nuts and dried fruit, candy. While stopped to get gas, someone advised me to buy a high sugar "shot" energy drink. I saved that for an emergency and am grateful I did not have to drink it. I did drink all the water I brought and ate all the food, incrementally between periods of exertion. I carried water and sugary items in my daypack. I was surprised that I did not have to go to the bathroom more than I did. I think the water escaped through my pores.
The Pictograph Trail in Chaco Canyon is a short hike from trailhead to canyon wall and runs along the wall for about a quarter mile. I purchased the $2 trail guide from the Visitors Center. It includes a map and information about the petroglyphs carved into the canyon wall and a large boulder at the end of the trail. For the life of me, I could not see any of the petroglyphs. I stared at the wall, looking right where the guide indicates they are. I blinked and looked again. Blinked, and looked again. Nothing.
I checked the trail guide again and noticed the markers on the ground. Looked up at the wall and saw nothing but stone. I walked down the trail to each marker but could not see the petroglyphs. I did not understand how this was possible. My mind started to feel a little fuzzy. I looked back out over the desert to where my car was parked and saw it in the distance. I finished my water and ate the granola bar I put in my pack.
I hiked out to the canyon wall and back three times. Each time I went back to my car, I got more water and something sugary to eat, rechecked the trail map, and sat in the AC for about ten minutes. I decided as I started my third attempt that that would be it, whatever the outcome. If I am completely honest, I will admit that twice I gave up and hiked back to my car intending to leave.
But I couldn't go.
I've had a few experiences with desert hikes that did not go as expected and I was learning that the goal I set for myself may not be the outcome I get. And that this is not necessarily a bad thing. That we get what we need even if we do not get what we think we want.
The third time at the canyon wall started out pretty much the same way the other two did. I stood in front of the wall, from varying distances, and looked for the petroglyphs. I saw nothing but the stone. I shook my head, sighed, and made the decision to head back. I closed my eyes and listened to the silence for a few minutes before going.
From above, I heard the call of a raven. I looked up. Nothing. The call came again. I looked up. Nothing. And again. I started to wonder if I'd slipped into a pathway between this world and another. In the lore, Raven is a trickster. With the day I was having, I easily could have been in the hands of the Trickster. I stepped back and fixed my head so it appeared that I was looking straight ahead, but the next time the raven called I looked up just with my eyes. And there she was. The raven was on a ledge and after she called, pulled back out of sight. Once she saw that I saw her she stayed visible on the ledge, calling. I looked at the canyon wall again, and saw the petroglyphs. They were right there in front of me. To the left and to the right. Stunning. A wonder. I walked along the trail next to the canyon wall and marveled at what I was seeing. The raven flew from ledge to ledge as I walked, calling as we went.
There's a point near the end where the trail moves away from the wall and around to a boulder. I could not see the petroglyphs on the boulder either. I laughed out loud and wondered if the raven would land suddenly on the rock. Instead, I heard the song of a wren. My first thought was that this is impossible. But I heard it again. And a third time. I tried to find her, but caught only the movement of the scrub plants. Looked at the boulder and saw the petroglyphs. I never did see clearly the wren who sang to me and wondered for the rest of the day if I'd imagined her.
That evening I saw a post that talked about wrens in one of my desert groups. I later discovered that seven species inhabit New Mexico.
As I think back on the experience, I think about the biblical stories that speak of unusual experiences and encounters in the desert, about meeting God there, being helped, encouraged, and fed by angels. Seeing and experiencing wonders. Wonder fills the myth, legends, and stories of desert peoples - and of people who visit the desert.
Creating Space: Three Months of Showing Up for What's Showing Up is a daily writing practice. Turns out that a lot of this writing explores the landscape of grief. My mother died shortly before I began this writing, and this is what I'm thinking about most of the time these days.
Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.
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