Peyote Road
It's late in January of 1995 and I am walking down a primitive road out of the Gila National Forest in southwest New Mexico, thinking about my experiences over the last couple weeks. Having never been to the area before, I remembered that I had been traveling south on Interstate 25 out of Albuquerque. To the east and to the west I could see mountains rising, so I had headed west into the mountains on Rt. 152. After driving some 60 miles, passing through some very pretty little towns and striking scenery, I had come to a little bend in the road and noticed what might be most diplomatically described as a unkept, long-haired bearded man walking along a gravel road that Y-ed out from the highway I was on, with who I took to be his wife. Seeming like he might be the sort of man to ask, I had stopped and after greeting him and his wife and exchanging pleasantries, I said, "Where's a good place to camp around here?" His wife immediately pointed back the way I had come, telling me that there was a state campground just a few miles away.
But I didn't want a state campground, and in fact I had seen it on my way. It was your typical National campground, and if you've ever camped in one, you will know what I mean. And I had noticed a RV parked there already, and I really needed to be alone. That's the one certainty I had driving into those mountains. So I said, "Is there some place more, I don't know ... secluded?" And the man smiled a partly toothless smile and rubbed his whiskered chin, then pointed down the little gravel road we were on. "Go down to the end of this road, and at the very end you will come to a dead end. But there is a dirt road running back into the mountains. You'll have to drive across a small stream, but the water is low now and that will not be a problem," the man had told me. "You won't be able to drive back far once you get on the primitive road, but you'll find a place to park your car and then you can walk as far back as you like, and be as secluded as you want to be! Hunting season just ended and there is no one back there right now. If you'd come a week ago, you would have had lots of company though!"
I thanked him and asked if I could give them a lift, but they said no,
they were out prospecting and to stop by their little road-side stand on
the way out if I wanted some souvenirs to take back with me.
I had followed the man's advice and and drove to the end of the gravel
road, past ramshackle houses grouped on both sides. Coming to end, there
was a hand-painted sign nailed haphazardly to a post that declared: PRIMITIVE
ROAD - TRAVEL AT YOUR OWN RISK! Like the man had said though, the water
running in the little stream that I had to drive across was low and presented
no difficulties. The road was little more than a wide dirt path, forcing
me to drive very slowly and cautiously. I was only able to drive for a
half a mile or so before coming to a wide, washed out gully running across
the road that was impossible to cross, which prevented me from driving
back any further. Being late in the afternoon already, I decided to camp
there by the car for the night and strike out into the mountains the next
morning. I parked the car behind a group of rocks, which hid it from the
road. I had stopped by a little road-side BBQ joint on my way and purchased
a sandwich, so I built a small campfire in the already prepared camping
spot someone before me had obviously used, and rolled out my sleeping roll
in a neat little body sized depression just beside the fire, and I sat
there and ate my sandwich and watched night descend on the valley I was
in.
The little road ran along the floor of the valley, and on both sides of me, craggy peaks reared high over me. While there was still a little daylight left, I walked down the primitive road for a little ways, and could tell that the road continued on as far as I could see in the fast coming darkness. I decided that I would follow it on foot in the morning and see where it might lead, but that night I was tired from the two long days of driving that I had put in to reach this spot, and soon I curled up and went to sleep in a little depression I had laid my bedroll out in. The little depression made it seem like the earth itself wrapped around me and I slept very soundly, waking at the first hint of dawn, when the sky was just starting to turn pink. I started a small fire and made coffee and drank a cup as the day gradually grew brighter, but I discovered that it would be late in the morning before I actually saw the sun rise over the peaks that surrounded me.
I had arrived with everything pretty much packed in my back pack that I would need; freeze dried food and trail-mix, enough for a week if I was careful, coffee and tea with a small jar of honey, plenty of jerky, water purification tablets and filter, cooking utensils, a camp chair, a small hatchet I might need for a fire, and my sleeping roll. I pondered on whether to bring my tent, but decided the rain poncho I always carried in the pack would suffice if the weather did indeed turn on me. Being from northern Illinois, I had come from the land of winter, but here in southwest New Mexico the weather was simply wonderful! The sky was clear and I could sense no threat of rain any time soon. I also carried a change of clothes and two sets of long underwear, woolen, as I knew the nights would be chilly in the mountains, although the days were very pleasant, mostly 60s and 70s.
I set out walking down, or rather up, I suppose I should say, the old road, which I decided must have functioned at one time as a logging trail. Soon discovered that I had to stop and rest every fifteen minutes or so or I felt like I might fall down and die on the spot. I had passed a sign on the way into the Gila National Forest that told me the elevation here was over eight thousand feet above sea level and the little road led continually up, up, up to even higher levels, to a peak I planned on making for, which rose over ten thousand feet, according to the topographical map I had purchased on my way through one of the little towns. After just a few minutes of walking, my heart was beating so hard that it was all I could hear, and though I was breathing very hard, my body couldn't seem to get enough air. So, I took my time that morning and didn't press myself, stopping frequently, and by the time the sun was straight overhead, I had come to the end of the road and out of the valley to a kind of rise, although I could now see the peak I was making for rising high ahead of me, and others all around in every direction I looked.
I stopped there and made a pot of soup for lunch, using snow from the north side of a slope. Though the temperature was well into the 70s, on the northern slopes snow remained on the ground where the sun couldn't reach it. I had seen road signs on my way in that declared to me: NO PLOWING ON WEEKENDS so I knew that they must not always have such gorgeous weather, but even on the north slopes, the snow was not deep at all. Still that became my chief source of water, since there was no way to carry as much as I would need. I figured that I had followed the primitive road for what I guessed to be a good 5 miles or so, and an incredible quiet now came over me, encompassing my entire being. Last night, I had camped close enough to the highway that I could still hear cars on it passing by, but now I had traveled deep enough into the mountains that the only sound I could hear was my own breathing, and my heart beating. Birds sang occasionally, and I could hear little scampers through the undergrowth which I took to be squirrels and other small mammals at play. I am sure that I have never heard such a profound silence in my entire life.
Where the primitive road ended a bewildering maze of footpaths began, shooting out in all directions away from me. As I ate my soup, I pondered upon which path to follow. All the paths seemed as if they were equally traveled, some less than others to be sure, but still that didn't seem to be a way of deciding which one to take. Finally I decided I would follow the one that seemed as if it continued to lead up, reasoning that I wanted to get a view of the forest from on that high cliff-like mountain I could see ahead of me, and that following that path would be the best way of getting there. I sat there just a little while and marveled at what I saw all around me. I was surrounded by high cliffs and craggy bluffs, and huge rocks and boulders lay everywhere, completely covering the small stream that ran through the bottom of the valley I was in. Trees grew everywhere, and as I sat there looking and listening, I could here the water far underneath me gurgling and murmuring its way through those rocks, eventually working its way out and becoming the stream I had crossed to get back here.
After my rather meager lunch, I set out walking once again. I had gone just a little along my way when the path I had chosen split once again into three different directions. Pondering now on how I might find my way back out, I decided I should take out my compass and get a bearing on my direction, but much to my dismay, the compass refused to work in those mountains. Too much iron ore, I assumed, although it was a cheap compass to start with, I must also admit. Therefore I decided to build a little cairn of rocks, the one thing that was in plentiful supply there, to mark the way I had gone, so that I might follow them on my way back. And hopefully, unlike Hansel and Gretel, nothing would come along and eat them. It's funny how old scraps of nursery rhymes come to you when you are all alone like that. Anyway, at each place that the path bisected others, I erected a small pile of six stones in distinctive fashion, pointing the way I had come, since I noticed there were other markers placed there of various styles and numbers, apparently by other travelers marking their way as well. These I did not disturb, of course, but gathered loose rocks to construct my own cairn.
