Manna in the Meadow

Two weeks in downtown Minneapolis can suck the last drop out of a gal like me. I travel the rough back roads of this country solo and rarely feel vulnerable, afraid, or exposed. But a lot of time in most cities is draining. San Francisco, Montreal, and Istanbul are the exceptions.

My hat is off to the founders of Minneapolis who preserved the green space along the Mississippi River flowing between the Twin Cities. Daily hikes along the downtown Nature trails infused Rocky and me. The festivals, museums, music, and food reflect an appreciation of high talent and passion. I’m grateful for the hospitality the fine staff at Town Suites on 2ndStreet offered Rocky and me.

The St. Croix River and several gorgeous state parks are within an hour drive of the city. The flooding of St. Croix created an awesome canoe ride on a sunny Sunday.

We bid farewell to the Twin Cities with one urgent goal – restore the balance off grid. I was so depleted I loaded up enough groceries, water, propane, permits, and maps to avoid town. Forever!

I knew what I needed and why. I didn’t know what state or national forest would answer my call for a cold, mountain creek with deep forest shade and enough flat space to set up camp. Frequent rain is a bonus.

We drove east past the crystal clear mountain lakes of Minnesota and the blazing Badlands of South Dakota without a second glance. But the Black
Hills National Forest pinged images of moving water, cool breezes, and the smell of evergreens.

Firing up my orienteering brain, GPS, and the Forest Service’s off road maps we set off to find our next hermitage in the woods. But the answer to my call for a mountain peak and valley creek took me far beyond even Subaru’s impressive off grid GPS coverage. The paper map led me to blockades of private land, cut timber, and herds of cattle common in today’s national forests.

I could feel the place in my heart, but I couldn’t find it with my head. Frankly I thought I knew the plan but all I really had were clear visions, longing, dreams, journals, stories, and prayers guiding my life. Eyeing the setting sun I let go of outcomes. I’d make due. And due would make me as it always does.

One deep breath disabled the brain and my open, willing heart took the lead focusing with gratitude on the cool, moist breeze, towering spruce, green rolling meadows, and distant granite peaks. Each turn on the ATV trail offered more than I had planned or prepared for. What did it matter if there was no creek?

On a last minute whim I took a left on what appeared to be a wagon trail from the old west.

Never turn left, my brain piped in, reminding me of the crash statistics on left turns.

Almost there Cindy. You are almost there, my heart replied.

Right. Sorry I got in the way for so long. Thank you for this, I whispered crossing a cattle guard opening to a large meadow blanketed with flowers.

A delighted laugh flew from my heart as I rounded a bend. A small clearing created when diseased trees were removed nurtured a new meadow
bursting with baby raspberry plants, brilliant flowers, and strong, native grasses. A wide and swift creek flowed beneath towering granite cliffs framing the meadow. Centuries of evergreen needles made the ground soft, flat, and fragrant. The sun disappeared beyond the cliffs while I danced in joyful circles around the meadow laughing and singing.

I couldn’t overthink camp set up because there was only one possible, perfect option. Shade for the camper, space for the shower/bathroom, stumps and cut timber for tables and chairs. The meadow was just right for optimum solar collection and a small deer trail led to the creek. I quickly assembled a basic camp and slept deeply to the sound of running water.

The nudge at dawn was annoying enough to be effective. Quickly wake up! Look! Outside my door was a breath-taking, eight-point buck grazing in the meadow with a juvenile male sporting new antlers. I flashed on Bambi’s Dad showing him the ropes in the forest. Mimicking Bambi’s Mother’s I sadly whispered “Man was in the forest today,”and the big buck looked my way before trotting up the hill with a snort and quick flash of tail.

Over coffee a curious bumblebee with an odd flight pattern feasted on purple flowers by my chair. He might have a limping flight but was not lacking in strength and agility I noticed lighting incense and settling into meditation.

He was gone when I came back to physical awareness but returned often.  His visits correlated with each new item I set up in camp. The two awnings, bathroom tent, a tablecloth over stumps to create a kitchen seemed to draw him like an inspector. He would hitch a ride on my feet, arms or hands.


