Los Abrigados in Sedona

We usually go up to Sedona every other year to see the massive Christmas light displays at Red Rock Fantasy and hopefully see some snow too. So when Tami got (she hates it when I use that word) obtained ...an awesome deal on a room, we skeedaddled to Sedona. (Oddly, she likes that word...I just never know).



However, our 3 day - 2 night much needed stay in Sedona was cut short by 1 day and 1 night... but we managed to get some pictures taken while we were there. I had to take Keagan for a late night drive the first night to get him to fall asleep, then again at 3am when he woke up screaming like he was scared to death (probably because he did not know where he was at). The second attempt to quiet him was futile as was trying to make him lay down. We would try to make him lay on the coach, since we left his pack-and-play, and he would scream so loudly that we were sure the neighbors were calling the authorities. We took turns watching him destroy our room as he ran back and forth around and around trying to stay awake while the other one tried to sleep. Pretty hard to catch some "Z's" with the constant, "Keagan...take that out of your mouth, leave the TV alone, yucky yucky, don't touch the phone, NO! HOT HOT fireplace!"

At 7am, I loaded this little bundle of energy up to go get some McD's for breakfast and I did not even get out of the parking lot before he was out. After getting breakfast for the three of us, I brought him in our room and laid him on the couch. Tami and I had to get ready for the day because we had to go talk to some real estate people in lower Sedona, then shopping, so by the end of the day we were zombies. But not Keagan. We knew it was going to be a repeat of the previous night so we packed up and called it quits early. Only thing better than getting away from it all is crashing in my own comfortable bed when it is all through!

Keagan after getting back from McD's

Keagan thinks "Time to get your coat on" means "Wanna wrestle?!"

Taking in the view from our back patio.

Cute! An even better view!! Kinda looks like he is going for a punch though...

Keagan wanted to roast his toes like daddy after all the shopping.

Christmas- Keagan 14 months old

Cogito ergo sum - I think, therefore I am

There is something about the Christmas Season that causes me to reflect more so than any other time of year. Maybe it’s sheer proximity to the new year and all the resolutions we must make--and break. Maybe it’s the recognition that another year has passed and as human nature would have it, a personal accountability comes into play:

“What have I done with my time? Where did the year go?”

Ten years ago I assumed I would be completing my doctorate by now. Back then I would have been surprised to find myself presently married to an attractive city girl, I never planned on getting married until personal academia and my all-encompassing desires to discover the world had been mollified. I would have been surprised if ten years ago I saw myself owning a couple of houses, I never intended on living in the Phoenix metro this long. What I imagined ten years ago does not even resemble in the slightest, what my daily life holds now. I think most people can relate to that.

Ten years ago this Christmas I had saved up enough money during the semester to fly to Oklahoma for Christmas. Shortly before buying the ticket, I found out that a friend of mine had decided not to come back for her final semester at EAC because she did not have enough money for tuition. Since it was about the same amount as my plane ticket, I decided to anonymously pay her tuition with my savings and just stay in Thatcher for the whole Christmas break. I had planned on a white Christmas in Oklahoma, planned on spending time with my family, intended on a much needed change of scenery. Instead I found myself alone…several days before Christmas…and everyone, I mean EVERYONE, in Howard’s Trailer park had gone home.

Life has a way of taking us away from our plans. But I could not help think of the simple but profound advice given to me by my grandfather when I first went to college. He said,

“Be where you are suppose to be and things will tend to work themselves out, do what is right and let the consequences follow.”

I sure couldn't see the purpose in me spending the whole Christmas break alone but it seemed like the right thing to do. I would just walk to work and back, a different path each time to switch it up and smell the roses. Truth be told, I had this habit of plucking a miniature rose from various yards to give away on my way home. Since no one was in town, I'd put it on a shelf in a bedroom waiting for someone deserving to return, and this seemed to be my only purpose in the day. (Yes, I was a naive and hopeless romantic in those days.)

For the most part, a couple of slow boring weeks but Christmas Eve was brutal. I had the day off, the game room was closed, we could not afford cable in our apartment, and I was too restless to read. That’s when a stranger knocked on the door. He wanted to know if a friend of his, a girl that lived a few trailers down was in town. When I told him no, he was a bit discouraged.

