D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
December 2009
Lieutenant John Lafferty
Page: 3The firefight at Rocky Mesa was one of the largest engagements of Col. Bernard's campaign against Cochise. It was clear that Cochise, by 1869, was losing too many warriors to ever replace. Being chased by men like Bernard, Lafferty and those enlisted men who were awarded Medals of Honor must have made Cochise aware his days were numbered, his way of life doomed.
The place where the battle took place is beautiful, and stands as a powerful symbol of the Western Chiricahua Apache, Chokonens, who lived in such rugged mountains and deserts. The particularly sharp poke I took from a large century agave reminded me that fighting Apaches in their homeland was an arid, brutal, draining experience.
Fred Lafferty fell several times as we hiked. As we got back into our vehicle, I saw blood soaking through his shirt, from his back and arm. I mentioned that to Fred, as we all headed back to Silver City. We'd gotten up early to make our 10 a.m. rendezvous, and I was ready for a nap. I think Fred and Betty were, too. I'd gotten to know them, as well as young Boomer and his father, en route to the Chiricahuas. We stopped at Kranberry's Restaurant in Lordsburg on the way home, and the meal was on Fred.
Sensing Fred was a deep introvert, I waited 10 days or so before I returned to La Querencia Ranch to ask him what he thought or felt about the experience. He apologized several times for not being effusive, but implied he was a low-key kind of guy. I can get excited by such things, but sometimes with a truly memorable experience, sharing the feelings almost seems sacrilegious. If Fred is an introvert when it comes to sharing his feelings, maybe he, too, was reluctant to lessen his feelings of the experience.
Fred provided me with a comment made by William F. Buckley that the word "querencia" doesn't translate. It's the spot where a fighting bull in a ring feels most secure. So one can speak of one's "querencia" to mean that little, unspecified area in life's arena where one feels safe, serene. Knowing that, and recalling some of Fred's comments these months we've gotten to know one another, that makes total sense.
"I saw you fell several times, Fred," I said. The trip had actually demanded a blood sacrifice. "But I'm glad you could go there, and climb that hill as far as you did!"
"Oh, yeah," Fred agreed, in his raspy voice.
His wife Betty added, "Tell Sweeney that TWO Laffertys left blood on the side of that mesa!"
In fact, I told Sweeney exactly that. If I could tell you how many times I've fallen, been stabbed, stuck, poked and bled as I've hiked Apacheria, you'd grasp that those types of scrapes and bruises don't matter, for they are all part of the direct, Zen-like experience of "Hiking Apacheria."
In the kind of transfer of knowledge common to Zen, I now have Fred Lafferty to thank for providing me with at least one meaning Apacheria has for me: "esta una querencia."
This is the 20th article Jerry Eagan has written for Desert Exposure. You can read them all at www.desertexposure.com/apacheria Jerry has also recently launched a website at www.hikingapacheria.com; it will soon include an active blog and photos Jerry has taken of Apacheria.