By the middle of the afternoon, the sun was already below the peaks. I had lost track of the number of cairns I had placed by now, over a dozen I should think, and finally I came to a small clearing where I spotted another campsite, with the tell tale body-sized depression for sleeping and a neat little fire pit dug in on the side of the depression, just big enough to build a small fire of twigs in. I found that it had been designed in such a fashion that I could set my pot right on the edge of the depression, where a rock jutted out, and it would heat up very nicely. I decided to camp there for the night. It seemed like a very friendly spot. I chewed on a piece of jerky while I gathered some kindling and twigs for a small fire, and made up some of the freeze dried dinners I had purchased at Sport Mart before leaving Illinois, using snow from the northern slopes for water. I was famished. Later I made tea and sat and watched the day come to an end.
As night fell around me, I could sense that I was as alone as I had ever been in my entire life. I had not seen another living soul all day long, and since hunting season was over in the middle of January, which it happened to be right now, I felt it was very likely that like the man had told me who pointed me to this place, there were no other people at all out here. The little fire I made sent out an amazing amount of warmth into the depression it faced, and as the stars started to come out one by one, I put on my long underwear and unrolled my bedroll in the depression for the night. But before laying down to sleep, I put my shoes back on and I walked away from the campfire light, into the darkness of the forest and looked up at the sky.
The night sky simply filled me with wonder! The stars blazed overhead with an intensity that we town dwellers never see. Literally billions and billions of stars! I could understand very well then the amazement that ancient man must have felt looking up at that sky, and the reason why he might build huge monuments to the stars and the planets he saw whirling overhead. We humans today, fast moving towards the twenty-first century, are so crowded into big bright shining cities that we never, ever see the real night sky. All we see are a few of the brighter stars and planets. But we never see the splendor that I witnessed there in those mountains! I don't know how long I stood there looking, but there was no end to what I could see no matter how deeply I peered into the sky. Finally I grew chilled as nights in those mountains tended to be cool, in the twenties and thirties, and I walked back over to the little depression where the fire burned warmly, fed it a few twigs, and promptly dropped off to sleep, though it must have only been a little past 8 in the evening by my watchless reckoning. I saw no reason to bring a watch with and so I simply didn't.
During the night, I woke to hear a ferocious racket in the woods, not too far from my depression. Now, I should tell you that the owner of the BBQ joint I had stopped at on my way in the day before had inquired what I might be doing there, and I told him I was going into the mountains to spend some time alone. He had informed me that there were "critters" out there, bears and wolves and even mountain lions, and that I better be careful, and then he winked at me. I wasn't sure if the man was kidding me or not, but as I lay there listening to this terrible commotion going on in the dark woods not too far away from me, I suspected that he might just be right about critters living out there. I had no weapon with me, other than the little hatchet, if one could even call that a weapon, so I thought it best just to stay where I was as the little depression hid me from anything unless it happened to walk right up on me, and in that manner not give myself away to whatever was making that God awful noise. The fire had gone out by now and it was just black as pitch, I literally couldn't see my hand in front of my face when I raised it.
Finally the racket stopped, and though I lay there for what seemed like a long while, listening, I didn't hear anything more and eventually I must have drifted back to sleep, for when I opened my eyes the sky was just turning pink. I built a fire and made coffee, marveling at how handy the little fire pit and sleeping depression were. As the light gradually became enough to see by, I walked over to where the noise of the night before had seemed to be coming from and found several large boulders had crashed down the side of the mountain during the night, flattening the undergrowth and slamming up against trees before finally coming to rest. In fact, the whole area was littered with rocks and boulders from up above. I had a good chuckle about my fear of "critters" the night before who might be coming to eat me, and made a note to myself not to camp close to any cliffs or bluffs.
After my coffee and a piece of jerky for breakfast, and tidying up the camp so that it showed no sign of my being there, I set out walking once more. The path I'd been following still went up, up, up, and by a little past mid day, still huffing and puffing and taking breaks every ten minutes or so, I had come to the top of the rise, but I decided I was not on the ten thousand foot peak, but rather what was called Iron Creek Knob, eighty nine hundred feet above sea level, on my map. Reed's peak, the larger one, lay to the northwest of me from what I could gather. Nonetheless, an amazing vista opened up below me, and I looked around in all four directions. All I could see was forest and mountains. Not a single solitary sign of human habitation met my gaze. A mist still lay in the lower valleys, and the higher mountain tops were snow-covered. I sat there a long time on Iron Creek Knob, and just watched everything unfurl around me and listened deeply to the silence. Once I saw movement far away out of the corner of my eye, and looking closer, first thought it might be wolves running close behind one another. But then I realized it was not wolves, but deer instead, following a path only they seemed to see, sprinting through the forest with such grace and agility that it took my breath away.
Finally I took a walk all around the knob and found that the spot I was in seemed to be well liked by others as well, and there were a number of old campsites. I picked a nice looking one with the same style fire pit dug into its side, and decided I would spend the night there before moving on into the valley below me in the morning. Since there was still a few hours of daylight left, after I had set up camp and eaten a light lunch of trail mix, I walked all around the knob once again, this time investigating further. I found an old mine dug into the side of the knob, with an enormous amount of tailings deposited beneath it. The mine itself was very low and one could only enter it by either bending very low or crawling. I hadn't brought a flashlight with and there was a dark looking stream of water running out of it anyway, that gave it a severely sinister look, and so I didn't even think about entering it. Still, I wondered at who had spent so much time here digging out that enormous pile of rubble, apparently by hand. There was no way to get back here by motorized vehicle. And what on earth had been so valuable? Silver, I imagined. Though it would have taken a mountain of silver to get me to go into that hole in the side of the knob, I thought to myself. It gave me the willies.
After becoming spooked by the black water running out of the mine, I walked back to camp, stopping along the way to look at rocks in search of fossils and to just listen to the silence around me. I gathered kindling and twigs once again for the fire and being hungry again, I made more of the dehydrated food I had brought with and chewed on some jerky as well. Again I sat by the fire as night fell around me, and again I walked away from its light as darkness became complete and stared up at the magnificence sky over my head. Finally I went back to my little depression and fell fast asleep. That night it became very cold however, maybe because I was up high or maybe just because it just got colder in general, I don't really know, and though my sleeping roll was rated for 0 degrees and I had all my clothes and long underwear on, I woke shivering and pulled the bag over my head in an attempt to keep warm. But the cold rushed in over my hands and head every time I breathed. Finally I rose and kindled a small fire, and once it burned good, I huddled close to it, marveling once more at the way the depression kept the warmth in. Soon I fell asleep and once again woke very early.
Everything was frosty and the trees all sparkled rainbow colors, but soon I had hot coffee in my hand and again I chewed jerky for breakfast. After tidying up my camp, I walked to the highest spot I could find and surveyed the whole area and consulted my map before deciding to continue heading what I gathered was west, since the sun seemed to set in that general vicinity (though I could never really see it set, only go below the mountains), the general direction I had apparently been traveling all along though my compass refused to confirm it. The path once again started down now, and I noticed I could make much better time than I did going uphill. Instead of having to stop every ten or fifteen minutes to catch my breath, I could go for an hour or more easily without becoming seriously winded. By midday, I had reached the valley again and decided to take a break there.
