Delight Diary

 This diary is inspired by poet Ross Gay’s “The Book of Delights” and the This American Life Episode “The Show of Delights.” These two things brought me a great deal of joy and, at a time when I was mired in negativity, forced me to be aware of the delights I experienced each day. What follows is a catalogue of those delights, some are specific moments, some are things that I find consistently delightful. I’d also be delighted if you’d share your own below!

12/31/2020

Things were so ridiculous in the height of our summer season at Grand Canyon (no that they’re much less ridiculous now), that we decided to make an audio “Delight Diary” to cheer ourselves up. A few rangers recorded clips of happy little moments that happened over the course of a few months and I edited them into a short podcast episode for the Behind the Scenery Podcast. On New Year’s Eve the episode was released! A fun little time capsule! More Behind the Scenery episodes can be found here, or on various podcast platforms.

12/16/2020

What a month it has been. Just a week before our river trip launched, Ceili’s dad had a serious accident. Instead of packing our dry bags and driving to Lees Ferry, we packed our luggage and flew to Boston. Miraculously, Kevin has made a rapid recovery and will be discharged from the rehab hospital this week! While Kevin was in the hospital, Ceili and I found moments of joy in running, especially during the 7th annual Gingermas Run Hunt. We trotted around Martha’s Vineyard looking for super tall Christmas trees, snowballs, while eating our homemade holiday cookies and drinking hot apple cider. We also ended up running 20 miles, the farthest I’ve run since April. For one day we were able to free ourselves of the weight of everything that has happened in 2020. What a delight!

11/10/2020

We’ve been planning for more than a year. When Ceili won the permit she wasn’t really sure she wanted to go (she has a complicated relationship with rivers, mostly thanks to me). But the idea grew on her and the experience level of our crew provided some extra reassurance. For most of the summer it felt like there was an almost insurmountable amount of work yet to accomplish. 25 days in the Grand Canyon requires a lot of prep if you’ve committed to doing it all yourself. Finally, after a season of 10 hour days on the North Rim, we were able to shift our focus to the river. After filling 3 carts and visiting 4 different grocery stores, we buckled down to the cooking. The best part of the process was watching the vacuum sealer work its magic. It is very satisfying to have a freezer full of carefully packaged foods, now we just have to organize all our gear.

11/2/2020

This was a lovely way to end a difficult season on the North Rim. Jeff, Ceili and I jogged one last “Classic Loop” in our NRXC gear, laughing our was around the Bright Angel Peninsula one last time.

10/9/2020

Doug departs the North Rim tomorrow. One of the things that has made me smile most consistently this summer is walking or driving by his cabin and seeing him sitting outside with his guitar, strumming away, and really enjoying the whole experience. Last week Doug took me on a ramble through the woods on the Walhalla Plateau. We ended up at an obscure point with a spectacular view, but the highlight of the walk was the time spent getting there. Listening to Doug’s stories, poking around archaeological sites, and sharing our hopes and fears about the future.

9/25/2020

Nick is a fun guy. He is sneakily funny, he comes up with phrases like Nick Nook and Zen Zone to describe his hangout spots, he effortlessly slips into an impeccable Australian accent, he talks philosophy and morality as easily as he discusses the merits of different pizza toppings, and he is exceedingly generous. Back in June Nick, Ceili, and I planned 3 days of canyoneering on the Mogollon Rim. Nick left his home in Vancouver, WA and starting driving to AZ. He got to Salt Lake City before the Magnum Fire closed the roads in and out of the North Rim. We couldn’t get out, so he turned around. When he got time off in September, we were cautiously optimistic. By the time we met him on the south side of Flagstaff we were ecstatic! We spent a few delightful days exploring canyons, struggling through brush and up steep slopes, and sharing outdoor dinners. It was as good a visit as we could have hoped for in COVID times, with no hugs, no indoor hangouts, and masks in enclosed spaces. I can’t wait for our next visit with Nick, hopefully under different circumstances.

7/19/2020

From a comfy chair outside our front door I watched two lizards chasing each other and doing lots of super speedy pushups. They raced around for a while, then settled on this sunny perch. One put a front leg on the other’s back and (I liked imagining) they sat and enjoyed the view.

7/14/2020

It is rare that you can see anything to the north from the North Rim. Mostly, the view is blocked by trees and the Kaibab Plateau, which rises another 1,000 feet between the Canyon rim and Jacob Lake. But we went to look anyway, Melissa, Austin, Ceili, and I, and through a small gap in the trees we saw it! The comet, its tail an unmistakable streak of light, hung in the air just above the horizon.

