Living with deadlines

Aspens in autumn, Flagstaff, Arizona

Getting projects done on time is definitely a big part of a writer’s life. Someone once suggested to me that I should start referring to my deadlines as “lifelines.” His reasoning was that even thinking the word “dead” was bound to create negativity and stress. I saw his point. Furthermore, saying “I'm working late because I have a lifeline” would better reflect that writing is my livelihood, something that supports me.

But the new terminology never stuck, and years later, I’m still saying and thinking “deadline,” even though other options abound. Due date? (Working on a book is a bit like a pregnancy and delivery, especially the labor aspect.) Completion date? (Blah.) Target date? (Nope—creates a sense of anxiety that I might miss the target.) I’d like to call it a “freedom date,” but that may lure my focus away from the project at hand to the fun that beckons beyond it. 

Try as I might to create balance—put more life into a deadline—things still tend to come to a standstill when my focus narrows to one project, one date. Less urgent projects (and blogging) get shoved to the side. Personal trips are cancelled. Creativity leaks away from other areas like cooking and gardening. Life dies a little bit.

The idea that a word or label creates its own reality might be considered New Age, but it isn’t new. For centuries, humans have uttered mantras and prayers. Across different cultures and religions, creation and completion is linked to sound or word or logos—om, amen, shalom, salaam. We shout “Abracadabra” to create magic, or write “I will [fill in the blank]” a hundred times when we (or our schoolteachers) desire change. Words hold power. 

Hemingway said that he once revised a passage 39 times in order to “get the words right.” I haven’t yet found the right word or phrase to replace “deadline.” But I’d like to think that I continue to add more awareness to the term. Death, after all, is just another transformation. It’s as essential to life as winter is to the cycle of seasons, an in-gathering of energy before a fresh burst of creation. Without a deadline, I’d probably keep tinkering away on the same old project instead of beginning something new.

Deadlines. Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them.

Take a Hike: Cathedral Rock

Cathedral Rock Trail is a classic Sedona hike.

Cathedral Rock, a monumental red sandstone formation in the center of the Sedona area, is one of the most-photographed scenes in Arizona. The classic view is along Oak Creek from the west, at Crescent Moon Ranch and Red Rock Crossing. (Scenic Red Rock Loop Road leads to this day-use area, a great spot for a picnic or a gentle stroll along the creek.) 

But it’s possible to climb to the very heart of the Cathedral’s sandstone spires, beginning from the formation’s northeast side. Some people say that the spires are where Cathedral’s vortex energy is concentrated. If you’re curious about Sedona’s vortex sites, a hike here is the perfect opportunity to see for yourself if all the buzz about Sedona’s special energy is mere hype or a genuine phenomenon.

For the trailhead, drive south on State Route 179 from its intersection with State Route 89A. At 3.5 miles, turn right at Back O’ Beyond Road and continue a half-mile to the parking area on the left. If you’re afraid of heights or unsteady on your feet, think twice about making this moderately difficult hike. Though it’s a mere 1.5 miles round-trip, it’s steep, with ledges and toeholds in some places. In places, the trail travels over bare slickrock; the forest service has marked the route with numerous rock cairns.

Once you arrive at the top, you can enjoy the views of the Chapel area to the east. Look for the two red rock spires known as The Nuns. To the west, Oak Creek’s meandering route is marked by a green band of trees that turn gold in autumn. A short scramble south leads to the base of the tall spire in the center of Cathedral Rock, known as The Mace. Do you feel the vortex vibe? Or is it simply the exhilaration of making an invigorating hike to an amazingly beautiful place?

The Journey to Keet Seel

Keet Seel Canyon, Navajo National Monument

Not long ago, I read a travel story about Keet Seel, an Ancestral Puebloan site within Navajo National Monument, located about 20 miles south of Kayenta, Arizona. The author’s take on this very special place is that it was an arduous, unpleasant trip and, though the ruin was impressive, it wasn’t worth the effort of getting there. I was astonished.

