Tucson

Kevin spent the day getting ready for his work trip so I drove to Tucson for some shopping. I took Sara with me.

We left at 9:15am and got to Reid Park shortly after 10am, where we walked the 2.98-mile David Bell multi-use trail. I had always wanted to walk this trail but was a little disappointed in that it was nothing more than a rectangular perimeter walk around the golf course. I was hoping for a few curves, hills and scenic flora.

Sara conked out half-way around the loop so we took it easy, slowing down the pace and resting in the shade. She seemed to enjoy getting her shoulders massaged. She didn't bark or pull at other dogs and was very well behaved, but the heat had gotten to her.

After our hour walk Sara seemed exhausted, so I kept any exercise after that to a minimum. I stopped at Bookmans, traded in a few books, stopped at Summit Hut and then went to the UA campus but in the last minuted opted not to visit the Brew Pub. None of the businesses I walked in were busy, but I could tell that the bar across the street from Gentle Ben's was packed with March Madness fans; North Carolina was playing Oklahoma and ended up winning.

Instead I ate a quiet meal at Chuy's off Country Club and Speedway, watching the van carefully as Sara was resting inside. She was in the cool shade now and napping. I read part of my new "Buffalo Bill's America" while enjoying a chicken burrito. The restaurant was quiet.

It was now late in the afternoon. I was ready to go home, but this time drove the backroads back, via the Old Spanish Trail eastward that sloped and curved around the far east side of Tucson before ending in Vail. I continued on via the Marsh Station Road, passed a trailhead to Davidson Canyon (I made a mental note of that) and ended at the interstate, with the Rincon Valley glowing in reds and oranges as the sun lowered itself over the horizon. I've always liked this part of Tucson-Vail with its neat cacti gardens but now many Uebermansions have taken over the landscape. This is beautiful cactus country. And to think that I've never driven this route before! I have got to go back and explore Davidson Canyon more, now that I know where a trailhead is.

Murray Springs hike

It was a long and busy week for me. It started with Monday where I spent what time I could finalizing my mid-term.

Tuesday I took my van to the Dodge dealership only to be told that 1) there was nothing wrong with my air conditioner 2) I needed new tires and they could sell me a set of Goodyear tires for $800 and 3) the weather sealant will be ordered for me.

As soon as I left the dealership I went to my autoshop to get a set of Hankook tires. They are not the top-rated tires but for the price, and especially with the lifetime guarantee the shop offers me, when the treadwear wears out before the three-year warranty, I can get a new set for just the cost of labor.

The mechanics told me I needed new front brakes. There went another $200 but at least these brake pads are also guaranteed for life and all I'll be paying is the cost of labor.

The Sierra Vista Herald published the school district's proposals for its 2009 school year in the Tuesday paper. Among other things, 18 positions in art, music and physical education are proposed. But so are two Spanish positions and one English position. There were other cuts proposed, so needless to say the proposals were a heated discussion Tuesday at the high school. Ironically the principal suggested that "If you want to stay in this area I would recommend you Master in English."

My Wednesday presentation in my Special Ed class went very well. Three classmates told me my presentation (the fourth out of 16) was the best one yet. What I want to know is what grade the instructor gave me!

On Thursday I was in Bisbee for a "Remedial English" class at the high school that was quite challenging. My one relief that day was getting one midterm back that evening: 99% and the comment "Excellent work!" by the instructor.

On Friday I had a US Government class of unenthusiastic Seniors. Talking about the House and Senate just doesn't appeal to most people. They'd rather just complain about congressional personnel just because they can.

It was no surprise that I slept in this morning until 7am after an early bedtime last night. My mind needed to unwind.

The early chill kept me busy in the garden this morning but the dogs were restless. Keeping Sara out of sight, I took Sammy and Sadie to the Murray Springs site, a Paleoindian kill site dated 11,000 years ago. I did not take the dogs to the site itself, but instead stayed on the Murray Springs trail that led to the San Pedro house, a 2.5 mile hike one-way.

We followed a tributary creekbed that had a small creek flowing, enough water to keep the dogs refreshed and playful. The last time we were on this trail the wash was dry and the only water we had for the dogs was water at Murray Springs where the first grove of cottonwoods thrive.

We had undisturbed solitude. The only sign of life we came across was an old rusty "carcass" that probably got swept in a monsoonal flood to its current location. We made it to the river in 1:10 hours, stayed there for a little and returned the same way we came. We didn't see any people until a quarter mile from the trailhead, where we met four sets of couples. I was very proud of Sadie, who has now learned to stop barking at every stranger she sees.

We made it back home at 2:30pm. Sara had no bad feelings for staying home with Dad. She got a carride with him to Home Depot for other errands. Her front right leg just isn't healing and I didn't want the five-mile hike to cause her any more pain. I took her and Sammy on a slow .8-mile hike around our neighborhood.

I wish I could get Sara treated for her limp. The cortizone shot she got last week has shown NO progress at all. It's hard to see an animal you have loved for so long, and with whom you have bonded, suffer so much. And Sara, bless her spirit, will always want to "Go for a Dubya" with her human friend no matter how bad the pain is.

I still have one more debate to research and I also have to get the draft for my Apache research paper started next week. I had to turn down a great invite by Brenda who asked me to come along on a peak climb--literally--up Baboquevari Peak next Thursday-Friday. If it were the weekend I'd go along, but not on a Thursday or Friday. I have college classes Thursday and I'm not one to miss any class for any reason.

http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/25/news/doc49c9cea989def877954036.txt

http://gorp.away.com/gorp/resource/us_blm/az/arc2_san.htm

Returning home

The quiet night turned into a calm morning. Again we were up at sunrise and left our little site at 6:47am to resume our drive down the mountain. Turkey hunters were camped about a mile west of our site, and we could hear the birds.

