Riding down the mountain in the cop car, away from my father and the goat herder life I had been living gave me an eerie feeling, but I was also excited. I had enjoyed many aspects of the mountains, especially my amazing tracker buddie, a Cocker Spaniel named Chelsea. I would miss my freedom, my dad, and living in the beautiful nature of Payson Canyon. I would NOT miss the goats, however, and would be grateful to drink cold cow’s milk from the fridge. I wondered what it would be like to live with another family, in a house, and go to school again. I would be starting school a couple of months into my 9th grade year.
As I walked away from my father without a word, leaving him lying on the picnic table, I felt a sense of freedom and pride, mixed with the fear and dread of not knowing how I’d survive without any help or resources.
A shaking on my shoulder brought my eyes open an hour or so later, still crouching against the wall, the pricks of pain in my feet telling me they were asleep. Leaving the backdoor of the hardware store where we’d spent the past few hours, a new day brought familiar streets, with more miles to tread.
I followed my dad, I didn’t know where he was going and I don’t think he knew either. We’d worked…
Bane of Existence Other times, my challenge was with Mother Nature. I came to recognize poison oak and poison ivy…
Freedom to Wander At times, the independence and freedom of the mountain came with a cost. Hiking had become my…
Mountain Masters Chelsea and I were masters of the mountain, if not masters of the goats. We went everywhere together,…
Squatters I never met the landowner. My dad told me that he’d secured the place by agreeing to tend the…
Dirt Dirt, there was a lot of it. We lived in the back of a farm on what is now…
My father became an apprentice to a Chippewa medicine man when I was about 11 years old. Over the next…