WARNING! Paria Canyon is not for the...

Rupophobic! 

Yes, if you fear dirt, dust, mud and scrunchy sand getting into any and all orifices, hiking Paria Canyon might not be your cup of silt. If that’s not enough of a shudder, there’s lots of ankle-to-waist deep “too thin to plow, too thick to drink” River wading miles to deal with too.  Oh! Did I mention the shoe-sucking quicksand?

Yes, Paria is both beautiful yet messy. The Paiutes Indians tried to warn us White Folks. They gave the River it’s name. Paria means “muddy water.” Hydrological studies have occasionally found two pounds of silt/mud in a Mason quart jar of so called Paria water. No wonder my trail runner shoes began to weigh as much as Fabiano boots. 

While picking up the backpacking permit in Kanab, the nice BLM folks informed us of a series of flash floods that temporarily changed the Canyon’s conditions. 

“A flash flood caused a rock slide to block a portion of the river. Hikers were practically swimming for a few miles.” She went on to inform us “Another flash flood came through and cleared the rock debris. You won’t have to swim.”

Brad (brother from another Mother) and I had to deal with mud, mud and more mud. Solid footing was a rarity. On one particularly greasy stretch, I wiped out and wallowed in the muck three times. Sure footed Brad only went down once. We were moving at a less than two mile/hour pace. A cold front chased us out of the canyon a day earlier. We covered the 38 miles in three long days. 

In October, 2009, I visited the Canyon with another brother from another Mother. Nelson and I had to deal with another set of obstacles. A flash flood had gouged out three deep pools. There was no getting around them. The pool’s depth was tall.  Nelson and I are short. Neither of us wanted to wade through with our dry clothes on. Our solution was to run them in the raw. I went first. The waterline went up to my chest. The temperature of the pool was hypothermia inducing. It wasn’t a leisurely swim. 

We did three deja vu’s of this scene. After our immersion in the third pool we were shivering. It was time to stay high, dry and walk in the sun. The rest of our hike was pleasantly uneventful except for having to be fished out of a few pockets of quicksand. 

Despite these travails, Nelson and I were both smiling at the end.

Here’s my point: Canyons like people, change. Mother Nature is dynamic and so are we. In a relatively short time I’ve gone from a full-time traveler to a homebody sprawled out on a La-Z Boy recliner with a comforter encapsulated me.

I’m not complaining. 

But here’s what hasn’t changed. The human requirement for wild places. 

When I maneuver out of this cozy chair, I still want the views, the open spaces, the places devoid of people, the dust, sweat and mud that comes with being alive and active Out There. I’m OK with the mess. Apparently I’m not rupophobic.

I’ll leave you with three quotes from the not-so-rich but famous. 

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.

John Muir

 “Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread. A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself.”

Edward Abbey.

“The idea of wilderness needs no defense, it only needs defenders.”

Edward Abbey.

It’s safe to say, I’m a defender of Wilderness. 

Let’s fight the good fight to protect and preserve wild places.

Jeff

“I thought it would be bigger.”

One might figure a shrinking senior citizen who occupies 5’4” of length and 138#s of space would never think of any place in such a manner. But I did, after finally getting a gander of the Wave. 

Before I continue, allow me to schmooze about the Wave. A hiker just can’t mosey into the Wave. No. A permit is required. That green light is one of the most elusive entry passes in the World. (Actually, I’m not sure of this, but it seemed that way to me. (There were over 160,000 applicants for 7,240 yearly slots in 2017. That’s a lowly 4.25% chance of winning). For over a decade, I’d arrive at 8:30 am for the 9 am lottery at the BLM office in Kanab, UT. After filling out the paperwork I waited for the drawing to begin. Eventually ten lucky individuals would become the Chosen Ones. Despite crossing my fingers and kissing my mezuzah, my number was never called in the Bingo lottery.

Being rejected is a crappy way to start a day. 

In the last few years, I decided to test my Karma on the internet BLM Wave application. Once again there are ten Chosen Ones for each day of the month. Unlike showing up in person to be rejected, the on-line app charges $5 regardless if you win or lose. I called it my monthly BLM donation. The winners/many losers discover their fate on the first day of the following month. On June 1st, 2019, I woke up to find I was a Winner for October 6th, 2019! 