He explained that he had thrown some of his belongings in his car and left the deep south in a hurry and did not have a chance to tell her that he was coming. In short order, I found he was one of the most interesting and funny people that I had ever met. Oddly though, he would stand up about every 5 minutes, start pacing, rub his forearms, fidget about, sit down and then repeat, but what an interesting character! We talked for hours, until 1 or 2am on Christmas morning. I could tell he was down on his luck and could not help but ask him if he needed a place to crash for the night. He declined, probably to avoid wearing out his welcome. I begged him to come by the next morning because I knew how depressing it would be opening all two of my presents that were set under the little tree. We hung out Christmas day for several hours, and the day after that. I am fairly certain he was sleeping in his car before he final started crashing on my living room floor.

We would stay up late and when the conversations would get religious or philosophical, he would become very intent and for a short time, he would hold very still, speak very solemnly with a gritty eloquence all his own, before going on with the quirky fidgeting.

Soon, everyone began returning to college. As he made new friends he started going to church with us, something he had not done in a while. After lining up a job and a place to stay, the normalcy helped him to settle down. When we baptized my roommate, this seemed to have a profound effect on him.

One day he confided in me. He told me that when he came out to AZ he was running from his old life, friends, and habits. When we met, he said he had just given up alcohol, cigarettes, huffing, and worst of all, heroin. He said if he had not made new friends when he showed up unannounced, he would not have known where to go and might have ended up in another state with friends that ran in rough crowds. Then he said he finally called his dad and told him where he was at and had a conversation the two had been hoping for in years. Half smiling and in a sheepish way, he pointed to his car and asked me if I wanted to meet his dad.

As I began walking over, his dad got out of the car and began quickly walking over to me. I started to introduce myself when he wrapped me up in a tight bear hug, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

“Thank you… for being here for my son.”

I realized then that I had been in the right place. Like many people out there, today I find myself somewhere other than where I had previously planned on being. But there can be greater purposes at work. I may have not received that doctorate yet, I may still be living in the valley, and sometimes life and family responsibilities keep me from conquering the world. But that's okay, because I do strongly feel…I am where I need to be. This does not mean I have given in to a sense of resignation and I am just going to sit on the path choosen...after all, he who finds the right path and just sits on it will soon be ran over. I must walk it, because happiness is the journey, not the destination. There is a peace that comes from this knowledge that invites us to do what is right not knowing where the path may lead and let the consequences follow. And at the end of my years, when I return to report, I hope that God’s response is a tight bear hug and…

“Thank you…for being there for my children.”

Oh, And then if He can forgive me of all my student loans that I am about to incur and probably carry to my grave…that would be awesome too!!!

Merry Christmas Everyone...you might just be where you are suppose to be, so do some good while you are there!!!

Some Pictures of Keagan from Picture Day...Double-click to enlarge.

Keagan now officially wears more expensive jeans than me.

Awww...check out his blue Peepers!

"You're coming back to get me right, Dad...okay, this ain't funny"

Keagan practicing his sweet break-dancing skills...

Darn Chiggers Caught Me in My Unawares...

Sept. 2001
It was getting dark fast and for a day and a half we had no fresh water in sight. We had been going off water from a cow tank midway across Buzzard Roost Mesa and we could still taste the brackish aftermath it left behind in our mouths. As we came to the edge of the mesa, we found a steep cliff and could glimpse in the evening shadows, a verdant and fertile valley below. We could hear the water running and see a strip of what were probably tall sycamores and cottonwoods running through the valley. The sun had gone down and to find a way around the cliff would take hours in the dark. We did not have flashlights, only homemade pine-pitch candles, so finding a way down the cliff face was out of the question.

To my surprise, little Jessica who was seemingly nonreligious said, “Lets say a prayer.” We were all a little surprised. Ashlee looked at her for a moment almost as if to say, “Did I hear you right?” Jessica had just turned 14 a few days earlier and must have suddenly felt she should take charge. “Come on, were wasting day light. Fine...I’ll say a prayer.”

