Joan Cordova
My name is Joan Cordova. We are in Springdale, Utah.
William Logan Hebner
My name is William Logan Hebner. I was a river guide back in the day, and there were three of us good friends, and we had our eye on kayaking this slot canyon that had never been kayaked before. And it wasn't because we were badass kayakers. It was a hard place to reach because you had to get up over mountain passes, and you had to be here to make sure the snow was okay, and you had to find a way to drop into this thing. So it took a couple of years for the conditions to come.
We had to work our way through some of the more reclusive southern Utah properties and even a compound or two that were very intent on their privacy. And you know, we were going through "No Trespassing" signs, and there was one wrecked, rotted plywood sign that just said "NO!" in dripping letters that looked like blood. And it was like beginning of a bad movie.
But we persisted, we cut into the canyon as high as we could. And it was just perfect. It was so beautiful. It was like being inside of a giant rose. It was deep red. The water level was perfect. The kayaking was challenging, but not intimidating, and it was just beautiful.
And so we had this amazing day where we got where we wanted to get to this confluence with this larger river. And we were camped out, and we had finished dinner, and we were all sitting so happy and relaxed because we knew the rest of this river. We had done this stretch before. So we're now in known territory. The "adventure" was over, and there was absolutely no wind.
And for no particular reason, we all look up at a buttress across the river, and all of a sudden the cottonwoods and willows that are sprouting over there start to wave. And my description of it was like a deep barometric pressure drop with a sudden brightening of colors. Another friend of mine said it was like a portal opening. And the other one said it was like being at the optometrist when they clicked the glasses and you didn't know you had bad eyesight, but you're going, "Oh, my God, I can see!"
And a spirit appeared on this buttress, and it was a woman. It was such a powerful presence. She was staring straight ahead, about 50 feet up on this buttress. We all saw her very clearly. Time kind of stopped, and to me, she seemed profoundly sad. To some of the others, she seemed very intent, but she didn't communicate with us. Finally, I managed to say, "Can we help you?" But there was no response. She just wanted us to see her. That was enough of a message. And then after who knows how long, she just dissolved and everything kind of went back to normal.
And it was a life changing experience for me, because I spent a lot of time skiing. And there's a utility to it. You see a mountain, you want to ski it. It's like there for you to use. There's a rapid, I'm going to run it instead of just going, just listen to the river. But if you go into it with that, you know, we're going to do this, that interface doesn't lead to that kind of intimacy, even though you want it to, and it's sort of why you're out there. There's a quote saying that, "you white people believe 'I have to see it to believe it', but we have a belief that you have to believe it to see it." So that was a profound moment in my life, just knowing that there's a different way to be.
Joan Cordova
I think we're all capable of being vessels. Your mind kind of joins that quietness and all of a sudden it's like the most beautiful moment where you're not listening to anything, not even your own thoughts, and you're just kind of one with nature.
