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I hiked sandstone ledges
jumped over on the Toadstool
climbed in Moqui houses.
I drove cattle through towering red cliff canyons,
cahsed a wild steer all day
before driving him out of The Gulch.
I swam and dived off the ledge at Upper Calf Creek Falls
escaped a flash flood that drove rock and logs over the ledge
and watched seven falls dropping, without us.
A truck and trailer slid backward off the Burr Trail
and rolled down nine switchbacks.
I chased wild horses in a yellow jeep near
Wild Horse Mesa in the Circle Cliffs and
looked for snakes in the Sjinikhole when
camped near Woulverine and Silver Falls.
I hiked Death Hollow Trail where my grandfather fell
holding only to Old Pat's bridle to save himself.
I swam the Colorado River at Hole-in-the-Rock,
saw the steps the Pioneers made to lower wagons by rope,
and danced at Dance Hall Rock.
I slitered and slioped through Spooky Gulch
told ghost stories by campfire
and crept back through when the moon was high.
I rode Hog's back and on to Escalante
seven school years.
I am Kanyonland King
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