Ode to Flagstaff and the Clay Casa

For the last 9 months, I have been in Honesdale, Pennsylvania. Thats right Chase, people actually do live in Pennsylvania ; ) It has been quite the journey here on the East Cost. Not all good, not all bad. I am grateful and trusting in my life decisions but after my recent hang out with some of my dearest Flagstaff friends I have found myself reminiscing like never before.  You never really know how amazing the feeling of ‘belonging’ is until it’s gone. The connection with the people and place surrounding you. I had that so strongly in Flagstaff. Home was the crisp, purifying mountain air filled with the smell of ponderosa pines. Home was the front porch, surrounded by good friends and even better dogs. Maybe a chicken sitting on someone’s lap every now and again. Guitars & laughter intertwining with that sweet mountain air. Family dinners pulled right from the garden (or a dumpster). Those were the best of times and we knew it. Now everything has changed and we are all scattered across the country. I am fine with evolution, but that doesn’t mean I can’t miss such a treasured time. Clay Casa Industries will live forever in my heart.

photos graciously stolen from the house blog: https://barefootinflagstaff.wordpress.com/

Alters & Altars: Creating a Sacred Space

I uprooted myself recently. Motivated by the desire to get to know my Self (capital S intentional here), I detached completely. Cut the thread with a pair of shiny new scissors reflecting endless possibilities back at me. In doing this, I had my moment(s) of breakdown and release, and now I am finally settling in. I am getting comfortable where I am and rooting myself. This process is a seemingly natural occurrence for anyone experiencing radical life renovations. My method: creating a sacred space.

Living in an ashram means total communal life. It is like a little village where you do everything with everyone. There is no division between personal and everything else. Rather, everything becomes personal. Thus, there is no hiding anything around here. Words spread like wildfire in the Southwest.

That being said, it is important (for me at least) to have a place to run away and breathe in total isolation. When the weather warms up, I will find this sanctuary in the woods, but for now the snow is too deep. Hibernation is required here on the East Coast. Plus, it’s always good to have an indoor option given the fact that weather is not always ideal for us sensory-driven human beings.

 For the first few weeks here, I left my room the way it was presented to me as if everything was glued in its place. But then I reached a point were alteration became a necessity. Call it my coping-with-major-life-changes process. So I painted the walls sage-green and rearranged the furniture. I made it my own.

My favorite part in this process was creating my practice space. The way in which I rearranged the furniture presented the opportunity to lay out a rug, set up an altar for my burnables and sacred trinkets and invite myself to have a seat. Since then, desire to practice has increased even more, which as led to a literal increase in my practice.

 With this, I wanted to share with y’all a brief tidbit of my experience in hopes that it inspires you in whatever way you need inspiration to return to your mat (or increase the time you are there). I invite you to take the time to make a space for yourself that you enjoy as much as a warm bubbly candle lit bath. Fill the space with objects that center you. Objects that have the divine ability to remind you that all the external crap that goes on in your day-to-day life isn’t real. Surrounded by these objects, you may get lucky and connect yourSelf. That part of you that rests like a giant tree in the midst of it all.

And so we practice..

 

Experiencing the Subtle: Returning to my Yoga Practice

When I did my 200-hour training in 2012 I discovered the glory that is the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. I had the monumental realization that yoga is so much more than just a physical practice. Rather, it is one small step within the 8-limbed path to Self-realization. Like most teachers engulfed in their 200-hour training, I was on a spiritual high, dancing atop of Mount Kailash with Shiva. Unfortunately, 200 hours of pure yogi-bliss isn’t enough to become “enlightened”. My training ended, I entered graduate school and my ego took over once again. I continued my yoga practice and some months later I began teaching, but my mind shifted into becoming more focused on the physical. The external. While I certainly put together a wonderful flow for my students that invited them to relax, breathe and turn inward, I personally was struggling to balance the art of maintaining inward peace within the outward world. With this, I focused on external movement, which is really the best place to start when one is craving that inner-peace. Your issues are in your tissues after all.

 But now I’m finding myself in a different space. I am attending classes that focus on the subtle both outwardly and inwardly. Rather than stretching and strengthening until I feel like a big bowl of jello, I am practicing things like Agni Sara and Nadi Shodhana. Of course I am maintaining a regular asana practice, as I need to get my “jitters” out before moving in, but now I am ready to move up. I have re-discovered to the realization that Asana is one small piece of the puzzle. I am returning my yoga practice in the subtlest form. I am making the effort, once again to have control over the roaming tendencies of my mind. That, after all is the ultimate goal of yoga. (Yogascittavrttinirodhah ; Yoga Sutra 1:2).

So let us begin our practice, whatever it may be, in an effort to discover our true Self that always remains. Let us remove the veil and see the Light once again.

 Namaste.

‘Shram Life

When I first arrived I felt like Piper Chapman from ‘Orange is the New Black’. I had built such a wonderful life for myself with Dean and Ruca and then BAM.. I was separated from them, fully submerged in my new life at an ashram. While this place is nothing like a prison, it does have the routine schedule of meal times, silent hours and showers that require flip flops. My days are filled with working, reading, writing, running, hiking, and of course: yoga. In my humble opinion, this is what a prison should be like. I’ve only been here 12 days and I feel such a positive shift in my well-being. Given my first few days were pretty rough emotionally, I finally feel like I made the right decision. I have finally stepped into my yogini-dream. I still find it difficult to be far away from my loved ones, and I don’t think that difficulty will ever really go away, but living in a place that is so abundantly full of love certainly helps. After all, time and space are relative. A product of science, reasoning and human’s need to separate and label. The only true constant, beyond our illusion is light. As described in Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda:

“In the gigantic conceptions of Einstein, the velocity of light- 186,300 miles per second- dominates the whole Theory of Relativity. He proves mathematically that the velocity of light is, so far as man’s finite mind is concerned, the only constant of a universe in flux. On the sole “absolute” of light velocity depend all human standards of time and space. Not abstractly eternal as hitherto considered, time and space are relative and finite factors. They derive their conditional measurement validities only in reference to the yardstick of light velocity. In joining space as a dimensional relativity, time is now stripped to its rightful nature: a simple essence of ambiguity. With a few equational strokes of his pen, Einstein banished from the universe every fixed reality except that of light.” (pg. 312)

While I may be slave to the 7:30AM breakfast, the 12:30 PM lunch and the 6:00 PM dinner, Light will always remain within and without us. It will always travel at 186,300 miles a second, and for now that is good enough for me.

