Day 47: Send Me On My Way

Day Forty-Seven: Send Me On My Way

7/29/11:

Something has to be said for the kind of friends that can see you at your best, at your worst, at five in the morning, at twelve at night, gasping for air, falling over, wearing zip-off pants, and losing your cool.

Joe, Noah, Yelena, myself and (until very recently) Q had lived and worked with each other 24/7 for the last two months: we had seen it all. Which to me, was really rather comforting. I had been weird, cranky, goofy and exactly myself and (drum roll please) they still all liked me (!).

In companionable silence, Noah, Joe and I hiked down into Sycamore Canyon at a sedate pace. The six mile trek took us a leisurely four hours with a few naps and minor climbing expeditions sprinkled into the mix. The bottom of the canyon was one gigantic boulder-fest, and I went into a sort of frenzy as I dashed from one to the next to the next, a deranged blonde version of Mario. 

Around us, the canyon walls rose in little ripples, these cuts in the stone providing enviable climbing opportunities, which we were only too happy to take advantage of. After bouncing out of sight of Joe and Noah, I fell back on old habits and hooted in a wavering MSO call until the two had caught up to me. On the hike out, I coddled a cowering horned toad in my hand while Joe snagged a gopher snake, its lithe body striking against his forearm.

I was tired by the end, my legs sore from rock hopping and my hair plastered to my head with sweat. My beloved green hat, having suffered innumerable hours of sun and one mishap involving orange juice, had faded dull and white-ish. I noted happily, that we all looked spectacularly grimy, and as I’m pretty sure a good day can be measured in dirt, I thought we’d done well for ourselves.

Back at North House that afternoon, Travis stopped by with his brother’s motorcycle. He’d long promised I would get to ride the Cureton horses, but as that had never come to fruition, a motorcycle ride was to stand in its place.

I was not a natural (or graceful) passenger, and more than once Travis had to growl at me to lean with him on the turns so as not to kill us both. We flew on down blacktop roads, cutting across a long meadow and slipping in and out of aspen and ponderosa groves. I, like every dog ever born, was pretty in love with the feeling of wind knotting my hair and snapping against my face. All things considered, it wasn’t a bad trade off--not by a long shot.

Saying goodbye to Travis later that day, he departed with his traditional, “I’ll see you later.”

I had to stop myself from saying: no, you won’t.

Photos: 1. Noah and Joe prepping for Sycamore Canyon 2. Climbing in the canyon 3. Joe rock hopping (photo credit: Noah) 4. Small finds in Sycamore Cayonon