Aguirre Spring, Organ Mountains, NM

The Organ Mountains lie to the west of White Sands. Their craggy peaks have lured me for the past few years and on my way back to Las Cruces I felt compelled to drive up to the trailhead of this small but pleasant camping area. Two trails start at the campsite: the 4.5 mile Pine Tree Loop Trail with vistas of White Sands, and the six-mile (o/w) Baylor Trail that goes over and across the saddle to the other side of the range. I chose the shorter Pine Tree Trail for a quick leg-stretcher and hiked in a counter-clockwise direction. It was 12:45pm when I took off.

This was a lovely trail, typical of the skyland trails so popular in New Mexico. The loop trail's highest elevation is a mere 6880' but from there you can see the distant white sands of White Sands NM. The trail was wide enough for two people to pass each other carefully. Oaks and pines partially shaded this loop trail. The higher one got, the stronger the scent of pine became.

I like these high elevation trails. I was expecting to be more tired starting this hike, especially after yesterday's long march and then today's morning dash across the blowing winds in White Sands. Perhaps the pine scents and the bird calls enchanted me. I saw my first hummingbird of the season, as it hummed right past me to rest in a dead alligator junniper tree branch. It could have been the regional Magnificent Hummingbird, with its pronounced green-blue back feathers. It also made a loud crackle as it flew. (Most hummers I have seen and heard merely "hum" as they fly by) It's no surpise that I see a hummer in these peaks, as the Organ Mountains are on New Mexico's birding route.

Several people hiking the other direction passed me. All wore typical hiking gear while I was in shorts, t-shirt, my proverbial Coolmax cap and running shoes sans socks.

The crags became more pronounced the higher I got. Water trickled down one mountain side, providing refreshment to the wildlife surely living in these peaks.

Coming down this trail was easy and I made it back to the van just before 3pm. More hikers were coming up from the paved road. I waved at them and took off for my five-hour drive back home.

New Mexico is "The Land of Enchantment" for good reason. Three-forths of the state consists of forested skyislands interspersed with desert vallies. Its terrain is much like Arizona's but New Mexico takes better care of what is left of its pristine lands: its current governor has fought off Texas "land" developers ever since he took over the state's highest office. He is determined to save the last precious virgin lands. If Texans want to "develop" more land, let them tear down some of the run-down cities of Texas first and start over from there. JMHO

My drive back home was the same route I took coming out two days ago: Interstate 10 to Benson, then south on SR80. The sun had set shortly after reaching Deming, and the near new moon allowed for only some views of the mountain silhouettes. When it's this dark on the road I don't mind speeding down the interstate.

http://www.blm.gov/nm/st/en/prog/recreation/las_cruces/aguirre_spring_campground.html
http://www.explorenm.com/camping/AguirreSpring/

Blowing in the wind: White Sands National Monument

The van shook all night long from strong winds, but I slept good nonetheless. I needed and got eight hours of deep sleep. It was 60F at 0630, five degrees colder than yesterday at 0500.

Once awake at sunrise, I wanted to move on and leave the army post. Two days at WSMR is enough!

The wind died down when I got to White Sands National Monument, which meant that the eight-mile loop to the trailhead was open; high winds can close the road due to poor visibility.

I made it to the Alkali Flats trail at 0845. One other car was already in the lot. This trail is the only significant hiking trail at White Sands NM. For almost 4.6 miles it loops around the alkali flats of the former Lake Otero's old bottom, now made of traveling dunes. The trail is marked with orange stakes marking the route, and some are barely visible as drifting sand covers many.

White sand was all around me. This fine gypsum sand is the kind of sand I was expecting South Padre Island to look like. Instead I found oil and tar-laced sand covered with plastic trash there. Here at the park the sand seemed pristine, and fine, and so soothing to the tired legs. I hiked this trail barefoot.

The only other signs of life were two jet fighters circling the area.

Just as I reached the half-way point the wind started in again and didn't relent. Gypsum sand got into my eyes, my mouth, and quickly covered my body. I had no choice but to lay low until the wind died down, and hopefully it wouldn't take too long. The winds had been gusting for the past two days, but never long enough to proclaim long-term danger to anyone.

I sat there, with my back facing the northwesterly wind while I stared out toward the east, watching the fine sand skirt the top of the dunes. It was a surreal vision, and images of me "disappearing" in the sand came to mind. What if I got burried in the sand waiting for the winds to die down?

What would happen if I sat right here for a while and then out of the blue a body shows up from behind the dusting sands? I thought, as I huddled low, the wind blowing around me. No sooner than I thought that, two bodies did appear behind me on the trail. Seeing the two apparitions slowly moving into focus was like a scene from a M. Night Shyamalan movie. There were two bodies, both wearing backpacks and boots. They looked like two soldiers weighed down with combat packs on their backs.

I got up and contined my hike, stopping to take shots of the blowing wind or other sand formations.

My teeth were covered in a fine layer of the salty gypsum sand and my eyes were getting caked over in fine dust as well. The winds never did die down until I got back to the van at 1100, as the two men from Washington State caught up to me.

"Did you enjoy the sand?" I asked.
"It was awesome!" replied one man, all smiles.
"I had to sit down for a while to wait it out and thought how weird it would be if someone saw me, and there you two guys showed up"
"We saw you, but you were hard to find (I was wearing khaki-colored clothes that blend in with the desert) and you kept coming and going from us."

I was thirsty and still very sand-covered. I could feel the fine particles on the back of my neck.

The park was busy by the time I left. Familes were parked near the loop trail, many hiked up the small dunes along the road and rolled downhill. People posed in the white fine sand and kids blew the fine particles with glee for their mothers to see.

White Sands is a unique little place and I always enjoy coming here. I may plan a weekend trip back soon and plan it in accordance with the full moon. The park offers fullmoon hikes every month and allows visitors to stay longer to take night-time photographs. Nature photographers covet great shots of the night-time sand lighted in hues of deep blues and purples.

http://www.nps.gov/whsa/planyourvisit/alkali-flat-trail.htm

The Battling Bastards of Bataan

Distant music woke me up at 4am. I thought it was music of a nearby camper. Then I remembered: the Army band was getting ready to start the ceremonies for the marathon.

People all around me were getting up and getting ready. I stayed in the van until 5am and then walked over to the breakfast tent for coffee and a muffin. German and British teams were alongside US teams. A record attendance of close to 4400 marchers and runners were at this event.

The opening ceremony at 6:30am was touching. Rollcall was taken, and we learned that 32 regional Bataan veterans died since the last Marathon event. With over 1000 World War II veterans dying each day, this is a heavy loss. There were only 18 survivors at today's event.

The veterans were up front at the march, preceeded by a bagpipe team and followed by the Wounded Warriors: servicemembers from both the Iraq and Afghanistan war with mising limbs. Seeing those people marching past me made me choke back more tears. Talk about heroic acts. And later, after the event, I watched how one veteran with two prosthetic legs helped his buddy without a leg hobble to a van for transport. That legless veteran was aided by another veteran and both helped the legless man in the middle walk on. That was a perfect example of "I will never leave a fallen comrade."

It was a hot, dusty day. I jogged the first seven miles but from the start my thighs were feeling sore from the Mesa run. Once the uphills started at the 7th-12th mile, I walked. I jogged again near the 14th mile through the 20th. but stopped again at the 20th for two miles when I hit the sand pit. After the 24th I power-walked, which by then was faster than my jog.

"It sure is beautiful here" said one woman as I passed her.
"And it's so peaceful on the soul" I added, "I love the smell of the desert." It's the magical aroma of creosote, sage and mesquite that give the Chihuahua desert its trademark aroma. It's perhaps one of the best all-natural aroma therapies out there.