Distance is not for the fearful but for the BOLD: Our journey across the country

It all started when I opened the book Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda. Reading about his life inspired me, like many others, to dive deeper into yoga. To take on more than just the standard asana practice. To consciously re-connect with my true Self; the divine light within and without. This burning desire (tapas) to deepen my practice led me to Honesdale, PA. In this little corner of Pennsylvania rests the Himalayan Institute, a place I’ll refer to as a yoga-education center (to learn more go here: http://www.himalayaninstitute.org/). Managing the bookstore is just one of many things I intend to do here. As I mentioned before, I want to do some serious soul searching and figured this would be one fantastic place to do it. The catch: in order to make this happen, I have to sacrifice just about everything familiar to me.

I got the job in November. At the time Dean and I were living in our trailer in the woods. Knowing I would have to be in PA by January, we threw our house-on-wheels up on Craigslist and sold it in two weeks. We also had to sell ol’ pearl, our prized 1988 ford f-150. We moved back into the Clay Casa and Dean headed off to New Jersey for the holidays. I spent the month of December saying goodbye to Flagstaff, a place that I will forever hold dear to my heart. Once Dean got back we packed up the car to full capacity. Although I’m proud to say all of our belongings fit into a Honda CRV, this meant Ruca had to sit on someone’s lap the whole four-day ride.

Ol’ Pearl

Our little flagstaff home

Me and Ruca ready for the road trip!

Instead of taking the I40 straight from Flagstaff, we stayed south to avoid the crazy cold & ice. We headed down to Phoenix to say our goodbyes to my folks and hopped on the I10 east. This route pretty much hugs the border of Mexico until you hit El Paso. I think I made it pretty clear how much I love southern AZ in my last blog so needless to say, this part of the drive was beautiful. We cruised straight through New Mexico and six hours later we found ourselves in El Paso, Texas. This is where I had my glorious realization that Krispy Kreme doughnuts still exist. We went in and an angel handed me a warm, freshly baked, melt-in-your-mouth doughnut. After I climbed down from doughnut heaven we were back on the road. We made it through the questionable “immigration checkpoints” that rest well above the border and started heading up towards Dallas, TX. Here I will note that Texas is one big state. We were in El Paso by 4 p.m. and drove clear ’til midnight. The next morning it took about 2 hours to get to Dallas. Driving through Texas in the night illuminated the frequency of flames rising above the copious amounts of oil resting underneath the earth’s surface. The whole state smelled like gasoline. Once we made it out of Texas we cruised through Arkansas and pulled into Memphis, Tennessee by 7ish that night. We got ourselves a room at the Motel 6 (the original pet friendly motel!) and went on a search for some Memphis style BBQ. Lordy did we find it. In the pic below, the “Café” to the left has some of the best ribs in Memphis and if I weren’t so hungry at the time, I probably would have taken a picture of them. After chowin’ down we walked down the street filled with blues bars and live music. Overall, Memphis is one awesome city and I definitely recommend checking it out if you ever get the chance, just don’t go in January when its 18 degrees at night.

Memphis, Tennessee

From Memphis we continued onward into Virginia. Driving all day for three days, we realized we had two options: to get to New Jersey by 2 AM or to stop, sleep, and finish the drive in four days. Remembering how we were looking forward to the adventure, we decided to extend it and ended up in a random town in Virginia at another motel 6. The next morning we hit the road and made it to Washington DC by lunchtime. Fun Fact: food places in DC are not open on Sundays. That’s an exaggeration, but it seriously felt like every place we tried to go was closed. We made the attempt to eat at Founding Farmers, a seemingly awesome place to eat, but sadly there were hundreds of other people with the same idea at the same time. Refusing to eat at baja fresh, we ended up at a Chinese restaurant that did not disappoint. From there we walked all over the city, stopping at the “must see” places like the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, yada yada. Out of all the big cities I’ve been to, I have to say DC was one of the coolest. The city itself is incredibly clean, the architecture is mind blowing and the overall vibe is pleasant. Not like New York where people are flying past you with an “F-you” attitude. After about 4 hours of walking and sightseeing we finished our drive, heading up to New Jersey where Dean’s parent live. We arrived, NJ pizza in hand by 8. In sum, the drive from AZ to NJ took us four full days.

Washington DC

Chillin with Albert

Jenny!!!

After relaxing for a few days, the time came where I had to say goodbye to Dean and Ruca and carry on to PA. So far it’s been really hard to be away from them, but I know everything is happening as it should. Dean got his dream job at the Center for Environmental Transformation in Camden, NJ. There he will be fighting the fight via urban farming in a place that needs it desperately. As for me, I’m just trying to get used to east coast drivers. Being distant from those I love most is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but way back freshman year my friend wrote a quote on a wall in the dorms that is really coming in handy now..

“Distance is not for the fearful but for the bold.

It is for those willing to spend a lot of time alone

in exchange for a little time with their loved ones.

