Havasupai Trip: Wednesday

We wake when we wake. With the sun, I suppose. I have fantastic granola in air temperature soy milk. Very good. Kind of weird though. We prepare slowly, and I strap Chaco sandals to my Camelbak.

The end of camp is punctuated rather dramatically by Mooney Falls. It is the tallest fall that we will see.



To get to the bottom of Mooney, we must descend a rather treacherous path made even more so by my mother's slow movement.




(this one is a shot from the bottom up, the chains are for climbing, as it is pretty much straight up)

We hike past Mooney into some dense greenery that is sort of ridiculous. It is all dominated by what appear to be grape vines.



We were hoping to get to Beaver Falls, but my mom didn't want to do the second chain climb, so we turned around (there is a second - more intense - chain assisted climb later on in the hike to Beaver Falls). We stop and have lunch before turning around.


(this is where we stopped to take a shower)

Havasupai Trip: Tuesday

Tuesday:

We wake up early to shower and eat (peanut butter and jelly sammies and some fruit). We have about 70 miles to drive to the Hualapai Hilltop where we will leave the bags that are to be packed into the canyon on mules. We leave our stuff and head out.

From the hilltop there are some amazing and daunting vistas.

(this picture was actually taken on the last day as we left...the weather was more clear on the first day).

The hike begins with a 1 mile steep descent reminiscent of Squaw (Piestewa) Peak in Phoenix. Then, a 9 or 10 mile flatland hike through small canyons to the Supai village and eventually to the campground below Havasu Falls begins.

The 9 or 10 miles to the village are largely uneventful, and mostly boring looking (other than their vastness), so I didn't take any photos until we started to get into the verdant bottom, where water flows freely. The first 6 miles are just desert desert desert, and then all of a sudden:




(that's water in the bottom right)

We walk through overgrown foliage like this for another 2 miles or so, crossing the creek a number of times. The creek is sourced by melting snow in mountains far away, rain, and water that seeps slowly out of the stone cliffs themselves (more on this later).

Wi'igliva (spelling varies) marks the arrival at Supai. These two stones are supposedly ancient protectors of the Supai.



The Supai village is a little bit of mindfuck. In the words of my dad, "It's got a bit of that 3rd world thing going for it, doesn't it?" This is a fairly accurate description of the shitty attempts at farming, and emaciated horses tied tightly in the sun next to dilapidated houses. The place is spotted occasionally by flowers (cactus flowers are in full bloom during this trip), but the road is heavy heavy sand, like beach sand. The going gets really slow, and our shoes fill up. We stop for a quick bean burrito at the cafeteria, and then proceed. Just outside of the village, we hit our first real water.



This sort of water yields fantastic greenery. We continue:



Here are the first real falls that we found. These peak out of a green cliff side and fall a total of about 50 feet.



Then we proceed another long ways on that beach sand until we actually see Havasu Falls. It is impressive, indeed. This falls a little short of 100 feet I think.



And it forms the first of the famous terraced pools. The water is a sort of luminescent green-blue because of lime deposits in the sand.



Ugh, I'm tired of typing, and hungry. We keep going, get to the camp site, it's packed. We carry our bags in about halfway down a mile long campsite. I rinse off in the river, and we eat and then sleep.

Total mileage for the day: approx. 14 miles.

I look pretty rough before going to sleep:

Havasupai Trip: Monday

Monday:

I wake up at 6:15am to finish packing and go to my parents' house. Ashbaby and Lou Bega had just cleaned the house (aka moved all my shit) so that last little bit of packing took way longer than I expected. This didn't really matter though, as my dad takes forever to do everything, so we didn't hit the road until two hours later than we wanted.

We drive to Flagstaff and eat at an Olive Garden. Cute hostess

We continue through Williams (Road Kill Cafe) to Seligman and eventually to a hotel called Caverns Inn or Canyon Caverns Inn or something. The hotel is located near the Grand Canyon Caverns (which really have nothing to do with The Grand Canyon other than maybe some air from the cavern exits a Grand Canyon wall). We toured these caverns, which are dry (they are no longer growing, probably because of tourism and such). They weren't too bad. Some cool selenite formations, and a dead bobcat, and some 50 year old government rations (the gov't wanted to use it as a fallout shelter during the Cuban missile crisis, so they stocked it with a bunch of crackers and candy and shit). We eat at the cafe there afterwards.

best animation ever

MUTO a wall-painted animation by BLU from blu on Vimeo.