A lone ranger drove the opposite direction but simply waved. Had he stopped us he could have fined us for being on an expired permit. Our goal now was to get back into town and leave the rez.

Had we been in our SUV the drive would have been scenic, as the red-rocked mountains gave way to more desert terrain as we lost elevation. Pines gave way to agave, prickly pear and thornbrush. The road also became more passable.

The abandoned town of Sawmill was on our right, a small collection of sun-burned wooden shacks leaning into the sky. There was no other sign of life.

We made it to San Carlos by 9am, but there was little life there either. Now we could leave and head back home via Highway 77 south of Globe. A stop at the Apache Casino gas station for coffee was our one stop before we drove into the Mescal Mountains. This was another scenic drive. It was through these mountains that "Kearny's Army of the West" rode through with Kit Carson as the guide on the way to California in 1846, according to a historical marker at a vista rest stop. The Coolidge Dam now stands where they rode in the canyon valley.

I was looking forward to seeing the Old Camp Grant Place, but when we arrived at the spot south of Dudleyville we were welcomed with a "PRIVATE PROPERTY" sign and an Arizona Game and Fish Marker on a newly-stranded wire fence. The Arapaica Creek here barely trickled, but we could see groves of sycamores around downed trees in the creek bed. So this is where the Union Army, along with Tohono O'odham and Mexicans killed over 120 Apaches (mostly women and children) who were encamped here, supposedly under the safety of the US Army. There is no history marker here, perhaps so as to best forget this tragic moment in US History that at the time enraged Americans back East, even President Grant (who was persuaded by western mine owners to release some reservation land back to the Whites for mining purposes over the years he was in office).

A faint trail from the fence led to the creekbed, but after a short walk on private propery I returned to the van where Kevin and the dogs were waiting. I just don't like walking on private property. My goal to see the actual site, now long overgrown with new growth, failed.

Two horses behind a corral watched us. Perhaps they feared the dogs who were looking back at them. We didn't stay long, as we resumed our drive on Highway 77, then River Road at Mammoth, were somewhere at 85 miles north of home I got a blow-out in my rear left tire. If it hadn't been for Kevin's skill at changing tires I would have struggled with that jack for an hour. But we made it home in time, 2pm, before the winds began to pick up and wind adviseries were announced for northern and eastern Arizona.

We both were a bit disappointed in our weekend. Sure, it was nice to see new places but I didn't fulfill all that I wanted to do. Feeling like intruders on an Indian reservation, I somehow lacked the usual openness to approach people and ask questions. My anthropology instructor was right when she said Native Americans do not open up easily to White People. After all the battles we fought with the Natives, and then breaking every treaty we made with them, I can't blame them for their caution toward us.

I will not give up hope. Perhaps my usual strategy has to be revamped. I want to go back up there, perhaps alone so that I don't annoy Kevin with my photography. But perhaps it was my camera that was the barrier in the first place?

http://www.desertusa.com/mag98/april/stories/campgrant1.html

____

http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/23/news/doc49c748661ef23000054574.txt

http://www.azstarnet.com/sn/fromcomments/285289.php

White Mountain Apache Nation

We were out of our camp site at 6:43am. I had missed the sunrise over San Carlos Lake.

Globe's McDonald's was our next stop for coffee, as there was nothing open in San Carlos. All we saw were stray dogs off the roads, littered yards and people on back porches. The yards, I noticed, had no flowers. Many abandoned homes were badly graffittied.

So far what we saw was depressing: dilapitaded houses, mangy-looking stray dogs, litter in the streets and yards, rusty cars in backyards and boarded-up buildings. People stared at us. No one waved. It was best we moved on and came back later, when people were out and about and stores were open.

We opted to drive Northeast on Highway 60 toward the Salt River Canyon, "Arizona's Little Grand Canyon." And that site did not disappoint. We were now in the White Mountain Apache Nation, having crossed the tribal boundary when we crossed the Salt River.

This reservation seemed nicer, and even a little cleaner and a lot more scenic with the snow-capped White Mountains closer to our east. But there was no doubt that both were poor, desolate places and perhaps our cool reception from the locals was because we were seen as intruders or trespassers on their land.

At White Mountain at least our reception was a little better. We stopped at Fort Apache Historic Site, paid our daily permit, toured the old fort (home of General Crook's cabin and an old Indian boarding school), then drove northeast toward Whiteriver where a skateboarding team from the local high school was selling Apache t-shirts to earn their air fare to an Native American Movie Festival at New York City's Smithsonian Institute.

We found the youths at the Basha parking lot, where other Indians were also displaying their second-hand goods for sale. The shirts were made and designed locally, and the proud teens showed me two of their short movies they made via their iPod. One, "Four Wheel War Pony" was especially good, with soft indigineous music playing in the background. Parts of the video, the teens told me, was filmed outside of Douglas, AZ. This group of teens were the nicest group I met this weekend, and we had a pleasant conversation. Both movies were well-made, showing both past and present photos of Apache history.

After we left the teens we had a quick dinner at the nearby hotel restaurant. The special was a $5.99 cheeseburger platter that came with a huge portion of French fries. The waitress showed very little hospitality but she was otherwise very efficient. It was here that I felt like an intruder. No one welcomed us into the establishment but we were treated fairly. And the food was good.

The area we were in had more pines compared to San Carlos. Rapid creeks flowed in several directions as we drove back west to stop at the Kinishba Ruins, an ancient Hopi ruins that once housed over 800 people. We kept the dogs in the van under some shade so that they did not disturb the ruins.