Its for knowing a good thing when you see it,

even if it’s not nearly enough”

 -A good friend

Forest Mornings // Desert Nights: Hiking the Arizona Trail Pt. III

Roosevelt Lake to the Border of Mexico (400 miles)

After leaving Roosevelt Lake we had to set up camp early, just outside of a canyon our trail description said to be weary of in monsoon rains. That night I remember hearing flash floods ripping through the canyon (a sound I had become familiar with at this point). Tree branches breaking, rocks falling, the sound of water tumbling in between giant rock walls. That night it had rained so hard everything got soaked, including us. The rain was so strong, even our “waterproof” tarp was dripping over us. The next morning Dean and I were a little grumpy to say the least. To make matters worse, when we put all of our stuff out to dry in the faint morning sun, the dinkiest little rain cloud came over us and drizzled just enough to were we had to rush everything under the tarp again. At this point I couldn’t help but laugh, which did not help Deans level of grumpy-ness. Knowing the situation was out of our hands, we decided to pack up our wet stuff, putting the things that really need to dry in our outer mesh pockets, and continued into the canyon. We knew this was still dangerous but we had to go at some point and the canyon was only three miles in length. About 10 minutes in, the clouds cleared up and the sun came out. It was amazing seeing the tall grasses flattened by the force of water from the previous night. Streams that are usually never flowing racing through the canyon providing fresh desert rain water to all the plants and animals (and hikers ; ) ). This was awesome for us as we were able to drink as much as we want in the middle of the hot desert, a rare treat. Everything that morning looked so vibrant and beautiful. Desert rain really is a magical thing, providing a reviving breath for all the living things there that sustain in such harsh conditions. Sadly, I don’t have any tangible pictures from this gorgeous early morning/ post storm canyon hike. I think we were just at the point where we needed to simply enjoy it. To take it all in mentally. As I said in the last blog, Dean and I were ready to quit at Roosevelt Lake, but the beauty of the desert in this section kept us going.

Entering the Superstition Wilderness

After we made it out of the canyon, the trail took us through the East side of the Superstition Mountains. Growing up in Phoenix, I have been looking at these mountains all my life and I never realized how amazing this area was until I was 24 and decided to hike the state. Kind of a bummer. Sadly, I couldn’t get good pictures here either as the lighting was off. I suppose some of the beauty must remain in the memory of those who were there for it. When we were hiking through the Superstitions we felt this strange presence. Like something was watching us. Looking around we realized what an epic place this was for a big kitty, even bears. This got us excited so we walked silently hoping to see something awesome. I swear I saw a bear but Dean doesn’t believe me. But I did. Also, when I got up that night to pee I heard a large animal rumbling in the bushes. Dean said, “Gina is that you” to which I replied “no…” Now I was a little scared. I ran back under the tarp and we laid there silently. Whatever it was, it heard us and ran the other way. We will never know..

From the Superstitions the trail treks across the nothing-but-desert portion of the state in-between Phoenix and Tucson. If you’ve ever done that drive along the 10, you know there is really nothing there. In its own way, this portion was quite beautiful. We hiked through multiple canyons surrounded by desert Junipers, towering Saguaro’s, Ocotillo’s and all the other Southern Arizona cacti. Once we got to Superior, AZ we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit the Boyce Thompson Arboretum, one of the most beautiful public gardens I’ve ever seen.

Dean + Ocotillo

Picketpost Mountain, Superior AZ

      

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Boyce Thompson Arboretum:

From the Arboretum, the amazing manager of the Copper Mountain Motel picked us up, a service he selflessly provides to AZT hikers. We lodged for the night, got our dinner paid for by another generous couple, and relaxed. Well, we relaxed after we settled the whole ‘there are no maps in our resupply box issue’. Yep, that’s right, we got our box without the maps. The one friggin’ thing that is really difficult to replace. Luckily, my Dad was able to download the maps we needed and send them to a co-worker in a nearby town who hand delivered them to us, in color! Oh the luxury of having colored topo maps. Leaving Superior, I couldn’t help but reflect on how much help we were getting from both loved ones and complete strangers, an inspirational experience to say the least.

The next day, maps in hand, we were dropped off at the trailhead. Continuing on through the brutal desert heat, we hiked to the Gila River (where I almost got bit by a Western Diamondback rattlesnake), up and over the Tortilla Mountains, through Oracle State Park (were we saw our 1st of 4 Gila monsters!) and eventually reached the Santa Catalina’s.

Dean + Tortoise (For the record, I told him not to pick it up)

Getting our bandanas wet at the Gila River

Desert Hiking!

Gila monster # 1 !!

Mirabilis multiflora : Desert Four O’ Clocks

I had never really explored the wilderness around Tucson until now and I am not lying when I say, this was by far the most beautiful portion of the trail (Grand Canyon doesn’t count, its just not fair). From the moment we hit the base of the Santa Catalina’s until we hit the border, Dean and I were blown away by the scenery. This portion is known as the ‘sky island’ portion of the trail as you hike from mountain to mountain across the desert. From the Santa Catalina’s, we hiked to Summerhaven (elevation: 8,200 ft.), a cute little town almost at the top of Mount Lemmon. From Summerhaven we hiked down and through another gorgeous canyon. Once we were out of the canyon we hiked to the base of the Rincon Mountains, home to Saguaro National Park.

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Photos from the Santa Catalinas / Mount Lemmon

Once we hit the base of the Rincon’s yet another hurricane-induced storm was rolling in. This provided the awesome opportunity to continuously use one of my favorite quotes from Pineapple Express, that being: “I thought hurricane season was over!” Humor aside, we had to stop early, again, to set up before the rains hit. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stop soon enough and had to set up in the rain, getting soaked, again. The next morning it was still raining. Unable to change the situation, we put on our ponchos, packed up and continued onward cold, wet, and tired. From here, the trail moves brutally upward to Mica Mountain, the highest peak of the Rincon’s at 8,664 ft. Once we got high enough, we were no longer being rained on. Instead, we were walking through rainy clouds. Even though I was freezing I have to say, it was a pretty gorgeous hike. The storm was so strong there were waterfalls pouring off the mountain. We had thigh high river crossings in places that are usually dry as a bone. Once we made it to the top we kept moving to stay warm and continued down the other side. Once we made it down the mountain the storm was breaking up. By that afternoon we were in the Saguaro portion of Saguaro National Park with the sun shining down on us.

