Day 22. Part 2. Wednesday, March 22, Gila River Trailhead (access point for town of Kearny), Mile 262.8, elevation 1755, to Mile 279.3, elev. 1802 ft. Walked 16.6 miles, 1896 up, 1849 down.
The day began sweetly with that first hour reading the guidebook (because I woke up so early, eager for the day to begin, like a kid on Christmas morning.). Gerry the exuberant trail angel drove Aaron and me to the trail. Aaron headed south on the AZT, which is part of the GET (Grand Enchantment Trail that goes thru both Arizona and New Mexico). And I headed north on the Gila River trail. Photo 5 shows Aaron and Gerry.
Now what am I going to do? I have more than 30 photos (and a video of the second Gila monster) and clearly I can't show them all to you. Okay - so I'm going to give you a couple of collages. Photo 6 is an ongoing celebration of wild flowers in bloom.
Hmmm. I like the collages better with a little white between photos but can't figure out how to edit what I've already saved. So, as the sign in Steve and Anne's kitchen says, it is what it is."
Photo 7 brings together a few of the stunning views along the Gila River trail. I saw very little of the river. It was mostly unseen and unheard, though the green green valley testified to its presence. The guidebook had said that the trail hugs the river closely for 4 or 5 miles. Teading that felt cozy and snugly to me - and being named River I immediately imagined being hugged closely by the trail. So I was disappointed that it seemed (to me) to be mostly a pretty distant hug.
On the other hand, as the trail turned away from the river and I began to hike uphill (precisely when I got lost - and there is probably some deep meaning in that) I found a nice little campsite. Yes it was only 16.6 miles from my starting point, and I had hoped to hike 18 miles. But it was also almost 6:30. First I walked past it, wanting more miles. Just one more mile, I said to myself. But it's almost dark, I answered (with a bit of a whine). It doesn't matter how far you hike. That's a really nice site.
I had convinced myself. I turned around and walked back to the site.
As I put up my tent, the day faded quickly and I realized what a good decision it was. I stepped back to take a photo (photo 8) and as I did Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah came into my mind.
I haven't played music at all this hike, because this particular trail demands my undivided attention. But I played Hallelujah as I sat in my tent and watched the sunset. And I sang along with the chorus, belting out Hallelujah with all my heart to the sky and the mountains ( and hoping I wasn't disturbing some hiker camping within shouting distance).
It was a profoundly moving experience - an odd mix of complete humility before the wonder of this world and total pride. I felt as if I were filling the vast space with my voice singing it's praises. I felt I was singing hallelujah not only to the mountains and sunset, but also to the whole human world, Trump included, the whole beautiful mess. It was a moving experience and a powerful reminder of why I am here (which, as you well know, I have been known to question. )
Then, as I rubbed pain cream into my feet and hands, the song was still echoing - a sense of awe about the complex and beautiful structure of my feet and hands, and all they can do especially on the trail.
That was a beautiful experience and I thank you for letting me share it. Now, to bed. I hope to start hiking in the predawn dark and get in a few miles tomorrow.
Hallelujah
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