Match.com makes a comeback

So a few days ago, match emailed me to inform me that someone had emailed me. This reeked of fake profiles and the such, and they wouldn't let me see the email or who it was from without re-subscribing, so I ignored. Then, a day or two later, I got a wink. Now, unlike emails, match will show me the profile of the winker, even though I don't have a subscription. She was cute and sounded awesome, so I bought another month in order to talk to her. In the meantime, I also checked that first email, and then the profile. Definite no. Here are some highlights:

"I love playing video games, watching movies, reading, and drawing. I love anime and manga which has led me to an interest in studying Japanese and the Japanese culture."

"I'm just a geek that enjoys doing things like playing video games, watching movies and anime, and just hanging out."

"I work on Japanese comics and in my free time I enjoy studying about Japan and the Japanese language (helps with work sometimes too!)."

And her email wasn't very exciting either. Now, the winker, whom I will heretofore refer to as "Wink," was much more interesting. Here are some highlights:

"I can't live without sunshine, genuine friendship, music and the hope that there's always something more (and the inescapable desire to pursue it)."

"I'd like to jump into work with non-profits similar to Amnesty International and other organizations that are trying to impact global issues like genocide, environmental destruction and other dilemmas that are so often put on the back burner by society."

"I just got back from a three-week backpacking trip through Australia - it was fantastic and I can't wait to return"

"I want to meet a man who has ambition to do great things with his life and improve humanity and the world in some form or another"

"a guy I can ride bikes, hike mountains and swim across lakes with"

Anyways, so I emailed her this morning, and she has already gotten back to me. I'm going to read it again and then respond. Hope springs momentary.

Grades

I got all As this semester...one was an A-, but still, booyah.

I Never Feel Proud

Ash is an INTP, I am an INFP:

I always wonder about this, because out of the "fictional" famous INFPs, I find some of my favorite characters:

Calvin (Calvin and Hobbes)
Bastian (The Neverending Story)
E.T.: the ExtraTerrestrial
Doug Funny, Doug cartoons
Tommy, Rug Rats cartoons
Rocko, Rocko's Modern Life cartoons

If any of the following doesn't sound like me, you must not know me very well:


INFPs never seem to lose their sense of wonder. One might say they see life through rose-colored glasses. It's as though they live at the edge of a looking-glass world where mundane objects come to life, where flora and fauna take on near-human qualities.

INFP children often exhibit this in a 'Calvin and Hobbes' fashion, switching from reality to fantasy and back again. With few exceptions, it is the NF child who readily develops imaginary playmates (as with Anne of Green Gables's "bookcase girlfriend"--her own reflection) and whose stuffed animals come to life like the Velveteen Rabbit and the Skin Horse.

INFPs have the ability to see good in almost anyone or anything. Even for the most unlovable the INFP is wont to have pity.

Their extreme depth of feeling is often hidden, even from themselves, until circumstances evoke an impassioned response.

Of course, not all of life is rosy, and INFPs are not exempt from the same disappointments and frustrations common to humanity. As INTPs tend to have a sense of failed competence, INFPs struggle with the issue of their own ethical perfection, e.g., perfo rmance of duty for the greater cause. An INFP friend describes the inner conflict as not good versus bad, but on a grand scale, Good vs. Evil.

