Kofa Desert Slap
With my friend gone from the trippy RV “resort” to fly back east for the holiday weekend, the “Rhonda” quotient forbid me to stay in my friend’s trailer while she was away. We do understand that Rhonda, in the resort office, needs to play “bad cop” to keep the aging, vulnerable snowbirds from any old riff-raff lurking about the RV park. If she makes an exception for one person, she will be forced to make other concessions.
“Ah, you are new here in the park,” my friend’s neighbors say. “You will learn that it’s better to ask Rhonda for forgiveness than permission.”
And so, a bit claustrophobic here in the park, I relish the idea of a getaway while she is back east: free boondock camping about an hour and a half north of Yuma in the Kofa National Wildlife Refuge. I drop her at the airport on my way out of town, stocked with gallons of water, and plenty of food.
Since this whole geographical landscape is desert, with wide open valleys surrounded by hills and mountains, hiking trails are few. This is the beauty of flat expanses—point in some direction, pick a landmark, turn around to see the landmark where one is starting to walk, then just go.
With my friend gone from the trippy RV “resort” to fly back east for the holiday weekend, the “Rhonda” quotient forbid me to stay in my friend’s trailer while she was away. We do understand that Rhonda, in the resort office, needs to play “bad cop” to keep the aging, vulnerable snowbirds from any old riff-raff lurking about the RV park. If she makes an exception for one person, she will be forced to make other concessions.
“Ah, you are new here in the park,” my friend’s neighbors say. “You will learn that it’s better to ask Rhonda for forgiveness than permission.”
And so, a bit claustrophobic here in the park, I relish the idea of a getaway while she is back east: free boondock camping about an hour and a half north of Yuma in the Kofa National Wildlife Refuge. I drop her at the airport on my way out of town, stocked with gallons of water, and plenty of food.
Since this whole geographical landscape is desert, with wide open valleys surrounded by hills and mountains, hiking trails are few. This is the beauty of flat expanses—point in some direction, pick a landmark, turn around to see the landmark where one is starting to walk, then just go.
There is other business to do here in the desert, besides free camping for the four nights before I pick up my friend upon her holiday return: having a heart-to-heart conversation with my shadow side.
Maybe it is a pre-New Year check-in. Maybe another layer of onion-y peeling, complete with weeping. Not sure where this chat will go. But, I have been feeling some darkness deep in my psyche lately…..pissy…..judgy…..cynical. So, I have to ask, What the hell is it all about?
There is something desert-interesting about a “garden” of cholla cactus glowing from the sunshine. And the saguaro cactus having sculpted themselves into odd forms. I might create a new “cactus yoga”, holding positions of arms up, and over, and pulled in…. hold for thirty seconds….yes….and no one is watching me do this. Maybe this is what I need—to be silly and playful for a bit.
I just walk, and think, and feel. Hours go by, and I hear the responses to my questions, echoing up from the center of the onion in me. They tell me to stay true to my life journey, and not compare it to anyone else’s. Yeah, yeah,….blah, blah. I know all this. But, the reminder is always welcome.
Maybe it is a pre-New Year check-in. Maybe another layer of onion-y peeling, complete with weeping. Not sure where this chat will go. But, I have been feeling some darkness deep in my psyche lately…..pissy…..judgy…..cynical. So, I have to ask, What the hell is it all about?
There is something desert-interesting about a “garden” of cholla cactus glowing from the sunshine. And the saguaro cactus having sculpted themselves into odd forms. I might create a new “cactus yoga”, holding positions of arms up, and over, and pulled in…. hold for thirty seconds….yes….and no one is watching me do this. Maybe this is what I need—to be silly and playful for a bit.
I just walk, and think, and feel. Hours go by, and I hear the responses to my questions, echoing up from the center of the onion in me. They tell me to stay true to my life journey, and not compare it to anyone else’s. Yeah, yeah,….blah, blah. I know all this. But, the reminder is always welcome.
In the evenings, the hills around me become still and silent. I want to hear a coyote calling, but if they are out there, they are stealth. Not a peep. I listen to meditation podcasts, lay out cards in tarot readings, burn sage and incense. I want to drive out my demons into the light. I have things to say. To ask. To slap around.
Not for faint-of-heart drivers, meandering the back washed-out roads is like spelunking into the center of the mountain ranges. 4WD and a speed of maybe two miles per hour. Sandy washes, strewn rocks. Mindful movement, eyeing the hilltops and mountain peaks for big horn sheep staring down at me. But, even they are elusive. Two crows show up for me. That’s it. However, the refuge butts up to military proving grounds….unexploded ordinance. I can’t help wonder if the sheep and coyotes wander over the line…there are only signs, not fences. What if…..kaboom? I refuse to go there in my thoughts, and keep watching closely for signs of wildlife. Coyote scat. Rabbit droppings. A small lizard scurrying.
I climb a hill and read poetry. I drive another washed out road, through a fullness of plant life: teddy bear cholla, saguaro, fish hook barrel cactus, and ocotillo. Ironwood trees. Brittlebush. But this is winter, and few flowers are in bloom. Spring will be ablaze with wildflowers all over this refuge with its long history of mining for gold, silver, tungsten, manganese, and lead. Rockhounders come to pick at rock in designated areas of the refuge. They drive by in off-road vehicles and motorbikes.
Out of the hubbub of city noise, the long lines of traffic, the hum of trucks along the interstate, I find my grounding again. I invite the reminders to breathe deeply and often, to quiet the mind, to see the minutiae thriving throughout the desert valleys and canyons, to see myself in new light. Peel another layer off the onion that is me. Life can’t get much better than this…I just have to be willing to slap away the old voices and emotions, and replace them with this current moment in time. Now. Here.
Luckily, all the other boondockers camp close to each other and the main paved road. I fall asleep to the blanketed silence that descends onto the refuge, and if it wasn’t cloudy tonight, I might possibly see a plethora of stars watching over me.