Trouble in Paradise
Heart in my throat, I grasped for anything I could. Bark crumbled in my hands and branches cracked as I attempted to hold on; I was running out of options as my feet continued to slip on loose rock and dirt. Too afraid to look behind me, I focused on Doug who was up ahead bushwhacking his way through the steep wash. We had lost the poorly marked footpath and we were now making our own way toward the towering iconic spire that held a promising day of rock climbing.
Two days earlier, we arrived in Sedona, Arizona in the middle of the night after foregoing our original plans of staying in Santa Fe. At that point we were searching for warm sun and temperatures that wouldn't dip into the single digits at night. We were also hoping to finally get in some rock climbing as well.
© Patti Poulin / RumBum.comI had lived in southern Arizona for close to two years before departing for the east, yet I had never spent time in one of the most sought after destinations in the state. Now surrounded by towering red rock spires and canyon walls I could plainly see why so many people visited spoke endlessly of Sedona. I wonder how many of those people had decided to take a closer look at the red rocks while watching their life flash before their eyes, though.
My dog Sienna continued to scramble up boulders, her claws barely able to grip the gritty surface, she squeaked up most of them, as precarious as I. A few times her body weight would throw her back as she slid backwards in slow motion, hitting the ground with a horrible thud.
Twenty minutes into the “hike” I was faced with a boulder taller than my 5’5” stature. I could no longer hoist my own body weight let alone my backpack that was filled with fifteen pounds of gear. Doug had tromped off ahead to see if our lost trail could be found. Already exhausted and nowhere near our destination, I sat down to catch my breath and regroup my nerves. Never one to give up easily, and always up for a good adventure, I was beginning to wonder if maybe this time I bit off more than I could chew. I closed my eyes and then opened them to take in the scenery only to see Sienna running towards me at full speed to reattempt the boulder in which she had slipped off of only moments earlier.
Panic came over me. Visions of her body tumbling down the steep cliff flashed through my mind and before I could get a word out she was air born. Legs flying, claws scraping, Sienna somehow wiggled her body up the boulder, and ended the daring stunt safely on top. Doug had managed to make the crux of the hike, and now my dog had too; I really had no option but to at least try now.
Hoisting my backpack up over my head and scooting it across the dirt away from the top of the boulder, I prepared myself to free climb the slick rock, throwing all sense of sanity to the wind. Just as I stepped foot onto the rock, Doug showed up and offered me his hand. Once I was safely on top, I thanked him but shurgged it off as if I could have handled it on my own.
© Patti Poulin / RumBum.comSienna rests after a long day's hike.What seemed close to two hours later, we arrived beneath the iconic spire so aptly named Queen Victoria. We basked in the glow of her royalty as we unloaded our gear and I threw my weary body onto the red dirt beneath my feet. As we took a moment to relax, we started to hear the voices of two men. (Was I halucinating?) We cranked our necks upward to the top of Queen Victoria and saw two climbers already half-way up the route we had planned on climbing!
It was mid-week, mid-winter, empty but for us, but for them. It seemed we had encountered the only other climbers out that day and had somehow chosen the same spot to climb. Despite the surprise we managed to still get a couple hours of climbing in. Our new friends offered to show us a less “stressful” way back to the car that was only a mile longer than our hike in.
After packing our gear, the four of us took off down a well-marked trail with Sienna blazing the way. Traversing across rocky terrain and up onto a sandstone ridge the sun began to dip behind the distant mountains and the air grew cool. Two miles turned into a solid four miles. As we reached the main road, the sky was filled with pastel hues from the sunset. We parted ways with our new friends and thanked them for showing us an alternative route.
It was close to dark when we walked the icy forest service road. Turning the corner, I saw my car waiting for us. Never before had I felt such relief.
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