So there in the fall twilight hours, the four of us knelt at the cliffs edge amongst the sacatone and sage. Jessica prayed as best she knew how.

“Dear Jesus, We’re like in a real fix. We can’t find a way down on our own, but we know that with your help all things are possible. Please show us the way….Oh, and bless the food we are going to be cooking when we get there.”

Suddenly a spindly old cow came bursting through the manzonita bushes at the cliffs edge. Where did she come from?! We looked and sure enough, slightly over-grown very sketchy cow trail zigzagged down into the shadows beneath. I guess all things are possible.

Jessica dropped to her knees. “Thank You, God! I knew you were listening!”

We quickly made our way down the steep rock face. We were moving so fast that we hardly noticed the deep cuts and scratches we earned bushwacking through all the thickets of catclaw. We trudged and tripped our way through them. I was breaking trail in the lead so I took most of their barbed fury. I did not know if my forearms were wet from sweating or from blood…nor did I notice the hole that was torn in my food bag and the flour pouring out of it.

We made it to the stream and set up camp in a grove of sycamores. To my delight, we made it down safe and had fresh spring water. This greatly outweighed my concern about losing a good portion of my corn meal and flour on the way down. The girls offered to share but I knew that they would need every ounce of food they had to make it through the week. I knew I was going to have to get a little primitive from here on out and try to substitute edible plants and maybe catch a rabbit or quail.

The next morning I said a prayer that I would have a little help in finding something to eat. I started collecting wild black berries, water cress, sour dock, and canyon grapes along the rivers edge as I akwardly hop-scotched form rock to rock. Then I saw movement at my feet under the placid water glaring in the early dawn light—brown trout and blue-gill fish darting up and down through the river rocks into a pool. As chance would have it, the week before, I had collect 3 or 4 barrel cactus needles that were curved back like hooks-- I had heard that the Sinagua and Mogollon Indians used them to fish with.

I made a fly-swatter of sorts with some yucca fronds and went about whopping grasshoppers and bumble bees for bait. With a stick for a pole, sinew for string, and live bait, I caught 14 small fish with the cactus needle hooks in about 2 hours. Before cleaning and prepping them for cooking, I found a secluded spot, and followed the example Jessica had set and thanked my Father in Heaven for the abundant catch.

I apologize but my story now takes it's tangent. I tell this story as a precursor to another. You have to know the back ground to know why I constantly feel the urge to go back to that valley at the head of Buzzard Roost Mesa again and again.

You see most people never have a chance to live the primitive life--never have the need to wonder how they will get through the day. I don’t live it now. I live a life of luxury and ease in comparison. I have just about everything I need at my beck and call. In town, if I come to a road block on the way home, I merely follow a detour like a mindless sheep until I eventually get home. Not a calorie extra burned on my part. If I was low on food, I would just run to the store, or if things were tight, I guess I could ask my parents to spot me some money until pay day. Worst case scenario, there's food stamps, soup kitchens, government programs. If I was sick or hurt I could whip out the old cell phone or drive a block away to the nearest Urgent Care.

Often times in the wilderness though, things can quickly escalate beyond one's own ability and the terrifying realization sets in…there is no 911, no doctor’s prescriptions, no homeless shelters, no soup kitchens… there is only one source to turn to--God. Yet in the city, it is too convenient to turn to our golden calves of technological advances and government aid. So why has society become more godless? One reason, social constructs and bureaucratic agencies have become our savior.

So this is why I go back to Buzzard Roost Mesa as often as I can. It’s a place so rugged and remote, one must face hardship head-on. Often enough, even meeting these hardships squarely on, it is not enough to rely on my own strength and skill.

A couple of weekends ago I found myself needing some answers and direction in life--I needed to clear my mind. A friend and I arrived at the same cliff with our 40lbs. packs just as the sun was setting. We quickly found the obscure cow trail and started the switch-backs down. The brush was extra thick on the way down due to all the rain and snow this year. After the arduous hike down, we finally made it to the valley below, and found a spot that the cows had cleared out under a juniper tree.

