Touching Stone​​​ Gallery

Yesterday, she walked 6 miles to her campsite high up Chisos Mountain. After finishing her dinner of freeze-dried chicken pasta, she sat watching the sun slowly merging with the horizon. The vast desert faded into shapes of purple and blue under a clear sky that turned amber. As the land darkened, stars lit up one by one till stardust sprinkled the sky. The Milky Way flowed overhead like a sparkling stream. She understood why Chinese called it the ‘Silver River’. A breeze swelled up, wiping away remaining warmth of the winter sun. Kuro-e felt a chill. Normally, she would enjoy staying outside to watch the stars. Tonight, her surroundings somehow looked desolate. She retired into her tent.

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Uneasy feelings had kept her half-awake most of the night. In the morning, while making coffee for breakfast, a doe wandered into camp with a fawn tagging along. They browsed fearlessly around the tent. Kuro-e almost laughed out loud at herself, the late-night visitor must have been a deer. She was embarrassed by her nervousness; she had camped in more remote places and never felt threatened. Perhaps the stories in the book had spooked her. In any case, she had learned to trust her instinct. Something seemed to tell her to be extra careful here.

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At noon, she walked with a day pack to the edge of South Rim. The view shocked her. Two thousand feet below, rugged peaks of Sierra Quemada – the Burned Range – pushed against one another like giant waves rolling towards Rio Grande far to the south. Beyond the river was Mexico, and more mountains as far as eye could see. A black volcanic plug called Elephant Tusk rose above the sea of peaks, a prominent landmark in the park. Even in broad daylight, the landscape looked gloomy, foreboding, and unforgiving. People had died down there. Hikers had gotten lost and died of thirst and exposure, a few even murdered, their cases never solved. This land practically exuded ominous warnings. Of all the places she had been, this was one place she would not want to venture into alone.

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Kuro-e had almost forgotten about the purpose she was there when something darted across the sky. A falcon! She thought. She quickly grabbed her binoculars and zoomed in on the bird. It was a swift. White-throat swifts nest and over-winter in the lava cracks among the cliffs on South Rim. She scanned the sky hoping to find a falcon, but only saw more swifts. It was then she sensed she was being watched. She turned around and came face-to-face with a man with a sun-burnt face not five paces away. They eyed each other without exchanging greetings. The man suddenly feigned surprise and raised a hand pointing behind Kuro-e’s back, as if seeing something frightening. Kuro-e did not move, she kept her eyes trained on the man. The man grinned and lowered his hand, then abruptly turned and walked away. Kuro-e watched him disappearing down the trail. Was this a practical joke? This was getting too strange.

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Suddenly, what she heard the night before felt more sinister. She made a quick assessment of her situation and decided not to stay another night. Something did not feel right; she needed to get out of this mountain. Before heading back to camp, she fished out her  pocketknife from her pack and slipped it into her pant pocket. She took one last look at the view. Elephant Tusk seemed to have turned a shade darker. It stood there like a black omen. It said  Go!