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.
This is were the canyon starts and the only place to get in.
In most pools we could not touch the bottom of the canyon floor.
Brandon and I just before the first water fall.
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 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.
