The next morning the three women camped near us were headed to the Wire Pass Trailhead. It was only a mile up the road but it had far more visitors. They said we’d definitely get a ride there. So away we went. .
Unfortunately hikers were arriving to hike and wouldn’t be leaving until the end of the day. Realizing we might have to just hang around all day we tried to muster a congenial attitude. Perhaps someone would abandon their plans and drive us out of there. Or realistically give us a ride when they finished.
We moved from one corner to the other looking down trodden playing on people’s sympathies. Finally we plopped down behind a shed to get internet service. A couple came to clean the bathrooms. We told them our plight. Any ear would do. The guy came back with a phone number for a possible ride to Page. It worked. Even though the woman who answered didn’t seem to want to answer it. She was curt with Terry and wanted him to be sure he understood he needed $150.00 in cash. “Sure we’ll come up with the cash.” OK the driver will be there in half an hour. Rescue was on the way!
While waiting, we noticed Megan with a clipboard stopping at all the cars in the parking lot and writing dow the license plate and permit numbers. We asked about her job. Turns out she was a volunteer six days a year. For that, she received a hat and a pass to The Wave. It takes seven years on the waiting list to get a permit. She and the other volunteers check for hikers who go missing. They also give the ranger information on hikers who may not be permitted for the wave. Don’t try it. The fine is up to $100,000. Someone was caught on the edge of the wave without a permit. They tried to lie their way out of the fine, claimed innocence, but ended up paying $5,000.
Steve, our driver arrived. Shortly after we started talking about drought and fires, he said “We’re Fucked! In five years there will be no water here. It’s all burning. We’re all fucked.”We have heard this from all of our drivers. “But they keep building and watering golf courses. And there is no water!” This is worldwide, of course. And I guess we’re all fucked.
We arrived in Page to learn there was no public transport to Flagstaff. Terry suggested a rental car. Amazingly it was a short one mile walk to pick up a one way car, that cost 1/3 of an Uber.
Driving back to Flagstaff, we were astonished at the distance. Was this a long walk just to realize we’re all fucked?
Or was it a long journey to see flowers push up the dry earth without water, and survive? Will we still walk on barren land until we get it right?
Mountain Peace 