The Last Thursday

Near the end of my retreat I started coming out of contraction. In Dancemeditation the practitioner goes through stages of contraction and expansion, the deep work happens in contraction allowing the open space to occur in expansion. As I emerged from contraction I started turning my focus to what needs to be done when I get home, who I need to connect with... life outside of my Swell retreat bubble. I feel like it has been a good retreat. I know myself better, feel more self-reliant and self-confident. I have had some incredible meditations and great insight, seen a lot of cool things, been able to be calm in scary situations (snakes, spiders...), and have enjoyed the time by myself. Reviewing the last couple of weeks and thinking of wrapping up I feel like it has been a really mellow retreat all in all - nothing crazy, no standard Swell epics. My only regret is I haven't been able to pet a cat (mountain lions roam this area). Considering a big cat could easily eat me for dinner this probably isn't such a bad thing. I see Cat Canyon on the map and figure that a place by the name of Cat Canyon would be a good place to see cats.

My hunt for the elusive Cat Canyon takes two days. On the first day I drive to an old mining area and scramble up near the top of the canyon. I expected to walk a good bit more before getting into the hiking as a lot of the road I took showed unimproved on the map. Unimproved roads in the Swell usually mean impassable in anything but a high clearance 4WD. My 2WD space pod sports car is not the recommended mode of transport for this land. I am surprised that I can drive to the cabins which opens up a world of possibility for travel. Scrambling I get up just above the level of the mines. It looks like if I traverse I can possibly go higher or I can get shut down. I have already made some scary moves I am not looking forward to reversing and it looks like more of the same with greater exposure with the potential of a worse cliff on the other side before descending into the canyon on the other side. Reversing my hike I traverse farther out to see if I can avoid some of the scarier scrambling and find most of it is worse. I slowly make my way back to the car. In my rush to see kitty cats I consider just driving out to the freeway and trying my second option without going back to camp to change my note so Bob can find me if I don't come back to camp for some reason. Luckily good sense prevails and I head back to camp, calling it a night.



The next day (Thursday) I head out again, driving the 30 miles out of the Swell to the freeway. As I merge with traffic I feel myself shift gears inside to match the pace of the descendants of industrial age machines that have replaced solid earth as my companions. I drive several miles down the freeway and re-enter the Swell farther West. As I drive deeper into the desert I see no other vehicle tracks and no recent signs of human activity. Early I came upon a wash that was sketchy so I turned back and went the other way. This brought me into a pretty good wash that I was able to navigate fairly easily most of the way at a maximum speed of 20 mph (although I realized if there was a flash flood I was heading the wrong direction with no ability to turn around and would be in trouble). Along this wash I saw a dead cow and took it as a sign there were cats nearby. Although the cats would have eaten it and not left so much waste, I was on a mission to see them so interpreted unlikely things as signs. Shortly after the cow I encountered a side road that looked like a good shortcut. After .3 miles it suddenly turned into a washed out rutted path and I thought I was stuck. Fortunately Alexa (my car) and I have a good relationship so she pulled through for me even though I had gotten us into this mess. I made a cautious sketch turn to back out of that area and got back to the wash. Now I am on edge instead of just uneasy as I continue down the wash. Soon I gain elevation and get great views of the (La Sal?) mountains to the west and a canyon that looks like a likely cat hangout. At the highest point in the road I notice there is a nice turn around section and think "I should just turn around here and head back, it's late in the afternoon."



Instead, I head down into the next section. The road is steep with a cliff on one side. I have a strong presentimiento as I shift into 1st gear to descend. At the bottom of the road is the sign below. I am 70 miles from the nearest town, 13.3 miles from I-70, no cell service for many miles and no signs of other human life in the Swell for days - REMOTE! I think to myself, "this could be bad" as I head into slippery, slidy, get dug in and stuck sand. My car slides across the road and I know I need to turn around quickly before I get into deeper trouble. I find a spot that feels almost stable, do a quick turn and head back out of the wash. I am definitely freaked out now and remind myself of the basic sand and mud rule - keep going. I feeling pretty good about heading out and feel like I narrowly avoided a disaster.



My car starts to slide, I feel it jerk followed by an unnerving banging/bouncing sound/sensation. I panic and do the one thing I shouldn't do which is stop the car. I managed to get the front wheels dug in as deep as the underbelly.



After assessing the situation I get back in the car and try backing out turning the wheels and just spin in deeper.



So I start digging out sand and building a rock bridge. I'm glad I learned the skill I hope to never use again when Bob and I tried to feed his 4-wheel drive Subaru to the Black Dragon Wash 6-weeks or so before on that ill-fated scouting trip.



I think "this is Thursday night, help will come Saturday" - hopefully Bob can find my note and I took the roads I said I'd take so it will be easy for him to find me. Surveying my situation I realize I have 5 gallons of water in the trunk, glad I kept it there instead of taking it out at camp. Random food will sustain me and I can sleep in the car if needed. Looking around I see limited shade opportunities to escape the punishing sun in the heat of the day. I think about blowing my whistle for help, but since there had been no other signs of human activity or tracks on my ride in I felt like it would only add to my sense of desolation.



Situation assessed I drink some water, chew a little osha root (very helpful) and kept digging and gathering rocks for bridges. It was slow moving, but it was moving.


Encouraged to see progress, in the midst of digging I laughed to myself, "this is still better than work."



Warm sand feels soothing in my hands and along my arms. I have been dirty for days so didn't mind digging in, resting my belly on the warm floor to reach under the car. Rhythmic repeated motion became a meditation. After a few bridges I was able to re-use the rocks and extend each bridge farther.



I notice a harder packed area to the passenger side and think if I could get my wheel there I'll be set. After about 60-90 minutes, fortunately in the cooler part of the day, I finally build the last bridge. The car drives over it, onto the hard pack, up and out of the wash to a big Woot!



My heart pounds quickly with joy and relief, a happy high!





























I did want to test my self-reliance and passed with flying colors even with the presentimiento as I was driving down into that canyon. I had less than half a tank of fuel and used that as the excuse to drive to Green River to feed Alexa and myself. It was time for a burger!