Rincon Mountains in the distance

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Rain on the Rincons:

Rincons after the storm

From the Rincon Mountains we headed towards the Santa Rita Mountains. While the trail does not summit the Santa Rita’s, it does take you through them. The storm water was still flowing here, providing fresh streams for us to drink from. This water sustained us until we hit the beautiful town of Patagonia. By road, Patagonia is only 19 miles from the border. By trail, we had 80 miles left. The night we camped outside of Patagonia we saw a straight line of lights. In this moment I realized we were almost done. We could see the border. Six weeks in at this point, 720 miles down, the trail was coming to an end.

The Santa Rita’s

If you ever find yourself south of Tucson, I highly recommend visiting Patagonia. It’s a cute little town surrounded by mountains, farms and vineyards. The local food/wine scene here is hoppin’. Its like a dessert version of Flagstaff. We stayed the whole day, interacting with the locals, eating and resting. As the sun began to set, we set up camp right where the trail picks up from the town. The next morning we began the final stretch. With four days left and one more mountain to summit, we were in it. The trail was decently marked, the scenery was breath taking and we had everything we needed. We trekked to the Huachuca Mountains, finding ourselves at 9,000 ft. 10 miles from the border. Everyone was warning us about hiking in the Huachuca’s as it is a common pathway for immigrants. We had the plan of saying “Bienvenido a Estados Unidos!” to anyone we crossed paths with. The way we saw it, they would probably be more afraid of us. The only time we were a little nervous was setting up camp 8 miles from the border right off the trail. That night we both swear we heard a human making owl noises but that’s all. We never saw anything or anyone. Our final day of hiking, we only had 8 miles to get to the border plus the 1.7 miles back to the place we could get picked up. We woke up as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. We were ready to be done. Ready to be reunited with friends, family and of course Ruca.

Entering Patagonia, AZ

Thats an 80 miles left smile : )

This is where its at in Patagonia. Good food + Ice cream!

The last day’s hike was definitely the most beautiful. Resting on top of Miller Peak (9,465 ft) we had Arizona to the North and Mexico to the South. The views were incredible. Once we were down the mountain we hit Montezuma Pass, where my parents would be picking us up. From this point, however, you have to walk 1.7 miles to reach the actual border. That 1.7 miles seemed so short. Before we knew it, we were standing at the barbed wire fence that separates Arizona from Mexico. Here you will find a little pillar marking the border and a little Arizona Trail sign marking the beginning (ending for us). I thought I would cry in this moment but I didn’t. I was too happy. Too satisfied to cry. After seven weeks of hiking we had finally made it. It was over. Once my parents picked us up I was finally able to say the quote from Forrest Gump I had been waiting so long to say, “I’m tired, I think I’ll go home now”.

Last 8 mile smile : )

Bath tub spring! No, we didn’t bathe in it

Miller Peak

Betchya didn’t think there would be aspens 8 miles from the border!

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View from the top of Miller Peak :

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Crossing the border:

Ze End!

Forest Mornings // Desert Nights: Hiking the Arizona Trail Pt. II

The Desert is unforgiving. That is what Dean and I learned when we fully descended the Mogollon Rim. Up until this point, it was as though we were strolling through Willy Wonka’s magical candy forest, surrounded by the beauty and comfort of ponderosa pines and high elevation temperatures. Once we started dropping in elevation into the hotter, thornier landscape, it was as though we had entered the tunnel on Wonka’s boat when he sings that creepy song. I kept on thinking to myself “Wonka you better turn this boat around!!” But it was not turning around. We kept going, deeper and deeper into uncomfortable conditions. To cope, I kept repeating what Edward Abbey had said about having to leave traces of blood on the trail if you want to see something spectacular. Well Mr. Abbey, we did leave traces of blood on the trail. Blood, sweat and tears to be exact. If there was ever a time Dean and I wanted to give up, it was in this segment. The brutal trek from Pine, AZ to Roosevelt Lake (Roughly 100 miles).

After leaving Pine we had another massive rainstorm, which forced us to stop hiking earlier than we wanted to. This course of action proved, yet again, to be the right decision. Once we set up our tarp under two medium sized juniper trees, the rain came down with mighty force. Again, we found ourselves digging frantically around our tarp to divert the water. And it worked, again. With about 350 miles under our belt we were finally beginning to master the art of working with the elements. So we thought. After that rain, we did not see another drop until we hit Roosevelt Lake, only an obscene amount of mud, which kept collecting on our shoes (it was annoying to say the least). The irony is: in this section we would’ve LOVED to have some rain.

Goodbye clean shoes!

From the moment we left Pine, not only were the temperatures rising due to the drop in elevation, we also found ourselves loosing the trail frequently. This had never happened to us before, as the Northern section of the trail was extremely well marked. The funny thing is, we were sending ourselves trail descriptions the whole time, but up until this point, we never needed them. This resulted in us throwing away our trail description for Pine to Roosevelt Lake. Oh the irony. I wish I was exaggerating, but we quite literally got lost every single day in this section. There were a lot of factors working against us here. 1) There were three massive fires in this portion of the trail; the sunflower fire (2002), the willow fire (2011) and the recent Four Peaks fire (July 2014). With this, the trail was burned and the area is now filled with downed trees and thorny invasive plants. 2) our maps were printed in black and white, making them extremely hard to read. 3) we still had our dog with us and we were now in rattlesnake country adding to the stress of the situation.