I pulled out my brand new Coleman blow torch lighter to get a fire going. The wood was a little damp from the constant monsoon rains that had been falling for the last two weeks. No worry though, I have a blow torch! I set up my kindling and twigs, clicked the torch…about 2 seconds of flame…and then it went out. Not a single flame after that. So I went primitive.

I took a shoe lace and a mesquite bow, a piece of dry saguaro, a yucca stalk, a stone socket and made a fire-starting bow drill. Problem was this, even if I did create a coal off of the friction, everything was so wet. I tried anyways, several times actually, to no avail. Then it dawns on me, “This is the place that I learned a valuable lesson in prayer with Jessica. Why have I not prayed yet!?”

We knelt and asked that we would be able to get a fire going because we needed to cook our food. Most of what we brought to last for 3 days and 2 nights needed to be cooked. There was also the rumblings of thunder and the distant flash of a lightning storm coming...we could use the camp fire light to make a shelter out of our rain ponchos.

After the prayer, our faith was high, and I went back to the bow drill. It has to work...I caught 14 fish last time...with a cactus needle! But two hours later my arm was too cramped up to even hold the bow anymore. I was doing everything right, why was the fire not starting!? We set up a shelter made from our ponchos in the dark, and shortly after, every square inch was being put to the test. He slept dry and warm. The next morning, everything was so wet that we knew there was little chance of starting a fire. I did not want my friend to hate my guts making him stay so I suggested that we could climb out and drive down to a dryer climate. As we climbed out, we ate juniper and manzonita berries to give us energy to carry our heavy packs out. By the time we made it to the top, our legs were shaking as we wobbled to my truck.

I couldn't help but feel a little let down that this place of miracles in the past had now failed to deliver. Was I still going to want to return now that the place had lost some of its magic? Was it me? Have I lost it?

Two days later I noticed I had a few chigger bites around my sock line and a few on my back and chest. Chigger bites are the worst and you usually don’t know they are around until 1 or 2 days after they bite. It’s like having a mosquito bite, but when you scratch it, it feels like a hot needle is stabbed in you. I had about 12 bites and they were painful and annoying. I called my friend.

“Hey, you notice any red bumps on your body.”

“Yeah, did we get into some poison ivy?” he asked.

I told him about chigger bites and that they were probably going to hurt like crazy for the next week.

“I have about 12 bites, how about you?” I asked.

“I quit counting at 85. I am covered....I'm hurting pretty badly, I already went through a bottle of that pink lotion!”

I suddenly had a realization—we had been in danger. If our prayer had been answered, if we had started a fire, we would have camped there for 3 days. Imagine how many chigger bites we would have had after that. Get bit by enough chiggers and a person can have a urticarial reaction. Our shelter was the only warm spot in the entire valley. Even more chiggers were headed for our shelter with out us even being aware.

I realized that it was still a special place but even more so now. This valley at the head of Buzzard Roost Mesa that once held so much enchantment for me because of miraculous answers to prayers now had a new dimension…the miracle of unanswered prayers.

Angelus Es Keagan Asher-

I wrote the following poem for Tami and Keagan just before he was born.

A cherub in Heaven so soft and so small,

pouted and sighed, "Am I last of us all?"

"Oh Father, Oh Father is it my turn on Earth?"

"I promise to serve well from the day of my birth."

"Your vineyard needs tending, I am up for the task.

What must these little hands do, Oh Father just ask"

"I don't know what I have, that you possibly need

But I'll do anything!" the little angel did plead.

"My Child, My Child, precious you are in my sight,

I have held on to you … with all of my might."

"You are blessed, and chosen, to do great things

But I ask only this...your soft cherub wings. "

"But Father, Oh Father, wings protect me from harm.

How will I be sheltered from Wind and Storm? "

"Faith... My Child, Sweet Child, you will not be alone

Parents I give you, they prepare you a home."

Away sadly the little angel floated, feeling weary and weak

"But I love my wings, Father. I need a moment to think."