Another couple pulled into the parking area as we were ready to leave. The husband had worked at the Indian Boarding school back in the 1970s before he was transferred to Oklahoma and then to Tucson. The wife just came with her daughter to show the younger woman where they used to live. "I liked it here in Whiteriver" said the older woman, "and I never saw these ruins before!"

The ruins were impressive.

My big mistake today was talking Kevin into taking a shortcut over the mountains via Mountain Road 9, a dirt road that kept climbing into the pine-studded peaks. In the SUV the road would have not been a problem, but in the van there was little clearance. Every big rock hit the under carriage.

The 12-mile drive to the Black River crossing took us an hour, and we were still three hours from San Carlos at that speed. Kevin was behind the wheel (had I been driving he never would have stopped criticizing my driving), driving at times no faster than 15 miles an hour.

The vistas were beautiful, though, despite the patches of dead and dying pines. But where were we? The only person we came across was a San Carlos Ranger at 3pm who stopped us to make sure we had valid permits to be out there in the wilderness. We showed them our permits, to which he admitted surprise.

"Have you seen any turkeys?" the ranger then asked us, perhaps wanting to be more friendly now that he knew we were legal travelers.

We saw no turkeys. "I am more surprised that you have seen no turkeys than I am about your permits" he added.

Shortly after we drove on Kevin found a nice campsite near a small creek. Here is where we stopped for the night. There was water for the dogs and solitude for the rest of the night, where not one sound was made, not even any whispers from the pines. The dogs were calm, too. And despite the higher elevation I slept better Saturday than the night before.

http://www.nativenetworks.si.edu/eng/orange/4_wheel_war_pony.htm

http://www.azcentral.com/travel/arizona/features/articles/archive/saltrivercanyon.html

San Carlos Apache Nation

We didn't leave at exactly oh-dark-thirty as planned. I still had to clean out and then pack the van. We didn't take off until 9:30am for the scenic drive toward Safford.

Snow was still on Mount Graham when we arrived in town by noon. Our lunch was in Thatcher at Ray's La Casita. We both had the bean burro special. The wait was long but the meal was tasty.

We were on Highway 70 now, driving northwest toward Bylas where we bought a two-day permit for the reservation at the Apache Market. This was the first town on the reservation. The two day permit cost $20 and "expires at midnight." Midnight? That's an odd time to cancel everything!

Vendors were in the parking lot selling fry bread, beans and Apache burgers. What were Apache Burgers I asked one woman, expecting a graphic answer. It was a cheeseburger with chilis.

From Bylas we drove on toward Peridot where the Apache Cultural center was. We were in the middle of the reservation, in a flat alkaline valley where little can grow.

The center was closed. It was 2:30pm. The opening hours on the museum door stated 8-5pm weekdays. The website said the same thing. Did the staff take an early weekend? We drove down to scout out Lake San Carlos, then the Basha's grocery store where all the main aisles were bilingual: Athabascan and English. Only pork had no translation.

When I asked the cashiers how to pronounce some of the words, one replied that she was Hopi and couldn't read the language, and the other replied that she only knew some words. A woman in line answered for both and blurted out the answer in perfect Athabascan.

Prices in the store were also much higher than we are both used to.

We returned to the Apache Culture Center at 3:30pm. It was still closed. Now we were disappointed as our early departure from home was dependent on visiting this center. Although the building from the outside looked like an abandoned building one would see in Mexico, the interior looked well laid out and I could see displays through the front window. Perhaps not enough people stop at the center on a Friday afternoon to merit it to stay open. Still, we were both looking forward to this museum.

Tired of driving, we headed south toward Lake San Carlos. A humble stop at the Old San Carlos Memorial reminded us that even on the reservation, Apaches sacrificed their homes when the Coolidge Dam was built in 1929 and flooded the old town of San Carlos. The new town was rebuild four miles up river.

Beer cans and bottles littered all the roads on the reservation, more so than any highway in southern Arizona. For a place that forbids alcohol, the reservation was replete with empty and discarded beer cans.

We drove along dirt roads along Lake San Carlos, trying to avoid crowds. We could see lines of cars camped along the lakeshore along one open stretch. One promising spot was quickly abandoned when we spotted a rattlesnake. It didn't rattle at us and the dogs were oblivious, but the snake didn't look like it was ready to go anywhere and it was resting right off a path to the river.

We instead found a spot near the lake shore. After a short move to get away from sticky burrs, we satisfied ourselves with an open spot near the lake where the dogs had easy access to the water. All three dogs reveled in the cool lake, chasing each other and barking with delight. Sadie at one point was up to her head in the water, chasing ducks that were off shore.

The sunset was quite lovely, but the subsequent night was cold. I woke up several times from cold feet. Once midnight rolled around, everything around us was quiet. The evening stars were quite a sight.

http://www.silverbelt.com/articles/2009/03/19/apache_moccasin/apache19.txt

http://www.silverbelt.com/articles/2009/03/11/apache_moccasin/apache04.txt

The San Carlos Reservation

We are heading up there at oh-dark-thirty tomorrow. It's a four-hour drive and we are taking the faster route via I-10 east to Willcox, then north toward Safford and NW toward Globe. The visitor's center on the reservation is only open during the week until 5pm and we have to get there as soon as we can to pick up our permits to camp on tribal lands.

All three dogs are going with us and we are taking the "DogHouse" (the van) with us. The weekend weather looks pretty good despite the elevation there in the eastern White Mountain foothills:

Tonight: Partly cloudy skies. Low 52F. Winds ENE at 5 to 10 mph.
Tomorrow: Mostly cloudy. Warm. High near 80F. Winds S at 5 to 10 mph.
Tomorrow night: A few clouds. Low 51F. Winds SSE at 5 to 10 mph.
Saturday: Intervals of clouds and sunshine. High 77F. Winds S at 10 to 20 mph.
Sunday: Partly cloudy. Highs in the upper 70s and lows in the upper 40s.
Monday: Mainly sunny and windy. Highs in the upper 60s and lows in the upper 30s.

