Something in me follows. After four miles, the trail begins its descent, down Little Bear Canyon to the Middle Fork of the Gila River. Now we enter a cooler and wetter world. The path narrows until we are walking on a stream bed with gray rock rising intimately above us, so close we could extend our arms and touch each wall. Emerald-green algae swirls in a puddle.
Insects hatch and burrow in the mud.
At a small cave, we stop again to admire a pictograph - a squiggly red line, a possible lizard. Not so long ago, hikers could still find prayer sticks and arrowheads in this rock shelter, artifacts from the ancient Mogollon culture. These hunters and farmers left this area around A.D. 1300, and pictographs like this one may be a thousand years old. As usual, I am thrilled, touched by this sense of our deep history. When my family emerges from Little Bear Canyon, we stumble dramatically into the light.