I can't wait until next year

as I sit here glaring impatiently at a slowly rising percentage rate on the status of my Flickr upload, I can't help but marvel a little bit over the fact that 48 hours ago I was nestled in a sleeping bag deep in the canyon walls of the Havasupai reservation with twelve other amazing individuals. 24 hours later I'd be driving into Fresno for a 2 1/2 hour sleep. 24 hours previous I had never climbed the pour-overs of a chocolate jungle waterfall. I mean, between the stars and mule poop, is there a single moment that took place over the past six or seven days that any of us had experienced before? Dad may be exempt, but maybe not. From the moment we pulled out of Heather's driveway and made our own way up the morning route to the Sierras, adventures from not even my wildest dreams and nightmares ensued that have shook me like a tree of apples with too much fruit, I can only hope to remember how sweet it all tastes.
There's something to be said about returning, about coming back to "regular" life, daydreaming about the luxuries of having no food but dehydrated rice and packaged tuna, no water but a faucet sticking phallically from of a canyon's rock wall, no shelter except from rainproof tents rolled up on our backs.
I have some really vivid images in my head. In fact, for the first time in a while I think I can remember every single thing that happened to us this week, from the first 3am to the last one, I've got every second ingrained into my mind's eye like black dots after looking at the sun too long. There are the haunting things like a rushing brown muddy cascade or the smell of burnt horseflesh and feces, and there are fantastical things like the Milky Way's stars over a canyon silhouette, or a line of Indians dancing in Hopi garb to drums, and there are gorgeous things like blue-green pools and a pretty girl with hair tied like an Indian princess, or unexpected things like a rainforest spring or the stupefying beauty of Navajo Falls, or scary things like leaving Dad alone at 4 am in the Grand Canyon or standing at the edge of a 190 foot waterfall, or exhausting things like packing a tent at 2 am or not sleeping because of heat and bugs, or edible things like pasta and tuna with sauce, peaches, oatmeal, instant coffee, clif bars, Matt's honey-trail-mix-bars, Stan's fry bread, Candice's cookie crumbs, Art's homemade jerky, Dad's pudding, Baja Fresh and McDonald's chicken wraps... i could keep going. There's too much, and no point in writing it since I'm not planning on forgettng any of it.
The hike we did this week was definitive. It was an unbelievable journey.
Matt, you pointed out down there that this wasn't a vacation, it was an adventure. And you were so correct, in my tiredness I had lost the point - we aren't tourists we're explorers. Thank you guys, for the adventures of last week, I can't seem to get off the high of it. It's funny how simply being in nature makes you feel so good, like it reminds you of some obvious truth that everybody seems to have twisted slightly askew.. at least that's what it does to me. So thank you all again, Dad, Addie, Heather, Matt, Joey, Candice, Art, Darin, Amy, Emily, Stan, Joey, Phil, Candice, Art, Addie, Matt, Amy, Dad, Heather, Emily, Darin, Phil, Stan and Darin. Am I forgetting anyone? What an f**g awesome week. Seriously. I can't wait until next year, let's start planning, now.
And sorry I got ornery.
I love you all
-Mikie