Our mission? I want to photograph some Apache culture and hopefully talk to a few, especially any stories they may have heard down the line about the Camp Grant Massacre of 1871. (The Aravaipa Apaches were all forced on the San Carlos Reservation after that massacre.)

I want to see the powwow that's happening there, although powwows are "For white people only" and more of a tourist thing.

I also want to take a shortish hike (about five miles) somewhere nearby on Saturday. Sunday we are driving back early via the River Road from Mammoth. Just north of there, where the Aravaipa Creek runs into the San Pedro River, is where the massacre took place. A grove of sycamores now stands on the spot. It's an unmarked spot but a sacred spot for the Apaches. I want to scout that place out before we get back home Sunday.

http://www.sancarlosapache.com/home.htm

A day that went to the dogs...and cat

I took Sara and Sammy to the Cochise Animal Hospital in Bisbee yesterday morning. That place is now my choice for animal care even though it's 26 miles from me and no appointments are taken. All patients are on a walk-in basis from 9-3pm. I really like the entire staff over there.

With more hot days now I can garden early. Nighttime lows are in the low 50s, warm enough to get my tomatoes thriving. As soon as I got the morning chores done, I drove off with all three dogs to the vet.

The dogs know the route now: drive east downhill toward the San Pedro river, cross the river and curve southeast with the road. As soon as Sammy smells the river he has his head up high watching the road. He gets beside himself when we cross the river, but then whimpers when I drive past it.

"Easy Sammy, we'll get there later."

I drove up to the vet office in Bisbee-San Jose and was seen right away, but not fast enough to keep Sammy from peeing against the reception desk. (Oops!) Both dogs needed their distemper and Sammy was overdue on his rabies. And while I was there I asked about Sara's front right leg. She hasn't stopped limping in a few weeks now.

"Looks like she's got arthritis in the shoulder" said Dr Behney. She got a cortizone shot in the shoulder. "You should see results by tomorrow." And then he recommended I get her on an arthritic medication I could get cheaply on any online pet medicine website.

I really liked Dr Behney. The vet techs in the front office spoke highly of him. "He's had this practice since 1961. We have four generations of families coming here!" said Blue-Eyes, the bald gentleman I remember from last time I took Vinnie in. Behney is now in his mid 70s.

What amazed me is that the doctor called me by my name. At my other vet office I'm simply known as "Next!"

And the price was affordable. I am going to switch vets completely. The original vet office I used was in Sierra Vista and was recommended to me at the time because it offered military discounts. But it was bought by a corporation that owns 432 vet offices across the country in 2007. The prices were raised as well when I was in Iraq. But what turned me off was waiting almost two hours the last two times I was there just to have Sadie seen for a scheduled appointment. The vets were all friendly and competent, but they pushed their patients through like an assembly line.

Today I was out of the office within 30 minutes and didn't break my wallet. And Sammy only peed twice while in the building.

"We have had about a 25-30 percent rise in customers lately, most of them from Sierra Vista" said Blue Eyes. "People are coming here because the prices are better." And I must add that the doctors here add a nice personal touch. "This office isn't the most modern facility but the equipment we use is top-notch" he went on. The other vet tech agreed. The building, just a few miles from the border, is the same red-brick building from 1961.

Sara and Sammy didn't seem to mind the doctor, either, and Blue Eyes noted that both dogs acted and moved like litter mates. When I turned toward the dogs both were sitting down facing the same direction. Yes, they are soulmates in many ways.

One man came in with a crying cat wanting the pregnant cat's kittens aborted. The cat was dropped off and the man took off in a rage. That view spoiled my mood.

"Why can't pet owners be more responsible?" I asked the techs. Blue Eyes also looked upset.
"People like that are careless about their animals yet we have to do what they want us to do. But then there are people like you who take great care of their pets. Great care? The doctor thinks Sara is obese and I'm having a difficult time feeding her separate from Sadie who needs to gain weight.

Both Sara and Sammy gained more weight this year. Both weigh 74 pounds. Last March they were in their upper 60s. I have got to do something about Sara!

Sadie was beside herself with joy when we got back to the truck. We drove back to the river for a nice two-mile walk along the San Pedro. It was by now late morning, and the sun was already hot. Even Sammy walked in the water to keep his paws cool. I picked up a few abandoned backpacks on my return walk and surprised at least four families near the bridge upon my return. Pre-teens were wading in the water. One family had a picnic near the banks.

This summer weather will stay with us now. Although this is not good for the forest, the tomatoes and other tropical plants will love this heat, so I continued working on that large vegetable bed Kevin dug up last year. I covered the bed with long wooden beams to discourage Sadie from digging in the topsoil and Vinnie from leaving little turds in the stuff.

In the afternoon I drove back to the vet office with Reina. Her weight loss lately had me concerned. Dr Behney diagnosed her with hyperthyroidism, a common condition in older cats (but that allegedly does not happen much in older Siamese, HA! Siamese tend to develop hypothyroidism like Chico and Mo had)

So thus I spent most of the day dedicated to the pets' welfare. Reina will start her treatment as soon as the meds arrive from Phoenix next week. The treatment is about $1 a day twice a day. Sara most likely will be on arthritis medication for the rest of her life. I might as well join the crowd and get back on Celebrex!

At least now I can leave for Indiana this summer and know that all Kevin has to do is give the pets their meds every day.

