Grand Canyon Death; Haunted Canyon Wonder
By Randy Mule Testman. This Campfire Tale is copyright 2009; all rights reserved.
This page is Camp One: Journey Camp Two: Death Camp Three: Wonder
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Some people think this story is dangerous and disturbing—Wimps!
Those who can't take reality can go here. Those who stay are welcome to gather around
the campfire for this true tale about a deeply religious young man who is trying to deal
with his homosexual nature though a dangerous quest in the Grand Canyon, and a hostile
religious culture that pushes him over the edge.
Playwright notes:
In this basic online script Mule (old Randy) speaks blue and young Randy speaks white;
they are both the same person, in reality. Speaking of contrive'ance, the apparent miracle
in this story is no Dues ex machina. Although time and events are consolidated in this fast
moving play, the Wonder, Wind and PRESENCE really happened, as poetically penned
in the surprise act after Death. Thus this is God from a canyon rather than God from a
machine. Go figure.
[Personal note from Mule : After more than thirty years of silence, I at last tell this story because in one way
or another this same disaster still happens again and again to deeply religious young men. Religion often
proves itself false, but even though his ways are inscrutable, God will eventually prove true. Human religion
is often intolerant, but Jesus our Savior gives hope and life---even if we go off a cliff of despair into death.]
On stage with illustrative set, this story has two actors: young Randy is main and old
Mule supports. Together they portray one person (and thus many) on a journey through
the three Camps (Acts) of this one hour Campfire Play. There are some relevant pictures
enlarged (or projected) as background, and the character(s) sing one song in each Camp.
[There are also comments and stage directions [like this] throughout : this is a college theater project.]
It's time to meet Randy as we arrive at...
Grand Canyon, Camp One : Journey
[Randy enters dark stage to campfire circle...kneels...ups^ flickerlights as he 'blows' them bright... goes to
DownStageCenter as select soft-spots come up...does soliloquy between DSC and campfire while Mule
silently sets illustrative screens in campfire-light background...and brings up a focused wash as each BG
screen is set (these are projected onto large screens, if available)...Randy speaks as he arrives DSC...]
I can't take much more of this torture—or "spiritual adventure," as Mule calls it; our last
meal was last week.
I'm Randy, and the old part of me called Mule has carried us over the edge and beyond
remote. Remote is close, compared to where we're at. After an impossible trek, we're
finally arrived at an ancient and dusty Indian cave. This hidden niche has thousand year
old relics lurking in the nooks, and I'm careful not to disturb them. As we set camp, monk
Mule asks a blessing from memories attached to the relics. He asks rest for the souls who
lived the memories. He asks our Mother Spirit, Father God, Savior Son to guide and help
us in this quest for purification and clear vision. Mule seeks Spirit power to accomplish
something that we discovered to be impossible, for me. Mule asks for a miracle, or death.
I'd settle for a meal. Toss in a beer, and I'm a happy camper. Add a good looking guy
and it's nirvana.
This hidden grotto is high up a wall at the head of a remote side canyon that runs deep in
the heart of the Grand Canyon, in Northern Arizona.
(Scenic view of area . and Google Earth view.)
Click for bigger pic.
We came here to become something I am not, or die trying. At the moment, I bet death.
There are vultures and bones stalking my imagination, even as I dream of food.
Food!
We didn't bring any, of course. Not with monk Mule in charge. Another week, though,
and even Mule will be too weak to get us out from this insane outpost.
Where Mule goes, I'm there, for better or worse. Like a coin with two sides we are one,
but also very different : Mule seems old, spiritual, strong and wise.
I usually whine, unless I'm having a good time. Mule says I lack discipline and love
fantasy. He might be right, but I'm young.
[Mule exits after finishing the set...]
Later, after prayer and meditation in the dark before dawn, Mule says we must go to the
creek in a place called Haunted Canyon.
Great. Another difficult trek. I'm pissed, but Mule says that's the point—no piss without
water. O yeah. There is that. We ran out of water last night. Crap. Pardon the language,
but a dump is another thing that doesn't happen when you haven't eaten for a week.
Fasting for spiritual reasons on a vision quest of purification is hard on the flesh...well,
my flesh anyway. Which is what Mule wants. We're both getting weak, but old Me
seems stronger every day...in some unfathomable way.
[Mule speaks from offstage...]
"Water flows and maybe our spirit will find release in the canyon called Haunted."