The path I was traveling on came to a junction with a half dozen other paths all leading off in different directions from it, each path with many little cairns of rocks placed carefully by it. I marked my own trail with my distinctive cairn and from my survey that morning, I knew that there was another peak just to the west of me, probably Reed's peak, that rose even higher than the knob I had spent the night on previously, and since I didn't want to spend another night shivering in my sleeping roll, I decided against going that way. Instead, after a lunch of trail mix and jerky, I headed along the path that led in what seemed to be a southerly direction and which continued to decline, making for much easier traveling, though I knew the return trip would more than likely be grueling. By mid afternoon, I was well into the valley and the sun had already hid itself behind the craggy cliffs.
I had started looking for a campsite when the sun hid itself, but I was not able to find any of the well-liked little depressions with their handy fire pits. Apparently, I had chosen a seldom used path and though I searched for over an hour, I could find no place that had seen human habitation anytime recently, only a few shoddily built campfire pits surrounded by stones and trash, apparently the remains of the hunting parties before me. Eventually I saw a group of standing boulders up ahead in the fast coming darkness, and they seemed like very friendly boulders, almost beckoning me to come sit by them. And so I did. I could once again hear the little creek trickling beneath them and I knew it would be a fine place to spend the night, and that the music of the water would lull me to sleep. Soon I had a little fire going in a roughly constructed fire pit, nowhere near as efficient as the ones I had used previously but nonetheless it was my own, and my dinner simmered on it, more dehydrated food with a little more jerky to go with it. I checked my supplies and estimated I had enough for another 3 days. I thought to myself that I should have brought more. Too late now though.
I was very thankful that that night was considerably warmer than the night before, and I slept very soundly, though not quite as soundly as I had in the little depressions. Still, I had found a place between the standing boulders that sand gathered in from runoff water and it made a surprisingly soft bed. In the morning I found that I really didn't want to go anywhere that day, so I just stayed there around those standing boulders all day long, playing in the rocks, looking for fossils and Indian artifacts. I took off my clothes, which were quite ripe by now, and washed myself in the cold, clear mountain stream that I discovered trickling down a steep ravine before it dived under the rocks. Laying my clothes out to dry in the warm sun, I sat there and listened once again to the incredible silence all around me. The quiet of those mountains was simply indescribable! Once in a great while, high overhead, I would see a jet, and hear the roar of its engines, but other than that, there was only the sound of the wind, of a few birds singing, and my own heart beating. If silence can be called deafening, that is what I felt there in those mountains.
I knew I was deep enough in the mountains that I should probably start back the next day, so that I wouldn't run out of food, and yet I didn't really want to. Still, sitting by my fire that night, I decided that I should do just that. I told myself that I would come here again, this time bringing more supplies with me, but I knew in my heart that I probably would never come back to these quiet mountains in this lifetime again. That thought made me appreciate my situation all the more however. Once again before going to sleep, I walked away from my small fire and gazed at the stars blazing overhead, and listened to the quiet of the night, and felt simply overwhelmed. In the morning, although with some misgivings, I tidied up my camp, scattering the stones I had used for a fire pit and I set out back the way I had come, carefully retracing my steps and making note of the little cairns I had left to guide my way.
I was going up once again now and I made much slower time than I had coming down. Even though I told myself that I was becoming acclimated to the altitude, after a few minutes of exertion walking up that path I was once again panting for breath and feeling as if my heart would jump out of my chest. I could not believe one's heart could beat so loudly without exploding! By the time the sun was straight overhead, I had only traveled a short ways and I knew it would be at least a two day journey going back up when it had only taken less than a day going down. Therefore I was glad I had decided to leave when I did, though a little voice kept nagging at me that it wouldn't hurt me to go without food for a day or two. After a meager lunch, I walked on until the sun disappeared and then began looking for a place to spend the night. I found an old circle of stones with some branches already piled nearby and decided it would be as good a place as any that I would come to, and so I decided to spend the night there.
I noticed I only had four packages of dehydrated food left and my supply of jerky was also dwindling fast, but I knew once I reached the top of the knob once again, that it was only a day's journey back to my vehicle since it was all downhill from there. I built a crude fire from the large branches, though not nearly as elegant as my little twig fires had been in the ready made fire pits, and found a large branch to hang over it on which to hang my cooking pot. I noticed that I had gotten into the pattern of eating, then fixing a pot of tea to drink while I sat in my very comfortable camp chair and watched the night descend around me. Later I would walk out from the fire and stare at the sky until the muscles in my neck hurt too bad to continue looking up, then I would go back to the fire and fall asleep, waking just before the dawn.
The next morning once again, I tidied up my camp and struck out early and made good time, considering that I could only walk ten or fifteen minutes before having to rest for an equal amount of time before setting out again. Late that afternoon I had reached my previous campsite on the high bluff, and although I suspected that it would be cold up there, I decided I could go no further as the daylight was fast dwindling away. I also knew that the rest of the way that I had to travel was basically downwards, and that I would make much better time than I had coming up, so I splurged a little and ate a nice meal of two packages of dehydrated spaghetti and sauce. I put on all the clothes I had with me and gathered a good supply of twigs and branches to keep the fire going all night if I had to, once again in the little body-sized depression that made such a wonderful sleeping arrangement.
As I was just finishing up gathering my twigs, I heard a barking away in the distance and wondered at first if it was perhaps a wild dog, or worse yet, a bunch of wild dogs! I started the fire and put on some tea to brew, and by the time it was ready, the barking came closer and closer until a dog came scampering up the path. He was a mangy looking thing, raggedy and unkept, but he was alone, which relieved me quite a bit. Nevertheless, he did not seem happy at finding me here and immediately began barking and growling at me in his displeasure. I dug in my pack and pulled out a little of my remaining jerky and offered it to him. He approached cautiously, still growling, and finally took the jerky from my hand and let me pet him just a little. Soon I saw a man on horseback approaching me, riding up the path on which I had come too. He looked like an old Indian or Mexican, I couldn't tell in the dimming light, and he nudged his horse lightly and joined me and the dog at the top of the knob.
The man showed no surprise at finding me here, though I could tell he was curious as to what a white man would be doing so far out into the mountains, all alone and sitting by a small fire drinking tea and feeding his dog jerky. He dismounted and unsaddled his horse before setting it to graze in the brown grass, then he came back to the fire and sat down on a rock, admiring my camp chair with the corner of his eye. He introduced himself, telling me that his name was Silvio, and that he had set out that morning from the same spot that I had left my car. He told me with a wink that my car was ok, but some friends of his had needed some gas but would be sure to replace it before I returned. "Pedro!" he called the dog, "Pedro, leave the man alone and let him drink his tea in peace!" and Silvio burst out laughing at me, slapping his thigh and shaking his head. I introduced myself as well and told him that Pedro was a good dog and that I liked him.
"How long you been out here?" he asked. I told him that I had been here only a for a few days, and that I was in fact headed back now. "Oh, but you've not seen anything yet, have you?" he asked. "Why not come with me and spend a few more days here? Besides, you won't get far. Ernesto siphoned all your gas, if that was your brown car sitting back there between the rocks. (It was) Don't worry though, we'll get you fixed up. The boys were short on gas themselves, and you know it's sixty miles to the nearest gas station. They just borrowed it, you know." And he started laughing again when he saw the look of despair on my face, so hard now that he fell on the ground and rolled around, holding his stomach, with tears rolling down his face. I didn't know what to say.
Finally I told him that the reason I couldn't stay longer was that my
food was running low. He said that he himself was hungry too and that he
had not bothered to bring any supplies with him at all.
"Tell you what, my new friend," Silvio said, after composing himself
once again. "Come with me in the morning and we will meet up with the boys
by the afternoon. Let us spend the night here together. You know there's
critters in these woods!" And he opened his eyes very wide to show his
fright and started laughing again, as he walked off to tend to his horse
so that it wouldn't run off in the night. Pedro sat there, giving me a
mournful look until I broke off another piece of jerky and fed it to him.
