Like excited children let loose
we tumbled out of rafts to eat and walk
below the Moenkopi pink red rock.
Stirred-up from the wind, watercolors settle us.
I'm at home like the first time I saw canyon country;
white puffs amidst the deep blue skies.
It takes a bit of courage to type those words. I'm not a poet. I'm a journalist.
But this past weekend, I acquired the courage when I joined 10 other women on a women's wilderness writing retreat "Writing the Divine Earth".
I was there not only to write about the experience, I was there for the experience. Because like those who write prose and poetry, nonfiction writers must play with words. The writing workshop gave us a "legitimate" excuse to leave family and responsibilities for the weekend, but I think what we all especially needed was wilderness.
Retired school teacher Terri Jones came on the trip. She's been working on a historical novel for children about the Ute Indians.
"I think when you get away with a group of women, not only do you lose all your daily chores, you gain faith, because a lot of people – myself included – think they don't really have a talent for writing. They go away realizing they can develop a talent for writing,
Jones said. "People need to hear our stories.
Wilderness bound
We loaded our vehicles Friday morning in Grand Junction and carpooled to Hittle Bottom, in Utah (halfway between Cisco and Moab) where we boarded two rafts for a day of floating and rowing down the Colorado River through an area called Professor Valley. The wind was so fierce that day that even our two experienced professional river runners seemed a little nervous. But at least when we were out on the water, we wouldn't have to deal with the blowing dirt.
Workshop leader Sandra Dorr organized the retreat with the Canyonlands Field Institute, a nonprofit organization that sponsors various environmental education programs. They provided the boatwomen, the campground – a site located between Fisher Towers and Castle Valley – and two men at camp who did all the cooking.
"I wanted women to be outside and to be utterly free. It's freedom that brings about creativity," Dorr said. "If we're even free of land, everything else drops behind."
A trip back in time
We stopped for lunch at a beach called Onion Creek where the CFI boatwomen Christie Hicks and Nicky Haroldsen prepared lunch while the rest of us painted with watercolors. The wind had subsided enough for us to be able to do this, although the sand in the paints added some texture. After lunch, Haroldsen led us on a hike, climbing to a point where we could overlook the Colorado River.
We sat down on an ancient stream bed atop a part of the Colorado Plateau while Haroldsen took us back in time – 500 million years ago when the area was a large inland basin that filled and receded with sea water. Eventually the sea evaporated, leaving behind vast sand dunes. Other deposits followed, leaving layers of rock formations – a deposition period of several million years.
"As the river cut deeper, it exposed more and more layers," Haroldsen said.
She pointed out a tiny evening primrose flower growing out of red dirt.
"It's white unless it's pollinated; then it blushes a rosy pink and dies," she said.
The primrose, the river, the canyon and rock formation have names such as Moenkopi and Kayenta, which often appeared in the poetry and prose that was written over the course of the weekend.
"The naturalists gave us language about the place," Dorr said. "The landscape became embodied in the writing."
The camp
The wind was still blowing by the time we arrived at Canyonlands Field Institute Professor Valley Field Camp where we unpacked our gear into teepees where we slept. Two larger tents were on the premises as well. One was the kitchen, where the lights are solar-powered and the refrigerator and stove run on propane.
We gathered in the yurt each morning for an hour of yoga and afternoon writing workshops.
Most of the women on the trip practice yoga regularly. At least a couple of them teach it. Dorr specifically invited Susan Crosby, her teacher at Yoga West, to come and lead yoga sessions first thing in the morning. An hour of mindful stretching really is a good way to start the day.
Crosby liked to say she wasn't herself a writer, but you wouldn't know it after listening to her read a poem – a tribute to her mother – around the campfire Saturday night.
"I love the way Sandy inspires writing. She guides you with readings and exercises and invites you to reach into your subconscious and you pull out images, and paint pictures with words," Crosby said. "You discover things you didn't know was there."
It's the second retreat where Crosby taught yoga, and discovered herself an unexpected writer.
"Everyone has something to say, and good ways to say it," Jones said.
A weekend of inspiration
Famished by the wind and the river, we gratefully strolled over to the kitchen yurt where CFI cook Don Priday described our first evening's meal – vegetarian lasagna, salad, French bread; and for dessert – fresh fruit dipped in melted chocolate – like an elegant maitre'd in a fancy restaurant.
Canyonlands Field Institute has a tradition of asking groups to circle round and offer grace, or a reading of some sort before meals. The bunch of writers that we were, we had no shortage of inspirational readings that weekend; writings from people like Terri Tempest Williams, Mary Oliver and Rumi – to name a few.
On Saturday after yoga, a writing session and lunch, all of us set out on a 10-mile round trip hike following Professor Creek through a winding red rock canyon to a spot where two waterfalls spill from the sides of a huge boulder. Assistant CFI cook Adam Sherman graciously offered to accompany us, sharing his canyon lore.
Martha McCoy moved to Grand Junction three years ago from Dallas where she taught at the Art Institute. This was her second time experiencing the southeastern Utah desert.
"This place was like a womb," McCoy said. "The writing helps my painting – it gives you ideas for the visual painting."
We reluctantly opted out of a second hike on Sunday. We didn't want to crowd the morning before leaving to go back home. Between breakfast and lunch we sat outside at the picnic tables for our final writing workshop. As we headed back to Grand Junction along the river road, past Cisco, an eagle soared overhead.
