Have you ever smelled rain in the desert? Its like nothing you’ve ever inhaled, the wet, cool fragrance tickling the back of your throat as it fills your lungs with moist musk. Perfume from trees like junipers and yuccas wafts into every breeze scenting the air. I love that smell.
Cody and I woke to the drizzle and pulled a pancho over our faces as we layed there waiting to hear our orders but none came just yet. All we could hear was the tiny little “tap tap tap” of the sprinkling of rain on the outside of our cover. It was a little bit cold but not enough to make you shiver.
I peeked out to see what everyone else was doing and saw no movement at all. I heard a few rustles but nothing big or loud just yet. Two of the counselors were shaking out their blankets and rolling them up as I glanced over to their area and I was surprised to see that they hadn’t woken us up earlier for some kind of strenuous firewood gathering or something like that.
Cody sat up and looked around, her long blonde hair in two braids. She looked left and right and plunked down again next to me.
“Hmm..” she said. “I wonder why everyone is getting to sleep in today…”
I lifted my shoulders and said “I dunno,” and reached for my boots with my hands hanging out into the wet air. We were camped on an old sheep farmers property. Fences stretched as far left and right as you could see with Hole-In-The-Rock road taking its path through a ramshackle gate somebody had welded together. You could see the spot where the tires from cars/handcarts had gone before and it was obvious what our trek would be that day. I was just glad it was sprinkling.
We got up and made ourselves some oats and a sprinkle of powdered milk they’d allowed us a few nights before and soon everyone was getting their things together. The general mood around the place was calm but still there was a heaviness that never left. I’m sure it was similar for men in prison, the feeling of kinship…friendship…that grew on you and stuck around even in the most traumatic and oppressive environments. It wasn’t that we’d forgotten about being out here, it was more like…we’d accepted it, if that makes any sense.
The counselors told us we’d be going the rest of the way down Hole-In-The-Rock road today to a place they called (appropriately) Hole-In-The-Rock. I could only imagine what it would look like and we set out down the road.
Up until now, the road was up-and-downsie, rocky, and somewhat washboardy, but these last 20 miles…let me tell you. They were like driving your wooden wheeled bicycle over trenches…over and over and over. Then imagine the trenches are layed out so you went over and into them and immediately out of them and then onto the next 12 inch deep trench but you’re going up or down steep hills the entire time. Not fun and quite disturbing on the hands and feet, not to mention the lower back pain that you never grew accustomed to. Just when you’d get to the crest of one hill, the next one would pour down in front of you, daring you to just let the handcarts take themselves down. We would have but if you even let go of those things, they being so heavy with cast iron and rocks and packs, they would have barrelled down at such speed and recklessness! We’d NEVER have been able to stop it. Some of us would hold onto the back edge of the cart and squat down as it went down the steep hills, our bottoms resting on our heels as we were dragged downwards, our bodies and the friction from our feet slowing the cart just enough to stop tragedy from striking our little company.
Rain clouds hung heavy over us, cooling the skin on our necks and arms from the springtime sun that had been with us recently, except for the few little showers here and there. It smelled good, it felt good and I almost enjoyed myself.
Finally, we got to the place. It was a crack in a huge red mountain and when you looked down this 15 foot wide crack, you could see down about 1/4 mile to the bottom. There, all you could see was dark grey water. Lake Powell. We’d made it to the 3rd and final segment of our trek.
ShannonL Says:
November 22nd, 2005 at 8:55 amVisit ShannonL
This is the final for the handcarts? You must have been relieved.
Sarah Says:
November 22nd, 2005 at 9:53 amVisit Sarah
I gasp every time I see on my bloglines subscription that you have a new entry.
Thank you so much for not stopping when you thought about stopping…your story needs to be told and needs to be read.
I hope that sharing it helps you heal as your story is helping so many others.
Rae Says:
November 22nd, 2005 at 3:43 pmVisit Rae
My back is aching just reading this…
Mike Lyne Says:
November 22nd, 2005 at 6:14 pmVisit Mike Lyne
Glad to see you managed to put it into words.
Sounds like it would have been pretty jarring on the nerves to have to pull those handcarts… a mixture of momentary relief for having made it to the top of the rut, mixed with apprehension of knowing you’ll have to go back down the other side…. all the while traveling uphill. Yuck. I guess you must have came out of that with a far better understanding of what your body is capable of enduring… it must make you tired just thinking about it!
Lyss Says:
November 23rd, 2005 at 12:22 amVisit Lyss
Alli,
I get so excited everytime I see a new post up! I always settle down with a cigarette (I know, bad, bad!) before I click the “read more” link and I read the posts slowly, savoring every word. I can actually “see” the places and people you write about. I can taste the raw oats and feel the cold rain.
SO GLAD you’re back!
Wenchy Says:
November 23rd, 2005 at 4:04 amVisit Wenchy
Hey. Your story is just incredible. I am so glad you are here to tell the tale.
Alli Says:
November 23rd, 2005 at 9:45 amVisit Alli
You guys, the ones who cheer me on…YOU’RE the ones who inspire me to write more. I’m on it as we speak. Thank you THANK YOU!
All my love,
Alli
ariadneK Says:
November 23rd, 2005 at 6:34 pmVisit ariadneK
Yet again, excellent writing. It’s great to have you back.
Cindi Says:
November 23rd, 2005 at 7:41 pmVisit Cindi
Alli your words are simply stunning and very picturesque. I thoroughly look forward to each installment. Granted, it’s almost like watching a car crash you can’t take your eyes off of it but you feel like there is something wrong with you for wanting to watch. If that makes any sense at all.
Please keep writing Alli.
C
rachel Says:
November 26th, 2005 at 11:29 amVisit rachel
Dear Alli,
I’m glad you’re back. You have such talent. When I read the way you answer people here, it kills me to think of such a tender heart going through this.
Happy Thanksgiving! We are all very thankful for you and the way you have bared your very personal scars as proof that even the most gentle human spirit can survive the most awful betrayal.
To all who have poked at Alli’s wounds…your betrayal is just as disgusting as what she describes here.
Many thanks, Alli. Deep peace,
Rachel
phoenix Says:
November 26th, 2005 at 10:18 pmVisit phoenix
Hope you had a great Thanksgiving Alli. New family to visit and all
So glad things are better for you now. Hugssssss!!
Rose Says:
February 4th, 2007 at 1:53 pmVisit Rose
Yes yes yes!!! lol I used my legs as breaks..and my feet picked up the vibration of the rocky ground lol Oh there was times that that handcart had a mind of its own especially if we were not doing our part.I thought my favorite part of the hand cart was in the yolk until we got to the point where we had to fly down the mountain with handcart . Right now Im smiling as I type the first time writing I was not smiling. I will never forget the feeling of my life on the verge of major wreckage in that yolk…I remember one day the counclers reconized only 2 people doing there part and so counclers had every one stop who was not doing there part . It was me and a guy doing the handcart by our selves to show others .The guy was in the yolk and I was in the back of handcart and alone me and him pushed hand cart up that mountain…(slowly) I used all my strength of my whole body.As I just read your part of storey allison made me remember mine.