Horse Canyon to Gaging Station

When we were walking upon camp I got the feeling like I had been here before. It’s curious how the land here hold so many memories that seem to be forgotten and yet once you step upon the soil...

Oct 09, 2022

// Journal Entry for Letters From The Wilderness //

Wednesday/Thursday, August 31, 2022
Location: Horse Canyon, Tonto National Forest
12S 0515201
3 7 5 3 3 9 0
Elevation: 5,593
Final destination: Gaging Station

I currently on my night watch - just about an hour in. It is currently 2:22 am. It is taking all parts of me to stay awake. I’m blinking more than regularly, my mother calls that “cambio de luce.”

I have her voice in my head, “¿Te estás durmiendo? Estás dándome cambio de luce”

I just did my rounds and everything is looking good. The fire cackles and a cloud of smoke envelops the air and spirals upwards.

It’s a clear night; I haven’t seen this many stars in months. In fact, it’s so clear you can see the milky way tonight. The crickets sing their cyclical song and the scorpions make their rounds around the fire too.

My senses are heightened being the only one awake at night. When we switched out the TrailWalkers earlier today they told us they had seen a mountain lion in the area with two cubs. I hear a grumble and I look into the dark forest for the eyes of an animal. I calm myself once I realize the sounds are coming from my stomach.

It smells of pitch wood and campfire, oh how I’ve missed that familiar scent.

My nightwatch has turned into a meditation practice of sorts. I ponder as I look at the fire and look at the embers as they reveal shapes and stories as if they were hieroglyphs. But mostly I allow the waves of thought inside my mind run loose and then silently observe my stream of consciousness from a third person’s perspective.

Fire has allowed me to get to know myself better. The forest has allowed me to embody the person I yearn to be and still teaches me who I could be through its powerful and wise elements.

I wish to embody the stillness and presence of stone. The rootedness of sycamore trees. I wish to not be shamed for “not being productive” I think to myself as I stare at the flames.

Why is it so wrong that I just want to lay like a lizard in the sun for hours?

I believe the indoctrination of a capitalist nation programs you to feel that way, that guilt or shame if you are not being productive. Consume or be consumed.

Nature however teaches us a different pace; in the forest all processes that need to happen, happen and yet it seems it occurs with no rush, and no haste.

I am a human animal living during the anthropocene. I retrieve to the woods for work but also it is my method of boycotting the way the capitalist machine runs in this industrial growth society.

I choose to not participate in the haste or in the hustle and bustle of a city.

I choose the woods, to unlearn my programming and reawaken my genetic memory and that I am after all just another animal trying to survive out here in the wilderness.

There is something incredibly humbling about the process.

I enjoy sacrifice, endurance, and hardship. These help me connect with what my human ancestors once felt and help me feel more human.

These reflect back to me the resilience of my soul.

Perhaps I do aim to be like the stones, those great teachers of patience, strength, immortality, stillness.

where am I going with this?

what do I am to preach?

that wilderness itself has powerful medicine to teach.

Thursday, September 1, 2022
Location: Duett Branch Tank, Tonto National Forest
12S 0517419
3 7 5 2 6 4 3
Elevation: 5,381 ft
Course: SE°

Today we hiked four hours east into Horse Canyon through a bed of rocks on what used to be a creek. It’s sad to think that at some point this creek bed was once full of flowing water. How long before the rest of the creeks and rivers dry up on this warming planet? I hear the great lakes are being drained now…

I pray for a miracle for those with their hearts closed to climate action to wake up. Nothing irks me more than when our elders say, “well it’s too late for me to do anything about it now, that’s for your generation to take care of…”

Before we started hiking there were multiple fires to be put out. One girl was having an emotional breakdown, and another one was having chest pain and difficulty breathing. I gave them my attention, my ears and when they asked for advice I offered that too. I offered the band a meditation but spirits were low. It can feel uninspiring in those moments and low vibrational frequencies are contagious. I found myself in low spirits as well thinking about Bosque’s passing and my partner leaving to Chile for six months.

Talk about being initiated.

I found myself taking the advice I often give to the YoungWalkers: be present, breathe, meditate, envision the best possible scenario and attract that reality. The universe is an energetic game and you attract what you embody.

During the hike there was a better dynamic within the band and spirits were higher. Walking in the forest is incredibly healing. Even when you are not being intentional about it. Mother Earth looks after us all.

