La Viajera — Destination: Nowhere

For this walking exercise I already had an idea of what I was looking for.  As I have previously done a walking exercise about the desire line I really wanted to push myself to see the other side of which I had not previously focused on.  Last year when I did this exercise on the desire lines of people including myself and focused on the desire to cut corners or go off the beaten path.  This time around I knew I really wanted to focus on desire lines of nature or even how nature can sometimes rebel against mankind.  There were some images I had clearly in my mind, like a contained garden with plant life growing outside of the borders, but these images were hard to find here in town.  I feel that those are images I would have to create over time.  However, even though I had a rough time finding things that I immediately thought of for this assignment, I did have several pleasing surprises during my walk.  I discovered paths that nature have taken or currently are in ways that I had never taken notice of before.

Much to my surprise, right outside my front door I found a sort of desire line, although rather small.  It was an area where water had collected during the recent summer showers.  It had made a small line, or a mini ditch if you will, that was notably different than the surrounding area.

Another area of interest was along side the sidewalk.  I noticed that the roots of a tree had made their own path at the ground’s surface along the sidewalk.  I think it is really interesting how sometimes nature can mimic man made desire lines like sidewalks.  I find it even more interesting when they defy them, like when tree roots go underneath the sidewalk and come out the other side.  Unfortunately I did not witness any of these instances on this particular day.

When I wrote earlier about how there were desire lines in ways that I had never noticed before I was speaking of this image.  I came to the conclusion that we walk and drive across some of nature’s desire lines every day.  I presume that all of those little cracks in the asphalt that eventually form potholes in the roads were formed by water going in its own direction.

I went to the wash on First Avenue just south of River Road and explored the area   thoroughly for desire lines made by nature.  I realized that the wash itself could be considered a desire line that was at least started by nature.  There had to have been enough flowing water to hollow out the area and bring enough attention to it to turn it into a man made wash.

Underneath the overpass I found areas in the dirt that were clearly affected by water.  Winding patterns and cracking mud were evidence enough that water formed this area.

My absolute favorite desire line that I encountered was the plant growing out the side of the wall.  This was exactly the kind of desire line I had hoped to encounter.  This was nature’s desire line to break free from man made paths.  This plant was growing in a crack in the side of the wall, like it was creating its own path down into the wash.

Perhaps the most unexpected desire line I found was along this pathway.  As I was walking I noted all of these little wholes.  I decided to consider them more of a desire spot because I was sure that some wild animal had created them.  Little did I know I was going encounter several of these animals.  As I was walking around I found a snake in one of these “desire spots”—which caught me very much by surprise.  But what was even better was when I discovered that the majority of the holes I found were inhabited by little rodents of some kind (I really have no idea what they were but they were cute).  It was then that I realized that these spots really were desire lines, I just couldn’t see them.  They were underground paths that these little creatures had created.  I think this was a fantastic discovery and really opened my eyes to the possibilities of a desire line.

There is something curious about summer showers in the desert, especially the first of the season.  All rain during the summer heat in the desert has an unbelievable smell; yet, there is something uncanny about the very first that distinguishes it from all of the rest.  This scent is so unbelievably strong it is almost overwhelming.  It is this pungent smell that withdrew me from my apartment to venture out on my first walk.

Quite late in the evening I was relaxing in my living room watching a movie when the aroma of the first summer rain seeped in through the cracks of the doors into my home.  I literally stopped what I was doing, put some shoes on, left my apartment, and began to walk.  Where was my destination?  I had no clue.  But I knew my goal—to soak in every moment of this lovely experience because it only happens once.  There can only be one first summer rain in the desert.  Once it happens, there is nothing else quite like it until next year.

As I roamed my neighborhood I was overwhelmed by the scent of the freshly moistened earth.  The smell of wet dirt filled my nostrils as I breathed trying to take in every bit I could.  Really there is no other place to encounter such an exquisite experience.  I have been in desert rains elsewhere in the country but there is something to be said about the showers in Arizona.  Maybe it is because they are so far and few between that Arizonans cherish them so.  Or maybe it is because they create a temporarily foreign world for these residents in which to escape.  No matter what the reason, nothing and nowhere can quite compete with the special gifts of an Arizona shower in the summertime.

As I continued on my walk I began to focus on a different sense—sound.  It was very late at night so there were not too many that were outwardly apparent.  However, when I stopped for just a moment and really listened I discovered that it was actually very noisy at that hour.  The most obvious sound was the sprinkling rain tapping every surface around me.  It was interesting how each surface created a different noise.  The cement created more of a “pat pat” noise meanwhile the asphalt was a much less audible version of this sound.  As I walked by some cars the sound of the falling rain transformed into more of a “tap tap” sound.  The noisiest version of the rain came from the metal roofing all around me.  It was a cross between and “tap” and “ring or ding”.  I could only image how this would sound if it was raining just a little harder—or even if it was pouring.

The final sense that I focused on was touch.  Each little raindrop was like a little tactile surprise on my skin.  Even though I knew it was raining and was expecting these feelings there was something about each drop that seemed to catch me by surprise.  I was watching all of the drops fall around me and somehow I was being hit by them less frequently—or at least so it seemed.  I decided to take off my flip flops so that I could further these sensations of touch.  Walking barefoot seemed to heighten my sense of touch in relation to the rain because almost everywhere I stepped was wet.  It was an interesting experience to step from the wet ground into areas that were sheltered by the rainfall and then back onto the wet ground.

Everything about this walk seemed so surreal, from the sounds, the smells, and the feeling of the rain.  It seemed too early in the season to rain, but somehow it did.  But then in a flash it stopped and I retreated back inside having been glad to be a part of such a wonderful experience.