The Palominas Trading Post

On Sunday I read in the local paper that an old diner down the street was closing, the run-down but popular Palominas Trading Post. For home-made pies you couldn't beat this place. Most of the time when we wanted to come here the place was closed, as we could never remember the business hours. But every time we did get inside we met wonderful people and ate a delicious meal.

We had to eat here one more time.

The Palominas Trading Post diner has been a staple here for as long as I first set my eyes on this area back in 1986. It was even featured in the September 1950 issue of Arizona Highways. A copy of that article is at the back of every menu so new visitors can read the history of this place.

As soon as Kevin got home from work we took off. We got there at 5:02 and the parking lot looked deserted. For its final day open it sure looked dead! And to our horror we saw the "CLOSED" sign up front.

But a closed door isn't always locked, so we went inside. The owners, John and Pam Waters were sitting up front, chatting up their final customer. They had had a long day, John said, reliving memories.

Pam didn't mind waiting on us. "We don't have much left...some Mexican, some BBQ beef..." and that was enough for us to sit down. Three elderly women also arriving were let in and sat at the larger table next to us.

I was hungry and very tired after working most of the afternoon outside getting an entire 6'x14' garden bed tilled, composted and ready for planting. I ordered a wet chicken burrito.

The three elderly women (in their late 70s, I learned) were hilarious to listen to. They were regulars and were teasing John who was leaning in his chair against the front of the diner. He knew them by name.

John looked melancholy. This final day open was a rough one for him. "We had people come in all day long sharing memories of this place." John and Pam owned the diner for 14 years and made a lot of friends, both locally and as far away as Cananea, Mexico.

"Some Mexicans told us we had the best Mexican food this side of the border."

I will agree: the shredded chicken burrito was tasty.

The diner is not much to look at from the outside. The lettering on the Palominas Trading Post sign was barely visible. The warped sign was fastened with rope and leaning precariously against the roof. The white exterior paint on all sides was badly pealed. Some of the wood beams showed signs of termites.

And the inside looked like something from the 1950s, although the actual building was an original officer's barracks from 1914 moved to its present location from Fort Huachuca. The black-and-white checkered tiled floor contrasted well with the light brown vinyl chairs. But the best part was looking at all the antique decor along the walls.

Elvis was on the front door. John Wayne was on the back wall. Darth Vader was in the storage area next to an old Coca-Cola sign. Betty Boop stood high near the ceiling next to an old Marine Staff Sergeant's dress uniform.

Although John served a tour in the Marine Corps, that uniform was not his. "Mine only had one stripe on it!" he admitted. His "Semper Fi" baseball cap revealed his pride.

I enjoyed just gazing around. Hard to believe this place was closing for its final time. What a piece of Americana! These old diners are the places I seek when I'm on the road. What better place to meet locals and learn the latest gossip that means absolutely nothing to the traveler but is a means to strike up a conversation with the stranger next to you at the counter? I remember our first time at the Trading Post talking to a man who had traveled down here from New York State who recalled the area still surrounded by fields of watermelon.

"All these things were given to us" said John as he pointed at the John Wayne and Betty Boop cut-outs. "The woman who gave me that Betty Boop is long dead now."

"The hardest thing about closing is not being able to donate goods for the Seniors" continued John, referring to his annual charity work in the community.

The Elvis on the front door was the only thing John bought, back when he went to Graceland.

A shelf of old toasters of various sizes stood high above the eastern wall. And more antique restaurant equipment stood against the western wall.

John volunteered more information as we ate our meal. "Yeah, business started slowing down after 911. We used to get people from all over. But now they don't come by anymore. We didn't even have the Snowbird Crowd this year, not like we used to get them. Sometimes we'd be open on a Monday afternoon and get no one for three hours."

And when gas prices shot up last summer the customers really stopped coming.

The article in the local paper featured comments by readers. Some stated they stopped coming when the Trading Post turned into a meeting place for the Minute Men Militia a few years ago. When the Militia started out that first summer of 2005 the Trading Post was packed with volunteers down to "guard" the border. We didn't come by then because the place was too packed. But others commented that the owners had catered too much to the Militia and not enough to its own customers.

A "Secure Our Borders!" and a "I want You to be a MinuteMen Volunteer to Secure the US Border" (With Uncle Same pointing his menacing finger at the on-looker) posters greeted customers as they left the cashier station. If this was a hard-core meeting place for the MinuteMen then at least the MinuteMen had good taste in food.

"Politics and Pancakes don't mix!" wrote one angry reader.

But all that aside, we were never disappointed in this place. I go to diners such as this to experience the local mood, and if it just happens to be about MinuteMen then at least I have something to listen to. There was no sign of angry politics or redneck ways tonight. We all had come together at the Trading Post one more time for a meal.

The pie case was empty. But everyone in the restaurant was treated to the last chocolate pie that was brought out from the back kitchen. Although it's not a flavor I would normally order (I prefer berry pies) this pie was delicious. The crust melted in my mouth. The filling was perfectly sweetened.

Now that the restaurant is closing the owners may continue to sell their homemade pies during Sierra Vista's Thursdays Farmer's Market. And as far as reopening some time in the future, both John and Pam are hoping to reopen somewhere closer to Sierra Vista where there is a larger customer base.

"Right now we are just going to take a little hiatus." said John.

http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/15/news/doc49bcabdfc5dcf577738768.txt

http://my.nowpublic.com/palominas_trading_post_basecamp_for_the_minuteman_project_cochise_co_az#comment-322391

http://www.svherald.com/articles/2007/08/17/news/doc46c5402ed1657943245614.txt

http://www.minutemanhq.com/bf/building_schedule.php

http://hopelds.blogspot.com/2009/03/even-after-thirty-years.html

Tombstone's St Patrick's Parade and the River

Tombstone had its St Patrick's Parade this morning at 11am and since Sierra Vista cancelled its own parade that had been scheduled yesterday (allegedly due to lack of sponsorship) I opted to check out the parade. There had been enough Irish settlers in town back in the mining days of Tombstone to warrant a parade in honor of the Irish.