After hiking for four hours we were able to make it to our water source with enough daylight to set up camp; build shelters, make primitive fire and gather firewood.

During fire circle I proposed the prompt: “If you could have one selfless wish and a selfish wish what would they be?” (or a wish for yourself and one for the world…)

Some YoungWalkers spoke about eradicating pollution, others better care for the elderly… safe space and refuge… immortalizing their grandparents and others wished to go home after this program versus another residential treatment center.

Nightwatch, Friday September 2, 2022 5:15 am

When we were walking upon camp I got the feeling like I had been here before. It’s curious how the land here hold so many memories that seem to be forgotten and yet once you step upon the soil the floodgates of remembrance open.

I remember camping here with Earth Band once. We set up shelters, (or at least some of us did - some of the boys were feeling incredibly optimistic that it wouldn’t rain). But Mother Nature has a funny humor. When nighttime came around thunder clouds rolled in, the sky broke open and heavy monsoon rains drenched absolutely all of our belongings. I remember being woken up by the heavy downpour. My sleeping bag was soaking wet and I was so uncomfortable in it that I could not rest. My ground tarp pooled water and nothing managed to stay dry that night. I put on my hiking boots and went inside my drenched sleeping bad to try and warm up to prevent hypothermia. I couldn’t sleep. I sat up beneath my janky and defeated shelter (which was simply a not-so-taut poncho I tied onto some manzanita branches by each corner) trying to focus on my breath, meditate and hopefully achieve enough rest in that way.

When morning came the downpour ceased… only a light pitter-patter descended from the sky. We got a huge trunk and gathered soaked firewood. The boys took turns trying to bust a coal to resuscitate the fire the heavy rains had put out. I remember praying to the higher forces to allow them to be successful. One of the boys got a coal and tried blowing it to flame in a damp tinder bundle. It’s funny how some don’t believe in God until they go through rough moments like this. After many attempts we got a flame; the most high maintenance flame we had ever needed to tend to. It took many pages from our notebooks to keep it alive.

We placed the tiny fire within a trunk’s belly button. The concave seemed fitting. And we each took turns blowing until she became a robust fire. Hot enough to dry some logs. We placed the damp logs around the fire like a nest and rotated them so they would dry and that seemed to do the trick. A lot of smoke surrounded us and pooled at the top of the tarp draping over us like an umbrella.

Despite it all the boys were in good spirits huddled around the fire, laughing. It seemed funny to them that all of their stuff got soaked. We dried our wet socks by hanging them on the log nest surrounding the fire and had a strict rule about hanging underwear to dry while we were cooking breakfast. We each took turns drying our sleeping bags over the fire.

We got out late that day but it didn’t matter. We prioritized our well-being over getting good distance and really that’s all that matters. It’s not about getting to our final destination but about fully living those moments in our walking.

I sit by the fire now (the same place where the fire used to be last time I was here) feeling gratitude for a dry night of rest. Feeling safe and warm… the sun ascends peeking through the oak trees and manzanita brush greeting me with her orange glow. I can feel the fall inch forward in the colors present. She makes the forest trees glow orange with her gentle morning light. Morning is here. My nightwatch is up and it’s time to sing to the girls so they can wake up.

Monday, September 5, 2022
Location: 12S 0517419
3 7 5 2 6 4 3
Elevation: 5,381 ft
Course: stationary
12:30 am NightWatch

As it turns out, one of our girls got a concussion while hiking on thursday -she had fallen and hit her head. We checked her vitals, did a full body assessment and sent it over to ridge when she fell. Ridge picked her up and took her to the hospital to get checked out. We continued on hiking to get to our water source and campsite for the evening. The YoungWalker had been experiencing dizziness, nausea and headaches since. (It’s quite common for people with concussions to experience symptoms for up to ten days.) So we haven’t hiked since Thursday so she can rest and recover. It’s quite a unique week for me. At this point, we won’t make it to our final destination. Hopefully tomorrow we can hike. The YoungWalker’s sypmtoms weren’t improving so we sent her to the hospital again on Sunday and doctors gave us some medication for her and said hiking could actually help the healing process since it aids in circulation.