I jogged with Kevin's camera, photographing each mile sign and the surrounding mountains with walkers on the side. For three miles the course followed the same course going out, and I could see the many Military Heavy groups still behind me. I saw at least three servicemembers hobbling past with their artificial limbs. It takes a lot of courage to walk 26.2 miles with full gear AND prosthesis. Seeing those people struggle makes me feel ashamed to complain about my sore knees.

The only wildlife I saw were stink bugs on the ground, with their butts up in the air ready to spray any runner getting too close to them.

Bataan Death March survivors were at the finish line congratulating us. The thanks was reciprocated.

I finished in under my own expected time, which actually surprised me since I haven't completed a full marathon in almost five years, let alone trained for one. It was a slow time but when I think of the Bataan survivors I knew they were just hoping to survive the 65-mile march through the jungles of the Phillipines. I was just glad to finish today's march.

And, surprisingly my feet, which were duct-taped in a few crucial area based on blisters I've gotten in the last two months, were blister free! Now, if only I can just get the glue from the tape off my toes...

http://www.bataanmarch.com/
http://www.marathonguide.com/races/racedetails.cfm?MIDD=1604080330

No Mama, No Papa, No Uncle Sam

I made it to the White Sands Missle Range just after 2pm, host of the annual Bataan Memorial Death March Marathon. This is one event I've been wanting to complete for three years.

Survivors of the Bataan Death March (and there were 18 present) spoke to captivated audiences from 3-5pm. Five were in wheel chairs, one carried an oxygen tank and the rest were quite ambulatory. Some were in better health than others, but everyone's story was worthy of one's utmost attention. Some stood, some sat, some even forgot their train of thought, and even a few held back their tears. Still, meeting the shrinking group of survivors was for everyone present an honorable event. We clapped after every speech, we stood up to render respect, and we thanked each one for their sacrifices.

Some of the survivors were former enlistees, some were commissioned officers. And everyone had a fascinating story to tell.

"We were prepared to die" said one survivor.

"The best equipment was sent to the Phillippines." said another, referring to the poor artillery they had elsewhere.

"After the Japanese surrender there was no one among us wanting revenge (for Japanese atrocities against American prisoners.) because we were just glad to be alive" said Carlos Ortega, one of the survivors who wrote a book on his emprisonment. His son was in the audience.

"Dad, tell them the story about the flag" and Carlos proceeded to tell us how he, "Mr Betsy Ross" sewed an American flag that was later hoisted over the prison camp after the Japanese surrendered.

"We were crying as that flag went up" said Carlos, tears clearly swelling in his own eyes. The rest of us had tears swelling in our own eyes, too. One marathon review of the Bataan Memorial Death March marathon was right on: no one leaves the marathon dry-eyed.

And at least two survivors had unpleasant things to say about General MacArthur, who had ordered US troops to "fight to the last man," or of some of their former commanders.

This is one event I will make sure I do again next year, but next year Kevin will be with me because he loves the World War II survivors as much as I do.

The actual event is tomorrow morning at 7am, with a 6:30am opening ceremony for the survivors. The 26.2-mile event in loose sand uphill tomorrow will not even compare to the 65-mile march starving prisoners had to endure back in 1942. Some of the survivors weighed less than 100 pounds after that ordeal.

Hiking in the Santa Ritas

I had some free time yesterday and took the dogs up the Cave Canyon Trail in the Santa Ritas. This trail skirts the mountain range on the east side, the side that was badly burned in the lightning-caused Florida (FloREEda) Fire in July 2005. This trail also connects with other trails in the saddle and one can make a 12-14 mile loop up and around the 9453' peak. The eastern trails of this mountain range are little-used because most people hike up Mount Wrightson from the Tucson side: via Madera Canyon.

The road to the trailhead was easy to find, driving west on the Gardner Canyon Trail off Highway 83 for nine miles. My van was able to traverse the creek in all locations. I parked at the end of the road, where the Forest Service now has a fence installed with an opening just wide enough for ATVs.

My original plan was to scout out a loop route to Mount Wrightson via the Gardner Canyon Trail, but that trail is still closed and clearly marked as closed. (It looks like Gardner Canyon Trail is a popular route for ATVs, judging by the deep, wide tire grooves in the road.) Instead, we continued our hike closer to Cave Creek uphill along a badly-rutted trail that I thought was the Chinaman Trail. Two miles along this trail an old metal trail sign indicating "Cave Creek Trail" pointed us straight ahead. With water in the creek this was the perfect hike for the dogs, both which used the creek for their own refreshment each time we crossed it.

Our hike officially started on this hike at 10:15am, after walking around the creek for an hour exploring options.

The dogs enjoyed this walk, staying close to me on the trail. Perhaps they are still recovering from the weekend? We did fine climbing up the switchback, enjoying the views to the west of the Whetstones and Huachucas.

But at one point, almost to the Florida saddle intersection, Sammy opted to stop moving and start digging a hole under a scrub oak along the trail. He was telling me he had had enough hiking and wanted to rest in the shade. I thus officially stopped the hike, let the dogs rest for 45 minutes while I gazed over the valley, amazed at how much damage a forest fire can do in such a short time, and how hard the fire fighters must have worked to contain this fire.

The firs and pinyon pines along the Cave Canyon Trail are badly burned and now remain as black sticks across the horizon. The agaves and yuccas survived and continue to grow, but new growth is reserved for small thornbrush so common in South Texas. The pines will never grow back in the Florida saddle and an entirely new generation of flora will take over in the next few decades.

The trail itself also suffered severe erosion in parts, especially lower in the canyon where boulders and large rocks tumbled downhill and rerouted the creek. Snow still covered parts of the northern slopes.

We saw not another soul on this hike. We didn't even see any wildlife, except for a few mockingbirds. No deers, no squirrels, no hares. I watched the dogs carefully to make sure they hadn't spotted anything big, black and furry... A car parked near the trailhead displaying Washington state plates was still there when we got back to the van. And good for me, there was no trash for me to police up before leaving.

The dogs were exhausted on the drive back home. I made it back to the house at 6pm (!) and the dogs never budged much the rest of the night, snoozing close by while we watched "The Biggest Loser." This show has really encouraged Kevin to lose weight; he's lost another two pounds this week. That wouldn't be enough to "keep him on the ranch" but for me the show is a positive factor on his physical well-being and confidence. (Losing weight for me is a lot harder. My main concern lately is staying hydrated as I have no weight to lose; I am forcing myself to drink a half gallon of fluids during the day)

The dogs will be weighed in early April, a month after their first official weigh-in at the vet's office. Both are acting more energetic since I have been back and their stamina is coming back, but it's going to be a slow and steady weight-loss program for them.

http://www.azstarnet.com/sn/wildfire/83968.php

http://www.friendsofmaderacanyon.org/TheFloridaFireUpdateandPhotos.htm

Easter Sunday in the Supes

Susan and Peter left after the Lost Dutchman hike so our hike on Sunday was a small group of just us five. We continued our trail that we started on Friday, hiking north on the AZT off Forest Road 509 into Reavis Canyon. As expected, it was a gorgeous wildflower bloom all along the hillsides. The dogs were in top form on this hike, staying close to us on the trail and keeping focused on the trail ahead. We completed an eight-mile hike in a canyon with water, with lush cottonwoods providing for shade. I felt restrengthened and willing to hike even longer and higher, but we turned around before peaking near Montana Mountain, a 5500’ summit.

Off road vehicle drivers were out in full form today, whizzing by us from both directions as we neared the forest road on our way back. And again I was busy policing the road of trail trash: muddy Bud Light cans and bottles strewn into the brush by careless ATVers. (Honestly, if they are going to drink and drive in the wilderness, why not drink a quality beer besides Bud Light?)

