I was storytelling with a co-worker tonight over at the old ranch house around a burning pile of weeds. The fire reminded me of simpler things; the isolation of the canyon, the smell of the elements, and all the mysteries of the surrounding mountains. Not too far north of the ranch is Hell-Hole wilderness where people rarely visit except for the occasional hunter or prospector. Up in there, it gets real dense with stands of Ponderosa Pine and hearty clusters of Manzanita. I’m thinking of the intense quiet and the dark shadows. I’ve been spending enough time in Whitmore Wash to learn a lot about the area, and I’m getting to know some of the folks around here.
The fire was somehow therapuetic? I don’t know how that is? I was feeling so much tension this morning because I’m always working it seems. It never lets up. We work from sun-up to sun-down every day. But it is nice to be so far from town in pure solitude. It must be some sort of Cabin Fever? Anyways, I want to get out into that desert and explore Whitmore Canyon more closely and maybe head up into Hell-Hole. I felt so restless tonight just wanting to grab a camp pack with food and disappear for a few days. I’d have to ask for work off a month in advance. It’s also not wise to hike solo in the Grand Canyon. I’ve been reading this book titled: Over the Edge, Death in the Grand Canyon.” It’s basically an almanac of every body whose perished in the canyon from death plunges, to over-exposure, flash-flooding, Colorado River drownings, and folks succumbing to the elements of extreme tempatures. A lot of things happen to the solo adventurers. The canyon says BEWARE to me, whenever I consider such things.
I need to find a way into the park service. There’s this small ranger station on the other side of Mt. Trumbell on the way to Toroweap overlook. That would be an ideal place to work and live. Sometimes I wander if I even need a wife. I haven’t thought about that much? It wouldn’t bother me too bad to have the company of a nice woman.