West Desert Journal

I treasure your advice. You were the wisest of humans. No matter how things evolved, you knew faith and endurance worked. You were the toughest of the brave with those swollen hands of arthritis.

I’ll always remember your soft-spoken eyes, surrounded by wrinkles, hidden behind thick grandma glasses. I would hitch-hike from my town to yours, just to come and stay. That highway would stretch for miles, and I walked for hours, waiting for a diesel to stop.

Our surreal conversations would start in the early afternoon and head clear into the night. During summer the mocking birds impersonated every other song bird. Locusts buzzed outside your desert door. I crave those harvested summers-my imagination reflects them clearly.

It was just you and I dwelling on life. Each talk had a personality. We were Deep Thinkers. It was difficult to see you leave. Time and space have never been the same. That old house of yours still stands, with the family name; Millett, strewn across the front. I miss the chimes and cowbells that sung from your porch.

With Love, You’re Grandson.

Deep in the harmony of painted labyrinths,
and steeply slanted canyons-hidden in time,
I feel condemned or exalted in the silence.
As I traverse blue mountain ranges,
The lure of Canyon Country is very strong.
If absent from its stark beauty,
The desert intensifies within my mind.
I feel safe with loneliness, my curse.
Between Earth and sky, my wandering shadow moves.
Clouds shadows creep over gnarled plateaus, dreaming.
The wind softly sweeping, sings to my soul.
The desert hears my song, my spirit.
The murmur of sleepless coyotes shakes me with delight.
The darkness of the wilderness
quenches my ghostly sorrows.

The clock’s ticking; crickets singing
Monsoon rains are outside
eating August away.
Rivers flow down streets.

The town at night illuminates
cloud systems in dark purple and pink.
There are no stars out.
Dense humidity smells up the house,
making everything unbearable,
sleepless, hot.

Lightning slams the earth
scaring neighborhood dogs,
whining and pawing
at midnight doors.

My latest excursion was a trip to Lake Powell, with my uncle. We spent the weekend there, and I was amazed how much the water level has dropped, leaving behind a thick white bathtub ring from the previous water level. The skeletons of dead cottonwoods, crumbling sandstone cliffs, and bleached cliff dwellings are all that remain from the original beauty of Glen Canyon. The landscape looks like a cemetery of all things drowned by Lake Powell. I feel sad and angry; I feel a few rednecks robbed Glen Canyon of its beauty when deciding to construct the artificial Glen Canyon Dam. They also robbed my generation and those to come, of a beauty that we can only view in photographs, or hear from those who loved the original canyon. I want the Colorado River to flow freely, allowing it to sculpt every area without restraint.

After seeing what the reservoir has done to Glen Canyon, it should be drained. They say with 40 years, the natural elements may be able to restore Glen Canyon to some of its original beauty. However, I know that there is a local economy built on the foundations of Lake Powell. The National Park Service calls the entire contraption; Glen Canyon Recreation Area. One tourist company’s slogan reads: Lake Powell - America’s Natural Playground.

As you can see, I would probably side with the Glen Canyon Institute and Living Rivers, on decommissioning the dam, and permanently draining Lake Powell forever; but I merely hold an opinion on this matter. I cannot speak against those who depend upon Lake Powell for their livelihood, but people need to start respecting the land, instead of exploiting it. Many see the land for economical or recreational value, or something that needs to be conquered. But the land is not ours to be exploited.

There are thousands of gas-guzzling houseboats traversing the reservoir like the Mississippi. It is a demoralizing issue altogether, and I want to see the canyon restored to its previous shape.

Mother Earth will take care of everything. A massive flood could easily rip out the dam. But the current drought has caused Lake Powell to drop nearly 130 feet. If the current drought persists, the dam may become completely useless. And whether we realize it or not, humans are only a small part of the ‘big picture.’