"One of these days I'm going to be cited for driving with open containers" I revealed to Steve, referring to the cans and bottles I police up during a hike and place in the back of my van in a crate. "Anyone can tell that these cans are muddy and have been sitting in the brush for a while, but just my luck some cop is going to have a bad day and write me up. It's all in how the "open container law" is interpreted.

Bill had returned earlier on today’s hike to get back to his ATV for a mountain ride rather than hike the entire stretch with us. He and Kevin were already waiting for the rest of us as we regrouped back at the old corral. Hiking back via the road only took us 25 minutes. Had we hiked the trail back it would have taken an hour.

Kevin rode Bill’s ATV back to the camp site while I drove Bill back to our site. When he got back to the camp he was determined to get a used ATV soon...perhaps even two...as long as there is room for the dogs while we hit the trails.

This was our final evening with the group. We sat around for an hour discussing upcoming hikes for this summer. Steve has been pushing me hard to run for club presidency since I am so active, but I also can't have hiking control my life and take away from my other passions.

Both dogs napped in the shade nearby and Bill and Steve looked over trail rides for tomorrow, when they would be alone at the camp site since Paul, Kevin and I got ready to return home.

This was Easter Sunday, a fact I didn’t think of until we were on our return drive home: all the restaurants in Superior, Kearny and Winkelman were closed for the holiday.

"Stop at the first restaurant you see" he said.

"I don't think we are going to find anything open until we reach Tucson; it's Easter!"

“Damn Catholics!” he said ase he fought off hunger pangs. He is normally quiet and easy-going, but when he's hungry he can get moody and short-tempered. (Sorry, Dad...Kevin really didn't mean this)

“Go munch on some cookies, Grouch!” I replied.

It was a challenge to find an open eatery. I didn’t expect anything open until Tucson, but we hit a gold mine in Mammouth at the Old Crocker, a convenience store/pizza place that seemed to have a thriving business. We sat outside in the shade as we ate our pizzas. I bought the Arizona Daily Star to catch up on local news: a fire in Old Bisbee was started by a careless homeowner who doused three trees he had cut down on his property with gasoline. The illegal fire spread into the nearby Mule Mountains, causing officials to evacuate Old Towne until the fire was contained Saturday evening. Holy Sparks, a fire that close to home is one of my daily nightmares here in Arizona, and some local bonehead started the first scare of the season.

Kevin quickly fell asleep before I reached Oracle, prompting me to stay within the city limits rather than drive back west to the interstate and then fighting construction traffic around the downtown area. Instead I drove down my favorite Tucson route: I turned east on Mountain View Boulevard on the north side and turned south on Kolb Avenue until I got on the interstate on the city’s east side.

Kevin missed most of the scenery until I got back on the interstate, remaining awake the rest of the drive.

We stopped at the Benson Gas City to let the dogs out to pee. An SUV nearby with elderly drivers were being verbally assaulted by what looked like their troubled teenaged granddaughter. This girl was spewing obscenities at these people. It was embarrassing to listen to this girl, who seemed to feel was invincible: the classic teenager manipulating her own family because she knew that if the parents said or did anything to her, she could claim child abuse. The parents looked paralyzed in fear and the girl had the upper hand. The girl sat against the front of the SUV with her hands held tightly around her chest. Whatever had transpired the drivers did not deserve this public display of verbal abuse. In my old life I would have approached the girl and told her to stop acting like a bitch or else she could end up in a foster home. Instead, I glared at the girl who was so engrossed in herself she did not notice my glance her way. It was better this way. By now I just wanted to get back home to get ready for the rest of the week.

We made it back at 8pm. There was no sign of Moquito outside, who had spent three nights outside without food. The night sky was still nicely lighted with a waning full moon.

The Dodge passed its first official family car-camp. However, I hope next time to bring the tent. The van is nice but with two dogs the sleeping arrangements are crowded. We'll leave the van for long road trips, but for car-camping I still prefer a tent next to my vehicle.

Friday and Saturday in the Supes

We got to the camp site at 8:45pm. Steve, Bill and Paul were sitting around the camp fire. I joined them for a short while before turning in for the night to get ready for Friday’s hike along a section of the Arizona Trail (AZT) which Steve said was full of wildflowers.

We all were lined up and ready for our drive to the AZT trailhead the next morning, with Steve up front on his dirt bike and Bill behind him on his ATV. Twenty minutes later we were at the section and proceeded south.

“We will go down this way a few miles or as long as the members want to” said Steve, which amounted to two miles along a scenic stretch of Whitford Canyon. Wildflowers were, as expected, in full bloom. There was even some water for the dogs. Angel was on her leash but Sara and Sammy were off leash and right behind us, following the trail with everyone else.

Purple lupines, white chicory, red Indian paint brushes, orange mallows and yellow poppies were in full bloom along this section of the AZT. Giant saguaros, mature chollas and prickly pear also lined this trail of endless mountains and vallies.

The dogs were great, never running off the trail or chasing wildlife. They were at their best behavior and Steve mentioned that. I wouldn’t have them hiking with me if they acted otherwise. Angel, however, loved to bark for no reason. Sara growled at Angel a few times to let Angel know who the boss was; Sara has never had much patience with small yappity dogs anyway. Sammy, as usual, didn’t care. After sniffing her butt he was more interested in snapping at flies or sniffing for animal scents.

This was Kevin’s first real hike in almost two years, too and he did well as well.

After a fruit break we hiked back to the start and proceeded north on the AZT, this time hiking a higher and dryer section of the trail with more vistas but as many wildflowers. This section had no water, however as we hiked an elevation of around 3000’ up and down and around single-track trails.

Our destination the first day was an abandoned corral near mature cottonwoods that provided shade for us and the dogs. The dogs splashed around in the water while we ate our lunch and went back to the camp site via the main road, which cut off a good mile from the winding hike. We made it back to the camp site by 2pm.

I went back into my old car camp mode and drove into the town of Superior to case it out. I quickly found the RV Park that allowed for public showers at $1.50 for seven minutes, I found a purified water machine off Main Street, and I found a Dairy Queen where I stopped for a Mocha Chip blizzard. The place was crowded with snow birds from British Columbia, Iowa, North Dakota and Washington State. I shared all my information with the guys back at the camp fire two hours later. It’s always great to share basic information such as where one can shower after a few days of camping, where resupply points are and where the ice cream is.

We gathered around Bill’s trailer for beer and chat. After three hours I had had my two beer limit, but then I accepted a glass of Chardonnay by Bill. It was good wine, but perhaps not compatible with the two beers I had earlier…as I woke up the next morning feeling dehydrated and queasy.

I had a severe case of heat exhaustion years ago in the army, after running five miles in a fast group of novice runners shortly after the birth of Erin. I didn’t realize what was happening to me and didn’t go on sick-call that morning to avoid missing classes, but I remember staggering to the car after the run feeling red and dry, and when I got to the apartment stood underneath the shower for a long time letting the cool water hit my face. Now, years later, it doesn’t take me much to feel dehydrated.

Saturday morning started out well: I woke up right after sunrise to walk the dogs for their bathroom break and to share two cups of coffee with Kevin. Everyone else was also getting ready for the morning.

I figured Kevin would feel sluggish today after the beers he had the night before, but instead he was up front feeling frisky. Shortly after we arrived at our trailhead parking lot north of the Lost Dutchman State Park I felt nauseous with a headache behind my left eye.