Stranger Dazier

I am sitting at a window. A girl who looks like Chelsea is outside playing with her daughter and husband. The small orange trees outside the window move slightly because of the wind, and the flowers move even more. I'm hot. Espresso hits me like a flaming brick, and I just had two shots in a very quick drink. I catch a draft every so often from someone opening a door behind me, and I think that I'm feeling what the trees feel. I've decided that I like the sound of wind through pine trees. It is a nonviolent brushing noise that is like a very large man walking heavily. Intimidating for no reason at all. The steam wand makes a good attempt at impression, and I have to wonder about the serendipity of things. I look at friends often and think, "How can they still not know who I am?" It occurs to me that Leslie does, which is odd. We don't see each other, and I always feel like I'm sort of bothering her at least a little bit, or like she has so many fun friends and I'm always too serious. At the same time though, I really do tell her things. Not that all of my friends have betrayed me (most have not), but I really believe her when she says that she won't tell anyone. Maybe it's because we don't have any overlapping circles; rays pointed in different directions. She is moving to Tucson. I am sad about this for no reason. I don't see her now, even though we live within ten or fifteen miles of each other. I hope that she does well where she's going. Maybe I like that she does what I feel like I cannot do. She moves through her world with blinders on. She is just running straight forward towards nothing at all, not letting heavy people slow her down. She is living largely for her own purposes, which she isn't even sure of. She goes to California. I feel like I'm tied down. Like if I leave, people will die. I am in the crowd on which she is being carried, maybe. If I am rooted in the ground, blowing straight up with all of my breath, she is the person that I'm keeping aloft. The roots are what worry me. They aren't my body. They are the invasive tendrils of beautiful dying things. Little orange trees stand up against gentle winds, but they are in the pots that I put them in. I'm constantly nailing metal hoops around wooden pots. I need to make metal pots for more trees.

Strange Daze

I always wonder if no one is as perceptive as me. When I am acting obviously not myself, no one ever seems to realize that and ask me what's up. They float on by like so many idiot butterflies. I generally recognize the distress in other people, and if they haven't already told me (most people can't wait to tell you about the stress or problems in their life), I will ask what is wrong. I try not to pry. If they say something about not wanting to talk about it, or that they are fine and just drop it, I let it go. The point though is that I ask. Now, when I am not myself, and I am responding to things in ways that I would never normally respond, I wonder why no one asks me what is wrong. They claim after the fact that if I had only told them that I was having a bad day, they would have understood. But that's not the point. I struggle with isolation and invisibility. I want to know that someone sees me, despite my best attempts at hiding. I feel like I see a lot of people like me , and they usually become my friends, which must mean that they also wanted secretly to be found. But still no one asks. They let me snap at them. They let me respond without sympathy to sympathetic situations. They let me say nothing at all, which is against my nature. I don't care if I've insulted you in this way. If you were a friend, you'd know that it wasn't my normal response, and you should be worried. If a person suddenly falls to the floor and convulses, the thought process is "Oh what the hell? This isn't normal. Is this a joke? I think it's serious. What's the problem? How can I help?" unless you're an asshole, in which case the thought process is "Oh what the hell? This isn't normal. I'm getting weirded out. I'm out of here." So why when I'm verbally and emotionally convulsing, everyone seems to just get the fuck out of here? What a strange week.

Liquid Days by Philip Glass

This is one of those songs that blows me away EVERY time I hear it, but somehow I always forget about it. It's one of the greatest compositions I've ever heard. Definitely one of the most important songs of my life. Should have made the previous list, but didn't. Another song addendum coming up.


IN LIQUID DAYS

Oh Round Desire
Oh Red Delight
The River is Blood
The Time is Spent

Love likes me
Love takes it shoes off and sits on the couch
Love has an answer for everything
Love smiles gently...and crosses its legs
well here we are well here we are

Sleep
Sleep

Sleep...Being in Air
Sleep...Turning to speak
Sleep...Losing our Way
Sleep...Pour it all Out

We are old Friends
I offer Love a Beer
Love watches Television
Love needs a bath
Love could use a shave
Love rolls out of the chair and wiggles
on the floor
Jumps Up
I'm Laughing at Love

Drink Me
Drink Me
Drink Me
Drink Me

Drive...Why do You Ask?
Breaths...Still is the Night
Drive...It is much Further
Sleep...Than We Thought

In Liquid Days
Land Travel(s) Hard
Fly Home Daughter
Cover Your Ears