Black and white topo maps, not recommended

The first few times we got lost, we were able to find the trail again within an hour. While this sucks because it shortens the amount of miles we can cover in one day, we were fine because we were on the trail. Then came the day from hell. This day began on a good note, with us climbing up onto a beautiful ridge overlooking Payson to the East and the Mazatzal Mountains to the South. We were excited to hike the Mazatzals as everyone in the trail books talk about how beautiful they are. So we began. The first five miles came with ease, as the trail was not burned to smithereens. Then we hit a place dubbed “the park”. From this point there was an AZ trail sign pointing south. “Awesome!” we thought. We were on trail and everything was fine and dandy. Then we hiked another mile or so and the markers just stopped. All we had now were fallen trees, cat claw acacia (our arch nemesis), and New Mexican Locust (a beautiful tree that, unfortunately, has some of the gnarliest thorns on the planet). We stopped and looked at our maps. In theory we were heading in the right direction. We were supposed to be going south and we were. So we decided to hike towards a ridge we saw in the distance, about another mile or so. Once we got on top of this ridge we saw nothing but vast, dry Arizona wilderness. No signs of civilization or water anywhere. At this point, we started getting concerned. We were planning on hitting a water source by early afternoon and time was ticking as fast as the sweat was dripping down our faces. Unwilling to give up, we continued south and hiked up the next ridge. Still nothing. Remember, we are not hiking on a trail here. We are climbing up and over downed trees and through plants that are unavoidably slicing through our skin. Thirsty, tired and emotionally spent, we turned around and retraced our steps back to where we definitely knew we were on trail. We did this back and forth thing about 5 times. Sadly, that’s not an exaggeration either. The one positive thing was we were able to find water. The massive rainstorm we had experienced a few days prior had left a few solid puddles of water for us to pump out and drink. Had it not been for that, we would have been in a really dangerous situation. We had no cell service and no way of finding the trail. By 4 o’clock we realized we had to turn around and hike back to the ranch we hiked through the day before. Unfortunately, this ranch was 14 miles away from where we were. On top of that, Payson, the closest town, was 16 miles from that ranch.

Heads down and tails between our legs, we reversed our steps and ended up camping on that beautiful ridge again. The next morning we were in turbo mode so we made it back to the ranch by noon. Sadly, the woman who owned the ranch was gone. Knowing we had missed our potential ride to Payson, we started hiking the 16 miles along a dirt road that led to the town. About 4 miles down the road, we saw Maryanne drive up. We told her what had happened and it was clear she felt really bad for us. Even worse, she couldn’t give us a ride because she was meeting someone at her ranch to fix her water pump. Yet again, heads down and tails between our legs we continued onward. At this point, we knew Ruca had to go back to Flagstaff. Not only did the previous day take a toll on her poor little paws, she was also overly hot and thirsty. As we were hiking along the road, she would stop and lay down under every juniper tree she could find. I was just grateful she didn’t get scraped up like we did. About 9 miles down the road, the sun was beginning to set. We had decided we were going to keep hiking until we hit Payson. At this moment, however, a car pulled up. A kind man jumped out of his car and said: “I’m guessing you’re the Arizona Trail hikers. Maryanne called me. Hop in!” Joe was a member of the Arizona Trail association and the trail angel for the section we got lost in. He was once of the nicest people I have ever met in my life. He had fresh fruit and water in the car for us and even dog treats for Ruca. He drove us around Payson, taking us to every hotel to find the cheapest, dog friendly one. On top of that, he told us he would take us to the next segment of the trail, skipping the Mazatzals. So we spent the night in Payson. The shower, bed and fried chicken really helped lift our spirits and the next morning we were ready to take on the trail. Our amazing roommate and friend Dallas drove from Flagstaff to Payson to pick up Ruca without thinking twice. The support we got from strangers and friends on this journey was truly incredible.

Our camp on the ridge. Ruca sleeping in the fire pit.

Joe dropped us off at Mount Peeley. Again we were in ponderosa forest that was only moderately burned. This elevation quickly dropped and again we spent the day frantically searching for the trail in the heat of the Arizona desert. After finding it and loosing it about 4 times, we were getting pretty ticked off. In the midst of being lost on yet another ridge, Dean turned to me and said, “see if you have cell service. I’m ready to turn around and call Joe”. In this moment, I looked down at the ground in total defeat and what did I see? A Cairn! That intentional pile of rocks was marking the trail. So we continued on. And got lost. Again. And again. Now I was ready to check my phone for service but another part of me was saying ‘keep going’. And then, we saw the sign from heaven itself. The beautiful Arizona Trail sign that convinced us to keep going. From this sign on, the trail was pretty well marked and we had little to no issues until we reached Four Peaks area. Right outside Sunflower, AZ we saw our first two rattlesnakes tucked away under a cairn. While we missed having Ruca, this sight was a nice reminder that she was better off in Flagstaff.

The sign that kept us going

The first rattlers on the trail

These were the hottest days we experienced on the trail. Dean and I could barely hike an hour without having to stop in the little shade we could find. Then we made it to Four Peaks. This portion of the state is absolutely stunning. High enough to have ponderosa pines mixed in with the junipers and pinyon pines, we were finally enjoying ourselves again. We could see Roosevelt Lake in certain spots, motivating us to keep walking. I was dreaming of submerging myself in that lake. Hiking Four Peaks was something we were really looking forward to. This is another portion people rave about. That is why the fire that just occurred there is such a tragedy. It is easy to see how beautiful the area once was. Now, it is just a crisped landscape full of ashes and memories. The Arizona Trail fizzled out here too, but luckily we found another trail that led to the lake. We practically ran down that trail and made it to Roosevelt Lake by early afternoon. We were sad that we had to skip most of Four Peaks and even sadder that we had to hike 8 miles down a highway to meet up with the trail again. But at least we got to go swimming first!

