Indin Corn

In early memory
Mission music
Was ringing round my nursery door
I said take this child, lord
From the Apache Reservation
Give him the wings to fly through harmony
And he wont bother you no more

This is the story of how we begin to remember
This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein
After the dream of falling and calling your name out
These are the roots of rhythm
And the roots of rhythm remain


paul simon

The God of All Ropers gigged me for not including the recipe for Indin Corn which was served at our barbecue. It's something that is easy for me to forget to talk about, but impossible to neglect. This is done with green corn. To us green corn is just picked ears that haven't been dried prior to making meal or flour. Ya'll call it corn on the cob.

Even more than other vegetables and fruits corn must be savored as fresh as possible. At the instant of picking the sugars begin to degrade into starches and the flavor is diminished. The best way, if you can't grow your own, is to buy it from a farmer's market or stand. If you're one of those poor neglected city folks hassle your produce guy at the supermarket to find out when the stuff was sent in.

Remember, fresher is better.

Take the corn and strip back the husks, leaving the entire outer husk in place at the base of the ear. Losing some of the inner husk won't hurt anything but you need to have a complete cover of husk for this to work right. Strip off the cornsilk and sprinkle the ears with a little lime juice. Then give them a light dusting with cayenne pepper or chili powder (according to your own taste, remember you can always add more peppers, but they are impossible to remove). Then give the ear a good spritzing with a spray bottle fillied with olive oil. Bring the husks back up and tie the top off with a piece of twine or, if you are like me and save them, use the little tie thingies from a bread bag to hold the husks in place.

Stick them in a bucket or tub of water for at least two hours to saturate the cornhusks.

To cook, put them on the grill and turn them so that the husk chars evenly. You want black charcoal. Totally burnt. The corn inside will be perfectly steamed, still a bit crunchy and bursting with contrasts in flavor and texture.

3B's

Medicine Gifts (epilogue to Superstition Ride)

Silas ended up staying the entire week. He hung out by the pool, he flirted with the Pool Girls, he made me cook for him. A lot.

And we talked. We went over the events of the past week, a lot of processing of the sweat lodge ceremony. One point he kept making over and over was that I tend to get wrapped up in what's going on in Washington to the detriment of things happening right in front of me, that directly concern those around me. I have determined to spend much more energy on events that I can directly influence.

One thing that kept springing up regarding my wartime experiences is to try and come to terms with what might be the single most frightening aspect of the war.

How much I loved it.

I loved the thrill of combat. I would reach a place that I called "the zone" where I could taste metal in my mouth, I could hear the blood singing in my veins, where the world would slow down to the point of a slow-motion movie, yet, I was at regular speed. I felt like a god. I was also never before or since to form bonds with people like the ones that I formed with the folks who shared the line with me. Not any of my wives, my immediate family, my children, nothing came close. It might be one of the reasons that I have been through four divorces. It might be why I prefer to live alone rather than have to make space for a relationship that seems to be missing something. I don't know. I'm not trying to make a lot of judgement calls here. It's hard enough to honestly acknowledge how things are right now. I'm sure the process work will be a long time running.

There was a week's worth of work piled up. I slogged through like a trouper. There was also my big party to get ready for.

NEWS FLASH REGARDING THE POOL GIRLS:
The beautiful Pool Girls are expecting their first child. They had floated a trial balloon to me about the possibility of my being the sperm donor, but I politely declined because I dreaded complicating our relationship. I don't do complicated well at all. They, along with their announcement told me that they decided to name the child after me. I asked "What if it's a girl? Stephanie? That was my 3rdX's name, it wouldn't do at all." Blonde Pool Girl (who is carrying the child) said "We thought about that. I remembered one of the first times we talked and I called you a harpist. You told me that the preferred term in Ireland was harper. So we decided that we are going to name the child Harper. After you." I thanked them profusely and have promised to stand as both a godfather, and an Apache Uncle.

My end of the menu was to make Blackened Rib Eyes, Two Shaker Lemon Pies, Killer Ass Cherry/Raspberry Pie, and White Chocolate Truffles at the special request of Silas. The rest of the food was brought by the other guests and we were not lacking anything.

We did our exchanging of medicine gifts. The Germans splurged to get Silas a beautiful Hudson Bay Blanket, four cartons of Lucy Strikes, and a new Black Stetson. He was thrilled and so were they to see their gifts so well received.

Schatzie brought me a Navajo saddle blanket. She fell in absolute love with Casey, my arab stallion. She rides like a cossack. She does total justice to my English style Hermes saddle that I almost never use because of my crappy knees. She also told me what she saw in the dream round. She had a vision of herself standing in Apache Pass where Tsebitsidah Ma'atose made her stand. Silas and I promised to help her make the trip sometime in the future.

Silas is braiding me another reata to replace the one that I gave to The God of All Ropers.

I am getting ready for yet another road gig. I'll be mostly incommunicado for about ten days. Schatzie and Ingrid are going to stay here to feed the horses and shovel poop.

Be well my friends. Be at peace with yourselves and the world.

3B's

Superstition Ride - - - Day 4 - - - (wagons ho)

I open my eyes to find myself alone. I figure that must mean The God of All Ropers has arrived. From the mouth of the cave I see him about a quarter mile away. He's brought a beautiful, Conestoga rig, pulled by two strapping mules. For those you don't know this little tidbit, it was mules who really were the engine of exploration and settlement by the white folks out here. Horses were far too delicate for the heavy work of farming and pulling wagons. The mountain men like Bridger, and Carson all swore by mules for their riding. More surefooted, tougher, able to eat rougher forage. These are a couple of beauties. There are big, balloon tires on the wagon instead of the iron rimmed wooden ones, that's a very nice touch which I'm sure will help smooth the ride. I walk down to where the Germans and Silas are waiting and prepare to make introductions.

Right after I have introduced Silas, before I can say anything about our German friends, The God of All Ropers takes over, in what, to my ears sounds like pretty damned good German. He sees the look of astonishment on my face and he says "My family came from western Missouri, they were all squareheads. I grew up speaking German with my grandpa Kirchenschlager who was from Hesse." The Germans are totally transported by the circumstance of seeing this guy who looks like the spiritual son of Hopalong Cassidy who drives up in a covered wagon and starts out speaking German.

Without any further ado he breaks out with the goodies. There is a five gallon water cooler, and a big ice chest that is full of cantelope and watermelon and big bottles of Gatorade. These are torn into greedily by all of us. I tell my friend and neighbor that after three days of hardtack and jerky this is one of the most welcome sights that I could dream of. He smiles and points to the bootbox at the rear of the wagon and says "I brought a couple salt blocks too."

This really excites the horses. You'd have thought it was made of cotton candy. I thank him again. He tries to play it down, being a rough tough man of the west and all, but I don't allow him to minimize what he has done for us. I tell him that if he hadn't been able to come out we most likely would have had to call the rescue units out. He mutters some stuff about his wife giving him crap about laying around the house all day and wanting to give a workout to his new mule team. I admire them appropriately. He tells me they are "Walking Mules" meaning the horse component of their heritage comes from Tennesee Walkers. I ask him if he wants to unhitch them to take them to the water. He says no, they aren't all that trustworthy yet but he's got some canvas nosebuckets that they would love to have filled.

I ask him if he happens to have a spare bridle laying around his gear box, because I'm figuring that since we have a wagon and all it would be a nice break for Sally to have the pack saddle ride in the wagon, but with a bridle she could manage a bareback rider. He thinks a bit and says no, he didn't bring any gear like that. Silas hears this exchange and chuckles. He points over to my McClellan rig and says "Bring me that reata when you're ready to rig her up. I'll tie up a bosal." This intrigues the hell out of The God of All Ropers. He wants to see this done. He remarks that a lot of the folks in the western riding arenas are starting to come back to the mecate and bosal rig. That the horses seem to love it.

We water the mules and I start washing the mud off the horses. Schatzie and The God of All Ropers join me in this. We get them scrubbed and dried while Hans, Eva and Silas bring down our stuff from the cave. In good time we are loaded up and ready. It's still pretty hot but the sun has almost gone behind the face of Superstition Mountain and we are in blessed shade, rested and ready. I ask Schatzie which horse she would like to ride and she points to Sally. I give her a leg up and soon we are on our way.

The rest of the ride out is like a rolling party. All told it takes about two and a half hours but it flies swiftly from us. We reach the trailhead without a hitch. The Germans have a reunion with their friend from ASU who has come to pick them up. Introductions are made all around and more invitations to my place for next week are given out. When I take the McClellan off of Rosalita I toss it into the back of my cousin's pickup that Silas was driving. I tell him that I am grateful he came out to find me, that the next time he borrows a horse he shouldn't have to borrow a saddle too. I take the bosal Silas tied off Sally and hand it over to The God of All Ropers saying again that he came in the nick of time, just like the cavalry always used to do in the movies. He admires the six strand braided rawhide reata and says some cliche stuff like "Shucks buddy, wasn't nothing, you'da done the same." He says that Silas has promised to teach him how to tie these up next week.

