Sedona: Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

Pre-harvest moon rising behind Cathedral Rock, Sedona, AZ

Sedona brought me face to face with my demons EVERY DAY, and yet it proved to be full of magic, serendipity, and personal growth.

Descending through the winding Oak Creek Canyon pass into Sedona is like entering a painting. Massive, bulbous rock formations rise above on either side and blossom across the mesa, burning red and gold as they catch the firey light of the setting sun, glowing like so many ancient sentenals. Sedona carries an energy that is hard to describe. It is said to be a place of great power, and attracts psychics, healers, energy workers, and “constitutionalists” who carry concealed weapons to the bar, in a mind bending mash-up of tolerance and fear. I arrived full of excitement to explore this alien landscape, and pure terror of the tarantulas that were showing up in reviews on All Trails. The tarantulas, it turns out, were the least of my worries.

Sunset light from Sugarloaf Loop, Sedona, AZ

I was staying right near an amazing access point for Thunder Mountain, Chimney Rock, Coffee Pot, Teacup, and Sugarloaf trails. The first day, I had to force myself out through a visceral panic, I was so petrified of what creepy crawlies lay in wait. I hiked slowly, acutely aware of every foot fall, jumping at any movement of skittish lizard or blade of grass. Day two found me still terrified, but emboldened to try a scramble up Chimney Rock as recommended by my Kansas friends from the Santa Fe rooftop bar. I found a tiny path up the side of the formation that got steeper and steeper, until I realized I would have a hard time getting back down. I kept going any way, determined to reach the top, as my vertigo began to rear its head. I made it, craning my neck to see the great red rock towering above me and took a little loop around part of the base.

Chimney Rock, Sedona, AZ

I wasn’t sure how far to go, but the sun was dipping behind the mountain and I had a ways to get back to the trailhead, so I started making my way down a different path that seemed a bit more humane, at first. It turned out to be just as scrambly, and the “trail” petered out, as did the footprints, and I began to doubt the safety of my decision with every step. Luckily I had some collapsible hiking poles in my bag to stop me from sliding down the rocks, otherwise I might still be up there. Finally I heard some voices and followed them, surfing the rocky shale down the cliff back to the trail, heart pounding. Pumped with adrenaline from that little adventure, I no longer felt petrified of the giant spiders and actually enjoyed the rest of my hike immensely as I raced back against the settling dusk.

Thunder Mountain loop, Sedona, AZ

Facing The Dragon

Every morning I took my coffee in the front yard, contemplating the many faces of big Thunder Mountain. My housemate on the other side of the wall was a massage therapist and energy worker, and on a journey of his own. We had some lovely, connected morning chats, and he told me of the great power here: The Sleeping Dragon of Thunder Mountain embodying masculin energy, and the feminine couterpart, little Sugarloaf. I was really feeling the need for some masculin energy and kept opting for explorations of the Thunder Mountain side. Sugarloaf looked small and unimpressive in comparison.

The Sleeping Dragon, Thunder Mountain, Sedona, AZ

No sooner had I arrived in Sedona, than I learned that my father, who I hadn’t seen in 24 years, might be on his death bed. Needless to say, my relationship with the masculine was complicated. As I hiked, taking in the power of the Sleeping Dragon through angry tears, I contemplated if I was strong enough to see him after all this time, or if I even had a choice in the matter. My half brother called me multiple times a day with updates, going from bad to worse, and suddenly into open heart surgery, twice. If he died, and I had not given him an opportunity to see me again, would I feel like I missed my shot at some kind of closure? Is closure even possible when someone is fighting for their life? Is it my duty to go regardless of my history with the man?

Sunset behind Chimney Rock from Sugarloaf Summit, Sedona AZ

As I talked it out with different family members, feelings emerged that I thought long quelled. All of the anger, disappointment, and judgement reared their ugly heads and I saw that if I went, I would not be able to hold back the poison I felt bubbling out of my past trauma, and that would help no one. This was not about me. But supporting my brother seemed like a worthy cause. Where would I leave my car, full of all of my possessions, in a place where I knew no one if I went to help him? My serendipitous intensive in Mexico seemed further and further from a possibility. Even my plans to visit friends and family in New York seemed up in the air. I had to just sit with this uncomfortable and painful unknown and wait until my future revealed itself to me.

