I had a panic attack on Friday. It was a relatively mild one... It felt more like a baby elephant was sitting on my chest rather than its mother. Lately, I've been in a bit of a funk where I hate the world and the world hates me. I was so glad to be getting out of town that day. I knew some time alone in a beautiful place would help.
I felt better as I got off the highway and took the winding dirt road through Arivaca. The sunset was divine, and I had to be careful not to drive off a cliff as I took in the scenery. My soundtrack was the Inside Llewyn Davis album. Perfection. I arrived at the only campground in the area just as it became dark. Normally I would prefer dispersed camping, but being just a few miles away from the border, it seemed wise to stay near other people.
I had dinner, set up my bed, and got comfortable. I was reading a good book on my Kindle, listening to Bon Iver, and gazing at the stars. I was in my zen place.
And then I noticed that the ground was feeling a little... hard. My sleeping pad was slowly deflating. It had a leak. I was in for an uncomfortable night.
I was sore when I woke up the next day, but had still gotten some good sleep. I got an early start to a canyon I was really excited about: Sycamore Canyon, a nontechnical canyon that leads to the Mexican border.
Other than a border patrol truck, I did not see another soul as I drove 10 miles to the trailhead. I was truly alone in this canyon. At least, I hoped I was. Apparently it is a popular route for illegal activity. I made sure my bear spray was in easy reach and was definitely more alert than usual.
Pretty soon, my apprehension disappeared and I was able to enjoy the beauty of this canyon. It's an important ecological and geological spot. I was surrounded by rock formed by ancient volcanic eruptions and rare birds and fish and plants. Many of my desert hikes are absolutely quiet. But this hike was accompanied by the sound of water flowing in a permanent stream and all different types of songbirds.
When I reached the narrows section, I climbed up on some rocks and added my own song. I am such a dork, I know. I relaxed and had a snack and once again felt completely at peace.
I turned around not long after this. The canyon opens up and, according to the description, is not very interesting for the next three miles to the Mexican border. I didn't feel like doing another six miles just to say that I'd touched international soil, so I headed back to the trailhead. A few minutes from my car, I ran into two other people just beginning their hike. I really HAD been all alone in the canyon.
My plan for the rest of the afternoon was to find a quiet spot to sit and read and paint my nails. I found a great spot by some picnic tables near the campground. (I had to stay close to camp; couldn't move my car or I'd lose my spot.) I was out of sight and earshot from the rest of the campground. Once again, I was happy.
But not for long. Two cars pulled up, and I swear it was like clown cars watching people and dogs pour out of these cars. Loud people. With loud music. Right next to me. I packed up and headed back to camp.
Within five minutes of getting settled back at camp (next to the quiet RV with the older couple), a truck arrived. The couple's kids, grand kids, dogs, and ATV's had shown up.
It was only around 3:00 at this point. I debated what to do. I knew I was just going to sit there and be annoyed until I went to bed. With no mattress. I thought about my agenda for the next day: a 4.5 mile hike to Atascosa Peak. It sounded nice, but I wasn't particularly excited about it.
So I left. And I'm still not sure if I regret it. I'm mad about coming home early; that is quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of AZ and I wanted to stay and explore. But, being alone, I was confined to the campground. I was too nervous to do dispersed camping there. I go back and forth on this issue... Am I being a wimp, or am I using common sense?
Before leaving the area, I drove down a forest road, found a nice tree to sit under, and read the Wilderness Journals of Everett Ruess until the sun set. So, I did manage to squeeze in a few more hours of zen time. It was so nice and quiet... Except for the gunshots. The first round was definitely target practice. But a little while later... Those were something else. So maybe it was wise to not camp in the middle of the woods near Nogales.
As sad as I was to come home, I still had a lovely trip. I saw a beautiful canyon AND managed to avoid becoming a drug lord's bitch. I'd call that a win.
(A nice, quiet spot to read)
(One of the pools... I'm a bad photographer, but you can see the reflection of the rocks in the pool.)
(Lots of interesting rock formations)
I felt better as I got off the highway and took the winding dirt road through Arivaca. The sunset was divine, and I had to be careful not to drive off a cliff as I took in the scenery. My soundtrack was the Inside Llewyn Davis album. Perfection. I arrived at the only campground in the area just as it became dark. Normally I would prefer dispersed camping, but being just a few miles away from the border, it seemed wise to stay near other people.
I had dinner, set up my bed, and got comfortable. I was reading a good book on my Kindle, listening to Bon Iver, and gazing at the stars. I was in my zen place.
And then I noticed that the ground was feeling a little... hard. My sleeping pad was slowly deflating. It had a leak. I was in for an uncomfortable night.
I was sore when I woke up the next day, but had still gotten some good sleep. I got an early start to a canyon I was really excited about: Sycamore Canyon, a nontechnical canyon that leads to the Mexican border.
Other than a border patrol truck, I did not see another soul as I drove 10 miles to the trailhead. I was truly alone in this canyon. At least, I hoped I was. Apparently it is a popular route for illegal activity. I made sure my bear spray was in easy reach and was definitely more alert than usual.
Pretty soon, my apprehension disappeared and I was able to enjoy the beauty of this canyon. It's an important ecological and geological spot. I was surrounded by rock formed by ancient volcanic eruptions and rare birds and fish and plants. Many of my desert hikes are absolutely quiet. But this hike was accompanied by the sound of water flowing in a permanent stream and all different types of songbirds.
When I reached the narrows section, I climbed up on some rocks and added my own song. I am such a dork, I know. I relaxed and had a snack and once again felt completely at peace.
I turned around not long after this. The canyon opens up and, according to the description, is not very interesting for the next three miles to the Mexican border. I didn't feel like doing another six miles just to say that I'd touched international soil, so I headed back to the trailhead. A few minutes from my car, I ran into two other people just beginning their hike. I really HAD been all alone in the canyon.
My plan for the rest of the afternoon was to find a quiet spot to sit and read and paint my nails. I found a great spot by some picnic tables near the campground. (I had to stay close to camp; couldn't move my car or I'd lose my spot.) I was out of sight and earshot from the rest of the campground. Once again, I was happy.
But not for long. Two cars pulled up, and I swear it was like clown cars watching people and dogs pour out of these cars. Loud people. With loud music. Right next to me. I packed up and headed back to camp.
Within five minutes of getting settled back at camp (next to the quiet RV with the older couple), a truck arrived. The couple's kids, grand kids, dogs, and ATV's had shown up.
It was only around 3:00 at this point. I debated what to do. I knew I was just going to sit there and be annoyed until I went to bed. With no mattress. I thought about my agenda for the next day: a 4.5 mile hike to Atascosa Peak. It sounded nice, but I wasn't particularly excited about it.
So I left. And I'm still not sure if I regret it. I'm mad about coming home early; that is quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of AZ and I wanted to stay and explore. But, being alone, I was confined to the campground. I was too nervous to do dispersed camping there. I go back and forth on this issue... Am I being a wimp, or am I using common sense?
Before leaving the area, I drove down a forest road, found a nice tree to sit under, and read the Wilderness Journals of Everett Ruess until the sun set. So, I did manage to squeeze in a few more hours of zen time. It was so nice and quiet... Except for the gunshots. The first round was definitely target practice. But a little while later... Those were something else. So maybe it was wise to not camp in the middle of the woods near Nogales.
As sad as I was to come home, I still had a lovely trip. I saw a beautiful canyon AND managed to avoid becoming a drug lord's bitch. I'd call that a win.
(Looking up canyon in the narrows section)
(The end of the narrows section)
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