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I lean back against a log and listen to oaks and willows tell stories to the land. The creek shares secrets in a language I want to understand. I count flower petals and last fall’s leaves that bounce on the breeze as I dip my hand into the cold water, at ease, and my worries burn away like the morning fog.

I sit facing the sun, and like the lizard eyeing me, I soak up the warmth. The creek babbles on about spring’s arrival, and hummingbirds skim the pools in search of new bloom. The wet moss and earth smell just like a field of deer grass after a rain, and after I’ve sat still long enough, it’s easy to spot fish rising to snack on the bugs floating just above the water’s surface.

West Clear Creek Wilderness is a gem of tranquility and solitude off Lake Mary Road not too far from Clint’s Well. The spot is a soft place to fall when I need a break from the teeth-grinding tension of modern life. It takes a bit of work to get here, but it is worth it. The whole hike and visit to the wilderness is the perfect time to remind myself to be where my feet are, to stop worrying about a future that hasn’t arrived, or a past that has already come and gone and just � be.

I was first brought here by a high school buddy way back in 1986, my first year in Flagstaff as a sophomore in college. Ever since, I have tried to make the trip at least once a year, but sometimes, I come here many times between mid-April through the threat of a big snow in October. And when I say it’s work to get here, I’m only half kidding.

The U.S. Forest Service road to get here starts off bumpy, and by the time I get to the place -- I like to park about 7 ½ miles from Lake Mary Road -- my kidneys have been thoroughly busted, and my teeth have been sufficiently rattled. The trick is to go slow and carefully. My Nissan Rogue can make it to either the Maxwell or Tramway trailheads that go down into the wilderness, but I like to park about a mile and a half away from the Maxwell trailhead to make it a decent day of hiking.

365betÌåÓýÔÚÏßÊÀ½ç±­, the sun shines, and dramatic clouds build above the red-bellied ponderosa pines. Instead of spending a day or two camping, or fishing for trout, I have decided to make it a day hike to write and to shoot photos.

I strap on my pack that has the essentials and hustle along the road through the pines. The gobbles from a flock of wild turkeys echoes from a drainage below, and, near the trailhead, I’m just as spooked by the herd of 20 or 30 elk I come across before they run off and disappear among the trees.

I register at the sign in book and head down the trail that switchbacks along the canyon wall. The trail is obvious and maintained, but, again, take it slow and steady to keep the loose gravel and scree from being an issue. The pines give way to juniper and oak as I descend. About halfway to the bottom, what you think is the sound of wind in the trees is actually the sound of the creek, and it is a welcome sound, a soothing sound that adds depth to the birdsong.

At the bottom, the trail peters out, but anglers and other hikers have already cut a few trails this early in the season along the bank of the creek. Needless to say, bushwhacking through willows and reeds is involved, especially if you want to make the mile trip downstream to the Tramway Trailhead to make it a loop, but I don’t feel like it today, so I’ll just sit here on this flat boulder along the bank of the creek, write in my notebook and take photos of the beauty all around me.

Maybe it’s fate, or maybe it’s synchronicity that the editor of this publication texts me as I sit here in search of a story and photos. I tell her that, in fact, I do. Life is mysterious like that, sometimes.

I fill my heart and soul with the softness, the calm of this place. The words come. The images develop. I steal a quick nap in the shade, lulled to sleep by Nature’s music, the organic smells of life, the warmth of a new spring. The hike out burns the lungs, taxes the legs, reminds me how good it is to be alive and still able to do this. Back at my car, I am spent and happy � just what I needed.

I hope you all find a place like West Clear Creek Wilderness in your lives. Maybe this could be your place, too, like it is for me.

If you go �

What: Maxwell Trail down into the West Clear Creek Wilderness in the Coconino National Forest

Directions: From Flagstaff, head down Lake Mary Road past the Happy Jack Ranger Station and make a right a Forest Road 81, which is about 7 miles before you get to Clint’s Well. Take FR 81 about 4 miles to the junction for 81E, keep left and take it to the end of the road (about 9 miles total). You have to pass through a gate, and you’ll see a Forest Service sign that says “Message Board.� High-clearance vehicles are highly recommended.

Distance: The actual distance from the trailhead down to the creek is less than a mile, but it’s a steep mile, about 700 feet in elevation. Going down is relatively cake, but coming out, be prepared to get the heart pumping and the legs burning � especially if you’re carrying a pack with camping or fishing gear. I like to make it a 5 or 6 mile hike round trip when I make it a day hike.