We’ve been stationary since Friday. We’ve been trying to keep busy by practicing our fire making skills, carving spoons, writing letters, making crafts, having councils and sittings. Sunday morning I was able to offer the girls a yoga class in the forest that lasted about an hour. I am so grateful to have many tools and resources below my belt to share and create fruitful experiences.

At Anasazi Foundation, we’re a hiking program, meaning we believe there is great medicine in movement. So, we are trying to find ways to honor that amidst the stillness and stagnation.

Wednesday, September 7, 2022
Location: Lone Pink Tank
Nightwatch 4:45 am
Course: S°

On our way to Lone Pine Tank we hiked three to four hours underneath the hot desert sun. We followed a dirt road with purple and yellow flowers coming from the ground. I noticed none of the girls seemed to step on them. During one of the breaks I asked the girls, “what makes a parent a ‘good’ parent?” ::::

“A good parent is someone who accepts mistakes, both theirs and their child’s and allows their child to learn from their mistakes. A parent who learns from their mistakes and takes accountability. Someone who tries as hard as they can to know when to give their child space and respect their boundaries because their child is also human. Don’t project onto your kid and if you find out later that you subconsciously did, apologize.” - 17 year old (she/her)
“A good parent is someone who understands their kid as much as possible. That teaches that mistakes are o.k. and that helps them through it and supports them in their own decisions.” - 17 year old (she/her)
“A good parent is someone who…. knows when to lecture. No lashing out. Apologize for your mistakes and behavior. Love them. Try your hardest to love them. Try your best to help your kids be as happy as they can be.” - 16 year old (they/them)
“Having good communication. Make your kids feel loved. Appreciate them and spend lots of time with them. Go out to eat food. Make an effort to have fun with them. Show a lot of emotion. This is important. Treat them with a lot of respect. Make them feel important.” - 16 year old (she/her)
“Accept that they will make mistakes too. Your child is still learning. Be supportive so they can feel safe to go to you when something is wrong. Hold safe space. Show unconditional love so your child knows you still love them when they fuck up.” -13 year old (she/her)
“A good parent is someone who is supportive and respects boundaries and doesn’t manipulate you. Someone that listens to you and is actually present. Doesn’t talk shit about you, especially to your siblings.” -15 year old (she/her)

We did not make it to our final destination after all but luckily enough the therapists and nurse came out to meet us where we are which was a great relief since the YoungWalkers really yearned to talk with their therapists and receive letters from their parents.

Two of the girls finished the program and left today. It was bittersweet to say goodbye, their presence contributed to so much of the harmony within the group but we were also really excited for them to be reunited with their parents after spending 7 weeks straight in the wilderness and so we released them with loving hearts so they can step into this next chapter of their lives empowered.

Even though us TrailWalkers leave the trail today to go home - both the field team and Ridge want us to hike. It is not common to hike on Wednesdays. Usually we rest and wait for a new set of TrailWalkers to replace us. But we want to put the girls in a good spot for the next week’s hike considering we were stationary for four days.

When Wednesday came around Ridge found us hiking on a dirt road and so the new trailwalkers switched us out. We passed along pertinent information, medication and got into the vehicle. As we drove out we marveled at all the sotol yucca in our natural environment. Ridge mentioned that to those that don’t know about sotol yucca the desert forest must look so barren. Little do they know it holds the potential to make fire, to provide warmth, comfort and help us survive.

We drove four hours out of the high desert and made our way back to civilization on an asphalt road that carved through mountains covered in Saguaro.

When Carmelo and I arrive to Mesa, we drove two more hours north to Prescott. When we got home trailing feathers, mud and smelling of musk ready for a shower we discovered our water had been shut off. (It had slipped my mind to pay the water bill before coming on trail) And so, I grabbed by robe, candles and biodegradable soap and headed down to the creek that flows right below our house in the mountains. I placed the candles in the sand and lit them and started to bathe underneath the moonlight and the romance of the candle light.

A neighboring owl sang their musical nocturnal call.

The water felt cold but refreshing. Cleansing a week’s worth of sweat and filth on our bodies.

Bathing in the creek felt like the perfect way to integrate back into “default reality.” Slow return. Undivorced still from the natural world.

We offered words of gratitude to the creek for cleansing us and felt more supported by our Earth Mother rather than the man-made matrix.

It’s a good thing to feel comfortable with the land and gratifying to know that if all else fails we still have the support of our Earth Mother who we can always depend on.