Meanwhile on Earth… a young woman calls her mother

"Mom, Oh Mom! ... I just felt a strange flutter! "

"Did I do something wrong, is my baby all right,

What I just felt will keep me up all night! "

"Daughter, Oh Daughter, it's the nature of things,

An angel...your angel, just gave God his wings."

By Aaron Peterson

Hiking...actually no,... Swimming Down Salome Creek

I had a friend call me up and ask me if I wanted to go back to Salome Creek this year. Last year our wives went with us and they braved the rapids incredibly well. Still, Tami was almost washed away in the current of 3 Blind Mice Falls, was almost detopped be another water spout, and was shivering so hard at the end of it all that her lips were blue. Brandon's wife almost did a face plant into a 6 foot granite bolder. I am still amazed at how well they did and how they had fun the whole time. But this time I said I would go if I could find a water sport helmet and if we left our wives safely at home (now that they are both mommies it did not take much convincing).

Salome Canyon starts at the base of the Sierra Anchas where several peaks combine to make a singular path to lake Roosevelt. Over the years there has been some incredible rock formations made and the scenery is incredible. There were some changes in the canyon too since last trip. That 6 foot boulder I mentioned earlier...it was about 6ft wide and 6ft deep as well. It has moved about 3 feet, so if a solid chunk of granite is around 4600 lbs per yards cubed...there was enough water during a flood to move 36,800 lbs. If a flood came through right now...we would be like lint in a fire hose.

With that in mind, we crossed our fingers that the life insurance premiums were paid and jumped in.

This is were the canyon starts and the only place to get in.

The water was extremely cold from melted snow runoff so we wore wet suits.

In most pools we could not touch the bottom of the canyon floor.

Brandon and I just before the first water fall.

The Narrows have been carved out by centuries of flooding. Due to the narrowness and the sharp decline in elevation, one missed place foot in the water can yank you down the many falls.

There were several water falls that were wide enough that we could just slide in.

The water was so cold that Brian's wedding ring fell off his ring finger and we had to dive for it for a half hour before he finally found it.

The drift wood was deposited by a 15-20ft rush of water during one of many flash floods. This is an area that you need to know the weather miles away up stream so you don't get trapped in the canyon.

The last waterfall we chose to repel down.

The end of Salome Canyon and the start of Salome Creek. See the Sierra Ancha Mountains in the background above the canyon.




We did not dare take a video camera down with us but I found someone that did...along with his Kayak! Watch below...


CLICK HERE: SALOME CREEK IN THE SIERRA ANCHAS

Fortunam Temptans - In Search of Adventure

A couple of weekends ago, Riley and I went up into the Bradshaw Mountains. Tami and I had gone up a month or two ago but did not get a chance to do much exploring. So when Riley called saying his work was paying for two 4 wheelers in order to get some water samples from a stream that ran through an old gold mine...I was game. It was a very rough road but very scenic. Here I am crossing a stream somewhere between Button Mine and Oro Belle Mine.

This is one of two Diamondback Rattlesnakes that struck at us as we drove by. We just had to investigate...

Keagan Asher Peterson Pics

Newborn

One Week

One month

3 Months

5 months

6 months

7 months

8 months

9 months

Family Pics

I Went To The Woods To Live Deliberately...

I have been running and walking a lot at night. It seems when ever I establish a routine, and I get to the point that I could do that routine thing without thinking about it, I really get lost in my thoughts. Well maybe not so much lost, more like high-centered, stuck on a memory of a place or an event, or even on a person in the far past. Then I just spin my wheels in it trying to get the most traction out of that memory. I hate forgetting things. I've got to remember, was it spring or fall? Was the air thick with moisture before a monsoon? Was it Box Elder or Sycamore leaves that crunched under foot? What were his exact words about this? Was she standing or sitting when she teetered with laughter about that?

I have led an adventurous life, married late in the game and now one extraordinarily lovely lady, my wife, has tamed me of my Jack Kerouac ways--almost. Yet I wonder what happened to certain people that helped contour my character along the way. I wish I could find them all, find out how they are doing and let them know how they influenced me. I think some would be amazed to find out they had an influence on me at all.

