Week 1

Tucson, Arizona, sits between three mountain ranges, the Santa Catalinas, the Rincons, and the Tucson mountains. My two brothers and I were captured by these ranges, our humble hoosier eyes were always fixated up at the mountain skyline. But all week thoughts of the impending future and graduating college were stressing me out. I wanted to enjoy my time in Tucson but every corner I turned I was faced with stressful thoughts of what I would return to in a week. I had come to Arizona with my family in hopes the desert would provide me some peace of mind, but after six days my thoughts were still spiraling.

On our last day in Tucson, my brothers Dylan, Fish, and I laced up our tennis shoes, filled our Nalgenes up to the brim, and started our ascent to the top of Wasson Peak, the shortest peak we could find. The long walk up started in a desert wash at the foot of the mountain, my feet dug into the loose sand making every step more difficult than the last. My head was stuck down until my brother, Fish, pointed out an elderly walking-tour group passing us on the parallel trail above us on the cliffs of the wash. Fish cursed the park ranger who told us to walk up the wash. As we hiked up the wash the sun peaked out from over the cliffs and introduced itself by turning the temperature up. After climbing over some rocks we rejoined the other trail and were now surrounded by cacti. The saguaros cast skinny shadows like hands on a clock, the barrel cacti sprouted yellow fruits, and every bush poked out onto the trail scratching my legs through my pants. Pushing on and upwards we felt like we had reached the summit three different times only to find that we had made it to another false peak. Frustrated, we took a break next to an abandoned mine shaft and admired the view. We could see the other mountain ranges and how even though we had nearly made it to the top of the Tucson mountains, it was still only a fraction of the way to the much larger snow capped peaks of the Santa Catalinas. Rounding the peak and scrambling up to the rocky top we were joined by other groups. Everyone of us was quiet, as if out of respect for the mountain, but most likely from the climb. Taking a deep breath of air I sat down and reflected on the climb up to this sky island in the sprawling sea of humanity.     

We walked down the mountain and met up with the rest of the family at the trailhead. I looked at the Indiana University shirt my dad was wearing. I laughed at myself, reminded of the stresses I had literally walked away from for a moment. Walking cuts out the stressful distractions in my head.  It allows me to immerse my entire body and mind into the walk and its surrounding nature. I don’t think my mind could focus on anything other than the beauty I knew I’d find around every turn.  

Comments

  1. Dr. GaykFebruary 3, 2026 at 2:30 PM

    What striking descriptions of the scenery you supply here! And, I appreciate how you narrate the twists and turns of the trail, and the plant life comes in context with your legs as you past cacti. The sensory elements of this passage are very strong!

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