When Silvio came back, I told him that I would be honored to travel with
him and offered him some dinner, which he gratefully accepted. "I am very
hungry, and Pedro has been lazy today and has not caught me anything to
eat!" he laughed. I fixed him the last package of the dehydrated food I
had left and put on another pot of tea. He ate with obvious gusto, remarking
how good the food was. "Do you have any tobacco?" he asked when he was
done eating and had a cup of tea in his hands, and so I pulled out my cigarettes
and offered him one, and we sat there smoking and drinking tea around the
fire as night fell.
Silvio was definitely Indian, now that I had a closer look at him and he looked to be around sixty years old. His hair must have once been black but was now graying, and hung long and straight and the gentle breeze sometimes stirred it into his face. He was a little shorter than my own six feet in height and slightly built, but he seemed agile despite his rather ample beer belly. His eyes were very dark and his face was wrinkled with laugh lines and weathered by what could only be a long life of living under the sky, in the sun and the wind and the rain. His clothing was basically just rags, kept together with hand sewn stitching and patches and he wore an old weather beaten Stetson which he never took off. He seemed to have a quiet commanding way about him that I had a hard time putting a finger on. He seemed to just act, rather than thinking about acting, if you know what I mean.
Silvio asked me where I came from and what I was doing there. I told him that I lived in Chicago, well over a thousand miles away, and that my wife and I were breaking up and I just needed to be alone, really alone, something that I had never been before. He asked if I had ever been here before and I said no, I had never been to New Mexico before, but a man on the highway had pointed me to this spot and something told me that that is where I would find what I was after, and so far, my feelings had been correct. I told him how remarkable I found the silence, and even more so the stars at night. He listened to me very intently while I spoke, nodding his head from time to time. He was such a good listener that I found myself telling him things that I had never spoken of with anyone, and as night grew full around us, he would reach over from time to time and feed the fire more twigs and go on listening to me without interruption.
I told him how I had tried to be a good man in what I perceived to be a very harsh and unforgiving world, a dog eat dog world. I confessed that whatever I had done in my life had ultimately turned out wrong in the end and that I couldn't for the life of me understand why. Each path in my life had seemed so bright and shiny at the start, only to lead to despair and an almost infinite sadness at what I had discovered along the way. I had been a failure at everything I had ever attempted, schooling, work, marriage, everything. Yet looking back, I could not see how I could have ever done anything differently either, and that in itself led to an overwhelming sense of being lost, so lost that all the dreams and goals that I once had in life had all dropped away until all that was left was this ever present feeling of simply being who I was. And that was why I was here in these beautifully quiet and alive mountains, alone with my despair that was itself even now starting to drop away too. I wondered what would happen when even that was gone. I sensed I was on the edge of some great freedom of spirit, but that freedom scared the hell out of me too!
Finally I fell into silence. Silvio kept feeding the fire and gazing at me from under his bushy eyebrows. The firelight caused a twinkle in his eyes and I could sense that he was amused by my opening up to him, though amused might not be the right word. Touched might be closer. The night had grown very dark around us and the wind blew gently through the pine needles and the leafless branches of the trees that surrounded us. "Listen!" he said suddenly. "My ancestors say that the wind we feel is part of all those who came before us, and that if we learn to listen to the wind, our ancestors will guide our way and keep us from harm. The wind is telling me that it is late and we should sleep now. Tomorrow I am setting out on a journey deeper into these mountains and the wind is telling me that you should come with too. You have a lesson to learn here."
I told him once again that I was nearly out of food and that in fact I was heading back out in the morning. I explained that I had been here for five days already and had in fact underestimated the supplies I would need, but perhaps next time I came we would meet again. Again he listened to me carefully without interrupting me. I went on to explain that I would love to accompany him but I just didn't have the time. My work at home was calling to me even now. I thanked him for wanting me to come along, but I refused as politely as I could. When I finished with my elaborate explanation, Silvio pooh pahhed my work and said that I was not needed as much as I thought I was. "Your work," he said, "has made you into a slave. It is not your work, but rather you are your work. Why did you come into these mountains, just to turn around and go back without learning any of its secrets?"
I was totally stumped. I stammered on about how yes, I would love to learn the secrets of these mountains, but I really had no time now for such things. Finally Silvio just rolled over and went to sleep while I was still protesting. I lay there for a long time wondering about this very strange man who had appeared out of nowhere and yet who I felt a very deep connection to that I could not explain rationally. And if I knew anything at all, it was that I was a creature of rationality. Finally I drifted off to sleep after making up my mind I would attempt to rise before him in the morning and slink off to avoid accompanying him and to avoid further explanations as to why I couldn't. The night was not near as cold as the previous one I spent here and I slept very soundly. When I woke however, Silvio was already up tending to his horse and making ready for his journey.
I started coffee and he joined me after a few minutes. "It's a beautiful day for traveling!" he announced. "Have you made up your mind to come with me?"
I looked at him and something came over me that I cannot describe. I knew that I had to accompany him, that's the only way I can describe it. If this trip with Silvio turned out to be a failure, so what? Hadn't I told him the night before that my whole life had been a failure? What was it I was afraid of? So I nodded that yes, I would travel with him today and he seemed positively delighted. He drank the last of his coffee and walked over and slapped me on the back resoundingly, so hard that I felt something inside of me shift somehow. It wasn't a pain exactly, but almost like something that had been out of place was suddenly put back in by that slap. I finished my coffee and helped him pack up and tidy up the camp, all in a daze. My normal way of talking to myself constantly inside my head had suddenly subsided and the quiet of those mountains became even more acute in my ears.
Pedro his dog led the way. Both the dog and his horse Sarah seemed familiar with the mountain paths and the day was extremely pleasant. We walked side by side with Pedro ranging ahead of us and Sarah following docilely in the rear without being led. Silvio didn't speak at all, and when I tried to, he hushed me and told me to save my breath. He noticed I was laboring mightily and slowed his pace slightly to accommodate me. We had not eaten breakfast and I offered him some of my jerky when we stopped for a break, which he gratefully accepted. "When you get to know these mountains," Silvio told me with a wink, "you no longer need to bring food with you. Everything will be provided for. That's the first lesson!"
I couldn't tell if he was serious. I asked him how he could know that with such certainty that he would journey into the mountains without any supplies at all. I explained that I myself was very worried about food and that our supper last night had been the last of my provisions, other than the jerky I had left, and that that was going fast too. He told me that I worried too much and that was my biggest problem in life. He told me that even if I had to go hungry for a day or two that it certainly wouldn't hurt me, and he patted my belly playfully. "Come on," he said. "We still have a ways to go and it gets dark early in these mountains."
And so we walked deeper and deeper into the mountains. I noticed that Silvio was unconcerned about marking the trail as I had been doing. When I remarked on it, he said that Pedro and him had been in these mountains so much that marking the trail was useless. Still I persisted in placing my distinctive cairn of rocks at each intersection, reasoning that Silvio may not want to accompany me back when I was ready to come back. As the day wore on however, I missed marking an intersection and then another and after that I just quit worrying about it altogether. Silvio's relentless pace was very tiring and though I managed to keep up, by late afternoon my body was calling desperately for rest. We finally reached the spot that he seemed to have been making for, deep in some valley that I had no idea of how to locate on my map.
I remarked to him that the forest seemed much denser and alive here. He told me that this area had never been clear cut, as the part of the forest we had traveled through earlier had been. I realized now what he meant. Huge old gnarled trees dominated here and the underbrush and saplings that had been ever-present in the areas I had visited were gone. The tops of the trees seemed to form a canopy over the entire forest, though now denuded of leaves. I remarked that in the summer, one could never even see the sky here. Silvio laughed and said I was quite right. "We will stop here for the night," he said. "We will reach our destination tomorrow."