Before they take off to drive around the wilderness area and get to their car I explain to the Germans about the concept of the medicine gift. How when we feel a spiritual debt to someone we make a gesture of thanks by small gifts. I tell them that the traditional healers like Silas will only accept gifts of tobacco, food, and clothing for their services. We exchange phone numbers and goodbyes. I ask Hans how restrictive a vegetarian he is, if things like dairy products or eggs are OK with him. He gives me a puzzled look and I say "Menu dude. Menu. When you're a guest in my house I want to serve you food you will eat with gusto." He laughs and says that some of his friends call him "Frenchy" because of his love for cheese. I tell him that I have some beautiful eggplant growing in my truckpatch and I'm leaning toward Moussaka. He beams. Schatzie comes over and says "How can we ever thank you?" I start to mumble as bad as The God of All Ropers did with me and am finally able to spit out something along the lines of "Just say 'Thank you masked man' as you drive off."

It's obvious that she doesn't get this bit of western cultural history but The God of All Ropers and Silas are about to die laughing.

As they are about to leave Schatzie runs back over to me gives a quick hug and a peck on the cheek and says in her delightful German accent "Danke mask-ed man." I say "Weren't nothin' little lady" and blush bright red.

I finish helping getting the horses and mules trailered and am about to walk back to my truck when Silas says "I'll just follow you to your place, I don't feel like driving all the way up to the rez tonight. Your cousin won't miss the truck for a few more days will he?" I say of course not, I would be honored to have him stay as long as he wishes.

The God of All Ropers says "We're standing around burnin' daylight cowpokes."

Again, the Arizona sunset paints a brilliant final frame to the day.

Big Brass Blog

Superstition Ride - - - Day 4 (morning)

I keep puttering about, fussing over the dwindling stores of food, making sure that the water bags are completely filled and ready. I go through each of the panniers to see if there are things that would not cause any problem to discard. Sally being here to carry the water and the first aid supplies is the biggest thing we have going for ourselves and since she's already going to be pulling more than her fair share I don't want that to be an ounce extra. I take the alfalfa pellets, which haven't been touched yet, over to where the three horses are standing and put them out. I know that there's half a bale of timothy hay in the trailer at the end of the walk, along with a full tank of water. I take the remaining coffee beans out and begin to grind away. I don't light a fire though. I use the little sterno stove and put the finished product into a thermal jug for when the others wake up. Breakfast is going to be light, canned peaches, dried fruit, a little jerky, hardtack and coffee.

Silas smells the coffee and wanders over to where I am. I hand him a steaming mug and the last can of Eagle Brand. He chuckles triumphantly. I take out the jar of peaches and pass it to him. He busies himself slurping coffee, making a canned peaches sandwich with the hardtack. For the enthusiasm he shows it could have been beluga caviar on blini chased by champagne.

The Germans wake up one by one. Pretty soon we are all sitting and eating away. I tell them my plans for the walk. Since Schatzie is a proven rider she can take a turn riding Rosalita with Hans riding double behind. Ingrid is still too footsore to do any walking and can ride behind Silas. The Germans give me a concerned look. They have seen me limp and got a pretty good look at the surgical scars and pronounced thinness of my left leg last night. I tell them not to worry, by walking alongside Sally and the holding on the pack saddle I should be able to keep up and take my full turn walking.

I tell them that there are three very good sources of water along the trail and that by going from source to source at a slow and steady pace we should be able to reach the end of the trail without a hitch. I also tell them that it is already feeling like a scorcher and that they should be aware of the signs of heat stroke and exhaustion. I say there aren't any points given for style on a walk like this. We'll either make it or we'll stop and call for help. I don't tell them about the God of All Ropers coming with a wagon full of water and other goodies.

When we are done I pass out long sleeved shirts for the Germans to wear over their clothes. Anything to keep the sun off is a good thing here. The burlap that used to hold the alfalfa pellets gets cut up into sheets to make neckflaps down the back. It will also take a good soaking of water to keep body temps down.

The horses don't even wait to be called in. They're ready to go. I get Rosalita and Sally tacked out while Schatzie rigs up Ban Fai for Silas. After one last check to make sure everything is ready to go Schatzie hops up on Rosalita and I help Hans up to sit behind. He's a rookie so we give him a quick course on how to sit, straight but relaxed. I show him where to put his hands on the back of the saddle so that he doesn't throw Schatzie's balance off. Then I go over to Sally and show Eva how to hold on to the protrusions on the pack saddle. This will keep the walking easy on us. We start out keeping a nice steady pace. Rosalita is a little concerned to know that I'm there but not riding her. Schatzie is a good enough rider that she keeps everything managed. We keep reminding Hans to relax. Silas comes by Sally and tells Eva that she is quiet enough to be an Apache. She looks down at the ground blushing.

After about ninety minutes of good walking I tell Schatzie that it's time to switch off the riders. While we stop I give each of the horses a decent drink and a licorice bit. They are holding up fine so far, although it is nowhere near as hot as it will be. The air is still and feels heavy. The canyon walls are still blocking direct sun but in about half an hour or so that will change. Before I mount I show Hans and Schatzie how to hold on to the pack saddle and tell them that the old Apache used to outrace their enemies by having four warriors on foot and holding on to each horse. Geronimo was a master of that tactic and used it to devil both the American and Mexican armies. It allowed his light infantry to have even more range than cavalry because it is much less taxing on the horses. When we start out again I can see the surprise on their faces at how much easier it is for them to walk beside the horse at a faster pace than they would be able to maintain by themselves.

I remind them to keep sipping at their water. Much like the way we are covering our ground, we want our water consumption to be constant and moderate. I remind them that if anyone stops sweating we need to stop immediately. Silas jokes that things have certainly changed. He tells them that when he was a boy one of the rites of passage for an eight year old being taken into a warrior society was to run nearly ten miles while holding a mouthfull of water. I tell them that it has changed for the miltary too. They have a huge fixation on the concept of hydration now that wasn't a part of my war. I once told a cherry who wanted a piss break that the fact of his having piss to spare proved I wasn't driving the pace hard enough.

Hans wonders aloud about how long ago it would have been where it wouldn't have been safe for four white people to walk these hills. Silas says that his grandfather and one of his grandfather's brothers were part of the Apache scouts who hunted Geronimo. I tell them that Germonimo's brother-in-law was my great-great-great-grandfater. I also tell them that White Mountain Apaches were one of the first southwestern nations to ally with the Americans. While we would have been safe for them, the Chiricauhua, the Tonto, the Mescalero, Mimbreno, Tewa, Jicarilla, Tarahumara, and most other desert and mountain nations would have skinned their backs for moccasin soles.

The Germans are very interested in learning about the differences among the nations of the southwest. I tell them that it is really no different from Europe. There isn't a typical Indian culture. We all have our distinctions and differences. I joke that you wouldn't expect Bavarians to act like or even get along with Belgians, to say nothing of the French be they Gascon or Burgundian. I joke that the Souix had better press agents than the Apaches and Navajo and have convinced Kevin Costner and the rest of the white people that they are the only Indians in the world. Silas interjects that if the Lakota were so great the Apaches would have let them stay in Arizona.

The banter stays light and easy. We reach the first water in good shape. Both people and critters. There is a stand of palo verde trees which is great shade. Schatzie and I take the saddles off the horses and turn them out to wallow in the water, while we all sit in the shade and drink our fill of water. I pass out little hunks of jerky, except for Hans, who gets a saladido, to help replenish salt loss. Hans showed a big measure of gallantry when we dismount by going over to Ban Fai and taking Ingrid into his arms. He then carried her to the shade so that she wouldn't have to walk on her still sore feet. Silas goes over to a blooming prickley pear and nips flowers for all the girls. When the horses leave the water Schatzie and I towl them off with blankets, give them a good rub and brushing, then it's hoof picks and a thorough check over. While Schatzie is checking Sally's feet we all get a laugh because Sally takes ahold of her shirttail and when Schatzie goes to move back to the horse's back she is held fast. Sally has always had one of the best senses of humor you could find in a horse.

As we start out again Silas comes over to where Eva and I are walking alongside Sally and says to Eva "I bet you are a singer. Am I right?" Ingrid gives her up as a music major. Eva begins to sing a German song that her friends all know. She has a gorgeous soprano.

The sun is about to make its presence known, it is probably close to 100° by now and it's only around ten in the morning. Our little stroll is about to turn into a trudge.

3B's

Superstition Ride - - -Day 3 (into the dream - - - out into the sun)

Schatzie is wavering on whether or not to re-enter the lodge for the last round. I tell her that this particular sweat has lasted much longer and been more grueling than the normal ceremony because of what we have been trying to do. She guzzles water, pours some over her head and communes with her inner German. She brightens up and says "I want a dream."

Silas sets me to bringing out the rocks that are no longer holding any heat. This is more difficult than you might expect, they are not exactly sorted by degree, and it is murderously dark inside but I do the best that I can. We bring four loads of rocks to bring the new count to twenty and go inside.

