Climbing the Wide Bajada

By: Sharon K. Miller
Publication: The Voice, Vol. 8, No. 1
Date: January-February 2003

Summary: Sharon Miller encounters sun, falcon, clay shards, and a large rock mortar on a hike in an ancient canyon...

The day is already heating up, and I realize I should have started out earlier. But perspiration evaporates quickly, and I have plenty of water, so I press on. The sun is high above the Santa Catalinas, flattening the rugged contours and softening the eroded canyons. I follow the trail up and down the long ridges, drawing closer to the mountains with each step. I pass through a mesquite bosque where a Peregrine falcon sits silently, but watchful, among the tangled branches. I feel like an intruder.

As I climb the wide bajada at the base of the mountains, I begin watching the ground more carefully. I note placement of rocks in straight lines and at odd angles, and I see pot sherds scattered across the ground. I pick up a painted piece. It is warm in my hand, and I remember Byrd Baylor's words, ". . . the clay remembers the hands that made it." I feel welcome now. I carefully replace the sherd on the ground, away from the path, painted side down and then climb to the top of a boulder beside a deep arroyo. There, in the stone, is an ancient rock mortar. I sit beside it, absorbing the warmth of the sun and the rock, thinking about those who passed their lives in this place so long ago.

High above me, late afternoon shadows are beginning to play among the rocks and crevices, defining the contours of the mountains more sharply. Wind sings through the trees. The spirits of those who came before sing with the wind and tell their stories only to those who can listen. I try. I listen very hard.

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