He told me that I should gather some twigs and kindling for a fire and he would see if he could rustle up dinner. I expected him to take a gun out of his saddle bags and go hunting, but he just walked off into the forest, returning in a short while with a handful of what looked like roots and tubers. He told me that these were called wild potatoes and onions and would make a marvelous stew. I had my doubts about that, but he set about cleaning and peeling his find and soon cut up the pieces and put them in the stew pot to simmer over the fire. I dug in my pack and found the last of my jerky and offered him half. We both chewed on it while the stew simmered. He asked if I had happened to bring any salt with and I produced a salt shaker and handed it to him. He winked and said that if I hadn't, the bark from a particular tree worked just as well.
When the stew was ready, we ate. It was indeed very good! I didn't know if it was because I was very hungry or if it was just great stew, but either way, I thanked him very much for it. He laughed and said, "Last night you fixed dinner, tonight I fixed dinner, and tomorrow Pedro will fix our dinner!" And he broke out into a long belly laugh again. I found myself laughing right along with him although I didn't really understand how the dog was going to fix us dinner. As we ate, night descended about us until once again the stars were blazing bright overhead. When we finished, he asked me for a cigarette and we sat by the fire smoking and drinking tea.
Silvio began telling me about the land we were traveling through. He told me that once, so long ago now that no one could remember, great warriors would come here to test themselves and what he called their "warrior honor". He said that this was before the white man had appeared on the shores of this great continent and the only enemies these warriors had were each other. "The greatest of these warriors are what we now call medicine men," Silvio told me with a wink. "These were men of great power and their spirit remains here yet. These men sought power for intensely personal reasons, much as you and I are doing here now. If we conduct ourselves in a warrior manner, we will be completely safe."
He reached over and put two of his fingers in the blackened ashes of the fire and then ran them across my face, just under my eyes, leaving a "z" pattern of black streaks, I assumed, two on each side and then touched the very middle of my forehead. He did the same to his own face. "Tonight the spirits of these powerful warriors will be drawn to this spot. These marks will tell them that we are on personal business of our own and if our power is strong, they will perhaps consent to guide us tomorrow."
"Who were those people, Silvio?" I asked.
"Some say they were Apache, some say they were Navajo and some say they were a tribe that is no longer around now. Who knows really? I don't. I will call them Apache, for that is who lives here now and my own tribe is what we call Apache Yavapai. I grew up on a very poor reservation in Arizona and my grandfather, who raised me after my mother ran off and my father died, used to tell me many stories of our people. I never listened, or if I did it was only with half a heart, and I thought he was just a foolish old man. Still, when I first came to these mountains I could hear his words again in the trees and in the water.
"I remember now how my grandfather told me of war parties that his own great grandfather had been honored enough to go on. In those days, the medicine men were the real leaders of the tribe, although these men never actually lived with the tribe. They always lived apart, just on the outskirts of the village. When these medicine men had visions, they would become leaders simply by the force of their charisma and personality. Young warriors would join these medicine men to test their own strength and warrior code on long and perilous adventures, sometimes covering hundreds of miles in a single day over land such as this.
"The rules of warfare were filled with ceremonies and rituals and life was not tossed aside casually as it is in today's times. Every warrior behaved as his own personal warrior code dictated and though they followed the medicine men, these men were not leaders in the sense that we think of leaders today. They did nothing to coerce the young men into joining their war party against their will, but at the same time the medicine men knew how sway them simply by using will.
"The medicine man would teach the young warriors how to arm themselves with magic pebbles, medicine bundles and magic shields. The lightning bolts which I drew on our faces is a very powerful symbol and gives the warrior greater strength of endurance. The medicine men knew of many such power symbols and this too they taught to the young warriors. The medicine men taught that one could be killed in these war parties, but killing was not the reason for the journey. The reason for the journey was to do battle, and the only way to gain honor as a warrior was to "count coup", or to reckon one's brave deeds. Killing a man was easy and there was no counting coup in that, for even a coward could do it. But coming up on the fully armed enemy and touching him on the hand was a great feat!
"That is what we are going to do tomorrow," Silvio said. "But it's late now and we must be traveling early."
I protested that I wanted to know more about what we were going to do tomorrow. "Tell me what enemy there is out here? I haven't seen any." I asked him. But he didn't answer and I was very tired too, since the next thing I knew it was morning. The sky was just getting pink and Silvio was up ahead of me again. While I made coffee, he walked away from the campsite and I assumed he was doing his business in the weeds. But he returned a short while later with a squirrel. He told me that he knew the squirrel's tricks and it was easy to catch them. I asked if he would teach me but he said there was no time to teach me how to be quiet enough now, and that is why he didn't invite me along. In an amazingly short amount of time, Silvio had skinned and roasted the squirrel over the fire and although it was meager when broken into three parts, one for me, one for Silvio and one for Pedro, still it was better than nothing.
While we were eating, I asked him again what we were going to do today. He told me that we were going to meet some friends of his at a very special place, a place of power. He said that the trip would be difficult for it was in a high place and that I should take all the nourishment I could from the little squirrel and not talk so much. So we finished our breakfast in silence while the day gradually grew full around us. We tidied up the camp and set out walking and soon I could see that he was right. The path he chose, or rather the path that Pedro chose, ran up and up and up. I tried my best to keep up with him but I was forced time and again to stop and catch my breath and let my heart resume its normal beat. He told me that my manner of walking was debilitating and that I should hold my hands in a certain way and put a spring into my step. He told me to watch him. I did, and I tried to emulate him as best I could but I still had much trouble keeping up that morning. Silvio laughed at me and told me that if I was a woman, he would let me ride his horse Sarah. But the spirit would be offended since I purported to be a warrior. I didn't see the humor in his remarks and I started to think the old man might be crazy. I began questioning what I was doing here with him in the first place. I considered my options of going back but I realized that I had no idea where we were or how to retrace our path.
By early afternoon something had come over me that I couldn't really explain. My body had seemed to drawn hidden energy from somewhere and at times it seemed like I was being pulled along by something that I could not really pin down to my body at all. The trail got worse and more rugged. Loose rocks and jagged drop-offs lay on both sides of the little path we were following. The air seemed more full of oxygen however and I no longer had the trouble catching my breath that I did earlier in my trip. We walked without talking for hours. Finally by late in the afternoon, Silvio stopped and told me we were nearly there.
"We'll meet some other people here," he told me. "They won't like it that you are white, I want to warn you of that right now. Just remember, you are my guest, and ignore whatever is said at first. They are good people and they will come around."
We continued up the ridge and in a few minutes, emerged on the top of a bluff. Just below us I could make out a group of four or five people sitting around a small fire inside what looked like a wide circle of stones. I commented to Silvio on this and he remarked that for me to see the circle of stones so easily could almost be considered counting coup. He giggled and told me I should attempt to approach the stones very quietly and touch them before the others saw me. He stopped right in his tracks. I thought he was kidding by the way he was giggling, but he motioned for me to go on and sneak up and touch the stone closest to me.
I noticed the spring in my step from emulating Silvio's style of walking allowed me to walk almost noiselessly. I had no problem approaching the people without them hearing me and when I reached out and placed my hand on the stone, I felt a slap on my back again, just like the one Silvio had delivered the first morning we spent together. He had walked silently behind me, apparently, for I had no idea he was even there. Again I sensed something inside me shift back into place and the combination of the stealthiness of my walk and the sudden unexpected slap seemed to still my inner voice somehow.
