The Solitude Of The Mountains

In my native southeastern Arizona there is a ring of five mountain ranges surrounding what is called the Sulphur Springs Valley. The mountains have a lot of history in them. The Dragoon Mountain Range holds the "Cochise Stronghold." This is a rocky part of the mountain which the Apache Chief Cochise made his last bastion against the European invaders. His best friend, a white settler, buried his body secretly so that no one would ever find it, and no one has.

On the Eastern wall of the Valley is the Chiricahua mountains, another rocky and gorgeous range of mountains that the Apaches once called home. In one area, called Turkey Creek I like to go hike in. Me and my relatives drive as far up as possible and hike the trail there. However I always hike ahead and often leave the trail, following a creek bed or other such traceable feature until I am far enough away that I can't see, hear, or smell any traces of other human beings. I listen to the soft trickle of the water through the creek, the hum of bees going about their business, and the random chirping of the local birds. I watch the lizards go stoically about their business. I think I am the only human who has or ever will see those lizards. I am surrounded by mountains, trees, fauna, and clear-water creeks.

I lay back against a rock or a tree and I think, "I would be ok dying here." My body and self to become one with that beautiful nature where man rarely treads.

When I return to my relatives, I hear the noisy complaints and playful frolicking of my nieces and nephews, the familiar chatter between siblings, and perhaps a heartfelt story or piece of advice between generations. They're happy to see me return and greet me by name. But my brief, solitary commune with the mountains is something that is mine alone and can never be shared with another.
NefariousDrake NefariousDrake
22-25, M
Dec 8, 2012