The trails in the western half of the Superstitions are always well-used and crowded with horses, families and dogs. I knew the dogs had to be leashed to keep them from chasing horses and other dogs. A park ranger, Missie, stood by the trailhead gate making sure all dogs were properly leashed and other park regulations were followed. She assured us there was still water in some of the creeks. Our hike would loop around for seven miles.

At trail heads there is no other way around containing the dogs than by having them leashed. However, I kept getting sicker and sicker to the point of feeling like bowing over to puke. At one point I had both dogs on leashes and their weight overpowered me. I couldn’t walk balanced let alone take any photographs. It was easier once Kevin took one of the leashes off of me.

I sought ever precious piece of shade that I could to rest. Kevin’s cigarette smoke bothered me but I couldn’t escape it. It seemed as if he was smoking more than usual.

There were so many people coming and going on the Lost Dutchman trail. Backpackers, horseback riders and speed hikers from both directions kept us on our toes.

We took a lot of breaks and I felt bad for my illness, but others were also feeling overheated.

When Steve told us two hours later that we had only gone three miles I wouldn’t believe him. I felt the pace was rather fast, and we had gone quite a ways inland toward Reavis Needle, a landmark of the western Supes. What didn’t help me feel better was the lack of shade, and I was getting worried about the lack of water for the dogs.

Sara looked especially overheated and stopped at every piece of shade she could find.I felt better on the return break, having had more fluids and some sugar, but once back at the van hours later I let Kevin drive while I rested on the cot in the back with the dogs straddled between the legs.

Once back at the camp site I rested in the cool van, napped a while and a few hours later felt well enough to read my Master Gardener assignment on fertilizers, a lovely topic to mull over when one is under the weather.

I knew I was dehydrated shortly after the headache came this morning. I didn’t pee at all once we left for the hike, and didn’t pee back at the camp site. When I felt better in the evening I joined the guys for another camp fire chat about upcoming hikes and a few I may lead myself…if I just have the time to scout out the trails beforehand. My specialty is peak bagging and we have a few challenging peaks within a 200-mile drive that a few others are interested in bagging this year as well. My one concern is over-committing myself when there are other things I have to accomplish this year besides hikes in the wilderness.

Sara was resting by my right side and Sammy was behind me about 20 feet as I sat near the fire. At one point Steve got up, walked around me and Sara and Sara got up and nipped Steve in the pants. Did he startle her and Sara instinctively nipped at him? Within seconds Sammy was up to bark at Steve as well, but luckily Sammy came toward me and I was able to grab his collar while I was still sitting down. Did Sammy jump up to protect me or Sara? At any rate, whatever happened happened so fast and luckily Steve was not bitten or else I’d have felt horrible.The dogs would have been caninas non gratas at any future camp-out with the group.

Non dog owners don’t understand when owners protect their own dogs, but to me Sara’s behavior was simply a reaction to being startled in the dark after sleeping after a rough day on the trail. To most non-dog owners, my explanation is a no-go. Now I will have to watch out for both dogs in the future. No doubt the dogs are protective of me, and no doubt I feel safer with them around than alone, but both need to relax around other people.

Driving to the Supes (Thursday)

I spent most of Thursday afternoon prepping the van for our first official family outing: Kevin, me and the dogs. I had the entire vehicle cleaned out (and found a few goodies along the way) and had the vehicle hermetically packed by the time Kevin got home at 3pm. He packed his personal belongings and off we left, at 4:10pm, and drove up toward Superior, AZ via the backroad of Pomerene Road. This dirt road skirts the Rincon mountains to the East in a north-northwesterly direction. The full moon rose shortly after sunset over the Aravaipa canyons, providing an additional aura to the natural beauty of the high desert.

Pomerene Road flows along the San Pedro River. For fifty miles one drives no faster than 30mph because of the many bumps in the road. A flock of turkeys under the scrupulous eyes of a rear-waddling Tom crossed the road. Later a lone lost cow panicked along the side of the road as we drove by and the dogs had to bark at the poor critter. These are scenes we wouldn't have had had we driven the faster but more congested highway around Tucson.

Pomerene Road turns into Cascabel Road and finally River Road before it ends at SR77 north of Mammouth. From here we continued north on SR77 to SR177 into Superior.

We stopped in the small mining town of Hayden for a quick meal of burritos and Tacos at Maria's, a restaurant that consisted of a large tile room, vinyl tables and chairs and painted brick walls. It looked no different than some of the small-town cafes in central Texas. There was no other decor in the restaurant. The chips were already wrapped in plastic wrap at each table and the server brought us a squeeze bottle of hot sauce.

It was long past sunset when we made it to Kearny and the scenic drive up and around a large copper mine. Most people who live in Winkelman, Hayden and Kearny are miners at this mine.

Steve, the organizer of this weekend's get-away managed to get ahold of me on my cellphone to tell me where they were camped out. I'm so glad he did that, as they were camped out in a different location than what was in the email directions; the original plan had to be changed when they realized the camp site at Lost Dutchman state park was full. Steve, Bill and Paul along with Susan and Peter and their dog Angel were camped out three miles east of Superior and north on FR8. I would never have guessed them to be there had Steve not called.

We car camped next to a giant saguaro and a clump of mature chollas that surprisingly brought us enough afternoon shade after our morning hikes.

We like the area around the Superstition mountains. You can hike for days and not see civilization or you can drive into town a few miles and resupply. Our site was perfect for both.

Smoky haze from Sonora, Mexico

Today driving home from my Master Gardener Class I noticed a brown haze over the mountains. It was actually a pretty sight, but I knew it wasn't a natural sight. It's probably (and hopefully) just smoke from fires Mexican farmers are setting to burn away dead brush before they start planting. With spring a day away, it's time to get growing!

The one natural disaster I dread every year is wildfires. If the Huachucas burn we could all get evacuated...what a nightmare.

I, too, will plant my tomatoes and peppers next week.

This afternoon I took the dogs on a fast ride down the street for three miles. Rather than walking with them they ran after me as I rode my Trek down the frontage road. Sara was pretty tired when we got back to the house and panted for a long time, but if I do this every day and boost the mileage the doggie blubber will melt away in no time!

With the two miles we walked in the morning the dogs have now had 5.5 miles today. Tomorrow I'll take them up for a 6-7 mile hike in the foothills so that the hikes in the Supes this weekend don't exhaust them too much.

Kevin bought frozen steaks for the dogs, pasta for us. The dogs will eat extra well after the hikes to replenish their tired muscles with good proteins. (It's no wonder the dogs love to go camping with us, as they know they always eat better "in the field" than they do at home.)

Getting ready for another get-away in the Supes

We are packing up the van for a three-day car-camp tomorrow with a few hiking partners up in the Superstitions east of Phoenix. It's one of our many favorite areas to hike. Hopefully there will be some water after this last storm rolled through. We will average nine miles each of the three days we will be there.

The van will finally get its first family camp-out, complete with dogs and all our gear.

It's already warming back into the 70s here.

Yesterday I went back to the illegal immigrant trail to bag up three bags of clothes. I managed to carry one back to the dumpster where I was smart enough (HA!) to sprain one of my fingers on my left hand on a "bear proof" dumpster. Apparently the dumpsters the Forest Service provides for us hikers are not idiot proof.

Like Kevin said the other day while I was pumping up my Trek's tires "Don't ever handle anything mechanical again!" and right after he said that my bike pump blew off the tire valve and released all the air I had just pushed inside.

My first cycling tour of town

I met Bill at 8am and took off for our 35-mile out-and-back ride along Highway 90 toward Bisbee. It was cold, a near-record 45F at 8am that warmed to 55F by noon. The wind was brutal, especiallycoming back, but the scenery was beautiful. I had always wanted to ride that uphill ride into Bisbee. There's an elevation gain of 700' over 15 miles.