The sunrises make it all worth it

Approaching Four Peaks

Hiking through the burn on Four Peaks

The getting lost all the time thing was really getting to us. By the time we made it to the Roosevelt Lake marina, the store that had our package was closed but we convinced the bartender to get our package for us. We spent the night illegally camping next to the lake. We couldn’t sleep that night. We were just debating whether or not we should quit. The next morning we got up early, took down the evidence that we were camping and had breakfast in a picnic area. Over breakfast, we decided we were not going to quit. At this point we were a little over halfway through and we didn’t want to give up. I guess we just ain’t the quittin’ type. We waited for the store to be open and stocked up on goodies. Cookies, chips, Gatorades. We went a little nuts, but we needed the treats to keep our spirits high. We left the marina and hit the trail with bellies full of lunchables and doughnuts (not recommended). Again, there was a storm rolling in. Again, we had to stop early to set up camp before the rain hit. Again, we had to dig a moat to divert the water. Again, we were on the trail.

The storm rolling in at Roosevelt Lake

Forest Mornings // Desert Nights: Hiking the Arizona Trail Pt. One

“Do not jump in your automobile next June and rush out to the canyon country hoping to see what I have attempted to evoke in these pages. In the first place you cant see anything from a car; you’ve got to get out of the goddamned contraption and walk, better yet crawl, on hands and knees, over the sandstone and through the cactus and thornbush. When traces of blood begin to mark your trail, you’ll see something, maybe.” – Edward Abbey

“Your going across the state… on foot!?” This is the reaction we received most when Dean and I would tell people we were hiking the Arizona Trail. I have to admit, there were a few times throughout the trail in which I would think to myself, ‘what the hell were we thinking?’ Arizona is one of the hottest, driest states in the country, not really ideal to hike through. But we did. Dean and I trekked 800 miles from the Utah border to the dinky barbed wire fence that divides Arizona from Mexico. In sum, the experience was ineffable, but I shall try my best to describe it in this very blog. Due to the length of the journey and my desire to get what I can describe in writing, I am going to divide our experiences into three blogs: the beginning, the middle and the end. So let us begin with the beginning, a distance stretching from the Utah border to Pine, AZ (about 300 miles).

The beginning!

I remember when Kurt (my selfless boss who drove us to the trailhead) said goodbye. I instantly felt the back of my throat swell and tears build in my eyes. Finally, our journey, which we had been planning for a solid 8 months, was about to commence. It was time to let go of our “normal” life we knew so well and begin something entirely different. Life on the trail, carrying everything you need on your back. Of course there is that feeling of insecurity, that annoying little thought reminding you that if you forgot something critical you’re screwed. In that moment all you can really do is place trust in the universe, knowing you’ve done everything you possibly can to prepare. And so we began, walking through the stunning red rocks that rest in-between Utah and Northern Arizona. We only hiked four miles our first day, as we got a late start and were each carrying 8 liters of water on our back (about 17lbs of water). Despite all the warnings, we didn’t see any rattlesnakes through these desert lands of the state and by our second day we were in the Kaibab National Forest, surrounded by gigantic juniper trees and ponderosa pines.

From the ponderosa/juniper forests we climbed up into the sub-alpine forests, home to the aspens, spruces and firs. While we were hiking in late summer, these were the coldest nights we experienced on the trail but the views made it well worth the numb fingers and toes. This high elevation provided us with views of rolling hills filled with evergreen trees, wild turkeys, deer and elk (and of course the famous Kaibab squirrels). Dean and I were able to identify almost all of the wildflowers in the area as our summer jobs provided us with a solid education on the plants of the Colorado Plateau.

Castilleja Integra, Paintbrush Flower

East Rim Lookout

By day 4 our days of solitude were over as we had reached the north rim of the Grand Canyon. At this time we were averaging about 16 miles a day, but once we hit the canyon we decided to slow the pace (the grand canyon is not something to be rushed through, especially if you’ve never been to the bottom). So we spent a night on the north rim, two nights in the canyon, and one night on the south rim. Being in the presence of the Colorado River was spectacular. Dean and I enjoyed our two days in the canyon, hiking no more than seven miles a day, leaving much time for reading and writing.

Gina’s Journal:

“Day 5/ 80 miles in:
We started in pinyon/juniper high elevation desert, hiked through ponderosa forest, sub alpine fir/spruce/aspen (not fun to sleep in) and wound up here at the grand canyon, one big hole in the ground turned into a Disneyland-like destination. I began reading Desert Solitare by Edward Abbey, which I now realize is perfect for this journey. My favorite quote so far:
”The personification of the natural world is exactly the tendency I wish to suppress in myself, to eliminate for good. I am here not only to evade for a while the clamor and filth and confusion of the cultural apparatus, but also to confront, immediately and directly if its possible, the bare bones of existence, the elemental and fundamental, the bedrock which sustains us. I want to be able to look at a juniper tree, a piece of quartz, a vulture, a spider, and see it as it is in itself, devoid of all humanly ascribed qualities, even the categories of scientific description to meet god or medusa face to face even if it means risking everything human in myself. I dream of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with a nonhuman world and yet somehow survives still intact, individual, separate. Paradox and bedrock.”- Edward Abbey, Chapter one

“Day six/ in the heart of the canyon:
One full week into the journey. Staying at Phantom Ranch CG for the night. Our campsite at Cottonwood was much more enjoyable as it was more secluded, but this one is right next to bright angel creek, which I find myself soaking in often as it is 100 degrees under the blistering sun. The canyon is stunning and as such we have to share it with hundreds of others who also chose to spend their weekend here. After 5 days of solitude one would think this shared experience would by appreciated, but for me, I find myself desiring that solitude we once had. If I were totally alone, this feeling would probably be different, but with a partner, the “wilderness” experience is incredible. All you need is someone to laugh with at the end of the day I suppose. “happiness is nothing unless shared” -CM. To this, I totally agree but sharing the canyon with all these people, surrounded by fat squirrels and sick deer which a stomach full of human provided garbage, I realize I cant wait to be in a remote area again. All I need is someone to laugh with at the end of the day, which I am lucky to have”.

