'Cause Places Like This Don't Exist

I finally took a trip down to Sedona, after much urging from the roommate. I couldn't see what the big deal was about this place: it's further down 17 than I usually go, the roads are so dangerous (speed limit is 75 here on windy mountain roads), and the trails are so out of the way. But I still had to see for myself what Sedona had to offer, and found myself dumbstruck.

I opted, for fun, to take 89A instead of the straight-shot I-17 down through the heart of Sedona. I plugged it into my GPS and went on my way. As I'm driving I notice that it looks like the GPS has an error: the route is literally a scribble. I thought, oh hell, it's probably confused.

No. No it was not. Have you ever gone 10 mph on a national highway and still felt unsafe? Cause I have. It was a 2000 foot descent through red rock curves. It was, without a doubt, what those crazy mouse rides at amusement parks were modeled after. I can't imagine anyone in an SUV taking that road without rolling. So I finally zoomed in on my GPS to keep ahead of the ridiculous blind turns.

The closer I got to Sedona, the more amazed I became. Huge red rock structures line the road and dot the skyline: daunting mountains shaped into odd silhouettes against an orange desert. All around are little pull offs: a cafe here, cottages there, clear creeks running down below. The homes on the red bluffs next to the road are some of the most beautiful homes I've ever seen: wood and glass, three levels, and terraces big enough to host a Hollywood party.

I passed Slide Rock State Park... which has a natural water chute you slide in. Google it and be amazed!

Sedona itself is exactly what you would expect of an old west town, but it's been done up with a modern artistic motif. Sure the buildings are an orange adobe-style, but the stores are so various and appealing I almost stopped. I didn't though, because I was on a mission. A mission that took me another hour of driving, half of it on the roughest backroads I've ever encountered in my life. The forest service doesn't exactly "maintain" them like you would think.



I drove half an hour in the desert on a dirt and rock road, bouncing until I wanted to vomit, without seeing another person or car. I pulled down FR 215 and came to a parking lot five miles in. Keep in mind the vast desert nothingness around me at the time.

I had done it; I'd found my trail!



Walking out in this canopy of desert/forest, you don't really know what to expect. You can just barely see the mountains towering above you as you stroll through the dense floor below.



The trail is literally just this path on the plateau. No shade, no water, just hot sand below you turning your shoes and socks orange and the sun overhead. I'd heard that there was water somewhere, but after twenty minutes I was wondering where I could find some to roll around in. I could hear children playing somewhere below the path, but couldn't place the distance or elevation.



As I continued, the path changed. I think I descended some and the path brought me to red rock and bluffs. I'd never seen cliff walls like this before. like some ancient civilization had piled them on top of each other ages ago. To add to this mystical feeling, there were these yellow butterflies all over the place, hundreds of them swirling around me as I picked my way along the rock bluff.





I finally came to a place where I thought I heard water rushing and realized, that yes, I finally get to test my water-fording skills! The water was so clear and clean I could see the moss-covered rocks that separated me from the other side. So I slipped off my hiking shoes and socks and put on my old flip flops I used for crew. Carefully holding my hiking shoes above the water, I promptly stepped in and slipped, falling face-first into the stream.





Attempt number two was not much better. This time I made it about halfway before slipping and filling my hiking shoes with water.

Attempt three I just went barefoot and pushed through. I never realized how exhausting crossing a stream could be. I was winded on the other side. I had to do this a total of four times.



There was something so amazing about the red bluffs, the clear streams and the total quiet of this trail. Down where the water is was like being in some Jurassic Park movie--a place so beautiful, so removed from human destruction that it couldn't possibly be real. I couldn't really be there, walking along bluffs being surrounded by butterflies, because this was not a movie. This was real life. I half-felt like I was walking along Mayan ruins and could come across dinos taking a sip out of the stream at any time.







After hiking out back up to the flat path, the heat became intense. With no shade and a heavy pack loaded with water and food, I made the command decision to turn around, find that stream, and roll in it. I probably had walked about two miles into the wilderness, so walking back to find the stream became brutal. I had seen a watering hole about a mile into my hike and wanted to get there, so when I found the stream, I'd take my time walking across, but knew I was going to cannonball into the deeper one once I found it.



I wish I could have taken some more pictures of the streams and what it looked like from the center with the red rock to one side, but I was tired and I didn't want to risk the slip.



I finally got to that watering hole and it felt like I was swimming for the very first time. The water was crisp--not cool, not cold--crisp like the first autumn morning when you can smell fall in the air, like as a friend of mine once said "waking up thirsty in the middle of the night and having a glass with ice in it and a Sierra Mist right there...", meaning that moment that carbonated coolness hits your parched mouth and you feel an overwhelming sense of equilibrium returning to you. That's what this water felt like to me.



I had to tear myself away from the water and return on my hike far sooner than I'd have liked to, but I had to get back on the road and I knew my sunscreen was essentially gone from sweat and stream at that point.



One day, I'll have to go back to that place. The place where for the first time in my life, I felt like I had found the adventure and destination I'd always been looking for.