Another of my Prescott ties is to the American Legion.  When I’m home on a Sunday morning, the lure of a delicious brunch at the post becomes irresistible.  So it was this past Sunday, and it was not just standard fare, but chicken-fried steak that was offered with eggs and hash browns.  Baked apples were also available, respecting the spirit of October. Thus, the Oktoberfest spirit continued.  Afterward, I did an act of service for a couple of friends in town.  Then, it was time for Sedona.  I headed for Cathedral Rock, and by the luck of the draw, I found there was parking to spare, in the usually jam-packed lot off Back O’ Beyond Road. I headed up to the rock, scrambling as far as the 2/3 point of the trail.  There, I spent a few minutes meditating, while several others, of all ages were scooting their way up through the crevice that provides the safest route to the base of Cathedral Rock itself. I would sit and contemplate the action, both above and below me, twice that afternoon, but refrained from joining the fracas of machismo.  I tend to follow my intuition more in Sedona than in some other places, and since my intuition has been on overdrive, in general, these past nineteen months, I sat and calmly took in my surroundings. Presenting Cathedral Rock:

Here is the crevice which one must follow to the second saddle of this formation.

I’ve been up worse trails, though, so some day, my intuition may well say- “Go for it”.

Near Cathedral Rock is the east-west Templeton Trail, a mostly flat mountain bike route, going from a housing area, three miles to the south, to a juncture with Cathedral Trail.

It was here that I had two rather mystical experiences.  The first was watching wind-blown spider web threads blowing in the wind, with the full sun as a backdrop.  I could imagine they were supernatural creatures, come to visit with us on that blessed afternoon.  I did sense a lot of spiritual energy at some points along the path.

The second eerie experience took place as I was heading back from this view  of Chimney Rock.  A group of four women and a man approached me, and asked how close they were to the south parking lot.  Of course, I didn’t know.  The uncanny part was, one of the younger women strikingly resembled Penny as a twenty-year-old.  This took me for a loop, momentarily.  As they left, the girl chuckled that it seemed I didn’t know quite what to make of her.  If she only knew.

As the afternoon still seemed young,   I took in Little Horse Trail, near Bell Rock and hiked it as far as Chicken Point.  Here is the bench that leads up to Chicken Point.

Chicken Point lies straight ahead and to the left. 

Below is a view of Submarine Rock, from Chicken Point.

Before heading back, in the fading light, I caught a glimpse of Chicken Point’s “guardian”.

The day was more than rewarding.  I was left with so much to ponder,  So I did what any overstimulated Prescottonian would do- I stopped at Leff-T’s Steakhouse, in Dewey, and had a steak fajita salad.  In view of the heavy brunch, this helped me enjoy a carb-free supper, thus avoiding a Diabolical Diastolic, the following morning.