Kevin was supposed to go as well but opted out when he saw Sara limping badly.

"I can't leave her here alone. I'll stay behind and rub her belly for an hour" he said. Bless that man. His love for animals and nature is why I fell in love with him nine years ago. I still remember that day: May 18, 2000.

But what a parade it was. I was at the main street right at 11am and saw perhaps four or five groups walk past: belly dancers, the Tombstone High School girl's soccer team players, a few renegades dressed in the 1880s regalia. That was it? The highlight for the dogs was spotting an ugly Chihuahua dog dressed in a green sweater. Both dogs wanted to run up to it and sniff its tiny, ugly little butt and I had to hold them back.

It's a shame the parade sponsors couldn't find an Irish setter in town to walk in the parade. A chihuahua, and an ugly one at that, has no business in a St Patrick's Day parade.

I didn't spend any more time in town than I needed and headed with the dogs to the San Pedro river off Charleston. This was my real reason to come out here: to walk in solitude along the river with the blooming cottonwoods.

Apparently everyone else had left Tombstone after the "parade" and decided to walk with nature here as well. The parking lot was packed!!!

I parked on the north side of Highway 90 and headed toward the Millville ruins, but then cut across an immigrant trail toward the river.

The dogs by now know my antics. Both were well-behaved and stayed nearby. As soon as we got to the river both Sadie and Sammy splashed around, even chased each other until Sadie started whining at Sammy: he had been jackknifing across the grasses, throwing Sadie's concentration off. For as old as he is, he can still outsmart the "youngin" in Sadie.

About two miles along the river we came across a man sitting quietly along the riverbank, leaning against his backpack in the "sand" and reading a book. I felt bad for violating his solitude, and he took to the dogs well. But we didn't stay as I value my own solitude and kept on walking north along the river.

The river is beautiful here. The river bank is wide, the river shallow and cottonwoods line either side.

There were few obstructions along the immigrant trail. The river glistened in the early afternoon sun. Birds twittered from tree to tree, swooping low between landings. Many of the cottonwoods were already in complete leaf. I was going to walk along the river for as long as I could.

How far I really went I don't know, as shortly after meeting the unknown man I walked underneath a cottonwood grove and then the riverbank became narrow and obstructed with snags. It was already past 1pm at this point, time to turn around.

We took another immigrant trail away from the river back toward the rail trail. Not too far off the river we came across an abandoned immigrant encampment, with black backpacks and trash strewn all over the area. This was the first time I noticed so many unopened jars of "mantequilla de cacahuete," or peanut butter. Where were all the cans of tuna fish and frijoles the illegals normally bring with them? The backpacks looked suspiciously of the ones the narcos use for their cocaine bundles.

My wanderlust was now ruined and I was compelled to clean up this site. I used all the backpacks as trash bags, collected all the plastic wrappings, bottles, feminine hygiene bags (!!!) and gallon water jugs and stuffed everything I could into the backpacks. Then I carried everything up to the rail trail for the BLM guys to pick up. Hauling the trash was heavy enough; I didn't have the energy to haul everything back for two plus miles back to my truck.

I hate seeing trash in the wilderness. It's bad enough we have locals throwing their Keystone and Bud Lite cans out their car windows along the highways, but all these illegal encampments along our beautiful rivers and hiking trails really ticks me off.

Leaving the four black backpacks behind on the trail looked menacing. Had I not the dogs, the leashes and my camera around my neck I would have carried everything back myself.

The San Pedro Railtrail here is a pretty trail, but the many times I've been on it I've never seen any cyclists. It's an open and exposed trail. The dogs' paws were getting hot from the sun-heated slag along the trail. The one escape now was taking a quick detour to the petroglyphs near the Millville ruins.

Two men came from the opposite direction as I continued south along the rail trail. "I've been walking here for three hours looking for my horse!" said the taller and heavier of the two. Sweat trickled down his reddish face as he wiped it off with a red bandanna. I believed this man, as there was plenty of horse shit along the river trail. But he was fibbing and I took it well. And he sure did look like he'd been out for more than just three hours looking for his imaginary horse.

We got back to the parking lot at 3pm. The parking lot on both sides of the highway now was packed with vehicles. A large group from Colorado was reading the historical markers at the trail head as we walked past them. Sadie was off leash, refusing to get strapped in at the trail head, but I was proud of her as she didn't bark at anyone. That's twice now today she's restrained herself after my reminding her to be "nice"...and to refrain from acting like a German.

The last sigh of wonder in nature's beauty came when I spotted my first patch of Arizona poppies along the roadside.

http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/15/news/doc49bcabb859606790240987.txt

http://www.discoverseaz.com/History/TStone.html

Spring break

After a half day at the school I took my Escape in to Jack Furrier's to have them check my front right tire. It had been leaking air and needed to get refilled every four days. That unplanned visit took three hours, during which I walked a quarter mile down the street for a fast food lunch and to read new releases at Hasting's. Today's pick was "American Lion: Andrew Jackson in the White House" by Jon Meacham. I focused on the chapters dealing with the American Indian Removal policies Jackson had pushed through and which he saw implemented. The book is well-written and organized in coherent chapters.
http://www.amazon.com/American-Lion-Andrew-Jackson-White/dp/1400063256

I sat in a couch near the coffee stand where six couches are available for customers. The couches are divided into two sections of three couches facing each other,with a long coffee table between the two sections.

