This is Disappointment Valley

This is Disappointment Valley.  This is the land that broke men whose wills were hardened by Building America, men who beat the Dust Bowl and survived the Great Depression.

You look across it, and you can’t help but imagine a weary and blistered Clint Eastwood trudging through the sand towards some long-forgotten vengeance.  You praise the skies for rain, curse them for the wind, shake your puny fists at the heavens and laugh hysterically for all the good it does.  You pick your way like some graceless dancing bear through Tamarisk thick as the Great Wall, through patches of Prickly Pear that treat leather boots like some spinster’s pin cushion.

As darkness falls the stars descend, low enough that you imagine they actually exist.  And standing among the rocks and stones, you feel a certain kinship to the stars that shoot above your head, brilliant and fleeting and beautiful.

I will say this:  Disappointment Valley is far from disappointing.

My name is Steve Lynch and I lead the Dolores River Restoration Crew, removing Tamarisk on sections of the Dolores River and her tributaries.  We have been working in Disappointment Valley for thirty days, cutting our way through acres of Tamarisk.  It is tough but satisfying work.  As the season draws to a close, I will remember the laughs and the sweat and the blood, but mostly I will remember Disappointment Valley.