About 3 hours ago, a song on the radio brought back a memory most poignant and acute when I left for a run. I can remember the teary brown eyes and a streak of soot in her brown hair when we said our goodbyes. It was like saying goodbye to your little sister, knowing you would never see her again.

"Don't remember me like this, I never cry, Don't remember me like this!" Jessica said.

I met Jessica about 6 weeks earlier up in the Sierra Ancha Wilderness. It is a very rugged area to survive in and tends to bring out the worst in people when they first starting hiking in it. After a few days in the cactus and agave everyone gets a little grouchy at first.

-------A lot of rough terrain to go through in order to get up into the pine trees and streams, few people know about it.-------

At first glance she did not like me, and I could tell that from a glaring distance. She was only 13 but was more alert and confident than most 20 year olds. She had lived a full life by that age. She had ran away several times, had been adjudicated by the court systems over and over, and knew 'Juvie' hall better then her own neighborhood. It seemed as our small group of 4 chatted around the camp fire that when she addressed me, it was with slightly barbed comments. She thought I talked slow, my shoes looked old and cheap, I smelled like smoke, and she was sure if I took my hat off that I would be bald underneath.

"So, okay… so you're not bald, but you sure have a lot of forehead!" was her response when I took off my hat. I was starting to think—what a brat. This is going to be a shoddy 2 weeks for both of us. No wonder she is in trouble all they time. That night as I thought about how she probably treated every authority figure this way, I suddenly realized that I was about to start to treat her the way every authority figure had treated her in response. If I was to make a difference, I had to approach her differently than others.

--------------------------------------------Workman's Creek at the heart of the Seirra Ancha's--------------------------------

The next day we hiked for about 7 miles, pretty far for a 13 year old with a 30lbs pack. We collected canyon grapes and mulberries along the way. We were not the only ones; there were fresh bear tracks all over the canyon. We told ghost stories that night but the one that really seemed to hit home was a bear story.

----------------------------------------------Black bear tracks along Spring Creek--------------------------------------

"A young girl in one of our groups unwisely put Tang and Pine sap in her hair to try and make dreadlocks. A black bear smelled the scent, came into camp, ever so quietly, placed it's gapping jaws around the girls entire head and started gently tugging at her like a melon on the vine. Long story short, the girl thought it was someone playing a prank, swatted at the perpetrator only to hit a massive black runny nose. She screamed, then everyone screamed, and started banging their campfire cups so loud that the bear probably still has not stopped running."

Of course after this story the girls wanted to know how I got the bear claw on the necklace I made.

Looking uneasily from side to side I whispered, "SHHHH! Bear's still looking for it!

When the group got ready for bed, I took some coals from the fire and went a little ways off and started my own little fire. As the only male in the group, it was proper to sleep out of camp. As I got up, Jessica wanted to know if I was going to be up for awhile.

"I have the night watch tonight…so I will be up all night."

"Well that sucks!" finally showing her more compassionate side.

"I don't mind, gives me a chance to think."

"Tomorrow's my birthday, I don't want to think about it, you know, about what I am missing."

"14 years old huh, what do you want for your birthday?"

"A birthday cake and a pony ride" she said sarcastically, reverting back to her hardened nature. But I think she realized her rigidity in the silence that followed.

"Hey Homz, I like your stories. There hella cool." She blurted as she went to her sleeping bag.
"Good, I got a lot more for tomorrow."

That night I stayed up making mulberry and grape jam in my large camp fire cup. I cleaned out the cup and made 3 attempts to bake a muffin with the wheat flour, cornmeal, Tang, and baking soda that we were issued every week. The third attempt was a success. As the early morning sun came up, Jessica awoke to the 3 of us caterwauling 'Happy Birthday to you' with a big muffin, smothered in homemade jam, and a little tree pitch candle on top. She was ecstatic!

Later that day, we hiked across Buzzard Roost Mesa. Imagine pine trees on all the mountains around you and a huge grassy plateau with one or two lonely cedars, just miles of green grass and wild oats about a foot tall.

