I started walking but I didn’t know where I was going. Turns out: the bottom. And, along the way, center, a place of rest called Red Rock about halfway up and halfway down. Red Rock West, as in the western states of our US of America. Or maybe I should change that to Red Rock Rest. Whatever… I’m on my way.
Lizard! I’m excited because in Nightsity which I kind of call home now — I guess – there are no wild animals left, just those rare and expensive ones in cages and tanks.
Snake! This is getting even better (!). Not a lot of wildlife but at least some. This is the only snake I saw, that’s the only lizard up there above it. Lots of birds, though. And I think I spotted a rabbit at one point but it hopped away quickly if so. Still… something!
Ahh. Red Rock West. Or Rest. Center of BD and also center of my up to down journey. It sticks out.
I later decided to ask long time resident Bret about it after reaching base camp. “Bret, I wonder while you’re mindless frying up more meat burgers that you could answer me a question.” I may not have put it *exactly* like that to the grizzled local legend but that’s the gist of it.
“Anything, Groundy,” I remember him saying as he scooped another big juicy patty off the grill and effortlessly slid it into a waiting, open bun already prepared with a big slice of tomato and a big leaf of lettuce. They started calling me Groundy after I told them I like to keep my 2 feet on the ground, as in I don’t like to participate in their unendingly practiced speed sports like skiing, skateboarding, mountain biking, and some others I’m probably forgetting. Hang gliding — yeah. And something, what was it, called suit flying… something. Like a flying squirrel they were.
Bret had seen a lot. Multiple champion of the Ryders Ridge Invitational in the early to mid 10’s — set all kinds of records, they say — but grounded himself now because of some bum part of his body — no one would tell me which one. Maybe multiple parts.
I said the name that popped into my head earlier. I was just testing him after all. Shouldn’t have expected so much.
“Red Rock West, lemme see lemme see.” He set the plate down for ski fanatic Arnold to dig into just before he hit the slopes for the 3rd time today. And it was only 2 in the afternoon. Yeah, there was snow here too. Obviously further up in the mountains but not too far. Improbably close, actually, given the warmth down here. Desert-like.
“Say you took a rest there,” he said when upright again.
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re talking about legendary Red Rock *Rest*. Yeah, *everyone’s* heard of *that*. Right Arnold?”
Chomping Arnold nodded up and down, knowing Bret was onto another whopper as he returned to his meat.
“Really?” I say innocently. He stared right through me from the grill. “Naaaaahhh. Just pulling your leg Groundy. There are 100s, maybe 1000s of red rocks around here and up in the mountains, choom.”
Choom? I think while turning red myself. Where’d he get *that* expression?
“Big, small, in-between,” he continued the chiding. “Describe where this particular red rock is and maybe it’ll jog my memory, designated name or not.”
“Up above the waterfall — or cascade I suppose. Above the canyon.”
“Any *balloons* around? Balloons identify the general region you’re in, Groundy. I take it you know that by now, though. You’ve been hiking all around here for a week now.”
A week? I think. Enough to acquire a nickname. And I recall they know I don’t like meat, like Bret’s ground beef here. So Groundy halfway comes from that too. And here I am, making myself a big fat juicy target next to meat parsing Bret. Might as well be shooting big red arrows at me like I was one of the local wildlife.
“I recall… something.” Someone waved in the distance outside the open kiosk window and I remembered. Thanks stranger!
Sunklands 