Stories

I thought a great deal about what to share of my favorite Four Corners School moments; there are too many to write, and many so deep, they've found a permanent home at my core, and I can't bring them up at will anymore. They live in me, and flow like a mighty river in my veins. The Four Corners School moments are the source of my inspiration, the visions I go to when I think I can't go on, or am leary to try. Since going on the first FCS trip in 1999, the girl who was kind of scared, unsure of herself, and lacked any faith in her physical strength is gone. She has been replaced by someone who knows herself well, has gone on to lead others to the outdoors, the river, the path---wherever that may be. She's not really afraid of anything anymore, and has summoned more grit and tenacity that she ever dreamed possible. I don't think anyone can really understand that monolithic gift until walking in those shoes, shedding that old skin, and coming into their own, like an idea whose time has come. The best I could do is encourage others to take that journey, whatever trip that may be, and know that the friendships made, and the lessons learned will become the fabric of their Soul.

This is an excerpt from my journal on April 9, 2002, during the fabulous Rock Art and Archaeology in the Escalante Outback:

LeCompte is screaming in his sleep at 2:30 a.m. I get up after several subsequent moans thinking he is hurt or freaking out. He claims "If I was, it was in my sleep." Man, that was weird--startling. At least he's okay and hasn't been bitten by anything.

The canyon birds provide a wake-up call, as usual. We sleep until 7:00 a.m. and then enjoy coffee, apples, and bagels for breakfast. We are all eager to start the day; destination: Brett's Climb. The hike is much easier than the day before. We hardly pant even on the steep, sandy ascents. Before we know it, we're at Brett's Climb. The panel is very old and contains a strange mix of images/figures. We pick what intrigues us (me a Mayan like circle) and begin our documentation. I love this! We arrived around 11-11:15 so we work until 12:30 - lunch is tuna/pita. Everybody is snapping pictures of this site, which has had five beings view it that we know of. There is a small corn on a mitten heap. I attempt to document the cross section but find it takes three attempts to get the Kokapelli/squiggle figures right. Lots of snake-like creatures, birds, ladders, fish-like (up high) it's a unique sight. Archaic and probably 3000 years old, per Don. We work until roughly 3 p.m. and then pack up for the descent. On a lark, we go for the Narrows. The climb down is not bad, in fact nothing like the serious rope/hand-held ascent/descent to Brett's Climb. We are joking and laughing--poking fun at each other. Brett gets a good tease going. Susan Simons claims "She's heard about me" before the trip and Brett claims all the cowboys will know about me if I perish here (Laura's Leap). I pointed out that it would be a noble death. We get to the Narrows and it's stunningly beautiful. I comment that it's my favorite color. I am feeling so content, happy and alive at the core of my being. I think of Dad and hope he's with me. I am so proud of myself for visiting a place I've been called to go and then experiencing it with two of the finest guides on Earth.

The slot canyon is a virgin view for me. Am happy.

Coming back we decide to wade through the water, hoping it's passable. It's not! It's full and over our heads and we GO for it! Building a raft out of 6-8 logs, we load our gear on it and Don Keller scouts the way. His body posture and antics are hilarious and we all bust a gut laughing! The air is electric and we shed our clothes to swim the frigid waters. I am so cold, I think of water skiing in the Okanagan and muscle freezes but keep my strokes as even as I can. In no time, we're on the other side, getting ready to navigate the second pool---it's only chest deep and easily, but slimily passable. We are popsicles and are refreshed from the awesome adventure. No wimps in this group.

Brett goes ahead to put on hot water. Don takes us to explore a few other Archaic sites (very rudimentary). There are only a few pot sherds and the rock art looks really old (Glen Canyon/Barrier style). Beautiful.

Upon arriving at camp, we get into some fleece, and soon Brett is serving potato soup. Somehow everyone is extremely feisty and witty remarks turn sharp. We get tickled and can't stop the laughter. Brett claims the soup has to be eaten or no chocolate pudding for dessert! Then he claims the crackers have to be eaten or no dessert! Soup Nazi! On this note he goes to pee. Upon his return, he notices Tom McIntosh and I have put a cracker on his veggie burger. There were two left; I ate one. He says "I go to take a piss and come back to find they've overthrown the government!"

Don arrives from collecting wood and I exclaim we've been placed under criteria for eating food with ultamateums!! We are rip-roaring in laugher and bantering remarks. Brett says "I may be gruff but I've got a heart of gold." This puts me over the edge for laughter! I said, "I'm glad YOU said it." On that, we washed up and decide to take a star-lit walk up the canyon walls on the other side of the creek for some star gazing.