-------On top of Buzzard Roost Mesa in spring when the grass is just starting to grow. Squaw Butte is in the background. -------


As we hiked across it, suddenly four horses, one very large gelding and 3 healthy mares, came running at full gallop about thirty feet from us—nostrils flaring, manes tossing, playing some game of catch-me-if-you-can. Not another human in site. No drum beat is as exhilarating as the sound of hooves pounding the earth. We all stood transfixed by the site, all except Jessica.

----------------------------------------------------Good luck catching one of those "ponies"! -----------------------------------------



"I want to ride the pony, I want to ride the Pony for my birthday!" she yelled as she jumped up and down. But her hopes faded as they ran far off into the distance, disappearing over the ridge.

It was getting dark so we decided to camp on top of the mesa. The next morning, the girls went down to an earthen cow tank we found to get water. Having kept watch all night for bears again, and knowing what business cows do when they are standing in cow tanks, I was in no hurry to get up and get water. Even with my tattered hiking boots as a pillow, I still heard the clip-clop rumblings of a half dozen horses approaching.

I got up quick and grabbed my pack rope in my right hand and a handful of oats in my left. One of the horses was branded, and another had horseshoes so my guess was they were not wild. As I approached though, it was obvious they were use to roaming freely and wanted nothing to do with me. The large gelding was curious though and approached cautiously.

When he sniffed the oats and started to nibble, I knew I only had one chance. I gently ran my hand up around his neck and dropped the rope down the other side slowly. I couldn't make a noose, simply because if he took off, he would have my only pack rope and I would have to make one from grass or yucca fibers, a daunting task I did not want to endure. Suddenly he realized what I was doing and he lurched back immediately, but it was too late. He had been caught by a barefooted hiker.

He calmed quickly as I one-handedly put on my hiking boots and walked him over to a tall rock. He was very tall, I had no hopes of getting on him bareback with out a little help. My grandfather had shown me once how to make a hackamore harness of sorts with a rope, complete with reins, so I did my best. I looped around his nose and back around his neck. I pulled the rope reins tight, grabbed a big handful of mane, and jumped from the rock to his back and held on for dear life. One of my ancestors was killed after being bucked off in Death Valley so I was well aware of the dangers I was placing myself in. He didn't even flinch. "This is going to be easier than I thought."

Meanwhile, as I later was told, the girls down at the cowtank were laughing and filling up canteens. One asked the other adult in the group where I was, but before she could answer, Jessica chimed in,

"Probably petting a bear by now. I swear that guy is going to come riding through the trees on a grizzly."

At that very moment, with impeccable luck and perfect timing, I come riding through the trees, bareback on that big gelding and yelled,

"I HEAR THERE'S A GIRL WANTING TO RIDE A PONY!"

And so in the Sierra Ancha Wilderness, on Buzzard Roost Mesa Jessica got her birthday wish....Her own birthday cake in a cup, her very first pony ride.

Where is she now? Did she go to college, get married, have kids? Does she still want to persue a law degree and become a judge? Did she start any more fights, return to old habits, did she get locked up again? She thanked me for many things she learned and awesome adventures in the month and a half that followed, but did I thank her for her brutal but succinct honesty? Like many little sisters have done, some of young Jessica's advice actually motivated me to venture from my rogue-like lifestyle after my year long bitter hiatus from dating. She listened to all my dating stories and just laughed...I began to laugh at them too.

Her advice: stop falling for the girls that come to you when they need some stabilty in their life.

"Aaron, you're like a pair of crutches. Soon as their on their feet again their going to leave you leaning against the wall. And then their mom is going to be like, 'Hey, why don't you take better care of these crutches' and the girl is going to roll their eyes and say 'MOM!?' and like totally not remember how you helped them get by. I know cuz I have had crutches before and I treat guys like that all the time
."

It was around this time that I met my wife and ask her out on a date (a gutsy move since Tami was way out of my league and had no need for a crutch).

There are so many people like young Jess that are interwoven into the fabric that is becoming my life's tapestry and they may never know it. Childhood, high school, Oklahoma, mission, college, road tramping, and beyond. But to all of you reading this that know me, no matter the era or the angst I was in…take with you this: Your friendship—past, present, or future, it means something--or mends something in me.