Two older men, one wearing a Vietnam Veteran cap on his head, talked loudly with each other. Unfortunately, they were yelling at each other across the open space. Why couldn't the two men just sit next to each other so that they wouldn't bother the rest of us readers nearby?

The man closer to me was reading the local paper, the Sierra Vista Herald. He was commenting on our former Governor, Janet Napolitano. As a governor she opposed the building of the new international fence between Arizona and Sonora, Mexico. She now heads the Department of Homeland Security and according to the newspapers she has developed a contingency plan should the drug violence in Mexico spill over into this country.

"It seems funny that a woman who didn't do anything about illegal immigration now heads the Department of Homeland Security" he commented.

His Vietnam veteran friend added "She couldn't even keep the state budget in check."

"Well," answered the man next to me, "we can't fault her for that. The money just wasn't there." He was referring to the downward spiraling housing market.

More comments about Napolitano were exchanged. They got louder. By now I knew I couldn't read my book in peace and closed my eyes to nap. I had never heard two old men talk so loudly for so long.

Eventually the conversation turned to Bernie Madoff, a Jewish stock-trading investor who defrauded thousands of people (and many celebs) of millions through a huge Ponzi scheme, robbing them of their life savings. Several charities in Israel were also affected by this massive fraud. Madoff plead guilty yesterday and could face a 150-year life sentence in a Manhattan court. His sentence will be this June. The government says he's been running this Ponzi scheme since the 1980s; Madoff says he started in the 1990s. His wife sits on $65 million, claiming that money is rightfully hers. At any rate this is the largest Fraud scheme in history and this news won't go away soon.

http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/13/news/immigration/doc49b9ea8078c5e310502132.txt

"That guy says he's sorry for what he's done...he's just sorry he got caught!" said my by now obnoxious couch mate.

The two men exchanged more comments, from raising taxes to city government. They didn't seem happy about anything. I was wondering how long these two men would chat. My cell phone, I hoped, would ring any minute now with a call from the auto shop saying my truck was ready for pick-up.

"Well" said the man next to me, "I better get going before they charge me rent" and got up. His friend followed. When the men had left the woman across from me, who had been sitting next to the Vietnam Veteran, smiled at me in relief.

"I never thought men could talk this much" I said. "They acted like two teens with cell phones!" She just smiled more in agreement.

By now my phone call had come and I walked back to the auto shop. Two new BF Goodrich Long Trail tires, plus labor cost me $320. These will be the last tires I buy for the SUV before he dies of old age.

It was now approaching 2pm. I drove home where the dogs were eagerly awaiting me. Weather was nice and they were ready for a "W". My plan now was to go on post, deposit my VA check and make an appointment at the Tax Center. And then I wanted to drive up Huachuca Canyon for a quiet walk with the dogs.

I made it to the highest picnic area in Huachuca Canyon at 3pm and walked uphill along the road with the dogs. A narrow stream cut through the road, allowing the dogs fresh water. Sara was having fun and the other two dogs were chasing imaginary prey. This was Sara's first walk all week due to her worsening limp.

How beautiful the canyon was. It had been several years since I had been up here. The sycamores were still naked, but willows and oaks were in green display. I wanted to walk uphill for 30 minutes, then turn around.

But after 45minutes I was still walking uphill, captivated by the beauty. The eastern sun was shining directly in my face.

Nothing looked familiar to me until I came up to an old Forest Service sign showing the Huachuca Canyon trail. I turned south at this point, following a tributary creek up a steeper canyon until it got too steep and narrow. Here is where I came across the typical trash left behind by illegals: gallon water jugs tied to nylon string, cans of Jumex nectar and Spanish language candy wrappers. I was now off the trail and needed to get back on a safer path.

The dogs didn't mind. They ran between Douglas pine, sniffed tree trunks, bit into soft ground and dug around in humus. I was more concerned with getting back on a road. I knew I was walking back in the same direction as I could see the canyon from high vantage points, and recognized Camel Back Peak, a pronounced hump of a peak that offers a nice view of Fort Huachuca.

I got on a slide trail that I had noticed walking out. I took this steep trail that took us back to Huachuca Canyon Road. Now the dogs were familiar with the scent and took me straight back to the truck. It was 5pm and all three dogs were relieved to hop into the truck (with their wet and muddy paws!!!). I could feel the cooler effect of the shadowed mountain trail now.

A couple from Washington State had just pulled in behind me. They were birders on the look-out for the elegant trogon, a Mexican beauty of a bird that migrates here from Mexico each spring. The Huachuca mountains is its most northern habitat. Whenever a trogon is spotted here, the birding world has a collective orgasm.

I have a week off from school and will use that time to finish my midterm exam due Monday. I also have a debate to finalize and a project due. And I want to get my draft research paper on the Western Apache started. Next Friday we are driving to the San Carlos Indian reservation near Globe, AZ so I can see first-hand some Apache culture. The photographs I will take will be part of my presentation.

Hiking Club president

I was unanimously elected as the new president of the Huachuca Hiking Club last night. And that's not because I'm such a stellar hiker, but because as small as we are there was no one else in the group at last night's meeting that hadn't yet been president.

I knew my time was due soon but I was hoping to wait another year when I was more settled with my classes. I told the members present last night that I would not be around this summer, but they didn't care. And since they didn't care, that took the pressure off of me to always be present every weekend for hikes.

So...this is going to be a challenging and fun year. Perhaps now I'll be more inclined to lead "exploratory hikes," hikes that are not necessarily long but interesting, with ruins, birding sites or historical significance to the hikes. Or perhaps I could lead hikes where I know we could find placer gold (I'm not going to reveal where here!) Perhaps now Kevin will feel more willing to hike with me on some of the hikes.