The facts of the article were absolutely correct. Yes, it is a difficult hike. It’s 8.5 miles (one way) in summer, when it’s hot as blazes and when, after July, afternoon thundershowers can turn a hike from just plain hot to hot, humid, scary, wet, and chilly. (Personal experience speaking here.) The author mentioned such miseries as flies, livestock, sand, lack of water, and a steep exit from the canyon. He neglected to mention the quicksand. (Also personal experience.)

But the reward for the hike to Keet Seel was being able to enter one of the most magical places I have ever visited. This Ancestral Puebloan village, occupied 700 years ago, is tucked into a sheltering alcove, and it looks as though its residents simply picked up walked away. Part of the magic is that Keet Seel can only be visited in the presence of a ranger, and only by five or fewer people at a time. The spacious coolness of the alcove is impressive. The quiet is awesome. These qualities would be lost in a crowd of people. And who knows what else might be lost at this historic site (or along the route) if hundreds of people tramped through daily.

The author’s chief complaint was that Keet Seel is open to hikers only in summer months, and he directed his displeasure toward the Navajo Nation, which administers the monument in partnership with the National Park Service. Personally, I’m thankful that the strenuous nature of this journey keeps the experience rare and special, and grateful that local tribal members have chosen to limit access this way. Keet Seel is not an appropriate “sacrifice site,” a term coined by an archaeologist in reference to cultural sites that are opened and promoted to the general public in order to educate or entertain. Though Mesa Verde’s Cliff Palace is magnificent, it has lost an ineffable something because of the crowds who visit there. The long hike to Keet Seel, on the other hand, is an opportunity to let go and prepare to be transformed. We need both types of places.

At least, that’s my perspective. And as I re-read that article about Keet Seel, I realized how much travelers’ (and writers’) perspectives can differ. One person’s paradise can be another’s ho-hum. A big part of this is the expectations and experiences we carry with us like baggage when we travel. And I think that as a culture, we’ve gotten used to things that are easy and comfortable. When I write travel stories, I think it’s important to report things accurately—the difficulty of a hike, the expense of a popular destination. But I also believe it’s important to look at things with an unjaded eye, to make room for magic. There can be a fine line between being discerning and being dismissive.

Now that summer is here, Keet Seel is open once again to day hikers and backpackers. (Advance permits are required.) If you don’t like flies, or heat, or challenging hikes, you can "settle" for easy canyon-rim trails with great views. But if you’re ready to let modern life fall away as you walk through Navajo land, and then enter an ancient village with fresh eyes, put Keet Seel on your bucket list. 

Sedona's two summers

Prickly pear cactus blooms

At the local chamber of commerce, they boast about Sedona’s four-season climate, something special in this desert state. But by my count, Sedona has five seasons. We experience two summers (something we share with Phoenix, Tucson, and other Sonoran desert cities): a hot and dry foresummer, followed by the monsoon, marked by higher humidity and fierce afternoon thunderstorms. 

April might have been the cruelest month in Chaucer’s world, but here in Arizona, it’s May.

Summer seemed to blow in overnight to central Arizona, dropping the humidity below 15 percent and drying up tender spring wildflowers. Nearly every day is hot and windy, and the scent of smoke is in the air from four wildfires burning in the Prescott and Tonto national forests. The small community of Crown King (near Prescott) was evacuated a couple days ago. The national weather service posts red flag warnings (when conditions are ripe for wildfire) almost daily.

We face a long stretch until monsoon-pattern rain rides in like the cavalry and rescues us from the tinder-dry conditions. Fire restrictions are in place on every national forest in the state.

That’s the big picture. Meanwhile, we have little annoyances as well, and some of the littlest are the most annoying. If you hike in the Four Corners area, you know I’m talking about cedar gnats, nasty little creatures that are hard to see (hence, their alias, no-see-ums) but leave huge welts when they bite. Cedar gnats make hiking in piñon-juniper woodlands an ordeal for about six weeks every spring. They find every patch of exposed skin, leaving red bites at the vee of a collar, the edge of a sleeve, or along the hairline. Searching for moisture, they’ll fly into hikers’ eyes, nostrils, and mouth. The wind keeps them away for the most part, but as soon as it’s calm, they come out in droves.

