I am not a hiker. I am an urbanized artist, with a dash of country girl. My idea of fun in nature is to sit somewhere and sketch, take a nap on the ground, or garden. Still, I had been a good sport about hiking up until a point. It is not so bad with company for conversation.The hike out was less taxing for the simple reason that we were going one way, and once we started, it was either hike out, or be abandoned in the canyon.
We were allowed to gather sage near Spider Rock, an experience not to be forgotten. The smell was sweet and earthy, warmed from the sun. The most magically potent sage in the world I imagined, leaving tobacco as an offering for the plant spirits in thanks for their gift.
Everything was fine and dandy until we began our ascent up the canyon wall. About thirty feet into it I realized that, being the chain smoker I am, this was going to be a really painful task to complete. So I sat on a rock and cried.
Rainey and Clint came along and made me feel better about being a rancid hiker. We formed a small group with Andrew, so far behind the rest of the gung-ho group that we couldn’t even see them.
Andrew shared hiking wisdom. There is a place on the top of your head which you breath from as well, and putting water on it will allow you to breath more easily. We all did and things seemed easier.
He also told us that after completing a hard hike out of the canyon he would often turn around and give the canyon the finger. Laughing, he suggested we could do the same.
Eventually we made it out, but I didn’t feel like giving the canyon the finger - after all it wasn’t my home and it had given me immeasurable gifts. There is a certain sense of accomplishment to completing tasks that you think are impossible for you to do.
It puts in perspective the voice of your inner critic. Mine is often fueled by my self-hatred, but apparently under dire circumstances can be silenced leading to positive experiences. The hike out was certainly one of these.