I would too! 
I thought watching him crash land on the kitchen counter and crawl onto the raw veggies to nap.

The second day, eager to satisfy my curious brain I gathered up maps settling at the table to identify our coordinates now that we had hiked the area. I could visualize how the last minute left turn had taken me through private land with access to Crystal Peak and Creek. Now to verify that theory.

Bee arrived with a hard landing on the map and danced in circles along the winding map trail markings. Between dances he slept, so still the only sign of life was the light reflecting in his eyes. So bees sleep with eyes open?

I’ve never observed bee sleep so can only guess that’s what it was. If I nudged him he would crawl into my hand and drift back off. He napped a lot, especially in the spruce branches I had harvested from a newly cut tree to use on the altar. In the world of bee blessings I knew I had hit the jackpot even as my awareness of his declining condition grew.

No big surprise here, I mumbled acknowledging that if humans find me to midwife death why not a bumblebee?

By the third morning he had let go of gathering nectar in the meadow, preferring to stay snuggled in the altar bustling with a community of spiders, honeybees, beetles and ants. Extravert aye? I mused as I broke my “don’t kill the wildflowers” cardinal rule and placed his favorite purple flower next to him on the altar. He perked up and fed for hours between naps. I tucked him in that night with visions of angelic hives, prayers for peace, and a deep appreciation for his quiet companionship.

The next morning he was gone. I searched but never found him. My mind filled with images of Elijah the Bee ascending in a chariot of meadow flowers.

Seemed fitting. Like Elijah, Bee reminded me to be bit more mindful of daily manna in the wilderness that defy life or death polarities. This elusive, often fleeting awareness deeply restores a vibrant, healthy, happy harmony in every part of me and has since I was a girl living in the woods with creeks and ponds.

Profoundly simple. Nothing fancy. Just Nature showing up as Bee leading the way through miracles and magic in the great outback.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Off-Roadside Assistance

“You need help?”

“I did it this time didn’t I?”

“Thorough job.”

“I’ve driven from coast to coast on backroads but never experienced this one yet,” I chuckled surveying the tire so flat it had collapsed in on itself with an angry pop and forceful hiss after I clipped the partially buried wedge of shale forcing a split in the sidewall of the tire.

I also didn’t mention I’ve never experienced a flat, had no tire changing skills, and am often confounded by tools, although more often than not I do sort it out, given enough time. “Chin up ol gal. Somehow things will soon be right as rain,” I whispered internally pushing back the image of a spring shower exploding into an Oklahoma tornado.

“So can we help you then?”

“Are you in a rental? I know you probably need to get it back in time?” I replied with false bravado to honor the southern code of “thou shalt not impose.”

“No. These are ours. We’re in no hurry,” he nodded to the four rumbling ATVs waiting on the side of the remote narrow forest road across from my Outback.

“I don’t have cell service but a family drove by and took my information to call AAA and Subaru Roadside Service. It’s ok if you’d rather not. I’m sure someone will come,” I explained oozing ignorance about the likelihood of a service vehicle maneuvering the rough ATV trails half an hour off gravel roads and another hour to the first town on paved road.

“Then we’d better get to work. You guys ready?” he replied with reassurance that soothed the hard lump in my gut.

I held up my hand to stop him. “There’s just one more thing I should show you before you volunteer to help. It’s quite the hassle,” I warned moving to the rear of my car to open the hatch and reveal the solid wood chest of drawers built to fit in the full cargo area of the Subaru. My favorite carpenter had built it for me to haul my gear. With all the drawers removed it still takes two strong people to lift. Someday I’ll find someone to build it out of lightweight aluminum but for now this 300 pound behemoth serves me well.

Until now.

“Deal is the spare is under this. It’s hard to remove. You sure you’re still up for this?” I asked turning to him fully prepared to see serious back peddling. This would not be a simple tire change.

“I’m going to need one of you to help back here,” he quietly motioned.

At his signal engines shut off and a crowd of men and women gathered around. I recognized the quiet, exquisite manners, and warm compassion of these Black Hills folks who respectfully restrained their comments.  My wide-open Oklahoma plains girl quickly threw open the door to release the mounting pressure.

“I can’t believe not one of you has laughed yet!” I allowed.

