I spent the better part of the afternoon looking for an unpeopled swimming hole.
Four hours, three U-turns and two bottles of Smart Water later, I'm still in my car.
I drag my red-faced, sun-soaked, soggy self into Enlightenment, a tiny book store on the side of Highway 179. I ask the middle-aged sprite behind the counter if she can recommend a scenic chill spot off the tourist-y Teva-trodden path.
"You should check out some of the vortexes. They're very healing."
She hands me a a Sedona vortex guide book. I point to an overstuffed chair next to a display of Dreamcatchers in the corner, and ask if I can take five and skim through it. She snatches the book out of my hand and sends me down the road to Circle K for directions.
The Circle K is like 7-11, only the cashier is white and chipper. A giant crystal dangles from her neck(s).
"She probably sent you here because she knows a lot of us that work here are psychic."
Probably.
She directs me to a nearby vortex, which looks a lot like a hill - rocky, red and cactus-strewn - but a hill, just the same.
It's pretty. It's hot. It's crowded.
I think I hear Santa Fe calling my name...
--------
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://mt.laweekly.com/mt-tb.cgi/36740
Comments