The Kofa Gap Traverse 2023

I climb on the nearest boulder and take in the view. Majestic saguaros and jumping chollas decorate the brown sprawl of the Kofa with patches of green. Unlike the trees I’m familiar with back home, these cacti possess a certain stillness that I’ve come to admire. I wonder what it takes to stand in one spot for decades and centuries, unwavering, to grow a single arm. A resolution I don’t quite have. Above me, the sun is a sweltering 90°F, and occasionally, 30°F winds blow by but they don’t provide any relief—just the feeling of burning and freezing at the same time. The top side of my body is heavy with layers (5 to be exact: sports bra, base layer, sun hoodie, mid layer, micro puff) while the bottom has only one pair of shorts. My legs, the back of my hands, and my face, though covered in layers of badger zinc sunscreen and a bit of dirt, have become significantly darker than the rest of my skin; my nose is runny and sun-burned. My hiking group for the day is looking at the topo map (with pointer in hand!) trying to track our current location by looking at the landforms around us. Although the terrain ahead appears to be flat, we know from experience that washes tend to be difficult to spot until we’re right on top of one. Our group is deciding which route to take between the shorter with lots of steep and exposed terrain or the longer with less. If we don’t make it to our target by sunset, we’ll have to camp where we are, which no one wants. We would have no water and too much time to ponder how we turned a 5 mile day into an 8 mile day and still couldn’t finish within 7 hours. We decide to compromise on the quickest and safest route. Soon, we’ll get to camp where dinner awaits. For my cook group, this is always a time of adversity. I hope we never manage to make something worse than pancake mac and cheese. I’ll take away a lot of lessons and experiences from the Kofa but that’s one thing I’ll gladly leave behind.

-Amy 

Organized time during expedition to reflect, experience, and recharge in solidarity. This is known as solo time. I’ve found that time moves fluidly during solo, moments pass slowly, but hours quickly. The canyon walls are finally bigger than I am. For a long time prior to this trip I’ve written about their beauty while feeling the distance between them and I. As I sit alone, loud in thought on my first solo, I’m puzzled by the experience of time. How moments pass so slowly, but hours, and eras speed by. I don’t want this moment to end. I’m sitting on my mat, heated by the desert sand, in the middle of Kofa National Wildlife Refuge where the brown jagged rock breaches from the earth on all sides of me. Colors of brown, orange, desert gray, and happy green cacti are abundant. I think the acknowledgment of the moment helps it last longer. So here I am, happy to be alive, and in company of the rocks for a bit. I’m out of touch with any other human for just a moment, but I’m not alone. The vast open sky is not empty. The big brown rocks are not quiet. The happy cacti dance when you look at them. The canyon humbly asserts its strength, and the wind whispers in possibility, that things are always changing no matter how long the moment feels.” 

Solo time was only one example of an activity during this expedition that I loved. The Kofa was the longest I’d ever gone without a shower. The layer of dirt, a great reminder of the adventures we’ve had, although they won’t wash away. After two weeks together the eleven of us have played games, learned about topography maps, cooked meals, led hikes, and experienced the desert together. The moments in the Kofa that we’ve loved have ended, only to create space for more as the next 9 weeks fly by. 

-Brooke