I am saddened when I look up and wonder where Dad's spirit is. Looking at stars a person feels so small. Then I feel him close by. Soothing. We return with flash lights on head or in hand. The descent is surprisingly easy. What a life-making outstanding day. Thank you Universe for the beauty and magic you've given us today.

We have a campfire and notice Charlotte, our resident black widow, is not in her hole. The other (Christy) has lowered herself to the sand, by the guitar. Then our far right hole contains a huge one, Grandma Gertrude. They seem docile; still we respect them. The conversation is primarily Lake Powell related. I turn in around 10:30 p.m to write and give thanks for the blessings today.

Suzanne (AKA Blanche) McSherry
Trip Date Numerous from mid 1980's through mid-1990's

I may be the FIRST person who participated in a Janet Ross-led, 4-Corners School trip on the Colorado Plateau. Seriously, I think I am. Way back in the summer of 1984 or '85, I lead a group of teenagers from Camp Echo Lake in the Adirondacks of NY State on a cross-country trip. It was the first year of that camp's western tour program that I had developed. One of the highlights of that trip was a 3-day rafting trip down the San Juan River. I had hired an outfitter who struck me as "disengaged;" he was either burned out on the business or with people in general. Luckily, Janet Ross was on the trip as a guide for the outfitter. Janet's wry humor, tremendous knowledge of the river and region and devotion to education made the trip worthwhile and memorable.

I clearly recall preparing dinner with her at camp one evening quietly complaining about the outfitter. Janet clued me in to her plans for her very own program - I was impressed with her vision and determination and told her if my program continued the following year, I'd hire her to lead the river trip. The following year, Janet's Four Corners School was in full operation and Echo Lake Camp hired her to guide us for a float down a different stretch of the San Juan. She and her staff understood how to get our somewhat jaded east coast urban kids engaged in the experience, and our 3 days on the river became one of the favorite features of the 4-week trip. I will never forget spending one afternoon wallowing in a river-shore mud hole with the entire group; kids who had previously worried more about their hair being in place were completely immersed in just having fun. Janet had their full attention after that for hikes to ruins and geological sites.

In the late 1980's and early 1990's I was a member of the Adirondack Mountain Club's Extended Trip Committee. We scrutinized outfitters for ADK-sanctioned trips all over the world. Janet's 4-Corners programs fast became hugely popular with ADK members. She led our members to Yellowstone for XC skiing, down the Dolores and a variety of other fabulous southwest adventures. I organized one for a week in October to the Colorado arm of Lake Powell. It was the end of a long trip season for Janet who joined us on the houseboat and archaeology trip. The weather was fabulous, the lake was mostly deserted and the program was fascinating. I don't recall the names of the researchers whose inventory of remote Anasazi sites we were assisting with, but they were generous with their knowledge and love of the region and its history.

In recent years, my life in the Adirondacks has become more rooted and complicated, so it has been more than ten years since I've participated in a 4-Corners School program. But as I work (as a Project Review Specialist for the Adirondack Park Agency) to help protect this region from over-development and incompatible uses, I draw on the experiences I enjoyed with Janet. They were fabulous and fun and so memorable. Thank you Janet! Here's to you in wishes of another successful and dynamite 20 years. You are such a fabulous role model to us all.

Love, Suzanne B.

Austin Miller
Boulder, Colorado

We all promised not to look around and went up to the edge of the canyon where there was a ruin. The canyon was all sand and rock and full of bushes, we went right under the rim where it stuck out and came to a cave. The face of the canyon dropped down. Janet dug back into the sand and pulled out a pot that was 12" high, it was multi colored and empty. After everyone saw it, Janet reburied it. She said it was an Anasazi Pot. In the bottom of the canyon was flat ground and a Kiva was built into the ground, so that all we could see was a hole and rocks were built up around the hole. There was a ladder sticking down into the Kiva but no one climbed down. There were pot chards all over the ground and several more Kiva's in the area. They had chimneys in them. There were also corncobs on the ground.

We hiked and came out at the top of the canyon and went up the river to a flat spot and climbed up and out to flat ground. It was still quite a distance to where the ranger lived, and that was where the bus was. The bus took the participants back to Janet's house. The trip had put in at Mexican Hat where it had snowed, so the rafts had to sit in the sun to melt the ice.