Divine light at Soldiers Pass cave, Sedona, AZ

Bad Decisions and Concealed Weapons

In the midst of all these tumultuous emotions, I felt like making some bad decisions, so I turned on Tinder. I know. I KNOW. It was a moment of weakness. I guess I was looking for a sweet distraction, but the universe had other plans. I won’t bore you with the details of the train wreck, but after several red flags, the evening culminated in this dude nearly getting in a fight with a very large bartender, having a paranoid PTSD episode in a club, pulling his knife and concealed GUN in the street (just waving it around to impress me, which I’m told is normal here), and admitting that he had KILLED PEOPLE FOR MONEY post Navy service, after which he wondered why I left. He honestly seemed like a nice guy before. OKAY, I HEAR YOU. Maybe I’m not ready to get back out there. This is certainly NOT the way. But did the lesson need to be quite so dramatic? My only option was to HIKE the pain away. So I did just that.

Hard earned view from Bell Rock Vortex, Sedona, AZ

Hike The Pain Away

Hiking in Sedona is not for the faint of heart. Besides the tarantulas, snakes, scorpions, and concealed weapons, the trails often take you onto sandy, sloping outcroppings of rock formations that angle down to certain doom high above the valley floor far below. The “trail” gets narrower and narrower until you are pressed agains the cliff clutching plants to keep from sliding off the edge. My vertigo kicked in hard on the aptly named Skidmark Trail that went onto the Coffeepot formation and kind of petered out when the trail just turned into a sheer sloping drop, as far as I could tell. I pressed on, forcing myself to be brave and try to go a little further before I turned tail and headed back to safety.

Sloping rocky edge of the “trail” off of Coffeepot formation, Sedona AZ

My next hiking adventure took me to my first vortex in Boynton Canyn. Sedona is known for its power vortexes, places with high iron content in the soil, combined with quartz deposits and lava tubes, where magnetic energy swirls in circles. They say you may sense the high magnetic field with a tingeling sensation on your skin, feelings of elation or calm. Look out for twisting trees where the energy is strongest. There are several of them and my AirBnB came with a helpful map. I climbed the rock formation and mediated for a moment, but I can’t say I really felt anything. I then continued on a beautiful shaded hike to the famed Subway Cave.

Subway Cave, Boynton Canyon, Sedona, AZ

On the way up, I met a woman and her boyfriend from San Francisco. Turns out she’s a salsera and when she told me her story, I could have sworn we had met before in the scene. She had even lived in Westlake and had owned one of the Doelger homes, like the one I just left a mere three months ago! Small world. The entrance to the cave required climbing this steep crack, or taking an easier way up that forces you to then walk around a sloping narrow lip of rocky outcrop around a corner that was a definite NO for me. But my new friends went before and after me and helped me through my moments of fear, then gave me a hand up the steepest bit. She and I sat on the far left edge looking out over a storybook view while her brave boyfriend went adventuring around the cliff edges to a nearby cave. We talked of love, death, and renewal. I felt lucky to have shared this moment with them. Indeed, I’m not sure I would have made it without them!

Catharsis In The Cathedral

One particularly emotional day, I hiked to the vortex at Cathedral Rock, which I had already decided NOT to do as it was considered HARD and required more tricky rock climbing. But my housemate recommended it as not to be missed, and I was feeling just crazy enough to try it. So I psyched myself up, tied my boots tight, and took off. I met a cool couple from Washington on the trail, who were on their way down, and they told me how to access the “saddle” where the vortex is strongest. I thanked them and trekked on my way, past beautiful swimming holes with a couple of relaxed people floating at Oak Creek, up a rocky switchback to the base of a long undulating ascent, once coastal sand dunes smoothed by an ancient sea and hardened by time.

Cathedral Rock and UFO!

