Following A Fire

At least I took pictures, lots of them, over lots of years. So I can go back over those while I wait and dread the damage. I'm planning a visit, likely for next fall, to see what remains, what doesn't. Since the fire's still far from under control, I have no idea yet if by fall the area will even be open for access. The fire should be out, but will the buildings be reopened? Even perhaps if necessary, rebuilt?

I'm talking about the Tunnel Fire, referred to in the news as being near Flagstaff, AZ. It's really north of Flag, from somewhere close to the base of the San Francisco Peaks, spreading out east - northeast to  Sunset Crater National Monument.  It crosses Hiway 89, the eastern route from I-40 up to the Grand Canyon. If it spreads a bit more northwards from Sunset Crater it will blow through Wupatki National Monument as well. The two are contiguous, one entry fee covering both, no signs declaring where you leave the one and enter the other. 

Wupatki is full of red sandstone ruins from previous occupation. One can get out of the car and walk/climb through them - respectfully of course - and even bend down to experience the earth breathing. This is at Wupatki proper, the biggest ruins site, not just habitation but a center of civilization. It contains a kiva, where religious ceremonies happened, and the kiva has a blowhole. Air moves in and out as the difference in temperatures above and below ground changes the pressure. 

There are other accessible ruins, my personal favorite being Wukoki, the most southeastern one with its own paved road and parking area for visitors. If you walk to it, climb up the steps since it was built on top of a large jutting hunk of stone, go through the rooms to the raised flat open space, and stand looking westward, you can clearly see the San Francisco Peaks in the distance. In the other direction the Painted Desert spreads out below you. While all this is beautiful, they are not the main reason this place is special to me. It's what happened to me on my very first visit, and never since.

My parents used to snowbird in the Phoenix area, actually across the street from Sun City's northern border. For years I would drive their car down while they flew, then drive it back while they flew back. Eventually they bought a second car and just flew me down and back to visit, help out, and chauffeur them around the state to places like the Apache Trail where they had absolutely no interest in driving themselves but still wanted to see. When I drove down, however, my now three-day trip was 4, and I had some extra time on my hands. I explored Sunset Crater and Wupatki National Monuments one of those times. 

That day was unique. There was little to no wind. No bugs. No birds calling. No jets leaving contrails in the clear blue sky. Best and rarest of all, no other people at Wukoki. Nobody even drove past out on the main road. It was silent! I was alone in (my) world, might have been the only person on the planet for that time. I spent about a half hour there, just soaking it all in, open to any and everything about the place, in awe imagining those who were there a thousand years before. Foot steps and camera clicks were the only things louder than my heartbeats and breaths.

As I finally returned to the world, the world started returning to Wukoki, a lone car turning in from the main road as I was pulling out. I wondered, with several people in it, if any of them would be able to experience and appreciate what I just had. I doubted it.

My first visit to Sunset Crater was not as isolated, a dozen or so other people there as well. I took the entire path around the bottom area, fascinated by the lava flows, the "newness" of the volcanic activity through the area, and the shapes and colors of the pines all around and starting to grow up its slopes. Again there were views of the San Francisco Peaks, and I took shot after shot - film back in those days - trying to capture the memories I was making. There was even an ice cave to visit, back before my knees kept me from even completing the tour, much less entering the cave. I drove around to the north side of the crater, a high observation point, the Mountain to the west, the Painted Desert to the northeast.

I've made it a point to return, taking others along, as well as whatever the camera of the day was. So yes, there are many many pictures. One of them was special enough that I turned it into a poster. The foreground has the dead remains of a juniper. Snow covers the ground and some horizontal parts of the tree, clumps of tan grasses poking up through. Behind it a ways a solid row of living junipers with their own snowy branches crossed the frame. Rising behind that are the snow-covered San Francisco Peaks. The top third of it is blue sky, with a poem in the upper left corner, the tallest of the dead juniper branches arching through the right.

"Only at the end of life
With all the trappings dropped away
Can strength and beauty stand forth true
And one see clearly to the soul.”

I titled it "In Memoriam", a tribute both to the solitary tree and to my late mother-in-law Lylah, recently deceased at that time and whom I'd come to respect much more in hindsight than while she lived. Now it seems painfully apt, even though that lone juniper has long since returned to nurture the soil which had nurtured it. I had hunted for it along that same spot several years back, now am at least consoled that this or any future fire will be unable to touch it.

Unfortunately, the news announced last night that the Tunnel Fire had completely burned the Sunset Crater area. It may well move northward and into Wupatki, depending on the winds. The trees will change from tall ponderosa and pinyon pines to the low bushier junipers of my poster, but they are still fuel for a voracious fire. Should the flames reach Wupatki and Wukoki they will find shrubs like saltbush and sage, along with grasses and flowers, but those also burn. After over 12 years of drought conditions from climate change (I've lost track of exactly how many by now), who knows where it will stop and when?

I only know I will have to return, later in the year if things are back open. The visitor's centers have the only plumbing in the area, a major consideration. But I will be there to see what remains, what doesn't, and mourn.