48.) Wildlife Rituals......Outlaw Hideouts......and Unmitigated Kindness

    I camped out in the desert just outside Capitol Reef last night. It was nice to have a night in the tent where I can really stretch out. It gets a little cramped in the back of the Jeep, but my tent has quickly changed from blessing to curse in the desert’s morning winds. They gust so strong that I am unable to properly break down camp by myself. I resort to disassembling the tent poles, wadding up the whole mess and jamming it into the back of the jeep. Out of the wide open desert and into the relative shelter of the park, I’m able to breakdown and stow the tent properly, but its an irritating way to start the day. 

I’m not terribly sore from the 10 miles I hiked yesterday evening and I think of that word again…Progress. It’s a good feeling.  

I’ve been in Capitol Reef for a few days now and I’ve grown very fond of a certain picnic area I've found.  It’s a lovely little grove of cottonwood trees stretched across a lush green lawn.  The Western face of the Water Pocket Fold soars above the tree tops just across the street.  Red, maroon, mauve….and straight up.  The shade and the scenery make it my go to spot for cooking meals and consulting trail maps, despite being marred by power lines cutting through the middle of the park.

 

I've made chicken and broccoli pasta for dinner this evening and while its on the stove I walk down a short trail to the stream that skirts the park's edge to take a leak. When I look up I lock eyes with a deer on the streams far bank. I’m startled at first but we stare in silence at each other for a moment and then we part ways. I head back down the trail and when I step back into the picnic area I freeze.  A dozen more deer are grazing at he far end of the park.  As, I cook they slowly but efficiently work their way across the lawn without missing a spot. I imagine it’s become a nightly ritual for them, looking for people food. I watch them finish their dinner as I finish my own and think, it’s these kind of surprise moments that this trip is supposed to be about. Those little things that happen out of the blue and touch the heart, the moments that can't be planned. The silence and serenity I experience as these little creatures comb the grass for snacks cannot be manufactured and injected into an energy drink or a fruit chew, but I imagine it can be equally addicting.    

    The drive to Sunset Point is a scenic one, and the view from the point is awe inspiring but the sunset tonight is kind of a weak one, but hey. They can’t I’ll be perfect.

     

     Three and a half miles of steep switchbacks and stairs cut right into the stone gets me to the top of the Cassidy Arch Trail. Named as such because it’s rumored that Butch Cassidy had a hideout somewhere in these canyons. Seems like good hideout territory to me. It’s at the western end of Capitol Reef NP and I had to pilot the Jeep down a long, dirt road into a canyon just to reach the trailhead.

 Now, at the peak, I find the highest point to take in the view and engage in some quiet meditation.  And also to get some sun on my pasty white thighs. The drive in and the hike up are well worth the view and results in a few of my favorite pictures so far. I crawl on hands and knees as close to the cliffs edge as my nerves will allow. This is my favorite part of hiking I think. When you reach the viewpoint, or the top of whatever you maybe hiking up or to. It’s the quiet moments of contemplation, where I can be alone in the world and really have the time to take it all in, as they say. 

These were the kind of moments I was looking for back when this trip was just an idea…..a “maybe some day” kind of dream. They’ve been abundant to say the least, and for that I’m grateful.  But there are other moments too, ones that I wasn’t looking for but have had an impact on me none the less. The moments involving people…..perish the thought, I know. People? Ugh, I’ve never really been a fan. And not just people, complete strangers in fact.  I stumble into one of those kind when I cruise into a bar just outside Capitol Reef called The Patio, to watch the Hawks game.

Derek is behind the bar when I walk into the nearly deserted place. He’s a friendly chap. Puts on the hockey game for me and pours me a beer. We get to chatting and I give him a short version of what I’m doing. He says he's from Pittsburg and did something similar when he first made his way out west. A kindred spirits sort of thing I think, and he asks if I’m hungry. “A little, I guess,” I say with a shrug, “but I’m kinda broke. Beers during the hockey game are a luxury I think I’ve earned from all my miles hiked, but I probably shouldn't be spending my money on them. I've probably got a can or pouch of freeze dried something or other in the car I can make for dinner later.”  

“I feel ya,” he says and disappears back into the kitchen. I turn my attention back to hockey but Derek emerges from the back and slaps 2 huge pizza slices on the bar in front of me. “On the house,” he says with a nod.  

“For real!? Oh my god man, thank you!”  It’s just a couple of pizza slices but it’s the gesture itself that’s touching. It doesn't benefit him in anyway. He has nothing to gain, all he had was an opportunity to spread kindness. To be human to another human and moments like this are just as moving as those I’ve had alone in the desert at the cliff’s edge. I scarf the slices like a raccoon in a dumpster and order another beer to wash them down. Wiping my face, out of breath I utter another heart felt thank you.  “No sweat man, are you still hungry?”

“I couldn’t,” is say with palms out in an I surrender gesture.  

“You sure? That pizza back there is a mistake, and I’ve already eaten, so it’s just gonna get thrown out if you don’t want anymore.”

My eyes widen, “Well, that seems sorta wasteful,” I say with a smile, and Derek chuckles as he heads back into the kitchen. He’s back a few minuets later with 4 more huge slices on a paper plate that he covers in tin foil. 

“Take em with you, save em for later. Whatever ya want, better than just tossing em.”  I can hardly believe his kindness, and thank him profusely. It’s not this grand, out of this world gesture—like I said it’s just few slices of pizza—but feeding someone who is hungry is one of the kindest gesture one can make, in my opinion. There nobility in providing a basic human need, especially when there’s nothing to be gained.  

I eat one more slice on the spot, with my belly full and my next meal already taken care of to the tune of 3 more slices, I figure I can afford another beer or two. I nurse them through the rest of the hockey game and continue my chat with Derek. I tell him the direction I’m headed next and he tells me about a hidden waterfall, 127 feet high. He says it’s just passed a certain mile marker and down a trail at the back of a campground. I struggle remember the specifics, by this point I’m well passed buzzed, and quickly approaching tipsy. When Derek gives me my tab, he’s only charged me for one beer. I thank him again, and on my walk out to the car I realize I’m much drunker than I thought. So drunk in fact that I end up car camping in the parking lot.