At one point I observed a full-sized pick-up with Alaskan plates slow down and then stop on the shoulder. The driver tried to hide his face from me; I immediately noted the license plate number, time and how many people were in the truck. Shortly after the driver stopped a Mexican wearing the standard dark clothes came out from the brush, jumped into the back of the bed and layed down low, out of sight. The driver watched me for a while and didn't drive off for a while. I called the USBP as soon as I could to give all the details. The agent was very professional and thanked me. I told him I thanked him for his great job.

The group that organized today's ride, GABA out of Tucson (Greater Arizona Bicycling Association) did a fantastic job, too. When we stopped at the half-way point for refreshments there were all kinds of goodies: granola bars, banana and orange slices, trail mix, M&Ms, P&J sandwiches, cranberry juice and cookies. We got all that plus sodas and bagged lunches at the end. Wow! And the volunteers were all super.

I did well for a novice, although the gears on my Trek1200 are still giving me trouble. Bill has a steady stride and is a great partner to ride with. Perhaps with a few more rides I can work back up to the 50-60 mile rides I used to do in California.

The weather was HORRIBLE riding back, with a vicious crosswind hitting us from the front left. Even Bill said he was peddling uphill just to stay upright. At one point we were struggling at 6mph! We were doing 14mph the other direction.

I was impressed with GABA and its volunteers and hope to ride a few more rides with them this year. I know their rides will conflict with the hikes in my hiking group, but what's a little cross-training? I may even get Kevin back on his racer. The only thing that keeps me from riding more (besides my laziness) is not wanting to leave the dogs alone. I want them to get their daily exercise, too and that's why I hike and jog with them instead.

Later on we met up with Bill at El Paso Restaurant for HAppy Hour. He said I did the right thing by calling in the suspect illegal pick-up this morning, and was surprised that I could memorize the car's license plate. (That's because I repeated the plate number to myself like a mantra until I could call the USBP). I hope those people were caught and apprehended because even Bill thought the vehicle was suspect. Better safe than sorry.

Bill also gave me a brochure for GABA. The group has group rides in northern Sonora, too. All the more reason to get my passbook. I've always wanted to see more of the real Mexico.

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



http://www.bikegaba.org/ http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/A/AZ_ARIZONA_STORM_AZOL-?SITE=AZSVH&SECTION=HOME&TEMPLATE=DEFAULT

http://www.bikegaba.org/Overnights&Centuries/2008/Sierra_Vista_Classic/Description.htm

Hiking an immigrant trail and the Ramsey Canyon Preserve

Today we hiked for three hours along an immigrant trail off the Carr Road trailhead. This trail goes off a picnic area, up a shaded hillshide of oaks and alligator junipers before it turns westward into Ramsey Canyon, home of the Ramsey Canyon Preserve owned by The Nature Conservancy. This well-trodded trail is not on my Huachuca Mountain Hiking Trails map. It's not even an official hiking trail.

This nameless immigrant trail is on national forest land and heavily trashed with backpacks, clothes, hygiene products and plastic bottles. It's an eye sore that has always irritated me. I hike this trail just to pick up trash and give the dogs some exercise. We never see hikers on this trail.

I told Kevin I would be picking up trash on the return route. He wanted to hike this trail to explore the rock ledges. We once hiked this trail three years ago and came out high on a ridge that was badly trashed with the leftovers of illegals. The trail we were on that time was higher, shadier and hugged the rocky cliffs.

There are so many immigrant trails that branch off the main immigrant trail and it's easy to get lost on this trail. We stayed on the main trail...and somehow it didn't look like the same wooded trail I remember from last time. The last time I remember seeing "Nature Conservancy" boundary signs which we did not trespass.

Today we stayed on National Forest property as we saw the fence line and the private property behind it. But we never saw Nature Conservancy signs. So on we trekked and landed on Ramsey Canyon property; we could see a house down the hill. A Coronado National Forest Sign faced us, with "The Nature Conservancy" below that. This was the start of the Hamburg Trail which goes uphill for 2.4 miles to the Pat Scott Trail and meadow. But we wanted to know: are dogs allowed on Nature Conservancy property?

We tied the dogs up on leashes and proceeded, but I didn't feel comfortable walking on Nature Conservancy property with the dogs. There was no "No dogs allowed" on the National Forest Sign, either. There was only a mention of "Keep dogs indoor or on a leash" in the Safety Tips at the top of the sign.

The Brown Canyon trail, I learned later on, which is NOT on Nature Conservancy property, was a mile further up the Hamburg trail. That was too far to hike in disputed terrain.

We got off the main hiking trail and went straight uphill, away from hikers. We figured if we go straight up (south) we would find the continuation of the immigrant trail off Carr Peak/Comfort Springs trail. We rested for water and ended up going back down along a side trail that paralled the main hiking trail, and before we knew it, a Conservancy volunteer, Jennfier, was yelling at us to come down off the mountain immediately. "You are not even on a trail!" she said to us. "Dogs are not allowed here!"

Oh shit, I thought, we are screwed now. We explained that we were looking for the trail back from where we came (no lie) and weren't sure if dogs were allowed on Conservancy property. (They are not, and it's posted on the organization's website, too, something I didn't check since we weren't planning on entering the Conservancy property when we started the hike).

Jennifer was very polite to us and explained to us why we had to leave immediately. Dogs would mess up the natural habitat of the wildlife protected in the canyon. The dogs would upset other vistors. "I even repimanded a man the other day for throwing away an apple core!" she added. "I had to tell the man that the apple core had his scent which would scare off the wildlife."

And that is true, but what about all that trash that the illegals leave behind every day when they trespass into Ramsey Canyon from Carr Peak? There is so much trash around Ramsey Canyon. When I asked Jennifer about this, she replied "We try our best to clean up that trash" but I'm sure the volunteers have enough to do monitoring the visitor center. The trash pick-up alone would be overwhelming. And once again it's the trash all over our forests that the illegals leave behind that chaps my hide every time I come across it on a trail.

She escorted us past the entrance building, pass a large group of visitors who glared at us. "I thought dogs weren't allowed in here!" said one old man. I felt like a prisoner-of-war getting escorted passed the enemy.

"I didn't know that either!" I replied back. Jennifer added that "They just got lost." Boy did I feel stupid walking past all those gawking on-lookers. Jennifer was right about one thing: the Nature Conservancy has its reputation to uphold. Even if we were to hike off the trail and up the mountain, if something bad had happened to us it would make the Conservancy look bad, she said.

I wanted to know where the Conservancy's property ended since I know the National Forest property was up the hill nearby. We had seen the signs. But Jennifer was more vague and pointed to the moutain and said "We claim all that!" I need to know for sure so that next time I find myself lost in Ramsey Canyon I will know where I can hike with my dogs.

I didn't feel satisfied with that response and an internet search later at home couldn't show me the map of the Nature Conservancy's 300 acres of Ramsey Canyon. I want to know where I can't go next time I find myself lost off the trail. No map shows the property line.

We hiked back the same way we came in, only we picked up the trail directly off Ramsey Canyon Road next to the Ramsey Canyon Inn. This old forest trail skirts private property. We each carried back a full bag of trash off this trail which we again dumped into the trailhead trash bins. (And with my bad luck lately, I hope dumping the trash there is legal!)

It's no big deal. Next time we do a trail clean-up we just won't go as far as we did today. There's enough trash off the first two miles of the immigrant trail to keep us busy for several months if we continue to pick up trash every Saturday. We will not pick up trash from private property and we will not pick up trash from the Nature Conservancy. Our main goal is the help clean up our national forest.