The tallest man released a short, healthy guffaw and the women began to softly chuckle. Everyone began sharing thoughts, opinions and good-natured jokes and one began videoing my predicament. I doubled over allowing my own belly laughing to release the tension and fully receive the openhearted gift of this remarkable family.

And family they are. Three strapping brothers, their sister, mother, and a sister- and brother-in-law out for a picnic near beautiful meadows and old mine in Castle Peak wilderness area of the Black Hills National Forest in South Dakota.

I quickly declined their invitation to join them for their picnic even though I couldn’t imagine a lovelier opportunity. I would be dining with angels in one of God’s most beautiful settings. These folks are so good to the bone they didn’t even trigger Rocky who is well known for his keen ability to read the true character of folks. He will not allow anything unsavory near me. He slept soundly through the entire ordeal until I shuffled him out of the back seat and into the front to make room for the ruined tire.

I also knew I’d not only be intruding on family time but also would never make it back to camp on a spare. My tires are not common stock either. It was another miracle of the day that Tires Plus in Rapid City was able to track down one tire in the whole city. One is all I needed! (I highly recommend this business on Haines in Rapid City, South Dakota).

With a grateful heart we shook hands, hugged thank you’s and good byes and went our separate ways. Just as I was getting in my car a mammoth, cobalt blue 4×4 pick up pulled up and offered help.  I shook his hand in introduction and George swore I was the spitting image of his cousin. He may have missed out on the heavy lifting but he did stay in my site until we hit paved road where he waved good-bye.

My first calls when I reached cell service were to cancel the service requests made on my behalf by the family who first stopped. The call center folks couldn’t find me even with member and car VIN numbers as well as my name, address, and phone. There’s no way that family could have filed a service request with these computer system blocks. Indeed no call was registered at either company. Had I refused the help I might still be stewing in my own vulnerable pot of pride and self-sufficiency.

A week earlier when I entered the deep forests, meadows, creeks and cliffs of the Black Hills I immediately felt peace, safety and belonging in my marrow. My sleep has been deep and filled with adventurous dreams of close-knit family living here for generations. My camp in the pine and spruce forest has been busy with visitors of all kinds. The same bumblebee lived with us for three days. Two majestic bucks visit the raspberry field by the river every evening while I’m fly fishing for leaping brookies. Hummingbirds dive for my morning maple syrup. Angels dance with fairies and family long gone embrace me with a smell, a warm breeze, and memories of laughter and love. In all my travels it’s the longest I’ve stayed in one spot and I have no desire to leave.

 

It is exquisite living even with the occasional hassles and bummers. I do keep my guardian angels on their toes.

The West Family of Watertown, South Dakota appeared within minutes of my need and blanketed me in quiet efficiency, gracious humor, and willingness to make my problem theirs without batting an eye.

I briefly explained to Mother West how I came to be found solo on the back roads in need. She quietly listened and to my great surprise and delight she observed, “You are free! Having many adventures! And you are a writer aren’t you?”

In that instant I felt her unity with my journey in the very empty seat beside her. Yes the blessing of close, loving, grown children surrounded her. But she too knew unbearable loss and lonely, dark grief. I’ll never forget the glow of her face when she observed “you are free!”  I think like me, she lives a celebrated recovery beyond the losses with a grateful mindfulness of the gift of each breath every day simply because we are alive.

Dear West Family and blue pick up George know that I still feel your infusion of safety, reassurance, and rescue.  Your big medicine is now a part of me available to ground and guide me during the next calamity. May your blessings return to each of you in the gentle breeze with my grateful hug.

Boondocking Sedona

Arizona’s Red Rock Country Oak Creek River parallels HW 89A curving through miles of breathtaking canyon vistas and shady oak forests between Flagstaff on the North and Sedona on the South.

But on Sunday Oak Creek Canyon reminds me of ants at a summer picnic. Sedona tourism has tripled in the last decade with over two million annual visitors. On any given weekend thousands pack the roadway, parking lots overflow both sides of the highway, and bumper-to-bumper one-lane traffic inches through the gridlock. The highway flows into downtown Sedona and every artery is an organized bottleneck thanks to abundant roundabouts.