I invited Brad (my brother from another Mother) to partake in this geological phenomenon. We decided to parlay the Wave with a backpack trip to Paria Canyon as well. So that’s what we did. 

The hike to the Wave is no walk in the park. The BLM doles out a rudimentary map complete with photos and descriptions. There is no mentions of distances in the frame of reference. The directions are along the line of “ go to the left of the big rock.” Well, it’s canyon country, there’s a BIGLY amount of huge stones out there. The trail isn’t marked, signed or as well trampled as I expected it to be. After all, twenty people/day leave telltale signs. Not so much getting to the Wave. 

We did a bonus mile or two, but eventually arrived in the general vicinity. I’ll admit it. I walked past the Wave without knowing it. The iconic view is in one direction. If I hadn’t  turned around to speak to Brad, I would have missed it. But, Holy Cow! There’s a reason why a photo of the Wave is a classic despite its skimpy size.

Here’s the Wave’s dimensions according to Wikipedia: 

“The Wave consists of intersecting U-shaped troughs that have been eroded into Navajo Sandstone of Jurassic age. The two major troughs which comprise this rock formation are 62 feet (19 m) wide by 118 feet (36 m) long and 7 feet (2 m) wide by 52 feet (16 m) long.”

Not exactly the magnitude of the Grand Canyon. Is it?

Yet, it’s a beguiling beautiful area that probably deserves its status of Worldly “must see” places. 

Within the last year, the BLM has been considering allowing up to 96 entrants/day into this unique landscape. Personally, I believe this would be a mistake. The formation consists of fragile sandstone. All those added footsteps could possibly damage the site. Besides it would be too many humans vying for the same photo op in a relatively small area. No one really wants to jostle or queue for that solitary selfie stick photo. Do we?

The Wave has taken on a near mythical status on people’s personal Bucket List. Limiting intrusions would prevent the Wave from becoming the next Zion’s Angels Landing or Yosemite’s Half Dome. The Wave is still a quiet, peaceful place. Let’s keep it that way. With respect to the Wave, size doesn’t matter. 

If you are planning to apply for the Wave. Good luck! If you want to be swell, take me along too! 

Cheers!

Jeff

I don’t consider myself a happy.

.person.

When I say this to people they’ll exclaim, “Come on Jeff! You smile all the time.”

My rote reply to this is. “What’s the last thing some dogs will do before they bite you? They smile.” 

Before you go aerobic and jump to conclusions, I don’t walk around with perpetual dark rain clouds over my noggin either. Through the years I learned to lower my expectations to the point where feeling content is OK. Contentment beats the alternative of depression, which I’ve had issues with. Of course, I blogged, not bragged, about it. (The WW J  might be one of the most honest blogs in the World 🌎.)

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/04/jeffy-you-have-to-be-your-own-doctor.html

However since making the BIGLY lifestyle change of settling down in Durango, CO, I’ve been feeling more than content. I’m feeling positive and happy about my choice.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/08/in-america-if-you-dont-have-address.html

Why so? Jeff?

I’ll break it down by category. 

Locally: 

Since moving to Durango, I found the few things a Minimalist like me requires from a small city.

For haircuts there’s Tucson’s Barber Shop. Mr Tucson has been cutting hair for 53 years. While he’s clipping away, I get an multigenerational Hispanic’s take on the local scene. A grooming and history lesson in one. 

For brewpubs, there’s Carver’s and Animas Brewing. Great beer, food and nice young people who swore on their menus, they would grant me one TV to watch the upcoming MLB playoffs. Just as long as I ask politely. 

For films, there’s Animas City Theater which screens movies that would never appear in the corporate cinemas. I’ve seen “Indian Horse” and “Peanut Butter Falcon.” Both were well made flicks. Plus the theater sells beer! 

Backcountry Experience will be my go-to outdoor gear shop. The folks who work there are friendly and helpful. However the biggest reason they will get my business is for what they don’t sell. This shop is one of the few outdoor stores in Durango that is not an arms merchant. 