Naturally I began thinking again about The Nature Conservancy. I used to pay the organization $40 or more a year as I truly believe in preserving "the plants, animals and natural communities that represent the diversity of life on Earth by protecting the land and waters they need to survive" (as per their own website: http://www.nature.org/aboutus/ ) but I stopped the donations when The Washington Post in 2002 revealed in a special report that the Nature Conservancy is not a non-profit organization but rather, as its website claims now, "an international conservation organization." It makes a good profit off of real estate investments, and partners with environmental polluters such as 3M, BP, GM, Northwest Airlines and Proctor and Gamble.

The Nature Conservancy makes beautiful greeting cards, some of the best I've seen. And it takes great care of its tracts of land it owns across the planet. Ramsey Canyon itself is a beautiful canyon and home to 14 species of hummingbirds and other wildlife. Volunteers like Jennifer are dedicated people working for a good cause.

Just don't tell the public The Nature Conservancy is a non-profit organization. It is not.

BP in Northwest Indiana alone is being lambasted by environmentalists for its expansion to its refinery modernization, which they say will increase air pollutant particles by 21 percent. Union members and BP contractors argue that the change in air standards "will increase the supply of gasoline from a secure source while reducing overall emissions by 7 percent...the jobs are necessary in an economy heading into a recession." Northwest Indiana (Lake and Porter counties especially) are working-class counties that once held steel mills and oil refineries busy, and provided great-paying jobs for factory workers in the 1970s. Lake and Porter counties are also two of Indiana's worst counties for particle pollutants in the air, as recently revealed by the EPA.

http://www.desertusa.com/mag00/oct/stories/ramsey.html
http://www.nature.org/wherewework/northamerica/states/arizona/preserves/art1973.html
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/nation/specials/natureconservancy/
http://www.nature.org/aboutus/annualreport/files/tnc_fs_fy07.pdf
http://www.nature.org/aboutus/annualreport/files/annualreport2007.pdf
http://www.post-trib.com/844105,bpair.article
http://www.post-trib.com/news/823934,bpparticle.article

Picacho Peak

The sun rose over the eastern mountains at 6:50am and immediately lighted the campsite in a yellow glow. It was time to get up.

Park Rangers were on duty at 8am, driving through the campsite to make sure everyone had paid their camping fees. I was pulled over by one ranger who reminded me of a character typically represented in spoof movies of the Police Academy: wearing shades and with a bushy mustache. He pulled me over because he "thought" I hadn't paid my $12 camp fee because I drove off the same time he drove into the park. I showed him my pay stub which I had on my windshield as directed. "Oh, I didn't see that!" he said and apologized. He didn't see it because he never even bothered to look at the front of the van! He drove up to me from behind, and the small stub isn't visible from the back of the vehicle. The ranger was simply overly ambitious at catching trespassers. Perhaps the park has a problem with campers who don't pay (I did see a full-sized pick-up leave shortly after sunrise) but I wasn't one of those.

The $12 camp fee included the day pass of $6. I drove back to the front gate to reassure myself of that. (In Texas the day fee is separate from the camp fee)

Picacho Peak, a tilted and eroded remains of a sequence of lava flows that rises 1500' above the desert floor, was often used as a landmark by early explorers due to its tall and isolated peak in a valley of much smaller extinct volcanos. Geologists say this peak is four times older than the Grand Canyon. I had always wanted to climb to the top.

The most significant Civil War battle in Arizona--and the most western battle in the war-- took place near Picacho Peak on April 15, 1862, when an advance detachment of Union forces from California attacked a Confederate scouting party. The battle (more like a skirmish) lasted for 1-1/2 hours, and three Union soldiers were killed. I had just missed the weekend reenactments held 8-9 March in the park. But after seeing Gettysburg twice over the July 4th weekend, no other reenactment is as good or realistic as Gettysburg.

By 8:30am I was at the Sunset Vista Trailhead, a 3.1 mile route to the 3374' peak of the mountain range. I left from the campsite, adding another mile to the start of the hike. This trail goes to the peak from the southside, with tall saguaros, Chollas, Crucifix thornbrush and barrel cacti along the route. Wildflowers were still out, but clearly waning of their glory. A hiking group of about ten people waited at the trailhead as I continued on. There were many people already up on the trail; I passed a few.

I rested briefly at one switch-back and talked to an older man wintering in Casa Grande from Craig, CO. He had never hiked this trail before and was clearly challenged. I was, too, and could feel my legs get another work-out. The first two miles of the Sunset Vista trail were relatively moderate, but the last mile was steep and had four cableways to help hikers along. I had forgotten about the cables...they were quite a challenge on two of the stretches as the trail went nearly straight up lava rock. Hiking to the top in part reminded me of hiking up Half Dome.

The man never introduced himself. Perhaps he got turned off by my comment about golf courses. He had never been in Sierra Vista before and asked about golf courses. There is one private golf course in town, but in my opinion golf courses do not belong in the desert where water is limited. "People who want to golf should go to Florida!" I said.

It took me 2:10 hours to get to the top of Picacho. I could see Tucson in the south, covered in smog, and Phoenix to the north covered also in smog. A few green farm fields were in contrast to the brown desert floor, and one could see for miles the aluvial plains around the old volcanoes. Trains along the parallel interstate rolled in from the south.

I didn't stay long at the top. Another couple, who passed me up the trail, sat looking at the south vista. Another man came up, took a drink from his water bottle, and went back down. More people were going up the peak as I descended. Cars entering the park waited in line at 11am to get in. It clearly was a busy day at the park, surprisingly for a Tuesday. And the rangers diligently made sure all the visitors had valid day passes on their windshields.

The shorter but just as challenging Hunter Trail was my choice going down, a trail accessible from the north side. It switch backs all the way to the intersection with the Sunset Vista trail and never loses its difficulty. Many people attempting this trail clearly looked physically exhausted. This way I hiked a complete loop around the Picacho Peak range, adding yet another .8 miles to my hike, making it an almost seven-mile trail that took me five hours to complete. I got back to my van at 1:25pm, giving me just enough time to shower and leave the campsite before my 2pm cut-off time. More campers were coming in.

I am glad I did this peak, finally, but don't plan on doing it any time soon unless the hiking club wants to do it. It's one of those "must-do" hikes for any Arizonan hiker, but not the most spectacular. I am sure people will disagree with me. At least I know I got a good work-out. Now the next time I drive past the peak I can brag that I bagged it and can scratch it off my Arizona peaks list.

http://www.pr.state.az.us/Parks/parkhtml/picacho.html
http://www.desertusa.com/azpicacho/azpicacho.html
http://www.wtj.com/articles/picacho/
http://www.localhikes.com/Hikes/Picacho_Peak_8520.asp

Four Peak Brewery, Tempe and the railroad

My attempt to get in physical touch with my educational counselor failed today, which gave me some free time in Tempe to try out the brewpub there.

Four Peaks Brewery is localed at 1340 E 8th Street in Tempe, a few blocks east of the Arizona State University campus. There is less of a crowd here and on-street parking is available. The brewery is an old dairy building. I sat at the counter and ordered my usual Hefe Weizen with lemon, and later tried the Koelsch, which at 5% alcohol was one of the stronger Koelsches I've tried. Both were very good. The pints were $3 for Happy Hour.

A few minutes after I arrived a man sat next to me. He was Mike from Mesa, a retired railroad executive. We started talking about the revival of the railroad, especially if gasoline prices continue to rise as they have and analysts are predicting $4 a gallon by May. I know I will cut back on my consumption, and I know that many other things will be cut back, not just by me but by many others: going out to eat, weekend get-aways, charitiable donations. If the railroad could revive itself as an affordable alternative to travel, we could see more raillines sprout up, and not just urban high-speed lines. I would definitely support the railline. I would love to travel up to Montana via the railroad.

