“That sounds great.”
*
“They said it’s supposed to be in the low 90s today,” Marissa tells me on the drive.
She’s once again overthinking her clothing choices, while I’m trying not to kill us both by staring at her bare legs instead of watching the road.
“Do you have a hat? You can take mine if you want,” she continues, and I smile.
“I do have a hat, I always keep one in the trunk. And I put sunscreen on my head, don’t worry.”
“I thought…” She breaks off and presses her lips together.
“You worry about my bald head, that’s sweet of you. I’m not embarrassed of it.”
Marisa shoots me a grateful smile but doesn’t pursue the topic further. “Do you hike a lot?”
“I try to. But between life, work, and riding, I don’t always find the time. And when I do, you have to be careful to avoid the heat and the flash floods and the haboobs…” I shake my head. “As beautiful as she is, Arizona ain’t for the weak.”
“Amen,” she agrees.
“Did you hike a lot in Tucson?”
Marissa scoffs. “Hiking was the last thing on my mind,” she shakes her head. “But now that I suddenly find myself with all this free time on the weekends, I should try new things.”
“Well, I picked the perfect route for a newbie. It’s only a mile and a half, scenic, fairly easy, but very rocky, so watch your feet.”
It’s pleasantly warm. The scent of soil and various wildflowers flavors each breath I take.
Other than me reminding Marissa to drink water, we don’t talk much. I guess we’re both focused on watching our steps.
“This is here year-round,” I tell her, pointing to a pool of water. “The waterfall at the end flows only after several days of heavy rain.”
I take her hand to help her over some slick rocks, and I don’t let go afterwards. Neither does she.
We quickly reach the carvings on the cliff. I gaze up at them reverently. Marissa squints, trying to make out the shapes.
“What are those?” She asks.
“They’re called petroglyphs,” I explain. “They’re ancient rock carvings, over a thousand years old, made by the Hohokam people. And that’s where the waterfall would be.”
“Wow. So, this is like an archeological site?”
I nod. “No one is supposed to touch the carvings, since skin oils can damage and degrade them.”
“But they survived all these years, despite the elements?”
I nod, but she seems skeptical. She’s looking around like she’s trying to puzzle something out.
“What do they represent? I doubt someone idle was sitting here, doodling for fun.”
“Who knows?” I finally let go of her hand in order to put my hands on my hips. “Could be hunting markers, a wayfinding system, a religious thing…”
“We’ll never know,” Marissa concludes.
“Do you think that makes it more or less special?” I ask her, and she considers the question for a moment.
“I think not knowing allows us to project our own ideas onto these carvings. Now, whether that’s good or bad is debatable.”