By now the others already there were well aware of Silvio and I. We walked over to where they were standing and he introduced me to them one by one. Ernesto, Silvio's son, was about my age I reckoned, and like Silvio, his hair was long with some streaks of gray. He had dark, laughing eyes and I liked him immediately. Javier, his grandson, was just out of college and sported a city haircut and new clothes. He seemed very aloof to me, like he didn't really want to be here but was doing everyone a favor by submitting to what he felt was ridiculousness. Julio was about Javier's age, and Silvio told me that he was a Koyemshi, or what I might think of as a clown. He warned me that Julio was very mischievous and winked at me.
Night was fast approaching now. We all walked to the little fire burning in the center of the stone circle, and Silvio asked if anyone had anything to eat, since we were famished and had no provisions. Ernesto immediately broke out a supply of dried meat and fish that he carried in his pack, and Julio produced a large skin full of wine which had been hanging in a tree. Javier just sat there looking sullen, however. We ate as night grew dark around us, until the little fire was the only light in those mountains, flickering our shadows on the rocks that stood behind us.
"Tonight we will all sleep here in the circle of power," Silvio said suddenly. His words jerked me out of my backslapped induced stupor and I asked him when we were going back. He laughed and said that we had an appointment here and that when that appointment was finished, we would be free to leave. Suddenly he quit laughing and, speaking to all of us, said that we must remain quiet and collected tonight and that he would tell us a warrior story to give us all strength to face our challenge. I wanted to ask him more about this challenge but he waved his hand and indicated that I should be silent and listen.
"Many lifetimes ago," Silvio began, "there lived two brave warriors. One was named Wanblee Gleshka, Spotted Eagle. The other was Kangi Sapa, Black Crow. They were friends but it so happened that they were both in love with the same girl, Zintkala Luta Win, Red Bird. She was beautiful as well as accomplished in tanning and quill work and she liked Spotted Eagle best, which made Black Crow jealous and unhappy.
"Black Crow went to his friend Spotted Eagle and said: 'Let's go on a war party against the Pahani. We'll get ourselves some fine horses and earn eagle feathers.'
"'Good idea,' said Spotted Eagle. And so the two warriors purified themselves in a sweatbath and got their war medicine and their shields, painted their faces and did all the things that warriors do to prepare for a war party. Then they rode out against the Pahani.
"The raid did not go well. The Pahani were watchful and the young warriors could not get near them. Not only did they fail to capture any horses, they even lost their own mounts while they were trying to creep up on the Pahani. Spotted Eagle and Black Crow had a hard time escaping on foot because the Pahani were searching for them everywhere. Finally, the two warriors had to hide under water and breath through hollow reeds sticking up above the surface. But eventually the Pahani gave up their search.
"Traveling on foot made the journey home a long one. Their moccasins were in tatters, their feet were bleeding. At last they came to a high cliff. 'Let's go up there,' said Black Crow, 'and find out whether the enemy is still following us.' So they clambered up and looked out over the countryside. But no one was chasing them. On a ledge far below them however, they spied a nest with two young eagles in it. 'Let's get those eagles at least,' said Black Crow. There was no way to climb down the sheer rock wall, but Black Crow took his rawhide lariat, made a loop in it, put the rope around Spotted Eagle's chest and lowered him down.
"When his friend was on the ledge with the nest, Black Crow said to himself, 'Now I can leave him to die there. When I come home alone, Red Bird will marry me!' And he threw his end of the rope down and went away without looking back or listening to Spotted Eagle's cries.
"At last it dawned on Spotted Eagle that his friend had betrayed him, that he had been left to die. The lariat was much too short to lower himself to the ground; an abyss of three hundred feet lay beneath him. He was alone with the two eagles, who screeched angrily at the strange two legged creature that had invaded their home." Silvio let out several very loud and piercing screeches which startled us all. He slapped his thigh as he laughed at us, then continued his story.
"So Black Crow returned to his village and told everyone that Spotted Eagle had been killed in the war party. There was loud wailing throughout the village because Spotted Eagle was well liked. Red Bird slashed her arms with a sharp knife and cut her hair to make her sorrow plain for all to see. But in the end, because life must go on, she became Black Crow's wife.
"Spotted Eagle did not die, however. The young eagles got used to him on their lonely ledge and the old eagles brought plenty of food, rabbits, prairie dogs and sage hens, which he shared with the young chicks. Maybe it was the eagle medicine that he carried in his bundle that made the birds accept him. Still, he had a very hard time on that ledge. It was so narrow that he had to tie himself to a little rock to keep from rolling off in his sleep. In this way, he spend many uncomfortable weeks. At last, the young eagles were big enough to practice flying.
"'What will become of me now?' thought Spotted Eagle. 'Once the fledglings have flown the nest, the old birds won't bring food anymore.' Then he had an inspiration, and told himself, 'I will perhaps die, in fact, very likely I will. But I won't just sit here any longer and give up.'
"Spotted Eagle took his little pipe out of his medicine bundle, lifted it up to the sky and prayed: 'Wakan Tanka, onshimala ye, Great Spirit, pity me. You have created man and his brother the eagle. You have given me the eagle's name. Now I will try to let the eagles carry me to the ground. Let the eagles help me, let me succeed.'
"He smoked and felt a great surge of confidence. Then he grabbed hold of the legs of the two young eagles. 'Brothers,' he said, 'you have accepted me as one of your own. Now we live together or die together. Hoka hey!' And he jumped off the ledge.
"He expected to be shattered on the ground, but with a mighty flapping of wings, the two young eagles broke his fall and the three landed safely. Spotted Eagle said a prayer of thanks to the ones above. Then he thanked the eagles and told them that one day he would be back with gifts and have a giveaway in their honor.
"Spotted Eagle returned to his village. The excitement was great. He had been dead and had come back to life. Everyone asked him how, but he would not tell them. 'I escaped', he said and that was all he would say. He saw his love married to his treacherous friend and bore it in silence. He was not one to bring strife and enmity to his people, to set one family against another. Besides, what had happened had changed him and he could not be changed back. Thus he accepted his fate.
"A year or so later, the Pahani attacked his village. The enemy outnumbered the Apache tenfold, and Spotted Eagle's band had no chance for victory. All the warriors could do was to fight a slow rear guard action to give the aged, the women and the children time to escape across the river. Guarding their people this way, the handful of Apache warriors fought bravely, charging the enemy time and again, forcing the Pahani to halt and regroup. Each time, the Apache retreated a little, taking up a new position on a hill or across a gully. In this way they could save their families.
"Showing the greatest courage, exposing their bodies freely, were Spotted Eagle and Black Crow. In the end, they alone faced the enemy. Then suddenly, Black Crow's horse was hit by many arrows and it collapsed under him. 'Brother, forgive me for what I have done to you,' he cried to Spotted Eagle, 'let me jump on your horse behind you.'
"Spotted Eagle answered, 'You are a Yavapai member, a sash-wearer. Pin your sash as a sign that you will fight to the finish. Then, if you live I will forgive you, and if you die I will forgive you also.'
"Black Crow answered, 'I am a Yavapai. I will pin my sash. I will win here or die here.' He sang his death song and he fought stoutly. There was no one to release him by unpinning his sash and taking him up on a horse. He was hit by many arrows and lances and died a warrior's death. Many Pahani died with him.
"Spotted Crow had been the only one to watch Black Crow's last fight. At last he joined his people, safe across the river, where the Pahani did not follow. 'Your husband died well,' Spotted Eagle told Red Bird. After much time had passed, Spotted Eagle married Red Bird, and much, much later, he told her, and no one else, how Black Crow had betrayed him. 'I forgive him now because he died a warrior's death, and once upon a time, long, long ago, he was my friend. I forgive him because he died fighting for his people, and I forgive him because you and I are happy now.'