7/5/2020

I was standing on a ledge, listening to Austin struggle with his never before used ascending system. We were scouting a potential route into Grand Canyon from the North Rim and the first puzzle piece was a slot in the Coconino Sandstone. We fixed ropes and rappelled to the bottom, then started the laborious process of climbing back up the ropes. I was waiting for Austin to climb the first pitch, surveying the scenery, and chuckling to myself when I heard the unmistakable buzzing sound. A rufous hummingbird, all shimmery and red, darted into view. I watched as it drank from a half dozen red and yellow columbines, a flower that only grows around seeps and springs at Grand Canyon, leaving each bobbing, as if nodding its head in satisfaction.

5/16/20

We always thought it would be a fun road to bike. Its swooping curves, rolling hills, and airy views beckoned for wheels propelled by human power. But those same tight curves and lack of a shoulder, coupled with hundreds of cars driving too fast made the prospect of cycling the Cape Royal Road terrifying. But now the park is closed. Only a handful of staff are on the North Rim. Conditions are perfect. We trundled up the hills and zoomed down the other side, weaving through the curves until we arrived at one breathtaking view after another, a little grander for having put in some extra effort to get to them. At Point Imperial we watched the swallows dive and bank, climb and dive again as they chased each other around the cliffs.

5/6/2020

I literally jumped for joy when I saw her car turn onto our road. I was a little out of breath by the time she rolled to a stop in front of the house. The months of being halfway across the country, not knowing when we’d be able to reunite were finally over. We hugged for a long time.

5/1/2020

A month and a half into home quarantine my very first short film debuted at the Trail Running Film Festival. It was fun to see the film alongside a dozen others, knowing close to 4,000 others were watching, but the real delight came in the process of creating it. I suddenly had a sense of purpose and a creative outlet, not to mention motivation to run even more than I already was. But collaborating with Julia Mark on the music was the highlight of the experience. An hour after a quick FaceTime to talk about the vision she sent me a track. A second one followed shortly after. What she sent me far exceeded my own ideas for the music, and I spent the next few hours plugging it into the film. I completed the finishing touches the following morning and added her song “Six Feet Apart” to the credits. I watched the final product with pure delight, as her music totally transformed the film.

4/21/20

Delight has been extra hard to come by lately. For some reason all this unstructured time at home has me craving the rigidity of a track workout. With the local high school track under covid quarantine, I went to check out one not too far from the house that my dad mentioned. I found that, not only was it open, the surface was dirt (my preferred running medium). After running hard in circles for a while I took my shoes off and did a couple of cool down laps in the grass. The sun was bright and the ground was warm. I stretched and practiced my very rusty crow and side crow poses, mostly to spend more time close to the soil. I breathed in the smell of the grass and let the sun pour over me. Maybe I just needed a strong dose of vitamin D.

4/4/2020

When I worked at Lava Beds National Monument I had a brief love affair with road cycling. After work I would ride the 10 miles to the park’s entrance and back and on weekends I’d head out for 50-60 mile loop rides. There was a hill near the park entrance that was flat for a half mile on top where I could recover a bit after the climb. After I caught my breath I would pedal as hard as I could to see how fast I could go on the way down. A couple of times, with the help of a tail wind, I reached 45 miles per hour for a few glorious minutes before the road flattened out. I’ve tried on other hills since to break my speed record, but it wasn’t until this week that I found a hill that might do the trick. On a bike ride from my parents house in Colorado I crept to the top of a hill so steep I thought I might have to walk the last bit to the top. I road a little past the summit, then turned around, ready to plummet. It had been a while since I’d been on a bike at all, let alone flying down a steep hill, so I approached the slope with caution. Even without pedaling hard in the lead up I was racing down the hill! While gripping tight to the handle bars and scanning the road ahead for hazards, I managed to steal a glance at my bike computer. 47.2 mph. A smile crept across my face through the look of concentration.

3/25/20

I was sitting on the porch catching my breath after a run when I heard a small voice. “Hi, what’s your name?” said a small girl of 3 holding the handle of a red wagon that was at least twice her size. I told her, and she introduced herself as Maya. Her brother, who looked to be about 2 years older, told me his name was Jake. In unison they intruded their dad, Josh. “And our mom is Kate, but she’s at work. We’re going to the duck pond to have a picnic!” Maya squeaked. Jake explained that the cooler in the wagon had a smorgasbord of snacks and beverages they would enjoy from the comfort of their blanket. They seemed as excited to meet someone new as they were for their lunch. After chatting for a few more minutes they rattled away down the sidewalk. I smiled and waved until they trundled around the corner.

