Nevertheless it is a relief to be back where rivers roll unvexed to the sea, as Lincoln would put it[1]. In Arizona that means unvexed by water. Consider the practical advantages, alone!
Is there really all that much to see on or in a wet river? Perhaps--if the water is clear and shallow. Thoreau did his best while paddling down "The Concord and Merrimack Rivers," but even his fans probably don't consider that particular essay to be one of his best.
What would Thoreau have thought about the dry washes and canyons of the Southwest? Imagine if he had not died prematurely and had somehow hooked up with John Wesley Powell on his exploration of the Southwestern Father of Waters.
The hiking club set off to explore the dry wash closest to our RV boondocking campsite, upriver of Cottonwood, AZ, along the Verde River. Right at the road crossing it was uninteresting, so flat and smooth that I parked "midstream."
How many visitors have driven right by it on their way to the big-name canyon mentioned last post? But they pretty much knew what they would see--the postcard rack at any gas station ensured that.
I didn't know how my little dry wash would turn out. I sniffed the possibility of drama as this little waif of waters rolled unvexed to the Verde.
The river bed was red sandstone and black volcanic basalt. It's a dramatic combination of colors. Perhaps I was wrong to downplay colors in the previous post, and the commenter was right.
In "Mein Kampf", Hitler, who had given up painting only a few years earlier, went on for pages with obvious pride about his!his!his! inclusion of those two colors in the Nazi flag.
I started to get a sinking feeling as this dry wash slowly devolved into a slot canyon. I hate these things, almost as much as caves, old mine shafts, etc. Still, the discomfort and fear come with a heightened awareness of everything around you.
Not being a climber, we soon had to bail out by climbing up the sides. On top we noticed that we were almost at the confluence with the mighty Verde River, one of those wet ones. Why didn't they name it Rio Mojado, instead of Verde?
Maybe Thoreau's essay on the "Rivers" is not as famous as "Walden", just as this unnamed dry wash is overshadowed by the famous canyon a couple miles up the road. But I'm glad we explored it. In "Rivers" Thoreau says something most pertinent to RVers:
"The most stupendous scenery ceases to be sublime when it becomes distinct, or in other words, limited, and the imagination is no longer encouraged to exaggerate it."
[1] When the Union finally won at Vicksburg, Mississippi, Lincoln is reputed to have said, Now the great Father of Waters rolls unvexed to the sea.
