The Kindness of Strangers

Several events this past week struck a resonant chord with me. We were in Sedona and Jerome on Thursday and Friday. We lucked out with picture perfect weather, and the scenery was just like those spectacular photos in the guide books; red rocks soared into bright blue skies, each formation more miraculous than the one before. We splurged and stayed at a chi-chi B & B, Canyon Villa. The views from the inn were unsurpassed. Les, our host, put us in touch with a private guide, Mike. Our tour and hike with him was the highlight of our visit. For far less money than the famous Pink Jeep Tours, we piled into Mike's SUV for a backroads trip that rattled the fillings in our teeth, but brought us to a secluded offroad hike where we were the only people in sight for several hours. I'm struggling to find the words to describe our hike. Breathtaking, spiritual, awe-inspiring come to mind. We were near a vortex (Schnebley's Peak?) and it was a serene view. Mike was brimming with information (did you know that Mr. Schnebley was looking to name the town and his suggestions were too long, so he decided to name it after his wife, Sedona?!) Mike's outright adoration of his town and surroundings was evident in all of the details he shared with us. It made the experience that much more meaningful. Was our hike even more thrilling because Mike was strikingly good-looking!? Um, maybe. Our 2-day excursion to magical Sedona was delicious.


The following day we were shopping in Jerome, a funky, artsy mining town with shops nestled into several layers of Mingus Mountain. (Don't you love that name?) Switchback streets, awesome views. Such fun! The galleries and jewelry shops were first-rate, and you know me; I'm happy to stimulate the economy wherever I go. In a pottery gallery/studio we ran into a couple around our age who had an interesting story to share. The man and his current wife told us that they had met while they were receiving chemotherapy and radiation. He had prostate cancer and she had breast cancer. They fell in love and got married 7 years ago in Jerome. The day before their wedding they were browsing in this pottery gallery and happened upon a ceramic bowl that they adored. Because they were combining their households and had so many expenses, they decided against the purchase. The artist had overheard them talking. She approached them. "I hear tomorrow is your wedding day. I want you to have this bowl as a wedding gift from me." She didn't even know the story of their illnesses; she just wanted them to have the bowl they had admired and, over their protests, she insisted that they accept it. Now here they were, 7 years later, returning to the gallery to commission a large-scale piece of art for their home. It's good karma, folks.

Back in Tucson, we found ourselves at Sabino Canyon, preparing for a hike. We have been hiking the canyon regularly since our arrival in January. We have taken each set of visitors on a hike there. It's close (10 minutes!), convenient, and gorgeous, offering spectacular views within moments of beginning on any of the many trails there. This particular day, yesterday in fact, we decided to take our longest hike yet. Our friends Ron and Jane, seasoned hikers, were with us and we had perfect cool, crisp, sunny weather. Michael had been eagerly anticipating this lengthy hike on a trail called the Phoneline. (Named because it is way up high where a phoneline would be? Dunno. Sounds good, though, doesn't it?) You take the tram up to the last stop, a point near the top of the canyon. Then you hike up half a mile further to the trailhead before hiking back down to the visitor's center. It's roughly a 4.5 mile hike. We set out from the last tram stop and began the upward climb. We were so high up after about fifteen minutes that the people below looked like ants, and they were at the highest point on the road! We felt as though we were miles high. It was so exhilirating! After a few miles we stopped for a picnic lunch. PBJ sandwiches tasted like haute cuisine. We continued our descent and encountered several hikers who told us that when we got down to the bridge at tram stop #1 we'd have to remove our shoes and socks, roll up our pants and wade through the knee-deep rushing water that flooded the bridge to get to the main trail back to the entrance. The only way back to the entrance was to cross the creek. No problem. Michael and I had done that earlier in the season. The creek is fuller than usual because of the many inches of accumulated rain and snowmelt from the higher elevations. We commented that we actually looked forward to wading in the icy water because our feet were achy from the downward hike.

As we continued our descent we found a trail marker that pointed the way to the trail that would take us to tram stop #1. I was particularly thrilled to learn that the end was in sight because my knees had started to ache from the sharp downward slope of the trail. It wasn't easy. I announced that I planned to take the tram back to the visitor's center. The rest of our group planned to hike the remaining mile back from the tram stop. We followed the signs, but somehow ended up down near the creek on a sandy bank with no trail leading out. Oh, well. We turned around and backtracked up the trail, choosing a different route when we reached the marker. After schlepping along for another half hour or so, we found ourselves back down near the creek with no crossing in sight. The trail seemed to disappear, leaving us slogging through the sand. We could see the main road, a paved road opposite the creek, high above us, peopled with hikers, joggers, moms pushing strollers...civilization(!) ... but we couldn't figure out how to get there. After some discussion, Ron shed his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants, and attempted a crossing. The water reached his mid-thighs and was flowing too swiftly for us to risk it. We were stuck. I was exhausted, having clearly overextended my stamina level at least a mile before. We were frustrated. (If these are the times that try men's souls, my soul had left the building.) The men felt responsible for finding a way out, but there wasn't an obvious solution short of backtracking all the way back to the original trail marker and trying to figure out where we had gone wrong. That was an unappealing proposition. We had started at 11:15. It was now 4:00. This was not our game plan. The guys made manly noises and offered up suggestions. Jane remained positive and optimistic, at least on the outside. I was super whiny, inside and out. (I know; you're shocked. Would you like some cheese with that whine?)

It was so crazy. We could see our goal, the main road, but the river presented an insurmountable obstacle. I'm sure there's a metaphor lurking there, but I haven't figured it out yet.

As Michael prepared to call the visitors center for help (yay! iPhone reception everywhere! but how could we explain where we were when we couldn't find it on the trail map?) Jane turned around to see a man hiking alone just behind us. She ran toward him, waving frantically, and he came off the trail (which was out of our view) to speak with us. We explained our situation and he smiled and said that we just had to follow the trail he had been on and it would take us to the dam and then on back to the visitors center. We were looking at perhaps 1.5 miles more. Jane told him that he was our saviour...and he smiled again. "That's so interesting. I just said a prayer before I rounded the corner of the trail," he told us. Cue the "Twilight Zone" music.

We hiked toward where he had pointed and found ourselves on more familiar turf. At the bridge we waded happily through the knee-deep freezing current and trudged back to the entry of the park.

In these times of economic fragility (unemployment out of control); mental instability(Littleton Colorado shooting today; college professor shooting rampage earlier in the month); political discord (still no healthcare bill), it's comforting to still see the goodness of humanity shining through. And to push the "cheese factor" just a little further, check out the double rainbow we encountered on our drive!