3/18/2020

In the midst of a global pandemic, when social distancing and self isolation are making us feel lonely and anxious and all kinds of other feelings, people are using their creativity to bridge the distance between us. Julia Mark wrote this funny, witty, anxious, hopeful, relevant, and delightful song, and it gives me a lift each time I listen.

3/4/2020

There is a look people give you when you emerge, dirty and smelly, from the wilderness. The most heightened version of this look, and the one that delights me the most, can best be achieved through canyoneering. Every now and then a canyoneering route ends in a relatively public place. You’ve spent your day toiling in anonymity between narrow walls, wading in potholes or creeks, downclimbing boulders and logjams, and rappelling dry falls or wet falls, seeing no one but the people in your group. Then, you reach the last rapel and look over the drop to find yourself above a popular hiking destination, a trailhead, or a shuttle stop. The onlookers gawk as you navigate the drop, doing your best not to slip and slide the remainder of the descent on your face. Once everyone is down, you all walk away like everything is normal, the other visitors still agape as your carabiners and descending devices clank, muffled slightly by the neoprene of your wetsuit. Sometimes you even get bonus stares on the shuttle bus ride back to the visitor center.

2/21/2020

I was returning for the second time in 2 days from 7 Falls at Sabino Canyon. The day before I’d run the trail, encountering a large group about halfway to the falls, and many groups on my way back. It was sunny and mild and we were all enjoying the magic of water in the desert. This time I had hiked with my camera gear to shoot the tiered waterfalls. I didn’t encounter another human until I started back, after an hour or so of scrambling up and down the slick rock. The light wasn’t quite as good as the day before, but I still had a great time. The closer I got to the main trail, the more people I passed headed in the other direction. As I climbed the last little hill up to the visitor center I heard the unmistakable sound feet slapping against the gravel. A runner! I looked up and a huge grin spread across my face. A girl, no more than 4 years old, was gripping her father’s hand and towing him along as she sprinted down the hill with wild abandon. Eyes wide, smile broad, hair bouncing she bounded along with pure joy. Her dad laughed as he tried to keep pace with her.

2/13/2020

I picked up my truck after 2 weeks of waiting for it to be released from the shop. I took it immediately to the emissions testing center so I could get it registered and start my long awaited road trip. Alas, the truck couldn’t be tested because 2 of its on board diagnostic sensors were “not ready,” which is a thing that can happen if the battery has recently been disconnected. Readying the sensors, I learned, can be accomplished through 200-300 miles of normal city driving, or by completing a “drive cycle.” It was about an hour of driving at various speeds for various times punctuated by idling and opening the gas cap, while trying not to elicit too many suspicious looks. 

I returned to the testing center as soon as I was finished only to find that the 2 sensors were still not ready. I completed the drive cycle a second time, and yet the sensors slumbered on. In frustration I decided, just to get more miles in, to drive 30 minutes to the town of Loveland. I followed signs to downtown and found a parking place. There was a coffee shop on the next corner, so I crossed the street and went inside. 

It had a familiar feel, like others I’d been in in Flagstaff, or Boston, or Klamath Falls. The owner walked in behind me and asked what I was in the mood for. I ordered a chai, then noticed they carried one of my favorite local kombuchas. “The fenugreek and fennel is my favorite,” I told him as he foamed some milk. His face lit up. Through his viking beard he said, “I’m so happy you said that! I feel like hugging you!” My smile matched his. He explained that it was the hardest flavor to sell, but it was his favorite, too. He handed me my tea, and while I sipped it, he told me how he made the syrup with honey and lavender, cardamom, ginger, and some other spices that I can’t remember. It was delicious. Maybe the best chai I’ve ever had.

2/1/2020

The call of a canyon wren. I can’t remember the first time I heard it, maybe it was working at Lava Beds National Monument. Maybe it was visiting Grand Canyon or Bryce Canyon or Mesa Verde with my family when I was 8. Their cascading call never fails to bring me delight. Once, when my partner Ceili and I were hiking in canyon country, she speculated that the wrens were trying to communicate the real name of the place we walked through. I can’t help but think about that each time I hear a canyon wren. I wonder what the name means and I try to pronounce it the best I can.