"After a long winter, Spotted Eagle told his wife when spring came again: 'I must go away for a few days to fulfill a promise. And I have to go alone.' He rode off by himself to that cliff and stood again at its foot, below the ledge where the eagle's nest had been. He pointed his sacred pipe to the four directions, then down to Grandmother Earth and up to the Grandfather, letting smoke ascend to the sky, calling out: 'Wanblee, Mishunka, little Eagle Brothers, hear me.'
"High above in the clouds appeared two black dots, circling. These were the eagles who had saved his life. They came at his call, their huge wings spread royally. Swooping down, uttering cries of joy and delight, they landed at his feet. He stroked them with his feather fan, thanked them many times, and fed them choice morsels of buffalo meat. He fastened small medicine bundles around their legs as a sign of friendship and brotherhood between Wanblee Oyate, the eagle nation, and his own people. Afterwards, the stately birds soared into the air again, circling motionlessly, carried by the wind, disappearing into the clouds.
"Spotted Eagle turned his horse's head homeward, and went back to Red Bird with deep content." Silvio finished his story with obvious relish and a gleam in his eye. I was totally entranced by his story telling and had not realized that deep night had fallen around us and that the other members of our party had fallen asleep. I told him how moving I found his story, but he just shook his head and said that we too should get some sleep like the others. But I could see a smile on Silvio's face even in the dim firelight.
"Where are we going tomorrow?" I asked him. But he told me that we should get some sleep, and besides, even if he told me it would do no good, for I had never been there. But then he started speaking again. "Sometimes I come out here, just Pedro and me, and we will spend weeks in these mountains," Silvio told me. "I find that as I grow older, these mountains are the only place that I am truly at peace. Is it the same with you?"
"Where I come from, Silvio, there are no mountains, and there are no forests any longer. Not like this! All there are where I come from is cities and towns and crowds of people so that you are never alone, with more cities and towns being built all the time. I honestly didn't know a place like this still existed," I replied.
"These mountains can help a man remember who he is," Silvio said, almost to himself. "This place where we are sitting is a sacred place, a power place. Now, the young people of my tribe no longer believe in such things. Hell, I didn't believe in them myself when I was young, so who can blame them? I am an old man now though, and I have more time for believing such nonsense than I did when I was young. Time to see how things really are."
"What do you mean, power place?" I asked him. He told me that what I called power and what power really was, was as different as day and night. He explained that the power that the old ones sought was not a power to get more of this or more of that, but a power to see. He put such an unusual emphasis on the word "see" that I asked again what he meant by power place. But he told me words could not do such a place justice, and that I would just have to wait and see myself. "Those places you were choosing to sleep in is like a power place," he said. "They were made by the Apache, you know. That is how we Indians sleep safely in these mountains. I'm surprised you knew that."
I told him that I didn't know it, but that on my first night here I had discovered such a spot where I parked my car and found it so comfortable, that I continued search out other spots like it. He laughed so hard I thought that he would wake the others. And then I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of soaring eagles and Indian maidens.
The next morning dawned like every morning here in those mountains, pink and clear. When I woke everyone was still sleeping, except for Javier. He was trying to get the fire started, cursing at the dampness of the morning that was preventing his efforts from bearing fruition. I gathered dry kindling from between some rocks and in a few minutes had coffee brewing. Javier told me that this was crazy and that the only reason he was here was because his dad made him come with. 'I hate sleeping on the ground and going to the bathroom in the bushes!' he said. 'And now grandpa brings a stupid white man here! What else will go wrong!'
I just ignored his histrionics and walked over to gather snow to melt for drinking water. I figured it best just to let him alone to stew in his juices. I knew he was put out for me lighting the fire so easily and it was obvious he didn't want my company this morning. I packed the pot as full of snow as I could and walked back to the fire. By then, the others were stirring and Javier had fallen into his normal brooding silence. We breakfasted on Ernesto's dried meat and fruit and Julio entertained us with an amazing repertoire of bird calls afterwards. He even walked around like a bird, hopping on both legs and opening his eyes and shutting them quickly as he gazed at us. He was indeed quite a clown. No one seemed in any great hurry to do anything or go anywhere, and there was a quiet air of anticipation I noticed. When I asked Ernesto about it, he told me that they were all here to try peyote, and that his dad, Silvio, was a master at using the drug. He wondered if I would be allowed try it too, but I told him I had no idea and that Silvio had never mentioned anything about that to me.
As the day wore on, I tried to puzzle out how long I had been in the mountains now. I knew it had been over a week but had lost all track of time and didn't even know what day of the week it was, nor did I really care for that matter. As afternoon began to turn into evening, we all gravitated to the circle of stones again, and Silvio waved us all closer. We gathered around the small fire. Silvio spoke to all of us at once. "We have all come here to this sacred place to learn what Grandfather Peyote might teach us." He looked directly at me. "Normally, we do not allow outsiders in our ceremony, but you have fed me the last of your food and given what you have freely. This tells me that Grandfather Peyote will be loving with you and will guide you on your way, which we all need help with from time to time. Also you were the first to see the circle of stones. That tells me that Grandfather Peyote is willing to be your teacher."
"Why have any of us come here?" Silvio asked no one in particular. "Take Javier here," Silvio said, "He goes to fine schools, hoping that the whites will teach him their ways and that he might become like they are, and live in fine houses and drive fine automobiles. Why are you here tonight, Javier?" He went on, not giving Javier a chance to speak for himself. "You are here for the same reason we all are here. Something is missing in your life, and try as we might, we cannot find it. Oh, I have looked! I have looked with a woman, I have looked in the bottle, I have looked in books, I have looked all over the world. And yet here in this place, here in these mountains, is the only place that I can find what I seek. I cannot tell any of you why this should be, I can only tell you that it is true.
"Ernesto, my son," Silvio went on. "You are lost too. I know it's my fault for leaving you when you were so young. But now there is nothing I can do to change my actions then. But here," Silvio held out a cloth, "is Grandfather Peyote, come to show us all the way. Let's each eat of his Body now." He began handing out the peyote buttons, putting four buttons in front of each of us. I picked one up and tasted it and it tasted very bad. The button was very hard and dry and it cut my mouth as I tried to chew it. "Chew your buttons very slowly and not so fast," Silvio told us. "And wash them down with a little water."
I looked at the others as I chewed the buttons, one by one. Javier seemed terrified, for some reason, and had yet to taste the buttons that lay before him on the ground. The other four men had consumed all their buttons before Javier picked up the first one and looked at it fixedly before finally putting it slowly into his mouth. His hand was literally shaking as he reached for another after chewing it. Silvio went to Sarah's saddle that lay close by and returned with a drum and four paddles, all made of some type of animal hide and wood. He put the drum in the middle of the circle in which we sat and he begun banging it slowly, looking at each of us as he did so. I felt nothing at all and began to wonder if perhaps the old man's peyote buttons had perhaps lost their potency. Silvio put down the drumstick and handed out four more buttons to everyone and we all ate them in silence. Then he started drumming again.
Soon, Javier and Julio picked up of the three paddles and began drumming the drum in unison with Silvio. Ernesto slid closer to me and began asking me questions about where I was from and how I had come to meet his father. I told him about my adventures in finding this place, from first meeting the man on the gravel road to the day I heard Pedro barking in the forest, and how it had seemed that I was led here somehow, although I couldn't understand what it was that was doing the leading.