Simply making it up to the “hard part” required three points of contact at most times. When I got to the steep crevice I’d feared, there was a woman having a panic attack, with her boyfriend trying to coach her through. I told her I would go first, narrating how I did it and telling her, and myself, to just put one foot in front of the other and not to look down. Before I knew it, I was up! There was still one more scramble to go, and I’d expected a crowd at this popular destination, but there was no one. I saw one German couple on their way down and asked them if they made it to the Saddle? They did not know about it, so I told them to follow me, and together we went left past the “End of Trail” sign, around the base of the rock spires, and up one more steep scramble, as instructed. I had a moment of difficulty but they helped me find a route I could do, and there we were, in a smooth bowl of rock with spires shooting up on three sides, opening out to a breathtaking view, like being inside a cathedral. They had to catch a shuttle and left quickly, so I got the whole place to myself for about 15 min.

Following the instructions of kind strangers to the Saddle, Cathedral Rock

I took my backpack off and lay my sweaty body down, like a starfish, feeling supported by the warm smooth rock. Looking up at the bluest sky, I saw little birds flitting about the tops of the rocks towering above and all around me. I felt a huge wave of emotion wash through me, and I just let the tears come in this sacred place. I felt all the anxiety I had been carrying well up and drain away. I had really pushed myself through fear to get here, it was a very challenging time with all the uncertainty and death of my father looming, and I just let it out. I saw a little rock squirrel climbing effortless up the vertical rock, which would have felt impossible for me to do, and thought, every being has similar parameters and totally different experiences of what is possible. Like the woman hyperventilating at the foot of the steep rock that I climbed fairly easily, in the end. Difficulty is often relative and so much in our minds. If you decide you can do something and just go for it, it’s amazing how often that indeed you CAN.

Sitting in the Saddle at Cathedral Rock Vortex, Sedona, AZ

On my way back down at sunset, I stopped to soak my hot, sandy feet in the cool waters of the creek. Refreshed and inspired, I made my way towards the parking lot, and saw the same Washington couple setting up a tripod in a field. They told me it was a night before the big harvest moon and would be an incredible moonrise over Cathedral Rock. How cool would it be to capture it on the day we all experienced that magical place! They promised to send me the photo, so we exchanged information. Because we sat chatting for a while, dark fell as I was walking back, and I made it to my car right as the enormous pre-harvest moon peaked over the shoulder of Cathedral Rock. How breathtaking was the maiden in the moon that night, so bright I had to squint to see her clearly. I drove home feeling great pride to have embraced the challenges and made it through. And the woman who was so scared? She made it too.

Sweet relief after Cathedral Rock

Harvest Moon

On my last night in Sedona, the night of the full harvest moon, I finally hiked up to little Sugarloaf. I had decided I was not yet ready to face my father, regardless of the circumstances, and that I needed to follow the path to Mexico. It was time to listen deep and embrace the wise feminine wisdom. On my way up, there he finally was, my fear embodied: A tarantula on the trail. He was as big as my hand, and moving very slowly towards a hole in the rocks. After two weeks of dread, I was more excited than scared. I had psyched myself up so much, the fear was just not overpowering any more. I walked right past my boogeyman, like the brave warrior woman I was becoming, and up to the top of long ignored lady Sugarloaf. Though small, she unexpectedly opened up to a 360 degree view of the valley, awash in rosy light, with the sun setting on one side, and the moon rising on the other. I had been so caught up with the seemingly more impressive Thunder Mountain that I almost missed this amazing beauty right at my doorstep. It struck me that the masculine may be impressive and alluring, but the feminine brings valuable perspective.

As I ascended to the top of Sugarloaf, who did I run into but the awesome Washington couple, camera set up once again to capture the harvest moonrise! I had recommended the area and here they were, right when I would welcome some friendly company. We talked of life and family, and hung out past a glorious sunset, watching the huge orb of light rise all yellow and gleaming over the mountains. Luckily they brought headlamps, and I brought my knowledge of the area after two weeks of exploring, and together we navigated the confusing trail to get safely down the mountain in the darkness.

I reflected back on how many times the help and companionship of kind strangers made this journey possible for me. When I needed encouragement or support, someone wonderful always appeared. Thanks to all of you who have been that kind face along the way, or that helping hand. These are the moments I cherish.