Desert Deluge

Red mud is caked to the bottom of your boots. Above the sky has broken open abruptly and dumped all of its fury onto your head. In the distance you can see a break in the clouds. The glow of struggling sun beams over the jagged walls of the canyon you foolishly entered. If you could just reach the top of the cliff then you could stand in the light again.

The locals had warned you not to hike today. Your phone had sounded an alarm just before you reached the trailhead and you had turned away from the screen. Just a flash flood warning. It doesn't pertain to you- an experienced hiker. You check your phone again and see there is still no signal. Tucking it back in your backpack, you continue trudging to your goal.

Somehow, the desert feels cold and your fingers are numb as you shiver. You count the steps to the cliff face. Slipping and sliding, your hand finds purchase on a slick rock. There is no clear path, and you will have to climb to safety. You hesitate with your hand clutching the rock wall. Behind you there is the sound of rushing water, and it's quickly beginning to drown out the sound of the rain itself.

You scramble up the near vertical surface. The rocks are soft, and they easily crumble and tumble out of place as your feet struggle with the uneven terrain. You're losing ground and you know it. Blind panic sets in and you dig your fingers into the dirt. Sheer adrenaline forces you up the first few feet just as a wall of water crashes below you. Your breath is shallow and rapid. You kick and scratch your way up. The rain fights you from above as the rushing waters taunt you from below.

Muscles cramping, your fingers desperately clutch the serrated edge of an agave plant that is precariously perched at the top of the canyon. You've almost made it. You grit your teeth and grunt in pain as you heave yourself up and out. The roots tear and a large swatch of dirt and rock is shorn from the precipice.

There is no time to rest or catch your breath as you race against time and gravity itself. You dig your feet into what dirt they can find, and your nails tear painfully as you struggle to catch yourself. But you manage not to fall. Clinging, fingers clenching painfully, you finish your ascent. Your side cramps painfully as you struggle to breathe. But you savor every breath.

Making sure you're safely away from the edge, you collapse in a sobbing heap. Rays of light caress your face as you rise to your feet and yell,

"You can't have me!" to the racing rapids. Across the canyon, lightning arcs across the sky and dark clouds loom low. But here - where you stand - there is light. The rain still pelts you, but the sun is there to warm you. Your breath is slow and controlled now, and you remember your phone. Hands trembling, you dig it out from your backpack. And it slips from your grasp. In an effort to catch it you swat it into the canyon.

You stare in disbelief, and sink to your knees. Unsure if you're extremely fortunate or unlucky. You allow yourself a moment to wallow in despair and discomfort. You've been scratched raw by the rocks and vegetation. Mother nature tried her best to reclaim her. So far, you've won. And now you just have to keep going. Survive. One step at a time, you make your way to safety.