While Silas pours the water he is saying a twenty count blessing. It has always reminded me of the old child's bedtime prayer when I didn't really want to call it a night and would sit there and individually list every person I knew or had read about to be the object of God's blessing that night. Silas is pretty much blasting through it for the sake of form. Then he begins to sing in a low voice. I relax and feel myself slipping into the dream.

On a rational level I know that this is mainly a cumulative effect of dehydration and the jacking up of the body's core temperature to past extreme fever levels. Go ahead and call it hallucination if you want. It won't matter to me in the slightest. I know vision when I see it and that is where I go this time.

It starts almost like those hyperkinetic films we used to think were so cutting edge back in the 60's and 70's. Robert Evans on coke editing. I see all manner of images flashing and begin to feel a little dizzy so I lay down on my side facing the heap of steaming sizzling rocks where Silas still sings and pours. Without getting specific and betraying the ethics of the ceremony I am able to tell you that in a space of time that I have no rational sense of I see clearly and face several things. Things like the fact that there's no particular shame in my failing to halt the war in Iraq all by myself. I've been taking the deaths here at home personally because I dedicated so much time and effort toward bringing them home. I certainly expected more from the people I helped get seats in Congress than they have given. Still, personal responsibility is misplaced here. I'm also far more at peace with the last of my kids moving out into the world and on with his life. It's a great thing to see, and will be a joy to watch as he takes his own life in his own hands. He's a great kid, a much better kid than I've ever been a father. He's known what he wanted to do and be since he was in junior high and he is by god going to do it. He lets me help out a little, but he is making sure that when his goals are archieved they are his and his alone. I respect that, even all the while fighting my natural instinct which is to meddle and fix. Most importantly I arrive at a place of applying my focus far more locally. There are still problems on my reservation, there are kids there who need our attention. Along with my cousin and the other Raven Soldiers there are things we can do to make that better. I have a daughter who is about to enter her third year of Med School and is thinking seriously about going to the rez to practice when she's finished with her training. I can help her make that happen and have promised as much. There's far more, some of it is still burbling around the fringes of my conscious thought.

I don't know if we were in for six minutes or for six hours, time perception was something that had disappeared in the steam. I vaguely remember feeling a blast of cooler air coming from the opening when the blanket was removed. I went from the lodge to the creek and simply went down into the snow melt run off face first. At one point I sat up out of the water and was amazed to see the water steaming off of my shoulders. Hans calls out to me and offers one of the water bags. I drink greedily. Then I remember a couple of prizes that are hidden in the panniers of the pack saddle. I spend some more time to bring my body temperature a little closer to human life and go up to grab two lemons and a few saladidos. I fix them both up and bring one to Schatzie and show her how to suck the salty lemon juice out of it. She is transported by this. I look around for Silas and see him off by himself. Sitting in the moonlight with a serene look of contentment. I squeeze off the last of the lemon juice and head back to the creek. I finally begin to feel the cold and decide that it's time to get myself dressed.

I ask Hans if he has managed to arrange someone to meet them at the trailhead where our things are and he nods happily. I tell him that we should be up and out of here at first light. I remind him that the temperature tomorrow might easily reach 40 degrees Celsius and that an early start is imperative if we are to cover the ground we need to cover. I also have a flash of inspiration. I take the satphone and make a clandestine call in to the God of All Ropers. I explain the situation and ask him if there's any chance of his bringing his tandem horse wagon down the trail in the morning. He thinks about this, for a whole 3 seconds, before saying "Of course, it will be a good workout for the pulling team." He promises to have the rig rolling our direction pretty soon after dawn. Now I'm really starting to relax about trying to walk the Germans out without calling in the rescue folks. I know that Ingrid is still footsore, they haven't really been able to replenish much more than water from their ordeal of the day before. Still, they're young and strong, and if a couple of old farts like Silas and I can make it they should be able to do the same. Then I remind myself that Silas and I were both born and raised in this desert and there isn't anything even close to it in Germany. Though with the possiblity of 112° heat and, and, then I get a grip and decide that I will simply watch them closely for signs of trouble, and force the stop if I begin to doubt in the slightest.

When I get back to the camp I realize that I haven't the slightest idea of the time and it really doesn't matter. There's plenty of work to be done. I don't know how the rest of you camp, but for me it's about minimizing the impact of my visit. Pulling the cattails and harvesting the cactus stuff was not something that I would normally do, if it wasn't for needing them to treat an injury I would not have done it. Still, there are many things to do. I begin by putting out the fire that we used for the sweat. When it has cooled off enough to handle the things I begin to scatter the ashes about. There's no need to just leave them in a bunch so that a rain storm can turn out a run off of lye. The stones get dispersed too. Hans lifts his head from his blankets even though I'm seriously trying to be as quiet as possible. I answer his questioning look with "Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints." He goes back to sleep.

I see Silas still off by himself. He has a pipe out and is smoking something that smells noxious and the smoke looks and feels positively greasy. I don't even ask. I return to my tasks, mulling over the best way for us all to be able to walk out. I also remember in my planning that the desert has a vote in all of this and must be listened to and attended. I don't view the desert as hostile or something that comes after humans with any bad intentions. I quit looking at nature that way in Viet Nam. I was still a cherry, new to the whole thing and was on a pretty hard trek through the boonies. We had to pause, strip and take the leeches off each other for what seemed like the forty'leventh time that day and I started to seriously freak. I started to shiver, despite the jungle heat and was saying stupid shit like "this jungle's out to get me. . ." A grizzled old Cambodian mercenary came over to me and laid his rough hand on my shoulder gently. He whispered "Jungle no get you. Jungle no care." It doesn't mean that I take the danger and risks of this place lightly though. The desert, especially during a sudden hot shock can kill as impersonally and blithely as a teen aged crackhead. And nearly as suddenly. We have some serious miles to cover in the morning. Desert miles. There are people who have entrusted themselves to me. I am a Raven soldier, I carry their souls in my quiver. I promise myself to be kind, and careful.

3B's

Superstition Ride - - -Day 3 (18 Coyotes)

This is another Apache thing. Many times, rather than saying something directly, or making an interpretation of things like my answers to the questions he has asked, an elder like Silas will launch into, or ask the person they are talking with, to tell one of the stories of our history. Usually the lesson, or what they would have said is contained in the narrative.

I tell Schatzie that the story I am about to tell is not, for the most part, legend, but oral history. This isn't a Coyote story from the land where animals talk and stuff. This is a part of our history. It has been painted on skins and canyon walls. It has been told in the winter lodges and repeated in the councils.

Tsebitzidah Ma'atose(18 Coyotes) was a healer and a leader. She had proven herself many times in both peace and war. Two of her sons had married into other bands of the Apache and had also become well known and respected by those people. Her husband came from the Tewa band and was both a leader in times of war and a gentle protector of the people.

Traders and other travelers had been bringing stories from the lands of the south that there were new people in the country. We now know that they were the Spanish people, but back then all that anybody knew was that they had terrible weapons and followed powerful gods. For a while the stories were about how they had brought down the tribes of the Maya and Aztec. Soon the stories turned into people fleeing the advances of the new ones.

Now the stories said that they were coming our way. One of the sons of 18 Coyotes who had married to the Chiricauhua people came to his mother and asked that she bring food, healers, and warriors south to them because the Spanish with horses and cannon were very close.

When the White Mountain people got to the Chiricauhua stronghold in the Dragoon Mountains they found that something had arrived before the Spanish. It was called "Red Flower Sickness" (probably smallpox) and there was nothing in the knowledge or arts of the healers that could stop its ravages. While the disease raged through the people, the Spanish (we now know that they were led by the warrior priest Marcos De Niza) advanced through the lands of the Tohono O'odham near what is now Tucson.

18 Coyotes understood some hard truths all at once. She knew that the sickness traveled with people. She gathered everyone together and told them that those who were not sick needed to move themselves at least two days walk from where they were. That they should take nothing with them. Not clothing, blankets, clothes or anything that had ever been around one of the sick. Every two days the people who left should camp and wait for two days. Each time this happened those who were sick needed to leave the main body of the people and come back to this place. She asked that when they arrived in the White Mountains that they tell the stories of what had been tried by the healers here to cope with the new sickness and to tell them that the people who were sick and stayed behind would fight the Spanish to slow them down. She said that runners should be sent to the Dineh people of Canyon de Chelly, and to the Hopi people of the mesa Pueblos.

Once the people who were still healthy had left 18 Coyotes gathered the ones who remained and she told them:

"We who remain here are already dead. We have taken this new sickness inside of us. There is nothing for us to do but to try and stop these new people for as long as we can so that our people might find a way to escape them."

All agreed and a place was chosen that is now called Apache Pass. It is a very high and narrow canyon that has been easily defended for as long as the Chiricauhua have been a distinct people. Those who were too sick to move easily were placed along the high points of the pass and great stones and other things were piled up beside where they lay. They were told that if they were still alive when the Spanish soldiers came through this place that they should send down the stones and logs on top of them. Those who were stronger were divided into bands that laid ambush zones where archers, lancers, and slingers would leap out upon the Spanish as they passed and kill as many of them as they could, along with their animals.

