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Show F - PAGE 3 TOE ZEPHYR AUGUST 1993 This is high summer in the red rode desert The temperature exceeds 100 degrees almost every day. The wild flowers, that were so abundant in May, have been blasted by the fierce sun and turned brittle and brown. Hie animals are hunkered down wider rock ledges or burrowed into their underground shelters, waiting for dusk and dinner. I'm looking and feeling a bit brittle and brown myself. While most animals have better sense than to venture out into the full heat of a July afternoon, and while we humans, on an intellectual level at least, know better as well, it is still sometimes hard to resist. There is something almost hypnotic.. .mesmerizing, about the dry furnace of the desert we inhabit. But because the heat can be so deceptive, it can also be deadly. My brother and his family visited me this month. One afternoon, Jeff and I were near Grandview Point following the rim for a couple of miles. I was carrying the water and kept offering him a drink, but he insisted he was fine. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back in his sockets and he started to stagger toward the brink of a 700 foot cliff. He shouted, "Strike the tents! General Pickett will save the day!" (He always was a Gvil War buff.) and leaped off the precipice. I was able to get this one snapshot before he disappeared from view... Subscribe to file raw This newspaper has been described in various ways. It was once called the "best local newspaper in America" by a reporter in Wyoming, and it was once described in one word, "shit," by a member of the Grand County Roads Board. We think you should be the judge. You will probably discover that both answers are correct Write to: The Zephyr P.O. Box 327 Moab, UT 84532 One year (11 issues)...$15 Two years (22 issues)...$28 Three years (33 issues)...$40 Name Address ...OK, I was kidding. I was just trying to find a way to work that "trick" photograph of my brother into this month's issue. (When you have your own paper, you can do stuff like that.) But the heat can fool you out here and sometimes the effect can truly be deadly. The best way to learn about the risks of dehydration is to be stupid and get dehydrated (if you survive); that's what I did and I never forgot. On one of those summer trips out West, between my ongoing efforts to flunk out of college, I returned to the Southwest to hike a canyon I had found the previous year. The summer before, I'd hiked in June and there were springs at every bend of the canyon. I carried my steel cup on my belt and all I had to do was dip it in the next bubbling pod to quench my thirst. Now, under an intense August sky, I set out to explore the canyon again. I mapped on the steel cup and left all those heavy, cumbersome canteens in the car. But half a mile down the canyon, I noticed an odd sight. Where last June, a steady flow of water trickled down the canyon wall, today die desert varnished sandstone was barely damp. Instead of a cool pool of water at its base, all that remained was a dry hole. But I was determined to continue, and I did, spending the next seven hours in 100 degree plus heat, searching for a glass of water. When I stumbled back to my car in the late afternoon, I don't ttiink I had another half mile of hiking left in me, but I never forgot Others aren't lucky enough to have a second chance. When I think of desert dehydration stories, I think of Abbey's "Dead man at Grandview Point" in Desert Solitaire. But even more remarkable is the sad story of Leroy V. Black in the summer of 1959. According to Park Superintendent Bates Wilson's monthly report; the 67 year old man was returning from Sipapu Bridge at Natural Bridges National Monument; and missed the trail to the Kachina parking area where he had left his car. Instead, Mr. Black continued to hike down White Canyon for almost 15 miles, where he was finally located by a search party three days later. According to Bates, "As there was not sufficient time to remove him from the canyon, he was made as comfortable as possible in a sleeping bag and fed small quantities of broth and water. By 1030 PM he seemed much stronger, but around midnight, he died." The great irony in Mr. Black's ordeal was that he died of thirst when there was water all around. Most of die potholes were full of water, but they were also teeming with life. Fearful that he might contract an illness from the insects and algae in the water, he denied himself the only hope he had of survival. His dog, which had not been so concerned with water waders and green slime, was fine. Today, more than ever, the desert has become, in many minds, one big playground for whatever recreational challenge suits your fancy. But the desert itself is just as harsh and unforgiving as it ever was. In the end, the rocks will outlast us all. As I write this addendum to the editorial, press day is in about 12 hours, but I felt the need to throw in a few words here about the tax notice I just received. Of course, everybody in Grand County recently received their property tax notice for 1993, and from the sound of it, nobody's happy. My taxes went up 42 from last year. I've heard reports that some Main Street properties doubled from 1992. The rise was not due to a rate increase, but rather from having our homes and businesses upward. Property values have skyrocketed in recent years, as Moab became a more and more desirable place to live. We've been talking about the "aspenization" of Moab for a long time. We've talked about the day when exploding property taxes might force long-tim- e residents to abandon their own home town, simply because they couldn't afford to live here anymore. Well, folks, guess what? The future is here. Next month, look for more on this tax issue and what our options are. Hogan Trading Company 5 N. Main St. in the Grand Emporium Alabaster sculptures Hopi, Navajo, Zuni jewelry Navajo, Ute, Paiute, Papago baskets Navajo rugs Hopi & Navajo Kachinas Pueblo Pottery |