Mule says we must go, but I bet we fall off a cliff trying
to get there.
This is the view from Haunted Creek->
Maybe that's the plan—to fall off a cliff.
Is that what Mule means by our spirit finding release?
Maybe that's what I want too, if... .
[Focus shifts from DSC to aft campfire...Randy takes a drink from
canteen there...spreads hands to crackling bright fire...begins rant...]
It didn't work.
Mule and I got into Haunted Canyon, against all odds, but all we got out was water.
No spirit release. No straightened nature. No clear vision.
This painful 'purification quest' gave me nothing but an insane trek while I got taken for a
ride by my half-ass Mule. I'm fed up with this religious crap while I starve for food. It's
the next morning and I've had enough. I'm having a total rant with every stop pulled out
and shouting at God because I'm lonely, tired, hungry and defeated. Nothing works to
change me. I'm a damned queer and that's that. Regardless of mystical words written in
old books and church doctrines, my bent can't be straight. This quest for spiritual purity
and a changed nature is killing me. What do they expect? That I'll suddenly become
Studly the Super Straight Saint? [Randy rips off shirt to reveal an evocative SS emblazoned tee.]
Well, that IS the ultimate goal, to put things in an indelicate way, but I'm still just Randy,
a totally bent sinner. [Pulls off SS tee, puts shirt back on while continuing his rant...] This latest quest
has failed, just like all the other crap we've tried.
One in which we'd both invested too much hope was a "Change Ministry" sponsored by
some Evangelical Christians, through the college where I was a Religion/Ministry major.
The 'Change Camp' was more like a waterboarding of guilt for gay guys, and entry was
getting your ass checked out by the freak in charge of the program...[Oops,
lost my suit! Jetski flipped...tried to sink...lost shorts in crash...full moon came up... ;-]
...that's unkind. The [a-hem] head-guy was actually sincere, pleasant and
intelligent (and not bad looking) but he really sucked dry a reservoir of forgiveness—
talk about Ministry! "O yes, young man, I will give you a massage now, and this will
(somehow?!??) bring change later. Trust me, and trust God."
I did, but it didn't work. The guy and the 'Ministry' were not trustworthy, although they
did provide a thorough training in hypocrisy—those "ex-gay" programs are just a weird
way for closeted religious gays to cruise for guys under the guise of God.
I did, however, learn a useful thing or two about massage : it's more fun naked, as long as
you repent after. I bet another guy in the program that the dude in charge did it because
he had better luck with young, naive (and trapped) babes like us, than in a gay bar. I also,
of course, wished for a bit of luck with the bet guy—and could've had it!—but Mule
would have none of THAT. He said we should try to understand, forgive, and remain
celibate. Of course. Would I think otherwise?
So even though I'm in college, sex is still nothing but an occasional dream—and Mule gets
upset when I have those! However, no matter what the duped ones might say, those 'gay
change' things are cracked crocks that not only drain hope, but do damage.
Just like this latest "adventure."
After I blow out the rant and plug my soul to any more thoughts from Mule, I head for
Bright Angel Campground...............and Phantom Ranch>
This nifty area in the bottom of the Grand Canyon is where trails cross and trekkers
come together, so there's good food and human company. Maybe a beer too, if Mule will
allow such indulgence.
I burn all available daylight to get there, even though this June day is long and I'm in good
shape, hiking like a maniac. Well, as good a shape possible when you're starved half to
death. Mule is silent, and I'm glad for the mercy.
I hit nirvana jackpot as we huff into the campground. Two guys (two handsome college
guys—Yes!) who work summer in one of the hotels on South Rim, are moaning and
groaning about packing in too much camping gear, food (and beer!) and having so much
to pack out the next day. You can't leave anything in the bottom of the Canyon, and it's a
steep jaunt in, but like climbing Everest out. For tenderfoots, anyway.
I make an offer they can't refuse : Let me eat the food and drink the beer they don't
want, and I'll carry their heavy stuff up to South Rim tomorrow. I am, after all, half
Mule—even as Randy is ready to PARTY!
[Randy remains standing in diminishing lights at DSC as Mule enters to brightening campfire and speaks...]
Thus began our journey of hope that ended in torment.
A dangerous return to Haunted Canyon is on the horizon...
[Mule warms hands by fire...Randy sings his first song and then exits aft...light is campfire flickers only as we
arrive at...]
Camp Two : Death