The battle of Apache Pass lasted for eight days. For eight days the Spanish paid with nearly two lives for each step they took through the pass. They still moved forward though. At the place where the pass gives way to the high plateau of pine and ample water 18 Coyotes built a big trap of fresh pine logs that were dripping with its volatile sap that ran for many yards along each side of the canyon. When the Spanish were almost through she lit these on fire and sent them down to the bottom of the pass. The fire was enormous. It killed many Spanish. It was still burning when 18 Coyotes and the rest of her Army of the Dead were finally taken by the disease.

The Spanish fell back to Tucson. They very rarely came much farther north after that. They were insatiable in their lust for gold and would send men up into the mountains to look for it. Sometimes they would find it and send the army and its priests to make slaves of the people nearby to work until the gold or silver was gone. Then they would leave. They found that Apaches make very bad slaves and even worse enemies.

After a few generations the Chiricauhua people went back to their home in the Dragoons. They found many ravens at the site of the battle. Since that time the warriors who dedicate themselves to the protection of our people, who stay behind in wartime to defend our elders and our children against attack have taken the Raven as their emblem.

When I finish this story Silas says to Schatzie "Our friend here is a Raven Soldier, he just forgets that from time to time."

Then he says that we need to go get some new rocks from the fire.

3B's

Superstition Ride - - -Day 3 (sweat lodge)

When I get to the rest of the group I see that Ingrid is presiding over a fire built over a good number of stones. Since we're so close to the water I can only hope that there aren't any explosions in the lodge. That sucks. But, Silas has this thing where he says he chooses the stones that speak their desire to him. OK. I just hope none of the desires involved a sense of humor or a wish to burn people with flying chunks.

Silas is dressed traditionally too. He is also wearing an exquisite turquoise pendant. Not the treated and formed from jeweler's dust crap they sell at the roadside stands, but big, gorgeous chunks of rock twisted into a rope the thickness of a baby's arm, and a healthy baby at that. He is seated near the fire and the cooking stones and has his pipe bag and accessories out in front of him. He points to the ground in front of him and I go and sit. Silas takes an old chipped pottery bowl that is filled with a smudge mixture. He takes small coal from the fire and drops it into the bowl. He fans this with an golden eagle feather until the smoke is billowing. Up the left side, circle the head, down the right side, up the center, washing the smoke over himself with the feather. He passes the bowl to me and I do the same. I look over at our German friends and then give an inquiring look at Silas. He smiles and nods. I walk in front of them, one by one, and repeat the smudge procedure. I tell them that the mixture we are using is sage, lavender, and cedar. Hans asks me why we do it and I say for the same reason Catholics burn incense. He asks about the eagle feather and I tell him that to us the golden eagle represents truth. That for us, truth is a living thing. I also say that the feathers themselves have no power, they are used as visible reminders of things. I also tell him that he has a pretty good sunburn on his head and neck and that if he becomes uncomfortable in the heat of the lodge to not be ashamed to leave. It is not supposed to be a place of suffering. He relaxes with that. As I finish with each of them I touch the feather to both shoulders and the top of their head saying "Yexahidela go deya jooni tc'indii" (having been prepared you walk in beauty)

Silas has been filling his pipe while I do this. When I return and sit, giving him back the smudge bowl and the eagle feather he takes another small coal from the fire and lights his pipe. He offers smoke to the four directions of the compass, to the as above and so below. He speaks his medicine name biyi'siziini oyih (soul flyer), sásh (bear clan), doolé (butterfly soldier), itisgo (honored in council). He sees the Germans about to explode with questions and says kindly "We will be doing many things in Apache, not to be rude, but because that is who we are and how we do things. When we go into the lodge I hope you will feel comfortable enough to pray to your own gods, in your own words. If you have questions when we are finished we will answer them gladly. Only the questions that matter will last that long. The ones that don't stay with you really don't matter. We are only introducing ourselves at this point. When there is something you must know we will be sure to speak to you so that you may understand." Ingrid looks about ready to say something but Silas silences her with a smile and a gesture. He then passes the pipe to me and I take a smoke, washing the fragrant wild tobacco and mint smoke over my face and head. I introduce myself in the same way Silas did, (I am going to dispense with the Apache words right now, it is a very tedious thing to type in HTML on a Windows keyboard) Singing Snake, flute clan, raven soldier, battle honors, snake dancer. Silas motions for me to pass the pipe to Schatzie, I show her how we do this, using two hands, looking into each other's eyes, just before I let go of the pipe I wink at her and whisper "Don't inhale just give it a light puff." She does. She gives her first and last names and the city in Germany she is from (Hamburg), she runs out of things to say so I hold out my hands for the pipe and she gives it back to me. I take the pipe to each of them, one at a time. When I get to Hans he seems worried, so I sit in front of him and give him a questioning look. He says "I promised my grandmother I would never smoke." I tell him that is a good promise and that we value things like that. Especially promises to grandmothers. I also tell him that personal autonomy and individual freedom are precious to us, and he has no reason to fear giving offense. I ask him if he would like to hold the pipe, and not smoke it. He does. I go back to sit in front of Silas and pass his pipe back to him.

In English Silas says "We were planning this ceremony before you came to us. Our intention and purpose has not changed with your presence. We will do this in four rounds. We will do a traditional round of prayer and then Snake and I will go into our original purpose. If you feel the need to leave the lodge, please direct any requests to me. It works better that way because I'm much nicer than he is. In the first round I will say a traditional prayer to call upon the spirits, then we will pray for ourselves. In the second round we will pray for others. In the third round we will give away something of us that is beautiful and useful to our people. In the fourth round we will dream."

He nods to me and I get up and begin to take off my clothes. I tell the Germans that they are welcome to enter wearing as few or as many clothes as they wish. The speed with which they get naked leads me to believe that they have made some trips to the south of Spain or the Greek Islands. I put a stack of folded blankets outside the entrance of the lodge for when we are finished. Ingrid has chosen to stay outside by the fire so as not to put any strain on her feet. Right before Silas smudges me again and touches me with the eagle feather on the back of my neck I turn to Hans who is right behind me and say "I'm going to say 'All my relations enter with me' in Apache, you may say something close to that in German or English whichever is most comfortable to you." He nods and I go into the lodge.

I crawl clockwise to the northeastern position in the lodge. There will be plenty of room with only five of us in here. In the middle is a nice indentation that Hans and the girls scooped out of the clay while Schatzie and I were out gathering plants. Silas smudges each of the Germans into the lodge and goes to the fire. He has a big, charred shallow wooden bowl that he fills with four big rocks. One at a time he passes them to me through the entrance of the lodge. With each rock I take an elk horn and use the tines to bring the rock over to the indentation. I sprinkle each rock with dried lavender and welcome it into our ceremony. Once the initial four have been brought in Silas brings the bowl with four or five rocks at a time until we have twenty total in the lodge with us. I can see that the Germans are starting to wonder what is next. Before I can say anything Silas comes into the lodge and pulls the blanket over the entrance down behind him.

It is totally dark except for the glow of the rocks. Silas takes a horn ladle and pours the first dipping of water over the rocks. The steam billows and churns. A couple of the Germans cough and wheeze a bit but, they are toughing it out. Silas says his opening prayer in Apache and then prays for himself. In English he says "I am finished speaking." He turns to Eva and says "Please say your prayer for yourself." Eva prays a short German prayer. Then Schatzie has her turn. She spends a much longer time at her prayer. When it is Han's turn he tries to pray in English and gets a little tied up and is embarrased. I tell him that it is alright and to please feel free to pray in any way that he is comfortable with. He just says that he is finished. When I have finished my prayer, Silas begins to ask me questions. They are very pointed questions about what is going on with my life. At every question he puts a dipper of water onto the still very hot rocks and the steam churns up, scalding and feeling like it is alive. I answer each question simply and directly, almost without thinking. Then, almost without warning, Silas announces that the round is over. He raises the blanket and tells everyone that they may go outside the lodge and drink. We all go outside. The Germans are guzzling water greedily while Silas and I are pulling new stones from the fire and into the carrier. We add ten stones. When we are ready to go back into the lodge Schatzie is the only other one who wishes to continue. Hans touches his sunburned head sheepishly and I tell him that I am impressed that he endured this much. I suggest that they all drink plenty of water and eat something if they can.

We bring the fresh stones in and Silas smudges us into the lodge. The initial prayers go swiftly. The heat and the steam are even more active this round. The stones from the first round are still pretty active, adding the others has really upped the action. A lot of the time in a sweat lodge it isn't the heat by itself that will set the environment, it is the activity of the steam. This steam is almost like cartoon steam. Sometimes it is like a line of dancers, other times it feels almost caressing, then, without warning it will surge past you in a billow that lays into you like a lash. Silas again starts with the questions. Probing and incisive questions about the people in my life. He probes about my mother's health and finances, he digs about my sisters and their children, he goes through my children and the people I work for and with. He goes through a lot of very specific questions about my service in Viet Nam. Again, the answers come instantly and easily, although I can feel fatigue beginning to climb up my spine. As suddenly as he did before Silas announces that the round is complete. He motions for Schatzie and I to stay in the lodge and he disappears out of the opening. Just before he leaves he says to me "Sing Coyote's Hunting Song." I sing.

