2024-11-14
In this Part 2, we are continuing up the trail that we began in Part 1, here:
Fall Colors Celebration 2024: Pt.1
As we walk, our bodies are illuminated by the dominate reflected colors.
I snap photos as yellow and then pink light make our skin change its hew. In amongst the cover of a group of young trees we pass through a room of lavender and stop. There is a still warm air in here, and a scent identifying the local species. It is a unique space.
Here are examples of reflected hews.
DF is caressed by a vermilion leaf as she passes. It has a smooth glossy texture as she pets it. She speaks to it and thanks it and then turns to me, “Here, try this.”
There is a sign labeling the beginning of the designated Wilderness Area, a land where all hands are off and it is left wholly natural.
But the border seems to have moved since our last visit. As we continue, we become aware that it is dramatically different. Before where it began the trail became barely passable. Now, we are passing more familiar landmarks that were supposedly BLM. We surmise that someone had vandalized the location of the signs before. Perhaps a rancher, or some radical who resents the Federal government misused the markers. There is another new wooden plaque that looks very nice, but as we near, it is obvious that someone has blasted a part of it with dozens of 22 caliber rounds.
Hikers are like passing tourists and don’t do this. Locals carry guns and shoot them. There is also an awareness of a new black water pipe stretched down the canyon to rob the creek of water. How is it in a designated primitive wilderness area? A rancher is apparently poaching the water course. In my mood after the election, I’m feeling radicalized. I’m fortunate not to have a hacksaw. Today, I’d be tempted to use it, perhaps wrongly.
We have been speculating what causes the leaves to change, comparing the temperatures and rainfall during our trips here, wondering if the amount of rain has affected the foliage. We consider the hard freeze that hit this region a couple of weeks earlier and wiped out a friend’s organic crops. All of these are clues, as we attempt to understand the complexity of nature. Then, any of such intellectual thoughts about the topic get washed away periodically by a tidal wave of the shear stunning gorgeousness of something in the moment. Along the way, we are bowled over.
“Stunning, gorgeous,” such words are all that are heard, other than the errant bird calls, the swish of our steps in the fallen leaves and the shutters of cameras snapping.
There is a strange scent in the air. It is nasty, like some kind of garbage. It isn’t a deer, or cat, or any critter’s smell that I’m used to. At one point near the Wilderness boundary we are startled still. Above us, just feet away, some being has moved in the thick brush. The noise tells us that it is very large, but we don’t hear it moving away from us through the brush. It has stopped, just like us. It is probably listening, waiting, like us. Fright and flight have not consumed its whole direction. This animal is not acting like typical prey. A bear? What animal has the confidence to act like a human, startled? The smell was not of a bold cat. I remember tales of Bigfoot arriving to winter in Arizona like a snowbird and smile. Whatever the big stink is, we decide to keep heading down the trail and not investigate.
There is a more sustained nip to the air, as the afternoon’s shadow from the canyon’s cliffs begins to cover us. The temperatures fall, as the cold mountain air drops, flowing down the channel of this valley. It is a silent flash flood of cold air. DF puts on a fleece shirt and her cap, which will trap the body heat.
I eventually find my fleece vest at the bottom of the bag. It is as if I had hidden it from myself, banishing it by my desire to feel natural. Now, it is welcomed.
We have had such a wonderful nude time that we are reluctant to cover up, unless we are entirely uncomfortable.
We have compromised enough body freedom, by dressing in the minimum. The rest of the other garments will stay stuffed, until we get home to the camp. Torso and extremities blanketed, like the fallen leaves on the ground.
Tomorrow, we will cross long miles of prairie on a graded dirt road to relax in the hot springs for the weekend.
It was once a trade route, raided by Apache, the lands of Cochise and the war with the cavalry. Little has changed, but the quality of the road and the roar of an engine. It is a fertile place for imagination.
Have a happy Thanksgiving. There are so many blessings out there, particularly this amazing planet and our fascinating bodies, which are ideal to know it with.
I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.
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