Ribbon Falls

Datura Wrightii, Sacred Datura

View from camp, Phantom Ranch

The divine Colorado River

Needless to say, being outside all day everyday enables one to dive deep into their mind. An so the inward and outward journey continued from the south rim of the Grand Canyon (talk about Disneyland) to our home base in Flagstaff, AZ (100 miles). This trek begins in ponderosa forest, turning into pinyon/juniper for the majority, leading to the majestic San Francisco Peaks. It was incredible seeing the peaks all the way from the North Rim, knowing that’s where we were going. While we originally planned on taking 6 days to get from the Grand Canyon to Flagstaff, we were anxious to pick up our dog Ruca and eat the best breakfast on the planet, know as MartAnnes, so we did it in 4 days, upping our daily mileage to 25 miles/day. Due to the fact that we were no longer in the forest, the sun exposure and heat during these days was brutal. This is also one of the driest stretches of the trail, leaving Dean and I reliant on muddy cattle tanks and the generous water caches people left along the trail. It wasn’t until we reached the base of the peaks that we felt relief from the sun as both shade and rain poured over us. The trail took us from the north side of the peaks around the west side, overlooking Hart Prairie, all the way to Buffalo Park at the base of Mt. Elden. From there, we got picked up and went straight out for pizza and wings (food is a frequent thought on the trail, we had been craving the meal for days, the mountain had become a giant chicken wing). We were warmly welcomed at our old house, the clay casa, enjoying time with our friends, sharing trail stories and taking a nice hot shower. The best part of all: we were reunited with our dog, who would be joining us for the next 200 miles.

The San Francisco Peaks from afar

Getting Closer

About the time the mountain turned into a chicken wing

Special thanks to the generous soul who left these

Aspens on the Peaks soaking up the sun after the morning rains

Me soaking up the sun after a cold night on the north side of the Peaks

The Peaks: Westside

Buffalo Park

After resting for 4 days in Flagstaff, tweaking our re-supply boxes and getting Dean a much-needed pair of new shoes, we hit the trail again. We hiked from Picture Canyon to Walnut Canyon, which led to the popular Fisher Point. From there we hiked from lake to lake (some dry, some not) to Mormon lake (dry). Here we were able to camp, shower, eat a meal and get our resupply that would last us until we got to Pine. On our trek to Pine, we experienced an extreme hurricane induced storm while hiking down the Mogollon Rim. On top of that, we were hiking through a burned area, increasing our chances of severe flash floods. Knowing we were in a risky situation, we stopped at 2 in the afternoon when we spotted a solid campsite that was elevated and had some trees for coverage. By the time we set up the tarp, the storm came. Rain poured down the rim all afternoon into the night. In order to avoid water from pouring in (as we only carried a tarp) we had to dig a moat to divert the water, which actually worked! At one point, Dean went out to check things out only to find flash floods blasting through the surrounding canyons. The next morning we were lucky to only have a light drizzle. Capitalizing on the nice, cool weather we made our final trek to Pine.

Let the good times roll.. In between Picture and Walnut Canyon

hehe..

Fisher Point

Happy Campers!

Muddy Waters

The hurricane storm brewing

Storm on the Rim

Storm on the Rim II

Our moat

Upon reaching Pine we hiked to That Brewery and Pub where we were immediately greeted by a kind woman who gave us a ride to the post office to pick up our resupply package and provided us a cabin (for only $35!) That night we indulged on burgers and fries and That Arizona Trail Ale (how do you not get that when your hiking the trail?). Proud of having 300 miles under us, we knew we were still in the beginning of the trip. To be honest, we didn’t really experience much difficulty during this time. We were having a blast enjoying the beautiful scenery of Northern Arizona. During this portion we had hiked through mostly ponderosa pine forest and knew that once we fully descended the rim we would be in a different, more brutal kind of desert. And brutal it was. Stay tuned to find out how we survived getting lost in the Mazatzal Mountains!

Ruca sleeping in the cabin in Pine

For the Bees

The current state of the honeybee is like something straight out of a Stephen King novel. Entire colonies disappearing overnight. Thousands of bees found dead in a parking lot. Blood-sucking mites feeding on innocent young. Starving, abandoned queens.

It’s a rather grim picture.

We as humans have deemed this phenomenon Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD). Everyday, beekeepers across the country are going out and finding their hives full of honey and maybe a few bees while the 40,000 + members of the colony are gone for good. It has gotten so bad that last year alone beekeepers in the U.S. reported losses of 40 to 100 percent of their hives.

In case you didn’t already know, this is not good. In fact, its really really bad. Honeybees are responsible for pollinating one-third of the food we eat. Without them, we would basically have to eat bread, corn and oatmeal for the rest of our lives. As a fruit and vegetable enthusiast, this is where I draw the line. Through my fury for yet another f-ed environmental issue, I chose to do my thesis project on CCD. All semester long (and even before then) I have been researching CCD. What I have found is that this issue is nothing more than a result of decades of unsustainable agriculture practices.