Silas comes back with ten more stones. He has me scoop out some of the old stones before he put the new ones in. They are shimmering and glowing a bright orange. The blanket comes down and we are in a different level of light. The stones are giving off enough light that it is like looking through an orange night-vision scope. Then Silas pours water and the steam jumps again, and again. Silas sits motionless and silent for what seems like forever (probably less than ten seconds in outside the lodge time) and he says "Tell us the story of Tsebitzidah Ma'atose. (18 Coyotes)

3B's

Superstition Ride - - -Day 3 (evening)

Schatzie and I arrive back at the campsite. All is well. Silas has kept the other two (Big Blonde Hans and the very quiet, very shy Eva) busy making preparations for the sweat tonight. There is a good looking stack of firewood where they have moved Ingrid and settled her on a nice pile of blankets.

I dismount and take Rosalita's tack off while Schatzie does the same with Sally. I walk down to the creek with the horses to a bend area where there is a nice stand of still water pooling up and when I see the delight with which Rosalita and Sally wallow around in the cold running water I decide to join them, I shed the clothes (which I just then realize I've been in for two days) and wade on out. It feels glorious. After a good cool down I put my sandals and jeans on and go back to the folks.

I take our plant prizes over to Silas and Ingrid. Silas asks me to take the Mormon tea and soak it in some warm water. Then he takes a cholla nubbin, slices it in half and makes a mush out of the inside. He puts this over the mass of broken blisters on Ingrid's feet and even a casual observer could see that there is an instant relief. I pour some of the boiled water into another pan, add some cool water from a bag to that and lay the Mormon Tea stalks into it. When I bring it to Silas he tells Ingrid "He can tell you what this stuff is so that you understand what we are doing."

I say "They call this plant Mormon Tea. It is a pretty decent natural source of ephedra. I imagine that once the stalks have softened up some Silas will have me pound it on a rock to make a poultice for your feet. It should both numb the pain and dry the oozing." Then I give Silas a look to see if I'm right and he smiles and nods. Silas then asks for the cattail reeds and begins to weave them into two small circles. Then he asks me to grab a pair of clean socks from my gear. I pick out a pretty nice natural (dirty grey) silk inner sock set and bring it over to them. We make the poultice from the Mormon Tea and put it on the blisters until it begins to dry and fall off. Then he follows that with more cholla goop and follows that with some agave gel from the inside of the spear. He waits for this to dry a bit then he puts the socks over her feet. He busts open some cattail heads and takes the fluff out and makes thick piles on each of the reed circles. He puts her feet on top of this and folds it up around like a bootie. He ties that with a fiber pulled from the agave and says "Don't walk much for a bit. But you'll be good as new pretty soon."


He asks me if I still want to do the sweat and I say that I would. First we gather our lost pilgrims together and I lay out the situation as I see it. They are lost and while I have a pretty good idea where they left their car our things are about ten miles closer. I tell them that if there is somebody they can call in Tempe who would be willing to drive out to the trailhead where our stuff is and meet us we can all walk out together in the morning. With Sally here to carry the bulk of the load along with an ample supply of water even if it gets up to 36 degrees again tomorrow we should be fine. I tell the Germans that they can take turns riding double behind Silas and I and that by staying together, going slowly and carefully we should all be fine. Hans informs me that they have cell phones that haven't worked for quite a while. I tell him that it's no problem and produce the satellite phone. I also tell them that if we run into any trouble on the way out we can call for help on the satphone, and that I have a GPS transponder which will make finding us easy. As I hand the satphone over to Hans I toss Silas a snotty look and say "Are you going to tease me about overpacking some more Grandfather?" He tosses a dirt clod at me and we laugh.

Silas says he is going off to choose some rocks for tonight. I spread the food stores out for Schatzie and Eva to see and tell them that I am not eating until after the ceremony. Silas has filled everyone but Schatzie in on what we are planning to do and Big Blonde Hans and Eva have decided that they would like to see the ceremony from inside the lodge. Once I've explained it to Schatzie she decides to give it a try too.

I head down to where I last saw the horses taking a change of clothes with me. I scrub off with wet sand before going into the water to rinse and soak away the days. After a good while I just laze around out on a blanket in the shade of a palo verde. I get dressed in clean white linen trousers, and a loose blue linen shirt, a red satin sash and headband (wrapped around four times and tied with a bow on the left side) completes it. I am getting ready to step into the old ways again. I am just sitting there, savoring the quiet, trying to think about absolutely nothing when I hear footsteps approaching. It's Schatzie and she is carrying a bead and bone choker saying "Silas told me to bring this to you. He said he is ready for you." She asks about the silver star hanging down from the center spacer of the choker. I tell her that a hairpipe choker is a warrior's adornment. It is a decoration but also protects the neck against injury. I tell her that the star is from a long time ago. She reads the embossed words on the back.

For Gallantry In Action

Yes, indeed, a very long time ago.

Just. Yesterday.

3B's

Superstition Ride - - -Day 3 (afternoon)

Yes! We are back up and running! New machine is here, hooked up, waiting on my tech head nephew to slap the megasticks of RAM. . .but, for now, on with the story.

I amble down to the creekbed with Big Blonde Hans in tow. I see that Silas is doing far more than flirting with the girls. One of them, a slender girl with dark hair who says her name is Ingrid, has her shoes off and Silas is intently looking at the soles of her feet. They are an oozing mass of blisters. It's very obvious that she has been walking through intense pain. I take a closer look and say "Wow, I'm impressed. Only somebody born again hard could walk on that mess." I tell Silas that I will go get my field medical kit from the pack saddle. He looks at me and says "Bring that sure. Then there are some things I want you to gather."

I fetch up the medical kit and spray her feet down with some stuff to ease the stinging. I ask Silas what it is he wants me to get and he says that I should pull him about eight cattails, roots and all and then he gives me a place name in Apache. This works almost as well as a Thomas Guide for identifying exactly where I need to go, he tells me what he wants from the place, then he tells me that along with that he wants some cholla knobs and a couple agave spears (not the tequila agave, but another type).

Ingrid is very impressed. She tells us that she is very honored to be given treatment "just like an Indian." Silas tells her that she isn't being treated like an Apache at all. She looks puzzled and Silas says "No Apache would walk this far on feet like this. An Apache woman would make everybody stop and get herself fixed up." Ingrid takes this in the spirit it was given, and she shoots a murderous look in the direction of Big Blonde Hans. Silas sees the look too. I show Hans how to pull up a cattail roots and all, and he makes himself useful.

I go back to the fire and crumble some hardtack into the hot fat and bacon chunks, along with some jerky shavings, stir it a few times and move it to the outside where it will not cook rapidly. Then I take a chunk of jerky and shave it into a mug. I dump some boiled water over that and leave it to steep. When I go back to where Silas and Ingrid are the other Germans are all gathered around. I tell them that there is some food ready and that they can help themselves. I tell Big Blonde Hans that he won't starve to death overnight if he doesn't want to eat any meat, but I tell him that I have made a cup of jerky broth and he should at least drink that because he needs to get some salt replenished. He nods. Silas asks me to bring a plate down for Ingrid. Then, before I am out of earshot, he asks me if I have any clean socks in my gear. I say I do and he just nods.

I toss some of the hardtack/bacon/jerky goop into a tin plate and take it down to Ingrid with a chunk of hardtack to use as a scooper. I also bring a bag of water that I hang right nearby.

I pull out my Pennywhistle and play "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" and, just like she always does, Rosalita comes trotting up, nickering in anticipation of a licorice treat. The Germans are impressed. I tell them that this isn't any indian mamba jahamba voodoo stuff, that each of my horses has a theme song. When they hear that song they know that if they come over to me there is licorice or some other wonderful treat to be had. I say "No magic at all, just plain old conditioned response straight out of Skinner." I ask if any of them can ride and aren't afraid to climb some rocks. In a stroke of wonderful luck the very pretty, nordic blonde goddess type introduces herself as Schatzie and says "I climb rocks and ride." I finsh saddling Rosalita and whistle up "Poor Wandering One" which brings Sally running. I snatch my cousin's saddle and bosal and get her all tricked out. Then I grab a bag of water and tell Schatzie that it's "Boots and Saddles" time. I tell the others that I will be back soon and ask them to please keep an eye on Ingrid and Silas, in case they need anything. I also tell them to please be careful and to remember to drink lots of water. I suggest that if they get really bored they can bring up some creek water, boil it for at least five minutes and then fill up the empty bags.

