Two weeks in downtown Minneapolis can suck the last drop out of a gal like me. I travel the rough back roads of this country solo and rarely feel vulnerable, afraid, or exposed. But a lot of time in most cities is draining. San Francisco, Montreal, and Istanbul are the exceptions.
My hat is off to the founders of Minneapolis who preserved the green space along the Mississippi River flowing between the Twin Cities. Daily 
hikes along the downtown Nature trails infused Rocky and me. The festivals, museums, music, and food reflect an appreciation of high talent and passion. I’m grateful for the hospitality the fine staff at Town Suites on 2ndStreet offered Rocky and me.
The St. Croix River and several gorgeous 
state parks are within an hour drive of the city. The flooding of St. Croix created an awesome canoe ride on a sunny Sunday.
We bid farewell to the Twin Cities with one urgent goal – restore the balance off grid. I was so depleted I loaded up enough groceries, water, propane, permits, and maps to avoid town. Forever!
I knew what I needed and why. I didn’t know what state or national forest would answer my call for a cold, mountain creek with deep forest shade and enough flat space to set up camp. Frequent rain is a bonus.
We drove east past the crystal clear mountain lakes of Minnesota and the blazing Badlands of South Dakota without a second glance. But the Black
Hills National Forest pinged images of moving water, cool breezes, and the smell of evergreens.
Firing up my orienteering brain, GPS, and the Forest Service’s off road maps we set off to find our next hermitage in the woods. But the answer to my call for a mountain peak and valley creek took me far beyond even Subaru’s impressive off grid GPS coverage. The paper map led me to blockades of private land, cut timber, and herds of cattle common in today’s national forests.
I could feel the place in my heart, but I couldn’t find it with my head. Frankly I thought I knew the plan but all I really had were clear visions, longing, dreams, journals, stories, and prayers guiding my life. Eyeing the setting sun I let go of outcomes. I’d make due. And due would make me as it always does.
One deep breath disabled the brain and my open, willing heart took the lead focusing with gratitude on the cool, moist breeze, towering spruce, green rolling meadows, and distant granite peaks. Each turn on the ATV trail offered more than I had planned or prepared for. What did it matter if there was no creek?
On a last minute whim I took a left on what appeared to be a wagon trail from the old west.
Never turn left, my brain piped in, reminding me of the crash statistics on left turns.
Almost there Cindy. You are almost there, my heart replied.
Right. Sorry I got in the way for so long. Thank you for this, I whispered crossing a cattle guard opening to a large meadow blanketed with flowers.
A delighted laugh flew from my heart as I rounded a bend. A small clearing created when diseased trees were removed nurtured a new meadow
bursting with baby raspberry plants, brilliant flowers, and strong, native grasses. A wide and swift creek flowed beneath towering granite cliffs framing the meadow. Centuries of evergreen needles made the ground soft, flat, and fragrant. The sun disappeared beyond the cliffs while I danced in joyful circles around the meadow laughing and singing.
I couldn’t overthink camp set up because there was only one possible, perfect option. Shade for the camper, space for the shower/bathroom, 
stumps and cut timber for tables and chairs. The meadow was just right for optimum solar collection and a small deer trail led to the creek. I quickly assembled a basic camp and slept deeply to the sound of running water.
The nudge at dawn was annoying enough to be effective. Quickly wake up! Look! Outside my door was a breath-taking, eight-point buck grazing in the meadow with a juvenile male sporting new antlers. I flashed on Bambi’s Dad showing him the ropes in the forest. Mimicking Bambi’s Mother’s I sadly whispered “Man was in the forest today,”and the big buck looked my way before trotting up the hill with a snort and quick flash of tail.
Over coffee a curious bumblebee with an odd flight pattern feasted on purple flowers by my chair. He might have a limping flight but was not lacking in strength and agility I noticed lighting incense and settling into meditation.
He was gone when I came back to physical awareness but returned often. His visits correlated with each new item I set up in camp. The two awnings, bathroom tent, a tablecloth over stumps to create a kitchen seemed to draw him like an inspector. He would hitch a ride on my feet, arms or hands.
I would too! I thought watching him crash land on the kitchen counter and crawl onto the raw veggies to nap.
The second day, eager to satisfy my curious brain I gathered up maps settling at the table to identify our coordinates now that we had hiked the area. I could visualize how the last minute left turn had taken me through private land with access to Crystal Peak and Creek. Now to verify that theory.
Bee arrived with a hard landing on the map and danced in circles along the winding map trail markings. Between dances he slept, so still the only sign of life was the light reflecting in his eyes. So bees sleep with eyes open?
I’ve never observed bee sleep so can only guess that’s what it was. If I nudged him he would crawl into my hand and drift back off. He napped a lot, especially in the spruce branches I had harvested from a newly cut tree to use on the altar. In the world of bee blessings I knew I had hit the jackpot even as my awareness of his declining condition grew.
