Reflection: Hike

Red Rocks: What Saint George is Known For

Pioneer Park sat uninhabited, except by the desert tortoises. I have ventured up there many times, but still have yet to see one of these beloved creatures. We have preserved all of this land for them and yet they hide in the shadows, away from us. We just want to pay our respects and marvel at their beauty. But that won’t happen today.

            I climb across the rocks and my friends follow. We wander through a cavern. A glimpse up shows a nest with a mother protecting it. We hear other birds making their way towards her. The rocks have carefully formed over the years, creating something beautiful and large in the sun, but terrifying at night, hidden from the outside world.

            We continue west, weaving our way through the rock structures. Wincing when we scrape ourselves, and exclaiming as we stand atop the rocks seeing different landscapes as we turn and face another direction. What is meant to be a beautiful sight is sometimes marred by takeout containers and cups still containing ice cream. It’s not the first time I’ve seen an Iceberg cup thrown on the desert’s floor. I remember hiking here last year and seeing a blueberry shake half melted, the cup laying on its side, the spoon sticking out, creating the perfect contrast to the red dirt. Yet a pain of guilt runs through me knowing that in other places I’ve traveled I left things behind, forgetting a plastic bag slipped out of my pocket or not wanting to carry something back. Now realizing how my mistake might bring misfortune to an inhabitant of the area, a tortoise not able to get the bag off or move whatever is left behind. Not just an obstruction of sight, but an addition to its homeland.

            I sit back and think. All of this beautiful land. Yet few come out and enjoy it. We drive past because we are too busy with our lives. Too busy to appreciate the natural beauty of the land, to watch the relationship between nature and animal. We move swiftly and with purpose, but to what avail?

            A lizard runs past my feet. I sit very still and wish that he comes back. I used to scream when I saw them, when I first moved to Arizona, but then they became my friends. I remember the first lizard I saw when I moved to Saint George. I had been here just a few days and had not made any friends yet. But as I was backing out of the driveway a glimpse in my side mirror revealed a small scale-y friend. I stopped. I rolled down my window and kindly asked him to move, so that I could get about my errands without hurting him. I kept talking to him, about the day and my plans, after a while he complied to my request. I thanked him and went on my way. Nearly two years later and I still remember him. I wonder if this lizard up in the red rocks is related to him. Probably not, but my appreciation remains. I look and see another lizard run across the dirt, chasing nothing, at least not visible to my eyes.

            I breathe in the desert air and thank God that I live in such a beautiful place. I may not appreciate the view as much during the hot summers, but I want to get back out there soon. Being at one with nature brings my mind to rest. For just a little while I forget about all the things on my to-do list and I watch as the birds and lizards live in the red rocks above Saint George.