Schatzie and I start out. I tell her that Sally will keep up with Rosalita and I fine and that she really doesn't have to do much riding at all. Schatzie straightens up in the saddle and starts to demonstrate that she knows her stuff. I give an approving glance and bring the pace up to a trot. I tell her that it's probably around 36 degrees (I figure since I'm dealing with a European I'd convert to Centigrade) and that if the heat becomes a problem to please tell me before it turns dangerous. We ride at a decent clip for about 40 minutes to come to the side canyon that Silas described. We ride about a half mile into that and come to a cliff face that has a small waterfall that splashes onto a rockfall. Every plant that we need is right here. Schatzie is totally impressed. I tell her that the Apache name Silas gave me for this place said "two palo verdes at the mouth of the canyon where water and rocks fall together." I tell her that this is a fundamental difference between Apaches and white people. White people drink from a thing. They drink from a well, a spring, a creek, a glass, but it's always at thing. We drink from places. We also don't think that we own any of the land. It doesn't own us either. We belong there, that's all. Just like the trees and the cactus and the coyotes and birds. We belong just like they do. While she's chewing on this I look at the rock face near the waterfall and see a few bunches of E. trifurca or Mormon Tea. I tell Schatzie that this is one of the things that Silas needs for Ingrid. I ask her if she feels OK about making that climb. She says "Very easy. I get that." We dismount and I start to take the tack off of Rosalita so that she can wander around and browse and drink. By the time I'm finished I see that Schatzie has already done the same with Sally. I give her an approving look. I tell her that there are two other types of plant that I need to gather and she scampers up the rock face like a pro with a rigging assist from the top. I'm impressed. I take a blanket and toss it over a cholla which breaks off about six cholla knobs. I take a sharp stick and stick it into each knob, then I burn off the wicked hooked spines with a lighter and toss them into my saddlebags. Then I cut some agave spears and slice off the spines on the edges and stick them in too. By this time Schatzie has come down with her prize. I tell her that we need to wait about a half hour more to give the horses a good rest and we'll head on back to the camp.

I ask her if Ingrid had been complaining about her feet during their hike today and she says "Yes, many times she complain, but Hans always say we are there almost and just a little more walk." She reads the look of disapproval on my face and tells me that Hans isn't that bad of a guy. He was very ashamed of himself for being lost, and not very good at admitting it. I tell her that this is all very human stuff. I ask her what was going on when Silas came by. She said that the girls had all made Hans stop for a while and they were trying to find themselves a bit of shade and comfort, that they had just finished up the very last of their water when they heard Silas riding up. She said he was singing in a very high voice. "It was just like movie." I said that Silas lives for stuff like this. I also tell her that they don't have to worry, we will get them all out safe and sound.

Then I tell her about a theory of mine. I take two pennywhistles (one in D and my trusty big old Bb) and walk over to the waterfall. I tell her that I have always felt that the key of nature is Bb. To demonstrate I play a bit of "The Rakes of Mallow" on the D whistle. I pause to let that sink in and play the exact same figure on the Bb. Schatzie's face lights up and she says "You are exactly right, the Bb is in perfect tune with the sounds of the water." When I play Sally's theme Rosalita comes up along with her. We saddle up and ride back to the others.

3B's

Superstition Ride - - - Day 3 (morning)

UPDATE: I just got an email from the folks I ordered computer stuff from. It has been shipped. In the meantime with muchos thankos to The God of All Ropers for the use of his machine I am publishing the draft of the ride which was in works before the crash. It should only be a few more days before we are back up and running at the ranch.

I don't know when I finally drifted off to sleep. I woke up right before dawn being nudged by Rosalita who was looking for an oat ration, or some licorice. There was a pennywhistle in my lap. Silas was snoring, that was music enough for the morning. I put out some alfalfa pellets which were roundly ignored then dipped out a measure of oats for each horse. These were greeted with enthusiasm. I took some oats for Silas and I, built the fire back up and began to fry some bacon. Silas woke up as soon as all the work was done and it was safe for him to open his eyes. He thanked me for my efforts and I smiled. I said "I was thinking we could move camp before the sun gets an angle on us. It's feeling like a hot one today." He agreed that this was most likely the prudent course to take and wandered off. I began to pack stuff up and get the saddles ready. Then I brushed the horses down and got the hooves picked and checked, then the blankets, then the saddles. The final saddle was on and cinched, one last check to make sure that the balance was right on Sally's pack rig, by the time that was finished Silas was already on Ban Fai ready to go. We had about a five and a half mile trek ahead of us, mostly easy terrain. Rosalita was ready to move and set out at her favorite gait, the extended walk. It requires only a little more energy than a regular walk but the longer strides in the front, combined with an almost trotting rythym in the back make for a smooth, comfortable pace that literally eats the ground. Sally takes her membership in our little herd seriously. She has been wild and wants no part of that ever again. I know that she will keep in close contact with where ever Rosalita and I are. Silas knows where we're going and he'll probably show up once I've gotten things fixed up nicely. It is a beautiful morning, but I'm glad we got an early start for our move, there will be some serious heat coming down before we are done.

Our destination is a bend by a creek and a cliff face. That will give us some pretty decent shade from the afternoon sun. There is the foundation and crumbled stack of a chimney from a crew barracks. The main attraction for the ranch hands here is a run of easily accessable clay, softened by the running water of the creek. This was their brick factory. There is a brick beehive kiln that is still in pretty decent repair. It will do nicely for our sweat tonight. It has a natural clay floor, packed and hardened by years of use, better than concrete. There are some stands of mesquite and other woods lying around for the picking. The water will be fine to drink after giving a decent boil. There are various greens which promise some good stuff for dinner after we are finished.

I set about unrigging the horses and letting them busy themselves browsing through the various stands of vegetation. This is not something that Rosalita is real hip to, but Sally is a fountain of knowledge that she is happy to follow around and learn from. I check the kiln to make sure that it is still fairly solid. There are some places that are crumbling a bit. They will shore up nicely with some clay spread over them. I busy myself digging a pit for our fire near the creek. I line it with rocks that I push into the clay. I use a blanket to gather up some sand from the creek bed and make an area all around the fire pit that will not provide a place for any sparks to catch. Then I begin gathering wood. I have a pretty decent stack ready for us when Silas comes riding up. He's grinning ear to ear. I figure he's pleased with all the work I've been doing these last few hours. He says "Look what I found."

Behind him are some hikers. They are three young women and a young man. Silas says "They were so lost they weren't even scared by seeing an Indin on a horse out here in the Wild West." I introduce myself and realize that English is a third or fourth language for these folks. Turns out they are German students at ASU who have come up to do some hiking. They got caught up in the sightseeing end of their trip and began to take a series of wrong turns. They are way off where they intended to be. They are thirsty, hot, tired, and hungry. I start passing out water, point them toward the creek where they can cool off and tell them that there's plenty of food all around here, you only have to know what you are looking at.

They drink deeply, and begin to wander over to the cold running water of the creek. I start to break out some food. The man, who I will refer to as "Big Blonde Hans," sees the bacon slab and the jerky and says "I am vegetarian." I tell him that's fine back home, but these are the calories that are available right here and right now, it would be far more sensible to consume them and then return to your preferred diet once starvation has been avoided. I tell him that once I get things going we can go down to the creek and pull some cat-tails for some vegetarian calories. He seems to think that this is a good idea. I get some bacon slices going, along with a pot of water and we go down to the creek bank where Silas is flirting shamelessly with the girls.

3B's

Superstition Ride - - - Day 2 (Night talk)

I go to take care of the horse Silas rode, he's got it saddled with a beautiful, big comfy western rig. He's using a braided horsehair bosal. There are a couple water bags hanging off of the horn, and a set of saddlebags and a bedroll tie off. I know this horse. It's one that I gave to my cousin about ten years ago which makes her about fourteen. I bred her myself, trained her myself. Her name is Ban-Fai which in Thai means "Fire Horse." Because she born on Thai New Year in the year of the fire horse while I was dating a waitress at a very cool Thai joint in Palm Springs. I think to myself that it's probably my cousin's saddle too. It does answer the question about how Silas knew I was up here right now. My cousin is a blabbermouth.

I bring his gear back to the firepit where Silas is slowly savoring a jar of canned peaches, eating the slices and drinking the juice. He has my coffee cup right beside him freshly filled. He says "I bet you got a can of Eagle Brand in that whole house you pack with you when you ride. I love Eagle Brand in camp coffee."

I say "That's Blue Mountain coffee. You want to dump Eagle Brand into it you might as well use some instant." He just gives me a look that says we can play pissant respect and manners games, or we can get along, kid. I rummage around and pull out a can of Eagle Brand that I don't even remember packing. Maybe it's there from my last trip, that shit lasts forever. Archeologists will find that stuff right next to the Twinkies and Big Macs. I open the can and pass it to him. He dumps a slug of that sludge into the coffee and drinks deeply. "That Blue Mountain is pretty good stuff." I say "I'm glad you like it." He gives me an approving glance and says "Your cousin says you have been pretty fucked up for a while now I thought I'd come see for myself." I start to tell him about what's been going on with me and he stops me. He says "We have plenty of time for that. Let's just have some coffee and relax ourselves." I said "That's my cousin's horse you rode up here, nice saddle too." Silas says "It's your cousin's truck I drove to the trailhead on. He couldn't take time off to come with me so I traded him trucks. He said it would be fun to drive my old pickup down to the Tribal Government Building. A truck like mine makes him feel like a real Indin." (Silas has a very old early 50's chevy truck, there's maybe a square inch total of the original black paint job left on it, the rest is rust) We laugh at the idea of my cousin, the brilliant attorney, driving a real "Indin Car" in to see the Lord High Muck-de-mucks of the Tribal Government and council. Silas says "I just took the saddle from his barn when I got the horse. I figured he wouldn't be mean enough to loan me a horse, trade me a truck and trailer and leave me to ride bareback." I ask "Did you get him to pack the saddlebags too?" Silas says "No, I had Maggie's granddaughter do that for me. I told them I didn't need much because I know you like to have all kinds of stuff with you. Let's have a smoke."