Mike also turned out to be a strong supporter of recyclable materials, something I don't see enough of, especially by executives. I had taken a bucket full of glass to Luke AFB where I dropped them off at a "all recyclable items" bin that are located all over the base. Whenever I travel to Phoenix or Tucson I take my glass bottles with me, because glass is not recycled in Sierra Vista and the city recycling program is still in its infancy (like many other things the city does).

Mike ended up paying my tab; the server automatically added both of our meals on one bill. (Why would she do that? Neither Mike nor I asked for our bills to be combined). "Well thank-you for allowing me to take you out to dinner" said Mike, and a few hours later we departed and went our separate ways.

The sun was setting as I left Phoenix on my way south toward Tucson. Too late to see much else of the city, and after two phone calls to both Mom and Kevin, I wanted to hike Picacho Peak, something I could have done today had I not wasted time at the Veteran's Service Office, so I pulled into the park and found a spot in the non-electric sites. The quarter moon barely helped me see as I pulled in. It was a quiet site, but the trucks on the nearby interstate were quite loud, the noise sounded like aircraft taking off. My plan was to hike to the peak first thing in the morning before resuming my drive home.

"You Go, Gurl!"

So many people cheered me on this morning as I ran the half marathon. I started in the end of the pack because I was stuck in the potty line when the race started (but with a chip timer, who cares?)

I felt good, surprisingly, although I've been feeling under the weather for two days and last night felt rather queezy. Yet I passed many people, and not just the walkers or the ones over 80 years old. I thanked all the volunteers at the water stations, too. There were young boys and girls and some very old men and women out today helping the runners.

The volunteers appreciated my thanks, but a few replied "We wouldn't be here without you guys!"

My race time was only 2:12, 11 minutes slower than Dallas three months ago when I ran a PR of 2:03:54. I guess the training I did for Dallas did pay off last fall. I hadn't run hard since that bad half marathon in Austin in early January.

I like this race, though and hope to do it every year. The first six miles are through Mesa's elite neighborhood, but the second half is all on Bush Highway, with dramatic views of the Tonto National Forest. Weather was perfect and the organization this year excellent and I have no complaints...except maybe to have more variety of drinks at the finish line. All we had was water poured from a five-gallon Gatorade jug.

Exhaustion kicked in after I reached the finish line. I rested a while at the finish, then rested some more in the van until 10:20 when I drove down the scenic Bush Highway up to Highway 87. People were pulled over to photograph the wildflowers, and I joined them. Familes in SUVs, locals in their convertibles and bikers all took turns to stop and view the colorful display of Mother Nature. And how green all the mountains were! The Four Peaks lured in the distance, with saguaros standing tall in the foreground. If I hadn't been so tired I would have loved a desert hike up one of the peaks here.

I turned around at Highway 87 back tor Mesa, where I stopped for a much-needed lunch at Indigo Joe's in Mesa, across the street from last night's Red White and Brew. I devourd a Mushroom Swiss Cheese burger and drank one beer. The atmosphere was much quieter here than last night and that was fine by me although the service was lack-luster. There were over 20 TV screens playing a variety of sports. One table demanded golf.

Thank goodness for Luke Air Force Base, where in the late afternoon I showered and relaxed. The drive there was longer than expected, driving clear across the other side of Phoenix, with breath-taking mountain vistas in every direction. Too bad the air in Phoenix is so polluted.

I feel safe on military installations and stayed here for the night. As usual, Air Force Bases are so much nicer than Army posts. Too bad the pizza parlor closed at 6pm when I drove by 30 minutes later. The entire base was quiet.

http://www.valleyofthesunmarathon.com/

Mesa, Arizona

I left to drive up to Mesa for the Half Marathon at 12:20pm Saturday, which would give me just enough time to pick up my race packet and get situated. I didn't want to leave so early; the dogs thought they were going out for another round up in the mountains when I left and Kevin had to hold them back, but it was a solid four hour drive and 202 miles further north.

At least it wasn't raining hard like it did two years ago when I last ran the Valley of the Sun Marathon. I got right up to the expo from Loop 202 east and then Loop 101 North and then west on East Indian School Road.

I spent another 40 miles driving around Mesa's pretty streets, lined with blooming palo verde, mesquite, large yellow sage brushes...and everything smelled so sweet. Everything was in bloom, from the sages and agastaches to wildflowers along the roads. (According to the meteorologists, this weekend is the peak of the wildflowers)

I was looking for the beerpub I ate at a few years ago. I couldn't remember the name but I remembered it was off McDowell Road. I had to find a hotspot to google its location, and ironically it was across the street! It was the Red White and Brew Restaurant, so named for its extensive wine and beer list.

I walked in at 5:30pm. Crowds were already outside waiting for tables. People of all ages and backgrounds were at this place. I walked right up to the bar and sat down and ordered a Four Peaks Hefe Weizen, brewed in Tempe.

It was a large royal pint and one was enough for me, but then I started talking to the older couple next to me who just happened to be from New Jersey-New York. Carol, 64 was from Columbia, NJ and Charlie, 71, was from Staten Island. They have been living in Mesa since 2001 and moved here because of the weather. (I'm sure the scenery was another reason, or else they could have just moved down to South Texas).

I liked this couple. They are regulars at the Red White and Brew restaurant. The bartender saw them coming and without asking served up two Scotchs for them. We talked about New Jersey and New York, the Poconos, the Appalachian Trail, going "down to the Shore" and other uniquely Jersey things no one else could understand. They ended up picking up my tab when they learned I was in town for the Half Marathon, and even insisted on getting me an order of hot buttered Italian bread.

The restaurant never calmed down. "We come here every Saturday" said Carol, and they sit at the bar where they don't have to wait for a table.

We exchanged phone numbers. Charlie wants to come down to our area and shoot his pistol. He was also interested in the Minute Men Project (like many other border Arizonans were before they went too radical) and I promised them I'd try to come back sometime in April with Kevin so we can all talk about the great Northeast and the fun things back there.

Back with Kevin and the dogs

It’s good to be back home with Kevin and the dogs. How easy it was for me to get back into the old routine of waking up at 5am to share coffee with Kevin before he goes to work. By then the dogs are watching my every move, from putting on my shoes, combing my hair, and as soon as I grab my jacket and house keys they know they are ready to go for a walk up the mountains.

A visit to the vets on Thursday confirmed my suspicion: the dogs had gained weight, especially Sammy. Two years ago I took them in for their shots in March and Sara weighed 64 pounds, Sammy 60. Now he weighs 69 pounds, she 68. He’s noticeably fat, and Kevin described Sammy as looking like Michael Keaton’s Beetlejuice: Big body with “a little head.” This is why I have to encourage daily walks with the dogs for a few hours. The dogs, in turn, seem to want and need the exercise.

Hunter Canyon is the perfect trail to take the dogs on for a solitary workout. It’s only three miles away by car, it’s two miles one way, and it’s steep. The trail is exposed to the sun but offers nice views of the San Pedro Valley and Mexico. The only people we ever see are illegals running down the canyon and Border Patrol agents chasing after them. The dogs are off leash and never bother anyone or anything…except a few white-tailed deer they may attempt to chase

Yesterday (Friday) we power hiked up Hunter Canyon, relaxed in the shade of a few Ponderosa Pines, then drove to Bisbee and Tombstone, two towns that Tucsonans drive down for the weekend. For us they are backyard towns. Not much has changed in either town. Only Sierra Vista, the ugliest of the three cities, has grown, now claiming a new Texas Roadhouse Steakhouse and a few other restaurants that will surely go under in a few years like so many others have.