I began to feel something in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't quite place. The drumming kept up, and soon I was feeling the drumming in my stomach. I jumped up and ran to the edge of the circle, where I retched very naturally and impulsively, and came back over to the circle feeling much more alert suddenly and a whole lot better in my stomach. I was attached to the circle now by a thin cord that ran from the pit of my stomach to the very center stone. I could see it and feel it very clearly and I marveled that I had not noticed such a thing before, for certainly it had always been there, of that I was sure. Julio suddenly bolted from his place at the drum and I could hear him retching as well. I slid over and took his place, picking up the paddle and falling into time easily with the other three. Soon Javier also jumped up to puke, and I could see a smile on Silvio's face as he watched them depart, but he kept banging the drum, Boom boom boom, Boom boom boom. I could now hear his accent on the first boom very clearly and followed his lead. Ernesto slid beside us and Julio was back now, so once again the four of us drummed the drum in unison, Boom boom boom, Boom boom boom while Javier watched from outside the circle.
More buttons were handed out, four at a time, always, though the amount we consumed I soon lost all count of. A deep, guttural sound came to my ears, and it took me several minutes to realize that it was from Silvio that the sound issued. The sound didn't seem to come from his mouth or throat, but from deep in his belly somewhere. Suddenly he dropped his paddle and held up his hand for us all to be silent. I saw a glow coming from his eyes that I had not seen before, almost as if they were on fire. He began to speak, and his words seemed like magic, whatever he said would appear around us as he spoke. My attention towards him was very intense and total, yet I could still focus upon everything else around me, Pedro sitting and watching us, Sarah quietly grazing in the distance, the fluffy white clouds drifting overhead; even though it was too dark to see them now, I knew they were there.
"In this place of power, secrets were revealed to the old ones," Silvio spoke. His words were like some strange and yet familiar liquid that I tasted with my ears. "They are all dead now, but their spirits remain here, tied to the Good Earth that is our Grandmother. In fact though, the old ones never really lived at all, for before our time here tonight, nothing existed, and when we leave here in the morning this place of power will go back to where it no longer exists." I noticed now that a glow was enveloping all the men and even Pedro the dog, who sat just outside the circle watching us all curiously. Pedro smiled when he saw me noticing him and he came closer to me. Silvio kept speaking and I could see the understanding of his words in Pedro's eyes.
"If you wish me to be Jesus Christ, I can be Christ!" Silvio was saying. I looked up at him and I saw a golden halo around his head, which seemed quite a natural thing since he was Christ tonight. "Do you see the lines of the world?" he asked nobody in particular, and I knew that I had been seeing them for sometime now. The cord attaching me to the center of the power place must have been a line of the world, of course! I began to giggle about this, and Silvio looked at me sternly. "This is no time for levity, my friend," he said, in what he must have meant to be a grave tone, but I couldn't help it. I burst into a long belly laugh and then time just seemed to stop for me.
I knew that something like time must be passing, but events of the rest of the night simply happened, and when looking back on them, I discovered that there was no way I could say when they happened, for there was no longer any notion of linear time to hold onto. It simply ceased to be. I played with Pedro, took my clothes off and ran naked through the dark valley, seeing and feeling everything. I ran over the sharp rocks with just my bare feet and suffered not a scratch or a cut. I jumped on Sarah and rode her bareback across the dark pathways, guiding her with just a nudge from my toes. I jumped from her back, and I saw the stars in the sky and the lines of the world reaching out to them, tying the whole universe together. I discovered that I could catch hold of these lines with something in my midsection, and pull myself up onto the high ledges that surrounded the valley without even touching the ground at all. My breath was the breath of the universe, and my heart beat became deep and resounding in my chest.
I saw movement in the undergrowth and a deer stepped out right in front of me! I could see every hair on it, its dark eyes looking right into me, and I could see that it had no fright whatsoever. I simply reached out and pulled it closer to me with the cord from my middle. It all seemed so natural to me that I was not surprised in the least. Silvio was suddenly behind me and put something in my hand. I looked at the sharp knife he had placed there and heard the liquid of his whispers in my ears, telling me that the deer had come of its own accord to feed us and provide our bodies with its strength, and that I should kill it now. I plunged the knife into a very bright spot on the deer's neck and warm blood gushed over my hand and arm and all over my body. I put my hand to my mouth and the blood was very sweet tasting. I could feel the life within it. Silvio instructed me to cut the deer and the sharp knife glided through the flesh with ease. Soon I lifted the liver from the deer's body, still warm, and without hesitation, took a bite from the raw flesh, then handed it to Silvio, who also bit into it before handing it on.
Sometime or another, or perhaps its better to say in some non time, we roasted the deer flesh over the fire in the center of the circle and ate. Silvio told me to cut strips of flesh from the deer and lay them on the rocks as an offering to the spirit that brought the deer to me. He told me that the deer would be my protector now. I told him I didn't understand, but he looked at me and said that I knew better. He told me he could see that I understood even though I didn't realize myself that I understood. I did as he said and cut strips of bloody flesh from the deer and laid them on a rock quite a distance across the valley. The stars were very bright all of a sudden and I stopped to look up at them and they held my gaze for what seemed like ages. As I breathed, they breathed. As my heart beat, the stars twinkled. I was totally mesmerized by the sound of my heart beat and focused on it intently.
Then I realized that what I was hearing was not my heart beat, but rather the drum being pounded very slowly. The beat of the drum seemed to call to me, and I found my way back to the circle of stones and laid down, exhausted. The sky was just starting to turn pink with the coming of the dawn, and I fell into a heavy slumber accented by very weird geometric shapes and designs that danced through my head. When I woke the sun was high overhead and I was alone. I sat up with a start, looking all around me for the others, but I was no longer in the circle of stones that I had went to sleep in. I seemed to be back on the primitive road I had walked on when I first entered the mountains, and all my belongings were by my side, though I myself lay naked in my bedroll.
I dressed quickly and ran around in circles, calling out for the others over and over, but no one answered me. I looked all around for them, but I was truly alone. I started to panic, but then I remembered the road had gone up, up, up, and so I picked up my backpack and bedroll and began walking down it, not really sure if it was really the right road or not, and if it was, how on earth I had been brought to it during my sleep. Within an hour, though, I had reached the spot where I had left my car. I looked at the sandy soil and could see that another vehicle had been here recently, but now there was only my car sitting there now, alone like me. I unlocked it and nervously checked the gas gauge, remembering the old man telling me that my gas had been siphoned, but the gauge told me that I still had three quarters of a tank, just as much as when I had arrived.
By now night was closing in, and I decided that I really needed a shower and a soft bed to sleep in tonight, so I drove back to the Interstate highway where I found a motel and rented a room. I smelled terrible, like I hadn't bathed in a month or more, and the shower felt wonderful! Afterward my shower, I dressed and went across the street to a little restaurant, where I had the special, meat loaf and potatoes, and purchased a Las Cruces newspaper. I looked at the date and tried to put it all together. It was January 30, 1995, which meant I had spend over two weeks in the mountains. Yet there was no way I could reconcile that with the flow of time as I had always known it. And I pondered mightily about how I had made it back to the logging road on my own, and where my Indian friends had gotten off to. I also remembered that I had forgotten to stop at the roadside stand that belonged to the man who had pointed me to my adventure and I felt kind of bad, but I was dead tired.
After eating, I went back to my motel room and sleep like a dead man, until the maid woke me at 11 am, telling me that I would have to pay for another night if I didn't leave now. I dressed and packed up and was heading for home within fifteen minutes. And I made up my mind that one day I would return to those mountains and try to sort out some of the mystery that haunted me. But, as life often does, I am still trying to make it back there four years later, and I sometimes wonder if I ever will.
The end.