The dry foresummer also drives forest dwellers into neighborhoods in search of water. A few days ago, a bobcat walked across the yard. Smaller creatures try to escape the heat by sneaking indoors. I found an angry scorpion in the living room Sunday night, brandishing his tail at me. (I scooped him up in a glass and took him outside, where I hope he’ll stay.)

But the months of May and June aren’t all bad. The sun sets late, and the long evenings feel like bonus time. Nights are cool, perfect for sleeping with the windows open to the tangy/spicy scent of the desert. Wildflowers have given way to jewel-bright cactus blooms.

Seasons remind us that change is inevitable, and that most everything has its pluses and minuses. In the world of freelancing, for example, it seems like every contract is balanced by a stack of rejection letters. (I read once that dedicated magazine freelancers sell about 10 percent of their work.) But after years of sweating the dry spells, I’ve learned that the rains eventually return.

A writer's bookshelf

Centuries ago, book ownership indicated that a person was of high status. If that were true today, I’d be at least minor royalty. (The Countess of Coconino County, perhaps?)

Over the years, I’ve given away boxes and boxes of books. Even so, I still have so many books that it's chore to move them. Ounce for ounce, I’d say my biggest haul is reference books. Yes, the web has many resources for writers, but sometimes (when I’m hiking, for example, or dashing across the room to identify a bird singing outside) going online isn’t convenient. Plus, I have what could be described as an ambivalent relationship with my computer. Or maybe, after reading books and writing books for most of my life, I simply enjoy picking up a book and flipping through the pages, even if it’s just to look something up.

For a book author, the reference bible is the latest edition of the venerable Chicago Manual of Style, now in its sixteenth edition. For magazine articles, it’s the Associated Press Stylebook. I own both, as well as a glossary of words and expressions. I’ve noticed that my glossary use is related to the number of years I’ve been out of school—maybe needing help remembering the difference between “affect” and “effect” is one of the early effects of aging … which eventually affects us all (just practicing, sorry!).

A good dictionary isn’t as essential as it once was, thanks to all the great resources online, but I’m happy with my Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. Other books I use include a brief etymology guide for sleuthing the origins of words. (I’d prefer the 20-volume Oxford English Dictionary, but that would fill a shelf all by itself.) Roget’s Thesaurus is helpful when I’m at a loss for words or, more likely, when I find myself repeating the same ones too often. I occasionally need to refer to my French and Spanish dictionaries. And I’m still schlepping around my Harbrace College Handbook, a handy grammar/composition guide I’ve had since, well, college. Yikes.

The internet has opened up vast doorways for research … often to my dismay, when I go online to find a quick answer and realize I’ve spent a half-hour or more following a tempting trail of breadcrumbs. A site I especially like is howjsay.com for pronunciations of words. Even after all these years, those little symbols are difficult for me, especially the ones used by Wikipedia.

I also have shelves and boxes of maps, atlases, and project-specific information such as field guides. I find regionally published books especially useful, such as the field guides produced by Grand Canyon Association and Western National Parks Association. For cookbook projects, I use Joan Whitman and Dolores Simon’s invaluable Recipes Into Type.

I realize that my life would be more Zen-like if I could rely entirely on the internet. But these are old friends, moving with me and helping me write dozens of articles and books. When I first starting freelancing, buying reference books represented an investment in myself. Seeing them on the shelves or opening one and breathing in the scent of ink and paper evokes a multitude of past experiences and projects, and holds the promise of more.

As Cicero once said, “A room without books is like a body without a soul.” I read that in a book somewhere.

Grand Canyon’s Wild Side: The North Rim

Grand Canyon's Point Imperial on the North Rim

Road trippers, buckle your seatbelts: National Park facilities on Grand Canyon’s North Rim are due to open next week. (Officially, the park’s North Rim is open May 15–October 15, but Mother Nature has the final say.) This news is sweet relief for desert dwellers. Phoenix temperatures are expected to top 100 again by the end of the week, while on the North Rim it’s 30 degrees cooler.

