February 18, 2004 Wilson’s Section e the other press © ‘ops and us a ride. And what a ride it is. e cloud of dust kicked up from the g tires is oppressive at the speed we raveling and soon all five of us are red in a layer of white dust, appar- ageing us by fifty years to onlook- e dirt road winds its way up and d then in a matter of seconds the splendor of the Canyon is made . The pine trees are gone and the ving height of the barren canyon proclaim their past. Sheer drops of ands of feet now present themselves From this vantage point on the side canyon we can see the road as it lags its way down in hairpin turns to seemingly unfathomable depth. fs later a service st ord Search ie we Hues However, no such accident occurs and we © slowly crawl down and down deeper into the reaches of the canyon. After one hour we reach a cool river at the bottom and the town of La Bufa. The town of La Bufa is actually just three or four houses perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking what appears to be another, deeper canyon. Looking up, I can’t see the top where we began and can- not see the bottom of the one to come. This is where the majesty and the isola- tion of such a place is so specifically made known. Our road downwards from La Bufa is barely visible as it clings precari- ously to the canyon walls and fades from sight. Some dark clouds have gathered a sigh of relief. ' e bi Walking with my companions the two- kilometre main road alongside the Rio Batopilas is a pleasant relief from the bouncing and scratching of skin on rusty truck beds. The Hotel Batopilas, situated on the river is an obvious prime choice with large, clean suites and private bath- rooms for six dollars a person. I already know I could stay here a while. I toss my backpack on the bed, buy six beers, and drop myself into the hammock in the courtyard. From the hammock in the courtyard of the Hotel Batopilas the worlds seems to move a little slower... SCREECH KISSTHECOD LOBSTER NEWFS HOTDOG SOUWESTER RAINSTORM THESHIP DRUNKEN BEER BUFFET ICE JAMJAMS TOUTONS TRIPE FISHCAKES SNOWWAR RUNNYCHEESE ZING WHITEOUT ICICLES FISHNCHIPS QOimiolalUlre im ayn COBBLE GUP. 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My mom, dad, brother and I spent three days up Mt. Washington on Vancouver Island; it was beautiful. On our second day we (my mom, dad, and I) were bombing down “Rainbow,” a fair- ly advanced intermediate run, when an unexpect- ed, adreline- pumping event took place. I was what we call “in the zone,” meaning I was skiing like a pro and feelin’ good. Then I saw this guy out of the corner of my left eye coming at me from behind, and he was coming quick. I realized right away he was WAY out of control and was going to hit me—and he did. Actually he skiied across the front of my skis and almost took off my nose with his pole. Last I looked he was continuing on his distructive path toward my mom. I hit the snow head first and proceeded to tumble down the mountain side, coming to a stop some 30 feet or so later. I lay there for what seem edto be minutes before I got up again. I managed to keep my coat, pants, and gloves. My skis, poles, toque, and goggles, howev- er, were spread out all over the damn place; this is what we like to call a “yard sale.” I looked up at mom, and she had only fallen about half the distance I did, but she also was hav- ing a “yard sale.” Then I looked up futher and noticed BLOOD on the snow and saw my dad moving around frantically, kneeling down beside the guy who wiped us out. My heart pounding, I ran up the hill to my dad and discovered it wasn’t my dad bleeding—it was the maniac skiier! It turns out after he hit me, he hit my mom, they became entangled and when they began to fall her ski came up into the air and cut through the man’s jacket and his ARM! Heer ski cut a major artery in his arm and there was blood pumping out onto the snow. My dad used his bandana to tie around the man’s arm to help stop the bleeding. The First Aid guys arrived six minutes later and took him away. To say the least, we were a little shaken up and headed in for a hot chocolate! Crazy eh? We asked the First Aid guys about him later that day and they said he was fine—they patched him up and sent him to the hospital with his friend. Poetry Found You asked me “Where have you been all this time?” I smiled, blushed, and looked away but skin touches melted fear one look untied a heart of knots you smiled, I found a part of me long lost and then I knew— all this time I’ve been searching for you by Krista Zundel Page 13