Geography and Hiking

I grew up in central Florida. The predominant geographical feature there is lakes. Since you can't see lakes from a distance in a flat place, though, there is little to give you a sense of where you are. You see houses, street corners, those disgusting nuisance slash pine trees, some beautiful oak trees. That's all you see.

Now I live in the Valley of the Sun, metropolitan Phoenix. When I look out my upstairs bedroom windows to the west, I see the White Tank Mountains. To the north and east, the Hedgepeth Hills are visible when I step outside to check my mail. Driving around on the freeway, I see many landmarks: Four Peaks, Camelback, downtown Phoenix. It's amazing how living in a more geographically diverse (i.e., not flat) region changes my perspective. Driving across town in the evening, I see Piestewa Peak framed by the setting sun's orange glow, and I remember hiking to the top of it with some friends last winter (an amazing feat for a Florida girl). Glimpsing the mountains on the south side of the valley makes me think of friends who moved there, to a tiny town, several months ago. Having all these visible geographical landmarks is somehow comforting, stabilizing. They tell me where I am, and remind me of where I've been, and where I want to go. When I hike to the tops of the peaks in the Hedgepeth Hills, I can see taller mountains to the north, and I know that further on, beyond my gaze, are the beautiful San Francisco Peaks, and a forest which was our winter playground last year.

I love hiking here. I never hiked in Florida; traipsing through the muggy, buggy woods as a Girl Scout cured me of that. But here, I could hike every day. The rugged, arid terrain doesn't seem welcoming at first. It can be daunting for a novice hiker. (Let's not even mention the rattlesnakes and scorpions right now, okay?) But somehow hiking into this wilderness of cactus and creosote bush makes me feel more rugged, too. Before we moved here, I didn't know that cacti bloom. Now I delight in spying a ring of flowers on a small, barrel-shaped cactus. Bending down to get a closer view of them under a sheltering creosote bush, their pink, girly color defying the dull, gravelly colors of the trail, I am encouraged. They are at home in the desert; I can be, too.

I am addicted to the peaks, to the feeling of sitting down on a rock and taking a swig of water while I take in the panorama below. If the hike has been difficult, like Piestewa Peak, the rest at the summit is even sweeter. I did it! I'm not an athlete - actually I'm such a klutz that the first time we went hiking in AZ, I tripped on some rocks at the parking lot at the base of the trail (!) and tore up my knee and my good jeans. But I keep hiking. Down into washes, over ridges, even climbing over boulders sometimes. To get to the top.