Standing Your Ground — Arroyo, Gulch, Gully & Wash

the desert is no lady, C-41 print film, driving across
New Mexico, January 2003, photo © 2003-2009 by
QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.

 
 

Yesterday our blog friend from Seeded Earth was reading her journal from last October and posting snippets on Twitter. One journal entry caught Liz’s eye:

 

Is a wash different from an arroyo, or a gully, or a gulch? We drove over a wash (looks like a dry creek bed) called Car Wash. Really. True.

The entry reminded Liz of last May when we went to see Patricia Hampl and purchased the book Home Ground – Language for an American Landscape. She tweeted back to Bo that she would look up the words arroyo, gully, gulch and wash.

This morning when I got up, Liz was placing Post-it notes on those sections of the book before driving off to work. Curious, I thumbed through the bookmarks and started reading. Our Word Of The Day multiplied to four. I was so fascinated by the subtle differences that I was inspired to post excerpts from the Home Ground definitions on red Ravine.

 
So is a wash different from an arroyo, or a gully, or a gulch? Before you read the answer, what are your definitions? They are powerful, visual words that might even make good Writing Practices. Write one of the words at the top of your page — 10 minutes, Go!

 
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arroyo

The Spanish word arroyo means “large creek.” Often steep-walled, an arroyo may be flat-bottomed sand or laden with boulders and gravel. Arroyuelo and arroyito are the diminutive forms and mean “rill” or “brook.” Arroyos are ephemeral streams, carrying water only briefly during such events as spring runoff of the summer monsoons. In the American Southwest the words arroyo and wash are sometimes used interchangeably, as are arroyo seco (meaning “dry”) and dry wash — though the English terms often describe shorter or abbreviated water courses stretching less than a mile and not necessarily part of a specific arroyo.

 –Arturo Longoria from his home ground, The Texas brushlands, Zapata County, Starr County, Texas

 
 
gulch

In the western United States, gulch is a word for a small ravine. Deeper than a gully, generally narrow and steep sided, shallower than a canyon. Miners often found gold or other minerals concentrated in a gulch’s swash channel. The Blue Cloud Gulch and the Old Dominion Gulch in Montana each yielded gold, silver, and copper for many years. Artifacts of ancient civilizations are also sometimes exposed in a gulch. In Grand Gulch, Utah, for instance, the Anasazi left their mark in red sandstone. In the profusion of gifts offered by gulches, none was more spectacular than the one discovered by a miner in New Mexico in 1987. He saw the tip of tusk in a gulch; the remains were later identified as those of a Columbian mammoth. Public and scientific interest brought about a full excavation of this site, now known as the Dry Gulch Mammoth Site, exposing a grail of bones.

 –Elizabeth Cox from her home ground, Chattanooga, Tennessee

 
 
gully

A channel worn in the earth by a torrent of water carving out a deep ditch is called a gully. Gully erosion happens after a rill, a high-velocity rush of water, has moved large amounts of soil along a depression or drainage line. As water wears away the land, the rill — the geomorphic feature — becomes a gully; cutting farther down, the headlong water makes a gulch, until the cellar doors open into a canyon. Geographers distinguish between gullies, washes, and arroyos on the one hand, and cañadas on the other, according to the materials involved. Cañadas — like cañoncitos — slice through bedrock. Arroyos and washes cut through flat layers of valley deposits; and gullies and gulches erode hill-slope materials.

 –Elizabeth Cox from her home ground, Chattanooga, Tennessee 

 
 
wash

The word wash is used to describe areas where subtle contours allow water to flow, or “wash,” from elevated sites to lower zones, like the bottoms of canyons or along gullies or next to ponds. Carrizo Wash in Arizona and Hunters Wash in New Mexico are examples of washes that run for many miles. A dry streambed or creek is often called a dry wash. In some areas of the American Southwest the words arroyo and arroyo seco are used interchangeably with wash and dry wash. In Desert Solitaire, Edward Abbey writes: “Streambeds are usually dry. The dry wash, dry gulch, arroyo seco. Only after a storm do they carry water and then briefly–a few minutes, a couple of hours.”

