Transcendence while Hiking at Sabino Canyon

It was a relatively cool day in the middle of Autumn. My girlfriend and I decided that instead of spending the day worrying about the money we didn't have, we would go hiking up through Sabino Canyon and enjoy some fresh air. Things seemed relatively normal on the drive over there. I was feeling a bit irritated for no apparent reason and she was keeping to herself. Upon getting to the start of the trail I noticed that there were no cars parked, there were almost always a few. I let it go, and headed for the trail. A little ways into the dirt path, I found that all of the surrounding trees and leaves seemed to be perfect shades or orange and brown. It was lovely, almost the kind of serenity that one would expect to experience upon being sucked into one of Windows’ default wallpapers. I had a specific stopping point in mind, a little known path that lead to a tree I had noticed on a previous hike. One of it’s main branches hovered over, and eventually dipped into, some icy flowing water that tends to flow around that time of year. The walk there started out casual, and quickly turned to nirvanic. Each step away from the city seemed to be a step closer to peace. I can honestly say that I don’t recall seeing a single human soul out that day, just families of deer that halfway ignored our presence, and halfway avoided our presence. We quickly found ourselves at the tree, barefoot with our feet dangling from the branch, above the cold water. We watched family after family of deer walk by on the opposite side of the stream, casually foraging, until the dimming sky warned us that we had better start getting home. The next day I went to work as usual, but I carrying with me a lingering sense of peace that I hadn't felt in years, a letting go. Now, whenever I go out I look for that peace. I found it in the canyon, but I know I can find it anywhere, as look as I’m looking.

 

By: Jonathan Terry

Hikers' Close Encounter With A Bison In Yellowstone National Park

While visiting Yellowstone National Park two hikers were mere feet away from a very large but care-free bison.  Although bison are one of the largest and wildest animals in America, they are relatively calm as long as you don't move a muscle, like what these hikers did.  Judging by their facial expressions, they had mixed feelings of excitement, humor, and sheer terror.

The 7 Falls of Death

During long Arizona summers I like to go with a few friends up to a sequence of waterfalls that always flow heavily when the monsoon season arrives. The area can be overly touristy at times, but without a doubt, it’s a nice hike and a breath of fresh air. One of my friends had done some scouting on Google Maps the day before and noticed what looked like a trail following a little path up the canyon where water would probably be flowing. To me, it seemed like a good way to get around the crowds and cut a few miles off of the hike. So naturally, I said it looked awesome. We eventually did reach the falls, but not exactly gracefully.

To start with my minimalist trail shoes completely ripped, leaving me barefoot for close to the entire hike. The Cody Lundin in me welcomed the changes happily, but I didn't even reach the halfway point before my punished feet deeply missed my flimsy shoes. Shortly after that we reached a small cliff diving spot, and after a bit of coaxing from my friends, I reluctantly tiptoes myself to the edge of the cliff, and very gently threw myself off. The day continued fairly smoothly until a naturally crafted slip-n-slide swept me away with the backpack holding not only our lunch, but our phones as well. Needless to say the phones didn't survive and we ate soggy sandwiches for lunch. Regardless of the way we turned a 4 hour hike into a 7 hour hike, the falls were great. There were lots of good people, lots of energy, and some nice cliff jumping.

P.S. We ended up taking the trail back.

By: Jonathan Terry