Escalante day 5

End of day 5. Whew!
Another day of burley hiking up El Esca. Deep sand, rock fall to climb over, six crossings of the river, one false crossing, quicksand, thornbush, heat-it was two tough days going up that river, and I am glad I will not have to see its wet concrete color or feel its cold chill, or hear its RUSH that makes everything feel hurried. But then I would look up at the burnt orange 500 foot cliffs streaked in organic vegetative black, or swirled in cream, or see the three claw marks of Ursa Major as she lashed out at a misbehaving tourist or knocked a chunk off the face. That kept me going today, even when my left thigh couldn't make the high step and lift the load of my 50 pound pack. I slid down a sand slot today and after a piece of orange sandstone broke loose, and I thought I was leaving my left arm wrapped around a hand hold. After landing 20 feet down the slot, my hand tingled from the strain on the muscles of my shoulder and armpit.

Then the sun was high and hot and I was sweating and El Esca split in two and curled around to the north east, on the west bank I noticed a trickle of clear water coming in at the surface level and I blasted through the channel and swished my feet in the clear water ankle deep and I suddenly felt like tiptoeing up the mouth of Fools Canyon as gnarled cottonwoods perched over and protected green pools of water four feet deep and as wide, while newly sprouted grass grew healthily on both sides of the creek.

Most noticeable was the stillness of Fools Canyon. No grey green water, no rush  and requisite canyon echo--just trickles and silence. My head calmed, my body gave in, and when I found the spot in which I am sitting, I dropped my pack, grabbed my soap, and waked back downstreat to the deepest pool naked. Into it I slipped, and though I wasn't cold then, it makes me cold thinking about it. I washed the sand out of my ears and toes and armpits and neck. I was invigorated and exhilarated.

On that big dome, as I write under the moon light again, the Big Dipper sits on its handle. I think tomorrow I will head to the top of Fools Canyon, camp at King Spring, drink tons of spring water, and then head back to the car Thursday. Friday I will explore Peek-A-Boo and Spooky Gulches by car, then head back that night or Saturday morning to Bozeman. It might be nice to have a Sunday to unwind at home, see my dog and hopefully my baby girl. Otherwise I don't know what I will do at home except type this up.

So, I have had a lot of dreams about people I know on this trip. These include Elisa, Bud Lilly, Gramma Bechtel. With Elisa, she kept testing me. It was like Erica payed her to give me a bunch of grief and see if I could handle it.

With Bud Lilly, it was odd as if he passed away. I have really been thinking about Bianca a lot, but not so much this marriage. Earlier today I tried on the idea of living together, and I just don't see it. What do Maya's parents do? I should propose that.

I guess what I am revealing is I don't need anyone. I think of people in my life that I like to spend time with, but honestly my recovery is going well, I have learned that I have major issues solving my inside problems with outside temporary fixes. These include booze, sex, people, ice cream, affection, etc. These don't work. I remember that old guy in AA meetings in Missoula: "It's an inside job!"  I am also hearing a still calm, very clear voice in my head that is my voice, and I am listening to it. It speaks softly and offers encouragement and is positive. It is the voice I care with, teach with, but there is this other voice, the coward who wants fixes now, but is too afraid to go get them. That voice is silenced right now. I never want to hear it again.