And earlier today we hiked up an illegal immigrant trail off Ramsey Canyon, where after a mile of uphill climbing we came across several "landfills" of abandoned backpacks, toiletries and clothes. We both grabbed just enough to take back comfortably to the trailhead trashbin, but we barely made a dent in the trail trash.

"Hey look, here are some designer sunglasses!" said Kevin as he held up a pair of genuine replica designer shades. He also pointed out empty tuna fish cans that had been pryed open by bear teeth: the cans' metal tops were ripped open with ragged edges and bent to superhuman angles. I also noted toothpaste and deoderant containers that were torn open by bear teeth, so somewhere in the Huachuca mountains is a clean-smelling bear with mint breath.

The sight of so much trash in the mountains once angered me. Now it's an everyday occurence. It's made me immune to the plight of the illegal immigrant. No one I know is against immigration, but it's the blatant disregard to the many legal immigrants that angers most Arizonans. Trashing up trails in the mountains does not make residents living along the borders sensitive to the illegals darting across, because it's people like Kevin and me who feel a need to clean up the trash.

I am home

After 3840 miles and god only knows how many dollars, I am home. The two peaks of Miller and Carr welcomed me with their 9000'+ splendor.

I surprised the dogs by first driving down the back alley, getting all the dogs down the street to bark in unison. When it came to Sara and Sammy's turn they went nuts over the van on "their" turf...until I called out their names. They stopped barking and started wimpering. When I got closer Sara wanted to lick my face and Sammy wanted to sniff my crotch. (Men...geez!)

The house looks good although I can smell stale cigarettes. Reina meowed at me, Chico and Mo just blinked their eyes at me. Oh, so you're home? they seemed to say.

The yards are looking good and are in much better shape than they were in November-December when I was last here to take care of the pets and yards. I didn't see any desert broom growing but I seem to have a lot of dandelions this spring. The tree on our west side is starting to bloom, the other tree is still thinking about it. Some of the sage is also blooming, the rosemary is in full purple bloom and everything else will soon come out.

I showered as soon as I could and took the dogs out for a walk before Kevin came home from work. We celebrated at home, staying in bed and watching "The Biggest Loser" which I haven't seen in a while. Kevin wants me to help him lose weight: he weighed himself in at 209 pounds. Both dogs together probably weigh as much; both need to lose weight as well. I certainly have my work cut out for me.

This weekend I'll be in Mesa for the Half Marathon and the following weekend I have a 35-mile bike tour with Bill. Then there's the Bataan Death March at the end of March. I have my work cut out for myself as well, but I will take the dogs on longer day hikes up the nearby mountains so that they get three good work-outs a week and lose weight. I'll have then both weighed at the vet's later this week.

Wednesdays will be my busy days with the Master Gardener Course from 10-1pm through the end of May. I have a lot of pruning to do in the yards, and a lot of dandelion removal as well. Weather should finally warm up with temps in the 70s/40s.

It's great to be back home, with my partner by my side. He wants and needs me to help him along with his goals and I'm willing to be there. Like the personal trainer Jillian on The Biggest Loser, if I have to yell at him I will. (As if I never have in the past).

Day 23--The finale: Back in Arizona

At 6:30am I was no longer a Texan as I crossed the Rio Grande for the last time and got on New Mexican roads. It was 22F outside, the coldest yet on this trip.

NM9 is a busy stretch for the USBP. I counted over 14 vehicles along the 180-mile road, most were east of Columbus. At night there are many more vehicles in the brush. I made sure the agents had no reason to pull me over. This road isn't used much and most vehicles I see are USBP vehicles.

It was already sunny enough for the desert hares, that normally run across this road at sunrise and sunset, to take a break. Hawks, harriers and ravens, even a lone coyote, pranced across the street. The dog was eating on some roadkill fast-food.

I stopped in Columbus to stretch my legs and opted for a quick walk into the bordertown of Loma Palomas. I knew there wasn't anything there but a stone catholic church and a stature of Pancho Villa. He and his gun-slinging troops entered the US through this valley and burned down Columbus, making a retaliatory raid by US forces with Gen Blackjack Pershing. I don't think buildings on either side of the border had seen any upkeep since those days in 1916.

Mexican school children were crossing into the US and getting on US school buses at 7:30am. A Border Patrol van and a sheriffs car watched. The kids weren't even chcked for documents as mothers walked their elementary kids to the two waiting buses.

My Spanish is getting bolder as words are slowly coming back to me. I asked a cowboyhat-wearing rancher "Donde esta la iglesia?" and he gave me coherent directions. The alleged statue of Pancho was next to the church and more men were sweeping the streets as stray dogs watched or loitered.

This was a run-down town with more bars on either side of main street than any other business. I stopped to eat chicken flautas for breakfast at Gomez. My coffee was Nescafe Instant which I had to mix myself. The young man served me ten bowls of various salsa with my flautas, which were quite tasty with the cheese sauce and mango salsa on top.

A Mexican yoga instructor in tight pants was stretching for the morning audience on TV, looking a bit like the blonde Texan Michael McCoughaney. If I had someone like that man to exercise with every morning I may actually get up every day to stretch...

Then a Spanish-Mexican version of the Today Show was on the TV, "Hoy" talked about various telenovias and a Mexican singer, Pablo Moredo, sang. I gathered he sings the tune for the Spanish serious "Fuego en la sangre" where all the men wear dark mustaches and hats and all the women cry through their heavy make-up. There seemed to be little to no real news for the announcers to talk about, although my SatRadio kept talking about today's primaries in Texas, Ohio, Vermont and Rhode Island.

My meal was very good and I thanked the server, who waved and smiled at me as I left. If only people in the US were this friendly in the morning.

More people swept their sidewalks. An elderly US couple walked passed me looking for an open pharmacy.

And I had no trouble getting back to the US side. "Did you purchase anything?" asked the agent. No. "How long were you in Mexico?" A little over an hour.

The short walk around town did me good as I felt fatigued. It got into the 60s as I continued my straight-away on NM9, going through cowtowns like Hachita, Hermanas, Animas and finally Rodeo where I crossed into--YAY!--Arizona at 11:15am. A pile of tires lay strewn along the shoulder on both sides. The Chiricahuas to my immediate west stood firm, welcoming me back to all their splendor. Creosote brush gave way to more Ocotillo the further west I got.

I stopped again in Douglas an hour later, just for the sake of stalling my arrival home. Douglas is another border town with the famed Gadsen Hotel, where Pancho Villa allegedly stomped up the marble stairs with his horse and chipped one of the stones. The two chips are visible as one goes up to the second floor.

Bisbee, 22 miles closer to home and 1500' higher than Douglas, came next. It was here, at the Bisbee Coffee Company in Old Bisbee, that I stopped for a sweet and powerful shot of cappuccino. People around me sat sipping their javas as they worked on their laptops. Hippies outside in their tie-die and raggamuffin hair sat in the shade staring at the tourists walking by. There were many tourists out in their best attire.

Bisbee is definitely worth a visit and one of my favorite towns in Cochise County. There's more to see and do in Bisbee than in any other town within 40 miles. It's situated in a small saddle surrounded by the Mule mountains, making this town a cool retreat in the summer heat. But there are a few too many Left-wing Liberals to my liking. Some of the older ones look like they haven't showered since the Nixon era. Still, when mixed with the neo-rich and the right-wingers from Fort Huachuca and Sierra Vista, the eclectic mix gives Bisbee its rebellious charm. It's also the first clean town I've seen in a while...