Since the 1940s we have come to rely on massive farms to provide food for everyone rather that having everyone grow their own food. This reverse came at a time when we as a country had just gotten out of World War II and our industrialized society was thriving. American culture became one of capitalist-fueled consumption. The masses abandoned their self-sufficiency in exchange for a nine-to-five, all so they could afford a bunch of crap the television told them they couldn’t live without. Now back to agriculture. With Americans reliant on the supermarket for their food, farms across the country began adopting the monoculture method. Viewed as a sufficient way to feed a growing human population, the idea was “hey lets just grow a shit-ton of corn in one area and use it for everything!” In addition to this, farmers began noticing how awesome the chemicals we had left over from the war were for keeping pests off of their plants. So what does this mean for bees? Well, when you have monocultures the size of Rhode Island across the entire country filled with wind-pollinating plants like corn, wheat and cotton, there is no food for bees. Now, you might be thinking: what about monocultures that bees do pollinate? Excellent question. The almond industry, for example, is heavily dependent on honeybees for pollination. Every February the massive almond orchard (800,00 acres) located in California blooms and awaits the honeybees. Thanks to CCD, however, there isn’t enough bees in California to pollinate all of these trees. In order to keep the almonds on the grocery store shelf, beekeepers from across the country pack their bees onto trucks and drive them to California. Upon arrival, the bees are robbed of their honey (another high demand product), fed high fructose corn syrup and told to get pollinatin’. Once they are done with the almonds, many of the hives go on to pollinate other monocultures like cranberries and cherries. This is not good for the bees. When we condense all of the bees from across the country into one area, blood-sucking mites, viruses and diseases spread like wildfire. It’s a classic little Timmy gets a cold and sneezes on the drinking fountain at school kind of situation. While some may say monocultures and the associated migratory beekeeping is the obvious culprit to CCD, many are pointing to pesticides as the main issue.

Remember way back when I mentioned left over war chemicals being used as pesticides? Yeah, that’s a problem for the bees too. After the huge uproar about DDT being sprayed, the Bayer Corporation developed a new class of pesticide known as “neonicontinoid”. Found in numerous pesticides sprayed on conventionally grown food and now commercially sold in home improvement stores, these “neonics” seep into the plant in order to kill any leave eating insects. For honeybees, these neonics create toxic pollen. Most often, however, the pollen is not toxic enough to kill them instantly. Rather, after pollination the neonics attack the bee’s nervous system. This basically gets the bee drunk to the point were they cant find their way home and ultimately die. If only there was some sort of drunk honeybee taxi service, but that wouldn’t really solve the problem would it?

 So what would solve the problem?

 When you really boil it down, CCD is nothing more than a result of unsustainable agriculture practices. The creation of monocultures has destroyed our diverse ecosystems across the country and has led us to rely on toxic chemicals to grow food. Furthermore, we have to ship all of our bees to a single monoculture to keep it going. This will only get us so far. Knowing this, we must take this crisis as an opportunity for change. We must unite for the cause not only for the honeybees and all other pollinators, but also for ourselves. I don’t want to live in a world where fruits and vegetables have to be hand pollinated or imported because we have killed off the species that once did it for us.

Luckily, I’m not the only one that feels this way. I am thrilled to say that the European Commission and the state of Oregon have placed temporary bans on neonicontinoids in an effort to rebuild pollinator populations. Cities like Portland, Oregon and New York City have changed their urban beekeeping laws, enabling people to have hives within city limits. The desire to return to our self-sufficient past is growing. The backyard is becoming edible once again and people are beginning to vote with their fork, choosing to support organic and/or local farms. There is hope. We can reverse our destructive, outdated way of life and return to a more balanced relationship with the natural world. The change starts with you. Right here. Right now. Go out and plant some fruits, veggies and flowers. Feed the bees the nutritious, pesticide-free pollen they need. Support sustainable farmers and beekeepers. Bee aware. Bee informed. Bee active. Bee awesome.

If you want to learn more about the issue, as this was a heavily summarized version, check out the documentary Queen of the Sun. If you want this viewing to be free and you don’t mind foreign subtitles, watch it here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frYkQfdQH-w

 

 

 

Spring Samskaras.

The wind is blowing, the sun is shining & the tulips are coming out to say ‘helloooo!’.

This can only mean one thing: Spring!

While up here in Flagstaff we still have a month or so until outdoor gardening season commences,

spring can be a beautiful time to release what is no longer serving us.

This can be done on both the physical, tangible level and the more subtle, mental level.

 

Lets face it, we’ve all got stuff.

It may be easy to ditch the shoes you haven’t worn in years but what about the more subtle stuff like thought patterns and actions that we constantly do, regardless of the impact.

In yoga, these habitual patterns are known as samskaras. Literally the word translates to sam (complete) kara (action). That being said, samskaras aren’t always bad. There are basic samskaras we do simply for survival (nourishing the body for example). Negative samskaras, however, can be extremely detrimental to ones wellbeing. Even more concerning is the fact that these negative (and positive) samskaras often go unnoticed because they’ve been repeated for so long they’ve created an imprint on our identity. In other words, consistent mental patterns that convince us we are not worthy, not fill in the blank, lead to our full acceptance of these negative ideas. But that’s just it, they are ideas! We can break free from our negative samskaras and replace them with positive ones that enable us to break free from illusion (maya).

 

Samskaras will always be with us so we might as well make them good ones.

Releasing our negative samskaras is not an easy process, but the first step is intention (sankalpa). I always say the universe will give us anything we want with the right intention and I have yet to be disproven. By setting the intention of replacing our negative samskaras for positive ones, our awareness has ignited and we can begin to observe our subtle patterns. With this awareness, we can begin the process of releasing and rebirth into a more enlightened Self. It is like cleaning off the dust that has been building on our soul for years. The process of releasing can be done in many ways. Personally, I have experienced a great deal of releasing during a physical asana practice. This is not the only way though. Even a good laugh session can release habitual mind junk. Whatever your ‘yoga’ (uniting mind/body/soul) is, let it be something that enables personal growth, self-renewal and most importantly, self-love. Let the changing of seasons inspire a change of Self for the better (and lets throw away some junk too ; ) )

Namaste.