For local hikes, I’m a fan of the Animas Mountain 7 mile loop hike. It’s a steady climb to the top of the mesa. Then the trail skirts the cliffs with views of the Animas River valley below, topped by the San Juan and La Plata mountain ranges above. I’ve seen wild turkeys (not the drinking kind), horny toads and one bobcat. After the first mile, I don’t see many people. Serenity in my backyard. 

Durango’s Vibe is more laid back, friendlier and feels safer than the Front Range of Colorado. For example: I lost my phone after a rib cracking mountain bike accident. A Good Samaritan found it, turned it on and contacted my brother Mike. The phone was returned to me via the Durango Diner. That nice local man wouldn’t accept a reward. There has been many other “Pay it Forward” incidents of kindness. 

On the home front: 

My neighbors continue to be quiet, pleasant and are willing to toss me a friendly wave. However, I’m picking up the feeling most wish to be left alone with their significant others or dogs, cats or guinea pigs. I’m OK with that. This is preferable to noisy and nosy neighbors. 

Little by little I’m making this former VRBO rental townhouse feel like my pad. I put up prayer flags to ward off evil spirits and mean people. If that doesn’t work, I have a mezuzah for backup. 

I purchased a La Z Boy recliner (named after me) to relax in while reading or watching the “Home Shopping Network.” 

The bird feeders are now seeing plenty of fluttering and flittering. Through the miracle of social media (Facebird), I have a lot more beaks to feed. I’m going to declare my feathered family  dependents. That way, I’ll be able to deduct the cost of birdseed off my taxes. 

After six and a half years of being homeless by choice, I’m sort of a home body now. In the past, I had no place to go to when I felt road weary and tired. Now I have a home/sanctuary. I was ready for this. 

Socially: 

I’ve attended a few community events. This is BIGLY baby steps for a Sociable Hermit like me. 

I tried a pre-Friday night service potluck at the only Temple in the Four Corners region. Let’s just say, being in a Synagogue is not my position of comfort. I bolted the first chance I got. However I gave it the old Yeshiva University try. 

I was allowed to be the token male in a “Great Old Broads of the Wilderness” Fen restoration project. For those of you who don’t know, a Fen is a type of wetland. There are 200 fens in the San Juan Mountains. Fens make up 2% of the World’s land mass. We gathered this info from Amanda of the  Mountain Studies Institute. After our class we donned work gloves and planted sedges in a 6.5 acre Fen near Ophir Pass that had seen better and greener days. All the women were friendly and respectful. I never felt threatened. A wonderful time was had by all regardless of sex. 

I’ve been to a few organized events sponsored by the San Juan Mountain Association. I’ve made contact with many people who have a passion for wild places. They too, get verklempt (Yiddish for choked up) when the topics of mountains, canyons and empty spaces in between are broached. I’m working on gaining their trust. I’m hoping to glean information about the Hidden Gems of the San Juan Mountains from these knowledgeable locals. All I have to prove is that I’m not a logger, litterer, miner or wildflower picker. Easy Peasy. 

This past Saturday, I participated in the Durango Chile Fest 10 K trail run. My first race in over a decade. The run featured a literal climb (I had to use my hands to pull myself up the last 25 feet to the top) of a gritty, gravelly hogback. I scooted down the opposite side on my butt. As usual, I came in first in my category. That’s the over 60, Liberal Jewish retired firefighters from the Bronx category. I always win that one.

On October 1st, I’ll be inducted into the Friends of the Library volunteer program. I signed up to be a substitute for the dedicated regulars. I’ll get a quick teach on how to open and close the FOL Used Book Store.  I’ll probably be the youngest volunteer too. Mid-November the FOL will sponsor a huge book sale. I’ll supply some of the manual labor shlepping boxes of books around. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to be an advocate for reading.

Have I made any new friends? Not a one, but I’m not feeling lonely either. 

Lastly the biggest reason for the move to Durango. Location, location, location. All these beautiful photos were taken a few hours away from my home. 

I’m smiling a lot these days AND I haven’t thought about biting one person. 

Cheers,

Jeff