Amelia Madrigal
I will be back to Utah. I whispered it to the flowers and the cacti and the cryptobiotic soil and the pour overs and the petroglyphs and the granaries and Jacob’s chair in the distance and the twelve-hour days and the crumbled up tortillas and the swimming.
I told Terry Tempest Williams and Kazuo Ishiguro and Dave Eggers and James Baldwin. I told Lily and Trilby and Mack and Lucy and Lucy and Charlie and Tessa and Nina, while laughing at Canadian Boyfriend.
I didn’t realize the desert blooms in May. The desert greeted us with graupel and snow. During the storm, I cooped up in a cave with Sarah reading When Women Were Birds. After the graupel subsided, water peered over walls of sandstone, flooding into waterfalls.
There is beauty in the blooming desert.
In January, I wasn’t ready to appreciate it. My focus was lasered in on myself, trying to wade through the newness, making it to the other side whole. It was focused on learning about these strangers who were transposing into my family. It was focused on not hugging the ground under the weight and instability of a 60 lb pack.
My circle came together on third expedition. I no longer bent to a whisperlite stove or to shin splints or to cold mornings or to small rocks for the MID. I was more durable, stronger, ready to walk for twelve hours.
Pointing out the flowers became the way I could see my growth. Recognizing the sheer majesty of life in a desert, the resilience pictured before me, enabling these bright colors to thrive, forgetting about the hostility displayed by the sun and the sky. Every time I noticed a flower, I knew I was present.
I was there, at that exact moment, only thinking about Orange Globe Mallows and Indian Paintbrush. Leaving behind the heat and the tiredness and the irritability and the impatience. My eyes opened only for joy.
The strength of life in the desert mirrored my own newfound strength. It mirrored my group’s deep capability and competence in the outdoors. We grew parallel to the flowers in Utah, and third was our confluence.
We were life in the desert. I not only noticed the flowers blooming but my friends. I didn’t just know their names. I knew who they were. And they know who I am. So does Utah.
Mack Goldring
Self-Empowerment and Accomplishment After a LONG Day
10 hours and 42 minutes. A 6 mile trek up and down mesas with just about 2000 feet in elevation gain and bushwhacking through tall reeds. Saying this day was tough is an understatement. It was a test for the mind, and most certainly for my legs. This hike also served as a practice day for Independent Student Travel (IST). IST is when we as students are pretty much on our own for most of the navigation and hiking with our instructor team following us; sometimes in eyeshot, sometimes 20 minutes up the trail. That day, we started a little bit later than normal. We started hiking at just about 9:30 in the morning, yet we were not expecting just how long this day was going to be. Almost immediately after starting, we were met with a climb about ¾ of the way up a mesa. The day was starting to warm up and our heavy packs were little relief, yet we pushed on. Spirits were high, we knew we were capable. After dropping down the other side of this mesa, we ended up in a canyon. Knowing that we could get cliffed out (a term that means you can’t go any farther in a canyon because dropping down to the next level is not possible) by the ever closing steep canyon walls, we climbed out of the canyon. Once we were out, we assumed it was smooth-sailing for the next section. A flat-downhill trek along the edge of the canyon, taking breaks every so often, trying to find the shade under small trees or large rocks.
We stumbled upon a desert oasis, a little bit of running water which allowed us to refill our water bottles. After the oasis, we ran into a dense section of plants, climbing up both sides of the canyon to avoid the bushes. The top of the canyon, about 1,000 feet above us, stared down luminously. After five hours of hiking, an hour-long break was needed. After resting and rejuvenating, our two LOD’s (leader of the day), Amelia and Lucy, warned us of our next section. We needed to climb this gigantic mesa. I couldn’t help but feel a little scared, maybe hopeless, about how the heck I was about to climb this cliff. The only option was to start. As we ascended, we went through many stages of climbing. We started climbing up rocks with sand in between, trying not to slip on the loose sand, or a mix of both. We progressed to a four hand crawl, rocks from the people ahead of us slowly rolling down. Finally, we packed our passes up to the top of the mesa and summited.
The shade served as a welcomed reprieve from the heat we have been experiencing all day. Reflecting back, spirits were low when we were climbing. There were talks about the grim-reaper watching over us, a lot of huffing and puffing, and looks of pained determination on all of our faces. On top of the shade feeling amazing, we were rewarded with one of the most gorgeous sunsets I have ever witnessed. A view of the Henry mountains on one side and tall mesas and desert on the other. Both felt dozens of miles away. The light was gorgeous, yet disappearing quickly. Nine hours into the day and with over a mile and half remaining, we had to get to camp. I led us through our final section, trying to stay straight through a heavily forested top of the mesa. The light continued to disappear, and with the last of it, we looked down the far side of the mesa and saw the rest of our I-team at camp. We scrambled down the backside, arriving at camp just as darkness set in. I reflected on our day while making a delicious simple dinner of cous-cous, salt, pepper, and garlic-powder. It was awfully tough, and yet when we arrived at the top of the mesa it all felt worth it. The view, the cooling temperatures, and a feeling of accomplishment. This day showed me that I can do almost anything,
Estella Brandenberg
Sleeping in the Cave
On our third expedition of the semester, our group of twelve students stayed in an unforgettable campsite. It was a huge cave that was cut halfway into a canyon wall. After a long day of backpacking through the desert of Utah, I was relieved to be unrolling my dusty sleeping pads and setting up my sleeping bag for that night. To put into perspective how long this cave was, it allowed all sixteen (12 students and 4 I-team members) of us to sleep under it and gritchen (group kitchen) in. While staying protected under it, it still was open in the front, allowing us to have a beautiful view of the starry sky, bright rust-colored mesas, and juniper covered canyons.