No big surprise here, I mumbled acknowledging that if humans find me to midwife death why not a bumblebee?
By the third morning he had let go of gathering nectar in the meadow, preferring to stay snuggled in the altar bustling with a community of spiders, honeybees, beetles and ants. Extravert aye? I mused as I broke my “don’t kill the wildflowers” cardinal rule and placed his favorite purple flower next to him on the altar. He perked up and fed for hours between naps. I tucked him in that night with visions of angelic hives, prayers for peace, and a deep appreciation for his quiet companionship.
The next morning he was gone. I searched but never found him. My mind filled with images of Elijah the Bee ascending in a chariot of meadow flowers.
Seemed fitting. Like Elijah, Bee reminded me to be bit more mindful of daily manna in the wilderness that defy life or death polarities. This elusive, often fleeting awareness deeply restores a vibrant, healthy, happy harmony in every part of me and has since I was a girl living in the woods with creeks and ponds.
Profoundly simple. Nothing fancy. Just Nature showing up as Bee leading the way through miracles and magic in the great outback.
“I’ve driven from coast to coast on backroads but never experienced this one yet,” I chuckled surveying the tire so flat it had collapsed in on itself with an angry pop and forceful hiss after I clipped the partially buried wedge of shale forcing a split in the sidewall of the tire.
I held up my hand to stop him. “There’s just one more thing I should show you before you volunteer to help. It’s quite the hassle,” I warned moving to the rear of my car to open the hatch and reveal the solid wood chest of drawers built to fit in the full cargo area of the Subaru. My favorite carpenter had built it for me to haul my gear. With all the drawers removed it still takes two strong people to lift. Someday I’ll find someone to build it out of lightweight aluminum but for now this 300 pound behemoth serves me well.
“I’m going to need one of you to help back here,” he quietly motioned.
And family they are. Three strapping brothers, their sister, mother, and a sister- and brother-in-law out for a picnic near beautiful meadows and old mine in Castle Peak wilderness area of the Black Hills National Forest in South Dakota.
With a grateful heart we shook hands, hugged thank you’s and good byes and went our separate ways. Just as I was getting in my car a mammoth, cobalt blue 4×4 pick up pulled up and offered help. I shook his hand in introduction and George swore I was the spitting image of his cousin. He may have missed out on the heavy lifting but he did stay in my site until we hit paved road where he waved good-bye.
A week earlier when I entered the deep forests, meadows, creeks and cliffs of the Black Hills I immediately felt peace, safety and belonging in my marrow. My sleep has been deep and filled with adventurous dreams of close-knit family living here for generations. My camp in the pine and spruce forest has been busy with visitors of all kinds. The same bumblebee lived with us for three days. Two majestic bucks visit the 
leaping brookies. Hummingbirds dive for my morning maple syrup. Angels dance with fairies and family long gone embrace me with a smell, a warm breeze, and memories of laughter and love. In all my travels it’s the longest I’ve stayed in one spot and I have no desire to leave.
In that instant I felt her unity with my journey in the very empty seat beside her. Yes the blessing of close, loving, grown children surrounded her. But she too knew unbearable loss and lonely, dark grief. I’ll never forget the glow of her face when she observed “you are free!” I think like me, she lives a celebrated recovery beyond the losses with a grateful mindfulness of the gift of each breath every day simply because we are alive.
Dear West Family and blue pick up George know that I still feel your infusion of safety, reassurance, and rescue. Your big medicine is now a part of me available to ground and guide me during the next calamity. May your blessings return to each of you in the gentle breeze with my grateful hug.
But on Sunday Oak Creek Canyon reminds me of ants at a summer picnic. Sedona tourism has tripled in the last decade with over two million annual visitors. On any given weekend thousands pack the roadway, parking lots overflow both sides of the highway, and bumper-to-bumper one-lane traffic inches through the gridlock. The highway flows into downtown Sedona and every artery is an organized bottleneck thanks to abundant roundabouts.
Take HW 89A west from Sedona to mile marker 365. Turn right on Forest Rd 525 – Red Canyon Road. From entry to Palatki Ruins are many clearly marked pullouts. Some can accommodate numerous rigs while others are perfect for a small tent.
Mongollon Rim with Secret, Bear, and Lost Mountains on the east and Black, Sugarloaf, and Casner Mountains on the north and west.
Like all of Sedona it can get crowded and it’s worth venturing past the first spots. The area has many 
that seem close enough to touch.
National Forest campsites are larger than the 
It can accommodate small RV’s and tent campers on acres of open pasture and forested shade. Rates range from $20-$35/day. Camp Avalon is located at 91 Loy Lane in West Sedona off of 89A. Reservations available at 
The hiking trails of Sedona are some of the nations best so it’s worth the realities of camping in a heavy tourist area. The 
