Tucson remembers 9/11: Disbelief |

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No planes over the Gila Wilderness. Seven of us from Tucson thought the Sierra Club had won some kind of lawsuit. In the past, jets always interrupted the mountain silence.

Away from people and far from streets, you get into a different rhythm. Forty-two miles downriver. Get up with the sun, sleep in the dark, all distractions are real and unplanned. Since we lacked immediate input, we asked ourselves aloud around the campfire whether we could feel a connection to a major event. If someone found a cure for cancer and we didn’t know about it for five or six days, would we feel part of the triumph? Maybe it wouldn’t matter. We were told history because we knew she was dead.

The first tower collapsed while we were pumping water at Iron Creek. For the next five days we splashed unsuspectingly over the Gila, relaxed in the waning September sun, endured a violent night thunderstorm with lightning so close it shone through closed eyelids. When we reached civilization, the flag at the visitor center was on semi-staff. We thought Reagan died. Or Ford.

Then a blur. Silver City adorned with red, white and blue. Hasty landline calls home. We bought every newspaper we could find. We were all stunned, unable to speak in a nation that was already regaining its resolve.

The story was real again.

And yes. We felt part of it.

Steve Nash

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