As much as I parish the thought of breaking the hypnotic allure of life on the road -- the one-with-nature, outdoors in the elements, wild man sort of mystique I’ve been trying to cultivate on this trip -- I’m still a mortal and it’s playoff hockey season so I find a sports bar in town to watch the game. The place doesn’t have the right subscription to get the game so I bond with a few guys at the bar over our mutual disappointment. Steve and Lefty happen to be fellow Chicagoans and we chat about the Hawks chances, how it’s total bullshit that we can’t watch the game, and about the trip I’m on. They’re nice enough guys, they buy me a beer and wish me safe travels.
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| The view from Devil's Bridge |
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| Devil's Bridge |
By now, I’ve spent two full weeks hiking in and around Sedona. Around 50 miles by my count, and my total 'miles hiked' has surpassed 100 for the trip as a whole. The view from the Devil’s Bridge rock formation is one of my favorites so far. Green tentacles reach out from lower elevations and stretch deep into canyons and up the rock walls, anywhere they can gain purchase. The massive red rock buttes show no signs of surrender. I sit on the bridge and contemplate. Being alone in a quiet, beautiful place is one of life's simple pleasures. When other hikers do appear, we chat and try to wrap our minds around the beauty of this place. One pair I talk with for a bit is Jacob, an Indian, as in, from India and Steve, a New Yorker with a thick East Coast accent. They’re an odd pair but friendly enough. Steve tells me he came out here on a whim many years ago. Being the tough-guy New Yorker that he is, he fully envisioned hating it but he fell in love with the place and now comes back whenever he gets a chance. Another example of the power of the natural. Proof that no matter who you are, being out in nature has a profound and lasting affect at the base of person’s being. I agree with everything both Jacob and Steve are saying and again I think to myself, “Everyone should do this.”
The Chuckwagon Trail takes me on a long jaunt through the flatlands and scrub brush. By the time I make it back to the Jeep, streaks of pink sunset stretch out over the desert giving it the feel of an old time-y photograph.
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| From Airport Loop Trail |
The Sedona Airport is isolated on the top of a hill with a trail looping all the way around it. It takes me a hour and a half to do the whole thing and not once am I let down by what I see.
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| Courthouse Butte |
I hike the Courthouse Butte Loop. The butte itself looking like an elevator that someone took from deep underground, and rose up right here in the middle of the desert.
I climb to the top of one of the spires on Bell Rock, where I chat with a man while he shares an orange with his dog.
I smuggle some whiskey into bingo night at the American Legion hall, where I take full advantage of the free coffee, cookies, and snacks.
I'm disgusted on the top of Bear Mountain buy a pair of teenage girls more concerned with taking selfies than soaking up the reality of where they are.
I watch the sunset from the crest of a hill on the Chimney Rock Trail and get beaten back by a turn in the weather when I’m halfway up Williams Mountain.
I find a way to sneak into Slide Rock State Park, a naturally formed waterslide that has sadly been monetized.
I take my meals in the woods somedays, in the desert on others. On Tuesday I hit up the Javelina Cantina for $1 tacos that are delicious. Down the street a paid 3 bucks for a slice of “famous” pizza that left something to be desired.
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| From Bell Rock |
Whenever I’m not out hiking or eating I hangout at the library. I buy a few books at the Sedona library book fair and score a few free ones from my pal Richard after he’s seen me there a few days in a row. (And fuck you guys, libraries rule!) The next night I’m back getting drunk during free movie night. I don’t run into my pal Richard. Afterwards due to the late hour and a low budget my food options are limited. It’s either the golden arches or nothing. I haven’t eaten from this particular establishment in over 10 years….maybe more. After I have a few items off the dollar menu I’m instantly reminded why. Their products resemble food in appearance only; and even there it’s vaguely inept. A chemical patty wrapped in bread shaped preservatives. Never again I tell myself….never again.
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| Slide Rock After Hours |
One night the library (told you, they rule) hosts a “Star Party” in the parking lot for the eclipse and blood moon. The guy running it seemed to know what he was talking about. He had a green laser pointer he used to circle the stars and constellations he was talking about while a group of about 30 took turns looking through 3 different telescopes he'd brought. Everyone’s chatting, looking skyward, having a good time. It’s after sunset, been dark for a while now and everyones' eyes have adjusted to the bit of light thrown by the moon. Until someone in the middle of the group flips on her flashlight, triggering some yelps of surprise and momentarily blinding everyone.
One of the telescopes had a chair you climb into; and the lenses lowered on a bar from above and behind your head. Kind of like a roller coaster harness. Anyway the woman with the flashlight starts asking “Is this the line for the chair? Is this the chair one?” Over and over again, and probably a little louder than necessary. What’s funny is that people we just sort of milling about, you know, like normal human beings. One would sit in the chair, look through the eyepieces for a while, they’d say things like “What? Where? I don’t see….oh, OH! Wow….” Like people are wont to do when playing with a telescope that you get to sit in….The point is, there was no real line structure to the whole thing, people were just taking turns. But this woman was getting upset that she couldn’t find the end of the line. “Is this the line? Are you in line? Excuse me, is this the line?” She explained, again a little too loudly that that’s why she turned on the flashlight in the first place.
Eventually people just told her yes, you’re in line, right there where you’re standing. That seemed to calm her. But after a short silence of everyone star gazing, a man who had been milling around one of the other telescopes wanders over to our group and joins us in eyeing The Chair telescope. Almost immediately the woman starts yelling at him….”Excuse me, Excuse me, I’m in line here”. The guy stifles a startled chuckle and shows his palms, uh ok. People nonchalantly shuffle her to the front of “the line” and eventually she climbs in to the Chair. She struggles to pull the viewfinder down over her head. The group helps her position it in front of her face. “I don’t see anything!” She wrestles the viewfinder around aiming it all over the sky. Slides her ass around in the chair and looks again, aims it all over again and still can’t see. Then she makes the sound a teenage girl makes when she totally “can’t even.”
Now, its dark out, but I'm pretty sure this is a full grown woman. She ungracefully climbs out of The Chair, and is so frustrated she stomps across the parking lot toward the cars and into the darkness. The next things I hear are a slamming car door and Australian accent saying “Well, she was lovely.”
While the group chuckles, BAM! She flips on her headlights from her parking space….Pointed directly at the entire group. All I see in the flash is people putting up hands and forearms to shield their eyes. Then its black again as she peels out of her spot, screeches toward the exit, and finally down the road. The same accent “LOVELY girl, she is.”
After this I head back to my makeshift camping spot, away from the lights of town, maybe not in the middle of nowhere, but definitely on it’s outskirts. I watch the desert moon turn red and as the eclipse takes bigger and bigger bites from it, an inky black descends on my little spot in the world……and it’s perfect.
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