Higher than the South Rim by 1,400 feet and shaded by boreal forests of spruce, fir, and aspen, the North Rim can receive more than a 100 inches of snow each winter, forcing the closure of State Route 67 and park facilities. By mid-May, the snow is gone, meadows and aspen are greening, and Grand Canyon Lodge throws open its doors to welcome visitors.

Only one out of ten park visitors make it to this side of the canyon. Though it’s only 10 miles away from the South Rim’s Grand Canyon Village as the raven flies, to get to the North Rim takes five hours by car or shuttle or at least two days of hiking.

For the lucky few who venture here, that means natural quiet, fresh pine-scented air, and a relaxed pace. Many of the North Rim’s scenic highlights are strung like gems along the paved Cape Royal Road, which travels 20 miles across the Walhalla Plateau. Even along this popular scenic drive, trails are seldom crowded. (One of my favorites, short but sweet Cliff Springs Trail, starts near the end of the road.)

The North Rim’s most popular trail, the North Kaibab, leads into the canyon. Several other trails wind through rim-side forests, where wildflowers linger through summer. If you plan to explore beyond the pavement, you’ll want a high-clearance vehicle and a good map. Be aware that gravel and dirt roads in the neighboring Kaibab National Forest can be muddy into June. Check weather and road conditions before starting out. For the latest announcements from Grand Canyon, visit the park service’s web site.

Welcome to Grand Canyon’s wild side!

Take a Hike: Hermit Trail

View from Hermit Trail, Grand Canyon

Early May is a great time for hiking Grand Canyon. Spring break crowds have gone, and summer crowds haven’t yet arrived. Daytime temperatures on the South Rim are comfortable, and wildflowers are in bloom. 

For those new to hiking Grand Canyon, the corridor trails—Bright Angel and South Kaibab—are recommended. But if you're ready for a day hike that’s a bit farther off the beaten path, Hermit Trail is ideal. It’s steep but easy to follow, with a couple good day-hike destinations, depending on your time and abilities. Before your trip, it's a good idea to check the National Park Service web site for weather and trail conditions and for information about day-hiking. You can also find detailed trail information on the park's site.

The trailhead is located a few hundred feet west of Hermits Rest. From March through November, day-hikers can get to the trailhead via the free Hermits Rest Route shuttle. 

The trail descends steeply through the Kaibab, Toroweap, and Coconino formations, then levels out (but not for long!) on the reddish Hermit Shale formation at Hermit Basin. The trail is unmaintained and narrow in places, with sharp drop offs. When you reach Hermit Basin, you can find a shady spot beneath a juniper or pinon to relax and have a snack. At 1.5 miles, the signed intersection with the Waldron Trail makes a good turnaround point for a two- or three-hour hike.

For a longer hike, continue down the switchbacks to Santa Maria Spring, the 2.5-mile point. There’s a shady resthouse here (but don’t count on being able to get water at the spring). Some great views can be found from a rocky platform a few yards further along the trail, but remember that hiking out of the canyon takes roughly twice as long as it took to hike in. On the way back to the rim, stop often to enjoy the scenery—and to catch your breath.

A visit to Hermits Rest, designed by architect Mary Colter, is a good reward for your 5-mile hike. The building is an imaginative recreation of a miner’s camp. Inside is a gift shop and snack bar, and outdoors there's a lovely shaded patio that’s often visited by ravens.

The hermit immortalized in all these place names was Louis Boucher, a miner who began guiding tourists to his camp at Dripping Springs in the late 1800s. In 1912 the Santa Fe Railway developed Hermit Trail and set up tent cabins and a dining hall far below the rim near the Colorado River. Tourists traveled to the camp on muleback. The camp operated until 1930, supplied by an aerial tramway leading 6,000 feet down from Pima Point. If you stop at Pima Point on your shuttle ride back to Grand Canyon Village, be sure to peer over the edge, where you’ll be able to spot the outlines of the camp.

Views, history, and a great hike—a perfect way to spend a spring day!