Silas gets his pipe in its leather bag from his saddlebags. He pulls out his pouch and begins to fill the pipe. There are some folks who go through a whole rigamarole ceremony when they are filling a pipe. Silas is saying very quiet little words to himself. He sees me watching him and says "There's nothing in this pipe that would cause you any trouble with your sobriety. I know how much that means to you. It means a lot to me too. I missed you while you were gone. This is just some wild tobacco and some mint leaves." I say thank you for that but add that I have been feeling bad enough lately that I would do what ever he thinks I need to so that I can start feeling better. He says "Coming up here tells me that." and lights the pipe with a twig from the fire. He takes a puff and washes the smoke over his head with the palm of his right hand when he exhales. "The mint leaves make it taste real good, have some grandson." (this is a term of endearment, when we call people older than us grandfather and they call us grandchildren it conveys affection, respect and deep connection, it isn't used lightly, even with blood grandchildren) When we pass a pipe from one to the other we always make sure to use two hands and look squarely into each others eyes. When I have both hands on the pipe and our eyes meet he winks at me and says "You'll be alright, you were always a tough kid. You just need me to remind you about that from time to time." I take a smoke and say "You're right, these mint leaves really help tame down that wild tobacco." We sit and smoke for a while. The stars up here away from the city lights are amazing. I hear bullfrogs starting to hum in the pond. I say "Sounds like they are saying breakfast, make me for breakfast." Silas says "I was thinking that we would do Tachih Nádáh tomorrow. There's an old brick kiln not far from here that works just fine for a good sweat." I tell him that it sounds like a wonderful idea. It also takes care of the whole breakfast issue. Although if there's a lot of work involved with getting the place ready, I might nibble here and there to keep up my strength.

As we sit and smoke there are long periods of silence. That's an Apache thing. We have never been known much as talkers. The language is one where single words can take paragraphs of English to do an adequate translation. Silas alternates our subjects between the smallest of small talk and nudging around the big subjects. Like a dentist with a hook, looking for where the exposed nerves are. I ask him how my cousin is doing. Other than blabbing about how fucked up he thinks I've been and telling the world where I was headed.

Silas says "Your cousin is the best friend you have. He loves you and your children more than he loves himself. He's dancing this year. He wants you to be there." (the dance Silas is refering to is a ceremony that is not open to discussion outside the community I am sorry for this but rules is rules)

I say that I will certainly be there with my cousin. I ask how much preparation he thinks it will take to get ready to sweat tommorrow.

Silas says "The place is fine, we're the ones who need work."

I offer to make more coffee. With Eagle Brand.

3B's

Superstition Ride - - - Day 2 - - - Packing In

I woke up about a half hour before dawn. The eastern sky is behind the mountains so there isn't any judging the halflight. I put some hay out for the horses, changed the water in their bucket, and scooped a measure of oat and molasses mixture into a frisbee for each of them. I had a muffin and some coffee. Then it was time to get to work.

The load for Sally was about 120 lbs. It was mostly water in bags that hang off of the pack saddle. Even though there are known sources of safe water all along this trip, this is the desert. You simply cannot have too much water. I also make it a point to never count water that I haven't seen. Along with the water I packed in a field medical kit, GPS transponder, satellite phone (2 spare batteries), several blankets, and some very light, very basic foods. One of the main foods I like to carry in the wilderness is Hardtack. This is my favorite recipe. It was the ship's biscuit served to the intrepid sailors who followed the great John Paul Jones.

INGREDIENTS FOR HARDTACK

In a bowl combine:

2 1/2 cups rolled or steel cut oats (not quick cooking)
3 cups stone ground whole wheat flour
1 1/2 teaspoons sea or kosher salt
1 teaspoon baking soda

In another bowl combine:

1 1/2 cups buttermilk
3 tablespoons honey
1 1/2 cups plus 2 tablespoons bacon drippings (or be a wuss and use lard or crisco)

Mix the dry and liquid ingredients together to form a tight dough. Separate this into eight equal size balls. Roll these out on a floured surface to about 1/4" thickness. Place onto ungreased pizza pans or cookie sheets. It helps to stipple the surface of the crackers to ensure even baking all the way through. This can be done by rolling with a pegged roller or using a meat hammer once the dough is rolled out.

Bake in a 450° oven for 5 1/2 minutes, use a spatula to turn the crackers over and bake for another four minutes. When done the result can be golden brown at the edges but you want dry, light, and stiff units. Cool totally on racks and leave uncovered in the open air for at least a full day before storing in plastic bags. This stuff is nutrient dense, light, and doesn't even taste all that bad. One of the things you will miss when foraging through the wilderness is carbs. This is all carbs. I use it crumbled into soups and stews, or dunked into coffee. Trying to bite into it like a saltine or ritz cracker can cost you money and dental pain.

Along with the hardtack I packed dry cure bacon and some elk jerky left from my hunting last year and a bag of dried fruit. There are also some lemons and a bag of saliditos. For an extra treat I stowed two jars of canned peaches. Then a small hand coffee grinder and some beans, some alfalfa pellets and cut oats. Some pennywhistles to amuse myself and to keep from going into shock from not making some form of music everyday. For a three day trip, even if I find no water and no other food along the way, I won't starve, the horses and I will have plenty to eat and plenty to drink.

I saddled up Rosalita with a McClellan, crossfire rigged saddle. Behind the saddle are two light canvas saddle bags where I have some extra clothing, black licorice nuggets (my horses won't do shit without proper bribery), braided rawhide riata, combination hatchet/hammer, .410 breakaway single shotgun, box of 3" shells, .22 long rifle Remington pump (both in saddle scabbards), shoulder water bags.

I checked Sally's pack rig for balance and comfort one more time, gave her a licorice treat, locked up the truck and trailer, stashed the keys in a hubcap, mounted up and started out on the trail.

The weather was gorgeous. Cool, with a light breeze. Not a cloud in the sky. After about an hour of easy walking we were in full on Sonora desert, the saguaro, cholla, prickley pear, ah hell, all the cactus are in full bloom. Most of the arroyos have a dusting of wild flowers. There had been a decent rain last week, but the melt off from the Mogollon rim and the Tonto range is in full swing. I'm seeing quail, rabbit, lots of coyote sign. A couple of times I see the tails of gopher and king snakes disappearing into the sage stands. The sage is loaded with tiny purple flowers and makes the trail smell like incense.

Another half hour brings us to the first water. Taking a side canyon up about 300 yards (with slight incline) brings me to "the horse tanks." These are brimming full. I take Sally's gear off first and she plunges into the water right off. Even though I'm on the way to Rosalita, she lets me know that I have violated herd senority standards by not letting her play first. She hops right in.

When the horse come out of the water I dry them off well with sage branches and we saddle and mount up again. I get back into the main trail and begin to go through a series of narrow passes. Having shade from the stone walls of the passes is a welcome comfort. The heat isn't brutal, but it is most likely in the mid-eighties and climbing steady. There is a spring fed pond on the outskirts of the abandoned ranch where I am headed after the third pass. We'll stop for a drink and meal when we get there. I reach behind me and pull out my little silver "G" pennywhistle. The high trebles bounce off the stone walls gleefully as I play "I'll Tell Me Ma" and the "Rakes of Mallow." When I start to play "Poor Wandering One" Sally begins to snicker in anticipation and sidles up to me expectantly. I pass her a nugget of licorice then have another ready for Rosalita. I take out one of my lemons, take a plug from the center, stick in a couple of saliditos and suck the squeezed juice merrily. We are making good and easy progress.

At the spring pond the horses drink deeply and Sally begins to browse among the bushes like she's at the best salad bar in the world. Rosalita stands watching, then joins in with gusto. I break out the sterno stove and make a small pot of coffee and soon am happily dunking hardtack and jerky into a steaming mug. For dessert I stick a few dried apricots into my cheek like a chaw of tobacco and we saddle up for the final push of the day. There are about four hours of daylight left and we should be where I plan to make camp in about two and a half hours.

The trail is on a steady incline, but easy travel for my desert bred horses. There are Red Tail and Cooper's Hawks in the air. I am seeing many signs of the people that used to live here. A broken down corral, a section of fence, what used to be fields in cultivation. Once I pass the outline and crumbled chimney of what was once a line shack for a winter fence rider.

A Red Tail shrieks and I answer with the pennywhistle. We come to where the main ranch buildings once stood. There is a large pond, and a creek running full. I take care of the horses and begin to make myself at home.

