63 Days

The sizzle of water beginning to boil on the insides of an old charred peach can sounds like a swarm of gnats. The tiny buzzing almost roars in your head until you realize that its so loud because there isn’t another sound around you. Being from Las Vegas and Southern California, I’d heard background noise my whole life. Sometimes I even slept better if I had a fan on. Or a radio. You never notice how quiet the earth is until you’re out in it, away from people.

The sky was completely blue by now, and I was sitting around the fire, thinking about the bird I’d buried. It had been there watching me during the day, and I wondered when it had been shot. It certainly didn’t know to be afraid of humans. That is certain. Out here, everything should be afraid of humans.

I pulled the bag of rice open and scooped out 2 handfulls of rice, pouring each slowly into the boiling water. It sunk to the bottom, and I went to find something to stir it with. A stick provided well enough, but I’d have to make a spoon some time soon. The milky starch of the rice started to blend with the water, and I suddenly felt the hunger pains of not eating for a while, except for the M&M’s. What I’d assumed was mild cramps from the poison still was actually hunger. Its weird what your body does when you haven’t eaten in days. You kind of get a rush from the feeling of being famished, I think.

Soon, the rice was done, and I took the can wrapped in my flannel shirt and walked up to the top of the rock. I had begun to see things at this point, and I wasn’t really sure what was real and what was the beginning of hallucinations. The desert was wide…spanning as far as I could see. In the distance toward the north, I saw a huge range of mountains, dark with trees, the tops covered with snow. It looked out of place in this desert arena I was in, full of sand and white dirt, red rocks with purple sandstone stripes running horizontally through it. I didn’t know then what mountain it was, but I was sure it was certainly out of place.

I opened my journal up and wrote:

Big mountain with snow to the north. Possible hallucination. I miss music…I miss my house.

___________________________________________________

Later that evening, I was still sitting on that rock, looking out over the plateaus. I’d been there all afternoon and into the early evening. My fire was all but out when I realized what time it was and I had to go to the bathroom. I hopped down and put some wood on the fire, blowing air on it long and slow, trying to get the flames to catch on the wood. When I saw the red and orange flames start to tickle the sticks, I let up a bit and watched it as it popped and sizzled to life again warming me almost immediately.

I stood and walked outside of my entrance and looked for a bush. Once I found one, I remembered a time when I was little that my dad had taken us camping and taught us that animals can smell your “potty” so you needed to bury it afterwards. Thinking about this, I walked farther and farther past the bush I had come to first. I completely lost track of all sense and time when I’d realized I was at the bottom of my hill, and I could barely see the smoke trails of my fire. I did my business, and as I pulled up my pants, I heard a rustling in the bushes. It was a big noise, up in the shrubs ahead of me.

My curious mind could not help but look, so I came around the corner very quietly. Just ahead of me, in the light of dusk, were 2 white horses. They were standing close to eachother, eating some sage. Their muscular but thin bodies showed their wild nature, their manes being nearly gray with age and dirt. Their ribs were slightly showing, but their legs and neck were strong, muscles twitching and flexing as they ate. They didn’t see me and kept on eating.

I wondered if I was seeing things again, so I stepped out into the clearing to see if they’d look at me. Imaginary horses shouldn’t look at you, I figured (in my not-too-rational mind) that if they saw me, they were real.

I stepped boldly out, looking right at them. They stopped eating. One swung its head around and gazed deeply at my face. The other peeked its head up above the other one and they both stood there, staring at me staring at them. Their black eyes seemed to tell me that they were ok with me being here, but not to come any closer.

We stood like that for what seemed hours when the one in the back pulled his right front hoof against the dirt and rocks, then threw his snout up a bit and snorted. Then he turned slowly, head first, body following, and walked slowly up the cattle trail that wound up the hill, the opposite side of the valley from where I stayed. The other horse looking at me still, snorted and I could see its breath from its nostrils. It snorted again, then turned and walked away too.

Once they were out of site, I turned back to my camp, and as I did, I thanked God for those messengers. I wasn’t alone out here. I wasn’t alone in the world. I was going to be ok.