Get Out

I wish author and environmental activist, Edward Abbey, were still around to write a follow-up to his classic Desert Solitaire. He had harsh words for "progress" and society encroaching on wilderness. He called it "the machine". He wanted to outlaw motor vehicles in national parks. His basic assumption was that wilderness is a necessity to civilization. You can't understand that assumption or the thought that most of us are living in a ghastly, artificial, soul-stifling machine unless you get out. Out of the house, out of the car, and out of cell service.
When Abbey was a ranger at Arches National Park in Utah one Labor Day his concern for others and wilderness boiled over (summarizing):

"What can I tell them? Sealed in their metallic shells like molluscs on wheels, how can I pry the people free? The auto as tin can, the park ranger as opener. Look here, I want to say, for godsake folks get out of them there machines....Take off your shoes for a while, unzip your fly, piss hearty, dig your toes in the hot sand, feel that raw and rugged earth, split a couple of big toenails, draw blood...lady roll the window down! You can't see the desert if you can't smell it. Dusty? Of course it's dusty---this is Utah! Get out of that piece of iron and stretch your varicose veins, take off your brassiere and get some hot sun on your old wrinkled dugs! You sir, squinting at the map with your radiator boiling over and your fuel pump vapor-locked, crawl out of that shiny hunk of GM junk and take a walk---yes, leave the old lady and those squawling brats behind for a while, turn your back on them and take a long, quiet walk straight into the canyons, get lost for a while, come back when you damn well feel like it, it'll do you and her and them a world of good. Give the kids a break too, let them out of the car, let them go scrambling over the rocks hunting for rattlesnakes and scorpions and anthills---yes sir, let them out, turn them loose....Yes sir, yes madam, I entreat you, get out of those motorized wheelchairs, get off your foam rubber backsides, stand up straight like men! like women! like human beings! and walk---walk---WALK upon our sweet and blessed land!"

I've been more aware of the machine than ever before by living in a setting I never imagined living in. The machine is way more powerful today than in '89 when Abbey died. I stepped foot in a mall today for the first time since February to get some new running shoes. I felt more out of place than if I were to show up for classes naked. It was a sickening experience just for a pair of running shoes. The machine has a strong pull to the point where things like "Black Friday" are more like a holiday than the real holidays. The machine pulls people in to where a rollercoaster is more appealing than a primo singletrack where you do the work on a bike or by running, and it pulls people in to where a waterpark is more appealing than thrashing around in a creek or lake.

I've been busier than ever, and the machine pulls stronger than ever, but I know I must get out. Fortunately I have gotten out to three great Arizonan destinations over the past month. This keeps me sane and focused, my marriage strong, my mind sharp, and my spirit at least aware.

Click on pics to see full-screen view.


Picacho Peak abruptly rises about 2000 feet from the desert floor and above the machine including the non-native palm trees. The peak is located about half way between Arizona's two largest cities.



Tracy at 32 weeks pregnant still tries to get out if not all the way up. She hiked the lower trails with the dogs while I ran up the peak trail.




It's a beautiful time of year to enjoy the desert. We had rain for two straight days and temperatures in the sixties.



From the top of Picacho Peak, one can see the desert floor stretching in all directions to abrupt mountain ranges termed "Sky-islands" such as the Santa Catalinas north of Tucson. Picacho Peak is more like a "sky-atoll".


A couple weekends ago I got out on my two-wheel drive that costs $0.00 dollars/gallon and did an all day ride around Sedona by linking such trails as Little Horse, Broken Arrow, Huckaby, Jim Thompson, Jordan, and Adonte. It's impossible to choose the best place for mountain biking for sure. Fruita is pure fun. Moab is the mecca. Durango is the capital. But for all-around scenery, challenge, and fun I might lean toward Sedona.



Oak Creek in the fall is a little slice of heaven.



A full moon over Cathedral Rock with no sign of the machine in sight. Cactus Ed would have been proud. I bled several times on this trip and got a bad case of poison ivy.



After my two day final on the musculoskeletal system, I fled the city to one of the coolest canyons I've ever been to---Aravaipa. It is a unique wilderness area 100 miles southeast of Phoenix. It is one of the few places in the desert where you will find a permanent stream.


It was an incredible contrast to hike miles upstream through ankle-deep to knee-deep water all the while seeing saguaro cacti. The soaring cliffs and the giant cottonwoods added to the surreal scene.


I only camped one night in the canyon, but it was a rich, soul-recharging experience. The pure, spring-fed, cold water was much more than just physically refreshing. It again reminded me as to why wilderness is such a necessity.