Yet even here you can camp alone for free with spectacular views of colorful cliffs, soaring pinnacles, juniper and pinion forests, and abundant wildlife.

If you’re willing to take the roads less traveled.

It’s 20-30 minute drive from town to campsite. The road is part gravel with some wash boarding, but is very passable. (In a rain the mud becomes goo so plan to settle in and wait for things to dry out rather than bog your rig in headache and heartbreak.)

Take HW 89A west from Sedona to mile marker 365. Turn right on Forest Rd 525 – Red Canyon Road. From entry to Palatki Ruins are many clearly marked pullouts. Some can accommodate numerous rigs while others are perfect for a small tent.

I prefer the area north of the Boynton Pass Road between the Honanki and Palatki Heritage Sites. Nestled in Lincoln Canyon of Red Rock Secret Mountain Wilderness you are encircled by the Mongollon Rim with Secret, Bear, and Lost Mountains on the east and Black, Sugarloaf, and Casner Mountains on the north and west. Like all of Sedona it can get crowded and it’s worth venturing past the first spots. The area has many OHV trails so the biggest drawback is abundant Jeep and ATV traffic during business hours.

But sunrise and sunset offer gorgeous slivers of solitude and silence in stunning natural beauty and fragile desert wilderness. The dark night skies envelop you in a velvet blanket of dazzling stars, planets, and galaxies that seem close enough to touch.

There are other dispersed camping sites closer to town, but like the private RV parks they appear to remain crowded. Veteran boondockers say many of these sites are in the process of being temporarily/permanently closed. Even the dispersed camping sites on forest roads are becoming sparse as forest officials try to balance human access with protection of natural resources.

Motor Vehicle Use maps show dispersed camping options in Coconino National Forest. Be sure to get a new map as many areas have closed. These are available at any of the three visitor centers – Red Rock Visitor Center, the Sedona Chamber of Commerce Visitor Center, and Oak Creek Canyon Visitor Center. Also look for the free recreations guides for area maps, hiking trails, plant and wildlife guides. The Sedona Outdoor Recreation Map by Beartooth Publishing is an excellent waterproof, topo shaded relief map. (Oak Creek Visitor Center has copies for  $11.95. Amazon is $17.95)

Other Camping Options

The Forest Service operates Pine Flat,  Cave Springs,  and Manzanita Campgrounds along Hwy 89A north of Sedona in Oak Creek Canyon. Pine Flat and Cave Springs are open seasonally, and Manzanita is open year round for tent camping only.

South of Sedona are Arizona State Park Dead Horse Ranch and National Forest Service camps Clear Creek and Chavez. These are all open year round.

National Forest campsites are larger than the private RV parks, but remain booked solid. National Forest camps are reservable at (877) 444-6777 or rec.gov. Dead Horse can be reserved at (520) 586-2283 or azstateparks.itinio.com/deadhorseranchSome sites are walk up reservations. Best time to secure those is early on Sunday through Wednesday.

The best private camping option I’ve found is Camp Avalon. Once an organic farm Camp Avalon is now a nonprofit spiritual retreat center with private, “dry” camping options by Oak Creek. There are fire vaults and portable toilets. It can accommodate small RV’s and tent campers on acres of open pasture and forested shade. Rates range from $20-$35/day. Camp Avalon is located at 91 Loy Lane in West Sedona off of 89A. Reservations available at www.avalon.camp.

Passes

The hiking trails of Sedona are some of the nations best so it’s worth the realities of camping in a heavy tourist area. The Red Rock Pass is required in most trailhead parking lots. A one-day pass is $5.00, a weekly pass is $15.00, and an annual pass is $20.00. The Coconino National Forest Recreation Guide also lists the few areas where the pass is not valid and an additional $9.00 per-vehicle parking fee is required.

The Federal Interagency Recreation Passes are honored. These annual passes are honored at most federal forest fee areas and many other federal fee sites. The annual pass is $80, or $10 for seniors (62 and up), free for any US citizen who is disabled and any active duty military and/or dependents. The “Every Kid in a Park Pass” is free to any us 4thgrader and accompanying passengers in a private vehicle.