homa-khorma: Free PDF Steel on Stone: Living and Working in the Grand Canyon

Free PDF Steel on Stone: Living and Working in the Grand Canyon

Agustus 20, 2012

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Free PDF Steel on Stone: Living and Working in the Grand Canyon

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Steel on Stone: Living and Working in the Grand Canyon

Free PDF Steel on Stone: Living and Working in the Grand Canyon

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About the Author

Nathaniel Brodie worked for many years on the Grand Canyon National Park Service Trail Crew. He has also worked as a farmer, carpenter, beekeeper, journalist, troutslayer, and editor. He received a Master of Fine Arts Degree in Nonfiction Creative Writing from the University of Arizona. He was the recipient of the PEN Northwest Margery Davis Boyden Wilderness Writing Residency, and was a finalist for both the Ellen Meloy Desert Fund and the Waterston Desert Writing Prize. His essays have appeared in a number of magazines, literary journals, and anthologies. He currently lives in Flagstaff, Arizona.

In the years that followed Iâ€™d work in staggering, stuporous, stultifying heat: days when it was 114 degrees in the shade and there was no shade. When steel tools burned bare skin and liters of water, frozen solid at dawn, turned tepid by midday. Prickly pears would have desiccated to flaccid and skeletal white pads; antelope ground squirrels would have slipped into hypnotic trances of inactivity called aestivation; condors would be defecating on their legs to reduce their body temperature; lizards would crawl atop rocks, do a few halfhearted push-ups, and retreat from whence they came; and weâ€™d be breaking rock in the full sun. In the years that followed Iâ€™d see hikers wilt, falter, beg for help. Iâ€™d watch the heat and miles and aridity wring the life out of men and women, young and old withering and reeling alike. Iâ€™d offer encouragement, or water, or salty crackers, or carry them out on litters, or radio in helicopters to fly them out. Iâ€™d search for those whom the heat had killed; Iâ€™d find their dead bodies on boulders in the sun. Always, even subconsciously, their plight would remind me of this first day, of the lesson that the sun and rock and gradient could break one like a brittle stick. What I couldnâ€™t realize that first day was that I would come to love it all, not just the sadomasochistic craziness of the conditions but the way my animal mind and body would scheme and adapt in order to survive this oppressive, crushing, glorious place. I couldnâ€™t realize what the canyon would become in my life, that it would hone my ever-gathering sense of self, that Iâ€™d feel more at home in that fiery desert canyon than I did in the Southern California city I was raised in. I couldnâ€™t have known that this love would change even my memory of that day, crafting it into a narrative of initiation.