 –Arturo Longoria from his home ground, The Texas brushlands, Zapata County, Starr County, Texas

 

-partial excerpts from Home Ground — Language for an American Landscape, published by Trinity University Press

 
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-For more information on the Home Ground Project or to purchase your copy of Home Ground — Language for an American Landscape, important links can be found in the post and Comment conversation at Home Ground — Back In The Saddle. 

Gratitude to the writers of Home Ground, to Bo from Seeded Earth for asking the question, and to Liz for responding. Together they became the inspiration for this Writing Topic.

-posted on red Ravine, Wednesday, September 16th, 2009

-related to post: Midwest Poets & Writers — When Can You Call A Place Home?

 

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A Lesson By Example

By Bo Mackison

Sculpture in the Sky, photo © 2008 by Bo Mackison. All rights reserved.

I recently had the opportunity to attend several days of teachings offered by his Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, spiritual leader of Tibet and world–recognized religious figure. He presented a general lecture to the public on Saturday, July 19, at the Madison Coliseum in Madison, Wisconsin. He followed the Saturday speech with four days of teachings on “A Guide To the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life” and meditation practices.

I am not a Buddhist, but I am interested in global cultures and world religions, and I have read several books on the basic Buddhist teachings. Most people would find it hard to argue with the concepts of showing compassion for self and others, being mindful in daily living, and accepting responsibility for the care of our environment. I try to put these simple yet difficult practices into my life, and I wanted to hear the Dalai Lama speak in more depth.

He said many wise things, usually speaking in his native Tibetan with an English translator. Some of the time he addressed the audience in English. He offered many thoughts that I wrote down for further reflection and study.

Some of the ideas from the Dalai Lama are surely rules to live by. A couple of examples from his lectures (the second another version of the often quoted “Life is the journey, not the destination”):

You cannot change someone else or what someone has said or done to you in the past. You can only change how you react, how you choose to respond.

We are human and therefore imperfect. We will never be 100% perfect. The merit in life is the striving, the effort towards living a good life, not the attainment of perfection.

But I learned the most from something the Dalai Lama did and his response to that action. If ever there was a lesson exemplified in “teach by example,” this was it for me.

The Dalai Lama was officiating over a formal Buddhist religious ceremony. As an onlooker, I sat on the side and did not participate as he called practicing Buddhists to renew their laity vows. This seemed like serious stuff to me and I listened closely. Much of the ritual was spoken in Tibeten and not translated, so I did not always understand the unfolding event.

However this is what I heard and saw:

In the middle of the ceremony, the Dalai Lama suddenly stopped. He burst out in laughter, a hearty laughter. In fact, he laughed so fully that at one point he leaned over and supported himself on his elbow while laughing. (He was seated cross-legged on a raised dais.)

Once he regained most of his composure, he held two fingers high in the air and pronounced “Two! Two mistakes I have made today!” He threw his arms in the air, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, rather in amusement. Then he returned to the ritual with his most solemn words.

What a lesson! He had made a mistake and saw it as a simple human act, nothing to be concerned about, nothing to berate himself over. Nothing of the sort. He chuckled over his error and went on with his business.

Wow!

How many times do we make a mistake and replay it in our heads over and over? Or how often are we stopped in our actions before we even try for fear of making a mistake? Do we take ourselves too seriously?

I know I’m guilty of all of the above.

What a wonderful message the Dalai Lama taught through his actions! I think perhaps it will be this lesson that makes the most impact on me. I think this is the concept that I take away from my hours spent with the Dalai Lama and plan to make a conscious effort to put into practice.



Bo Mackison is a Wisconsin-based poet, writer, photographer, and author of Seeded Earth, a blog about photography, nature, and travel in the Midwest.

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