The quiet of the place is beautiful. The sun is setting with its typically Arizonan gaudy show. I wander through the old orchard snapping off dead sticks to build a small fire. I feed the horses, but they have decided that there is better browsing in between the old fruit trees and are not interested in alfalfa pellets. A measure of oats also goes uneaten. I boil the horses leftovers into a porridge and eat it with a couple slices of bacon and a chunk of hardtack. My coffee tastes like nectar.

I am sitting with my back resting on my saddle. Blankets spread over a patch of soft grass smoking a welcome cigarette when I hear a another set of horse hooves clopping lazily.

A voice I recognize calls out "You got good coffee. Hope you brought me some peaches."

I grin and walk toward the sound of the voice saying "I came up here to be alone, but I do have some coffee and peaches."

Silas grins at me and says "You go be alone then. I'll just help myself. Then we can have a smoke and talk about things."

3B's

Superstition Ride - - - Day 1

The day of the funeral I busied myself packing and checking stuff for most of the morning. Then I put brass strung celtic harp, my National Steel Body guitar, a small crate 25watt amp, and my "parlor" pipes into the car and drove to my friend's house. There were many other friends and family there. I made my presence known, and drove to the church.

I got with the sound tech at the church, together we decided that I would set up my own gear and run outside the church's system. I tuned the harp and began to play. For myself. I played some Bach, Turlough O'Carolan, some Palestrina, some Stephen Foster. When I noticed people starting to file in I winked at the organist and went outside to smoke a cigarette.

The family was just about ready to come in and be seated when I returned. As the honor guard brought in the casket I played "The Navy Hymn" (appropriate for a Marine) and "The Marine's Hymn." Then I went down to sit with my friends and my daughter.

The minister wasn't a complete and total asshole. He didn't blame the Iraq war on women's rights and tolerance of gays. He wanted to but he didn't.

After he read some stuff and harangued at little while I went up and played "A Sailor's Grave on the Prarie," on the national followed by my daughter joining me to sing "Mo Ghile Mar" while I played the harp.

I rejoined my friends while other friends and family members gave small little eulogies. I received simultanious elbows to the ribs from my friend and my daughter and went up.

All I said was "I loved this boy. I will miss him from now on. I would rather have been playing Mendholsson and Wagner at his wedding, and sung Irish lullabies to his children. Instead, today, I am doing what I must to honor the memory of a fine young man who has died too soon."

Then I played "The Ashokan Farewell" on the harp and picked up my pipes.

As the honor guard took him out of the church I followed behind playing "The Skye Boat Song."

At the cemetary I played "A Sailor's Grave on the Prarie" one more time because this young man loved that song. Then, after the salute and presentation of the flag I played "Amazing Grace" on the pipes.

I said my goodbyes at the cemetary. I had my daughter drop me off at the house and she went back to our friend's house to be with the family. I was ready to be alone.

I loaded Rosalita and her tack into the trailer, checked the water tanks to be sure that they were totally full and not leaking. I brought Sally and her gear up into it and fired up the old truck. It was about an hour and a half to get to the trailhead point where there are no motor vehicles allowed and I turned the horses out, put some water into a big bucket, threw some hay and made a light camp. It mostly was grinding up some coffee beans, brewing up some good black coffee and sitting there alone watching a glorious sunset. I listened to a little NPR jazz and turned in. I wanted to be riding out into the mountains at first light.

3B's

Laying Pipe

When my screenwriter friends are faced with problems of exposition they call it "laying pipe." You see it all the time without knowing it if it is done well. Since I can't do it all that well I will just let you know that a principal presence in the story of my time up in the hills requires some explaining.

His name is "Silas" and he is an haattaallii which is a medicine singer. He knows the three and four day ceremonial procedures that have been used by the Apache as long as there has been memory. He is also an herbalist and all around gifted healer of both bodies and souls. Nobody that I know has any idea how old he is. He has been old since I can remember.

He really lives somewhere beyond this world. I am not a believer in anything remotely supernatural. Not gods, ghosts, demons, ESP, or any of that bullshit. Here's the thing about Silas though, my whole life I have seen him do things I can't explain for reasons I don't understand. He does this thing where he just shows up.

A couple of quick Silas stories.

This last summer I was booked and ready to do a short run with a very well known singer. I am not a big fan of the road anymore, but this was not only a chance to put away some serious paydays it was a chance to make some incredible music with people I was having a ball doing it with. During the third show of our trip the singer's throat blew. Surgery bad. Instead of going home I was intending to get off my plane at Sky Harbor, pick up my car out of the long term lot, and drive into L.A. to be with the singer as he went through the process of finding out how much damage and what the recovery curve would be. I did this because this person is not only somebody I work for from time to time, but a real and true friend, which is something very rare in a competitive and often vicious business.

When I got off my plane in Phoenix I was startled to see my son waiting for me. He had a bag with him and he said "Silas showed up at the house last night and told me to give this to you. It's for your friend's throat. It's a tea." I hadn't even told anybody what my plans were, the flight thing was done by going to the airport, looking at the schedules and taking the first available flight. I have no idea how Silas knew that the singer I was working for had blown out his throat, I have no idea how he knew when to tell my son to meet me. He's done stuff like that for as long as I've known him. We had the tea checked out by the Ear, Nose & Throat guy in L.A. and he said that there wasn't anything in it that would interfere with the procedures and medications that he was intending to use. My friend (who is Irish and understands the workings of magic far better than I) drank the tea faithfully. His recovery was rapid and complete. The surgeon who sprayed his throat down with the teflon said it was one of the most rapid recoveries he had ever seen.

Another thing with Silas happened around November. I was playing the Phoenix show for La Primera Diva du Monde. My cousin and his partner were also there and because they represent some of the social service programs on the rez that were being benefited by La Primera, they were given double secret awesome access passes for after the show. Their passes were better than mine and I was in the goddamned show. No biggie though. I complained about that shit right away and got my stuff beefed up. The thing was that after the show, Silas was there with my cousin and his partner. He didn't have a ticket but he had gotten in to a sold out show. He didn't have a security pass, but there he was in the deepest, highest access area. La Primera came over to shake hands and schooze with my cousin, we introduced her to Silas and she sailed off into the night. A few weeks later we were talking on the phone and she mentioned meeting Silas. She said that the strangest thing had happened. She remembered him vividly, but, outside of her husband, nobody in her entourage had any memory of seeing him. There was no mention of him on any of the access lists.

I told her not to trip. I said "My whole life, Silas has done things I can't explain, for reasons I don't understand."

Anyway, when Silas turns up as the narrative progresses, you'll have a better idea of what is going on.

3B's

More Light Blogging Ahead

So, here we are in the middle of another sleepless night. Even Dickens isn't having his usual soporific effect. I figure, OK, might as well get something done. In about six hours I am going to be at the airport with my friends to receive the body of their son. You may not know it but this is something else the Bush administration had to be shamed into doing.

Before there was a big stink raised the bodies were first sent to Dover, where there were no photos allowed. From there they were treated and processed like any other cargo. They made their way like any other baggage. Now it has changed. A public fuss was made and, like the cowards they are, they caved.

We will be there, this morning, with an honor gaurd. Waiting for our son and friend. My emotions are a lot different, maybe since this one has hit much closer to home. These weren't acquaintences or folks that live nearby. These are friends. This isn't some kid I vaguely knew, this is a kid that used to come over and sit in my house, played my guitars, dated my daughter.

Again, the case is that what I believe when it comes to gods and stuff isn't what's important here. What matters is not my politics or spiritual beliefs. The important thing is that my friends are having trouble, they need help that I can give, and I am going to give it.

It doesn't even matter to me now when I think about the questions like: How many more?

As many as I have to do.

How much longer?

As long as it takes.

I've been doing my usual stuff to pull out of the funk. I was at my doctor for another issue and he noted my downbeat mood. He offered medication for depression and I told him I am not fucking depressed. I am sad. I am not in a "down cycle." I am grieving.

I am also fucking outta here for a few days. When my duty at the funeral is finished I'm taking a couple horses up into the Superstition Mountains. I am going to ride around and simply exist for a few. I am not going to think about work, or finance, or politics, or anything except those age old questions of philosophy. One of the things I really appreciate about being out there alone is that the vastness of the landscape and the healed over natural scars of previous attempts to "tame" the desert by the Hohokam, the Spanish, the Mexicans, and lastly the Americans all speak to me of our smallness and insignificance in the scheme of things. I know of some old spring fed water holes that are near an abandoned orchard. I might even get some fishing in. In this area of the mountains they don't allow motorized vehicles so my reveries won't be disturbed by the fumes and noises of engines burning fossil fuels.

My intinerary is this: A day to pack in. A day to hang out. A day to pack out.

The day I am leaving is the day I turn 58. Fifty eight years old, just celebrated fourteen years of sobriety. One of the things I have learned from the sobriety part is that when I get to feeling overwhelmed sometimes the best thing I can do is to step back, take some time away, and just think about stuff. I am taking my mare, Rosalita and my beautiful little mustang Sally and I intend to lie on my back and look up at the stars.

Hell, I might even pray that there's something out there to believe in.

Talk to all ya'll mas tardes amigos.

3B's