It Was Thick Water But Never Tasted So Good…

Twisting dust devils drift along the-- Wait that’s good, but not quite what I was looking for… Thorny brush encompassed the jagged rock face as we pushed our way through Skeleton Canyon, and-- Wait, did I just use encompassed? Well, it works, but, okay, this will grab you by the collar and drag you kicking and screaming into my story… “Save the last bullet for yourself… You don’t want to be captured by the Apache…” Sergeant Johnson cried out as he placed the muzzle of his gun to his head. Closing his eyes, he pulled back the hammer with his shaking hand… Now, I have your attention and should if my writing’s worth anything today…



Growing up, my brother David spent countless hours reading books to me, and in large part was the main reason I became a story teller (writer). He mostly read westerns, and stories of the Apache were always high on the list. He knew I was falling behind in school with my reading and although exhausted from working all day, after dinner, he would pick up a book, and the story would begin. The action, the loss, the love, the landscape, the betrayal, everything was laid out before me like a scenic roadmap playing in my mind in the most beautiful way…


So, when I was finally able to visit these faraway places in the west, it was nothing short of the time of my life… Unfortunately, the time of my life was coupled by the flu, and spending a few days in a place like Skeleton Canyon should not be on anyone’s flu-to-do list… The canyon straddles the Arizona / New Mexico border and was a passageway for Geronimo’s band of last fee Apaches fleeing the US Army… Fleeing deep into the Sierra Madre Mountains for safety… Skeleton was also the place where Geronimo would make his final surrender, before his band was shipped to Florida and Mississippi, never to return to their homeland…


Daytime temperatures in the canyon can easily climb into the hundreds and nighttimes plummet to a cold stillness of coyotes howling on the Dark Distant Desert Horizon… Yes, I think I’m one of the few writers left that try to make alliteration work, but it never really does… I think sometimes, I might just have childhood flashbacks of Spiro Agnew giving speeches on the telly, and sometimes I think not…
Upon our arrival, which was a slow car craw over the rocky terrain, we set up camp. My brother David, his wife Gita, Yes, Gita is her name… I think in some language, in some far way place like my mind it means, “pretty cool chick,” and last but not least, my hiking buddy Grizzly Madams, who moonlights as a Roller Derby Girl…


After we settled in, night quickly came upon us. I was really feeling bad by this point running a fever. Lying down and sleeping just wasn’t in the cards for me. So, I stepped out of the tent to a wonderful world of sleep deprivation and fevered chill bumped skin. Alone, I sat in the car looking into the star filled sky. The moon was full and had already began to slip from its crest high in the Arizona skyline. It seem to be so quiet and cold, and my mind was really starting to wander, drift through a lifetime of memories as I sat shaking in the car, wishing the sun would break the horizon. Memories without the luxury of curtains were flooding my weary mind. For there was just me and my thoughts, the audience of the world was out there far beyond the darkness… True thoughts, not Christmas cards at the office because it’s the month of December. You know, like the thoughts you have as you take the last pull from a cigarette on the first ten minutes of the workday. Or the thought of a kiss, you know, the one that seems like it would hold you forever. Finding love, loosing love, all while loosing your mind.


Suddenly, I was awake and looking for water while thinking, wow somehow I got some sleep... Picking up my canteen, I knew we were in trouble, it was light with the last bit of drink, and the sun was climbing along with my fever at that point. Stepping out of the car, I saw Gita busy making coffee and Grizzly checking supplies. Walking over, I told her we were out of water. Bad words for being out there, no, literally “out there…” Her face dropped from expression and she shook her head. All of us were experienced in surviving harsh environments, and knew what no water meant in a place like this… Grizzly said, “This isn’t good. You look like hell, Hodges. We need to get your skinny ass some water…” Then Gita stepped in with reassuring words along the lines of, “Hey, let’s see what your brother thinks…”


After talking it over with him, we all debated driving 2 hours to the nearest town, (30 minutes and forever of crawling over 39876857537698 rocks that could easily shred car tires) or looking for water in the high desert like terrain of Skeleton Canyon… My brother, who has hiked the lower mountains of Arizona for years was pretty sure he knew where water might be… So, we took a chance and went for a walk through the twist and turns of the canyon, with one eye always on the brush for Buzz Worms, (See also Rattlesnakes for a better understanding of my southern slang I find myself using from time to time)…


Finally, we found these giant boulders of granite, roughly the size of cars… On their surface were indentations like big cereal bowls, that were holding rain water from a few days earlier… It was thick water but never tasted so good… A sort time after that we found a watering hole in the ground that held enough to fill our canteens… Dipping my bandana in and bringing it to my neck cooled me in the kindest way. We sat tossing stones for a while, listening to them echo off a wall face. Looking over, I saw Gita snapping moments of time with her camera… At that moment I realize, life is living, and living “out there in the moment”, is the greatest part of all…