That night, while everyone was huddled around their stove trying to perfect their fry-bake pizza technique, we started to hear the tap, tap, tap of something on the roof above us. Rain! This consistent tapping on the rock shelf above us created a cozy atmosphere; like holding a mug of hot chocolate by a fire on a snowy winter night. All of us stayed warm and dry in our puffy layers under the cave’s sandstone shelter. As the rain increased in intensity, waterfalls started to pour down the lip of the cave like a beaded curtain. Standing at the edge of a canyon cave behind a wall of drizzling water was one of the most epic experiences of my life. In my head, I imagined a dramatic orchestra of violins playing which seemed to be fitting at that moment. I also could hear the plunk, plunk, plunk of dry, empty potholes being filled up by the rain. In the desert, the rain serves as a promise: consistent drinking water for the rest of the trip. I will never forget the feeling of gratitude to be tucked under a canyon wall in a warm sleeping bag in a row of 12 other sleeping bag sausages.
Charlie Sobie
The Magic of The Deep Pools
The canyons give me energy. The atmosphere of the bright, orange walls and the vibrant colors make me feel like I’m on Mars. During my time in the canyons, the scenery was spectacular, but being able to go swimming served as the cherry on top. My expedition group was in Dark Canyon. This trip entailed us descending into the canyon on the first day and climbing out on the other side twelve days later. The positives of being 1,000 feet down is the deep pools that form in the bottom of the canyon. After a long day of hiking with the hot sun beating down on you, a deep pool is the best reward. Jumping into the cold, canyon water is a feeling of rebirth after a hard day.
One specific day, after 7 hours of hiking, our group arrived at the campsite. Sitting in front of us, was a super deep swimming hole with a waterfall providing a consistent refill. We dropped our packs, debriefed about the day as quickly as possible, and immediately jumped into the water. The swimming hole was deep enough where we could jump from a big rock and still not hit the bottom. Our group had so much fun jumping off, filling the canyon with laughter and joy. After climbing out, I laid out on the warm sandstone rock, sun beating down, warming me from the outside. I will always remember the sound of the waterfall plinking into the pool, casting a rippling effect across the swimming hole that was magical. The beauty of nature.
On our last layover day, (a day where you sleep at the same campsite you did the night before) we did a day hike to an incredibly deep pool. The jagged, rock walls created a deep but narrow river. There was an occasional waterfall and place to jump in. We spent the day hanging by the river, participating in duck boat races, swimming, laying in the sun, and jumping into the water. These are memories that will last a lifetime.
Charlotte Callahan
Redemption and Perseverance
My goal for third exped was simple: survive. My first expedition with HMI back in January ended with me having to get an emergency appendectomy in a hospital in Utah. Thankfully, I didn’t get sick till the last night of first exped and I had an amazing 12 days. However, my expedition felt incomplete due to the time I spent in the hospital. My experience also caused me a lot of anxiety about returning back to the deep canyons of Utah. With the support of many HMI faculty and my dear friends, I ventured back to Bear’s Ears National Monument.
As soon as I got to Duckett Crossing, our parking lot just off the highway, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the sun setting over the canyons. That evening, we played the classic game of silent football. Laughing with all my friends in the most beautiful place I’d ever seen, I realized that I would be okay.
I was even lucky enough to spend my 17th birthday in the canyons. Originally, I dreaded this idea. I wanted to be with my family, not in a place that scared me. But each day I spent in the canyons I grew more confident. On my birthday, I woke up to one of my friends playing “Happy Birthday” on the recorder while sleeping in a cave that protected us from the elements. It was truly a moment I will never forget. It was a magical day full of love, singing, and a bad birthday cake cooked on a whisper light stove. I fell asleep that night, cowboy camping (sleeping without a tent or tarp overhead) next to some of my best friends under the stars.
I could not have gone back to the canyons without the support from everyone. And if I didn’t go back to Utah, I never would have gotten to go swimming in deep pools in the canyons, chat with my friends on warm rocks in the sun, or climb a mesa. I am eternally grateful for my redemption trip in Utah and the incredible HMI community who helped me get there.