One thing I do want to change is our membership. We need more members! The members who attend our Tuesday meetings are all retired and in their 60s and older. Newbies who show up for one meeting don't return because they think we are too old. I want to advertise more and get perhaps more ages represented from the area. I want to advertise our hikes in meet-ups. The membership is only $4 a year. Compare that to other clubs like the Southern Arizona Hiking Club (SAHC) that charges $25 a year and does not allow kids, dogs and guns on their hikes. The SAHC is also a much larger group of several thousand that is very active. On any given weekend they may be sponsoring several hikes based on speed and distance and grade.

The Appalachian Mountain Club, the famous AMC charges $50 a person per year ($75 for families). The fees go toward a monthly magazine and help in running the cabins in the Appalachian Mountains along the Appalachian Trail. And the Outdoors Club of South Jersey, the group we were very active with until we left New Jersey in 2004, charged $8 a year per person. So $4 a year a person is undisputably the best deal.

We discussed upcoming hikes and clean-ups. One such topic was the topic of trash in the Huachucas left behind by illegals. There's a huge "garbage" dump up Brown Canyon that is so big the Forest Service allegedly wants to remove that trash via helicopter because the non-profit group that uses pack horses is out of funding for now.
http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/11/news/doc49b75cbda713b146234175.txt

Drug bundles found in Ash Canyon

YIKES! How many times do I go up Ash Canyon each week with the dogs?! Drug busts and other arrests seem to have skyrocketed here lately.
___

Large marijuana seizures made in county
By Jonathon Shacat and Bill HessHerald/Review
Published: Tuesday, March 10, 2009 2:16 AM MST

SIERRA VISTA — Law enforcement officials made several signifigant drug seizures over the weekend in Cochise County, according to reports.On Saturday, a U.S. Border Patrol agent working near Ash Canyon in Hereford came across a large number of bundles.Agents gathered 34 bundles of marijuana weighing more than 690 pounds and worth an estimated $554,000, according to a press release issued Monday.

On Sunday, camera operators from the Naco station made visual contact of numerous individuals in the same location carrying what appeared to be bundles. Agents responded to the area and located 26 bundles weighing more than 540 pounds with an estimated value of $438,000.

http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/10/news/doc49b5f72370d21585451340.txt
http://regulus2.azstarnet.com/blogs/policebeat/13798
http://www.azstarnet.com/sn/border/282395
http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/12/news/doc49b8a4e93b19a296790092.txt
http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/09/news/world_news/doc49b49aefdd8b7078135621.txt
http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/18/news/doc49c09df1366af882618484.txt
http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/17/news/doc49bf4ff7e3b3e357367116.txt
http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/16/news/doc49bdfe91ecac4217034014.txt
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/29843639#29602078

Planning my summer trip along the Lewis and Clark Trail

Aaah, the joys of being a teacher. Summers off, national holidays off and the opportunity to see the world on a budget.

After some long phone calls to the family back in Chicagoland last night, and some added input from Kevin, I made a draft plan for my May-July trip. The Chicagoland part will be easy, it will just be a matter of WHEN I leave the area there for my round trip "out of the way" return trip to Arizona via South Dakota, North Dakota, Montana and Wyoming. I will stay in northwestern Indiana for as long as Erin and Ethan need me. I'm doing this trip to Indiana because of them. Once I know Erin is settled into her new motherhood, I'll feel comforted enough to move on.

The van will have to come out of hibernation beforehand obviously so he'll be my cost for next month. For now, the SUV is more fun to drive in our mountains and on dirt roads.

I will leave Indiana/Chicagoland sometime in late June for Madison, WI. I've always wanted to experience that college town, walk the capital street and enjoy its brewpubs. You can't beat Wisconsin when it comes to great beers and cheeses...and expanded waistlines. The town's 200 miles to the NW from my step mom's house in Crown Point, IN. That's an easy day trip. If Eric and I can make Madison a weekend trip before my departure, I will cancel Madison and drive due west from Chicagoland to Sioux City, Iowa. This is where my northwestward loop will officially begin.

From the Missouri river there I will be following the waterway as much as possible, driving the route Lewis and Clark took in 1804 as much as possible, but stopping at Indian Reservations to observe additional history and enjoying those Midwestern towns as much as possible.

A few years ago Kevin and I both read the great travelogue "Out West" by Dayton Duncan. Written in the early 1980s, Dayton drove the route the two adventurers completed, with added insight to the modern world. Not only did he meet the local townsfolk along the way, he also met Native Americans with whom he shared late night conversations over beer or whatnot. It's in my opinion one of the top ten American travelogues. (Another great book is "Blue Highways" by William Least Halfmoon.) Dayton's experiences in South Dakota were enough to get me on the road years ago.

The last time I was in South Dakota was sometime in the last century when I was a mere 12 years old. We had vacationed in South Dakota's Black Hills and stayed at an Air Force Base nearby. Although I plan on using military bases as cheap overnight stays, my focus will be more on the Native American historical sites and old battlefields. South Dakota with its high prairies and red badlands in its west are worthy of its own trip.
http://www.amazon.com/Out-West-American-Journey-Along/dp/0140083626

I will continue along the river to the towns of Yankton, IA, Chamberlain, IA and then Pierre, SD. I will move on toward Bismarck, ND, Williston, ND and westward toward Great Falls, MT. Here is where I'll spend at least an entire day at the Lewis and Clark library.

Western Montana will be my big focus, exploring the mining towns of Helena, Butte, Bozeman and Missoula (where of course I'll have beer at the Big Sky brewery and experience the college town). Lewis and Clark spent a lot of time in western Montana and on their return trip in 1806 took a slightly different route returning to St Louis.

Reliving history (both of the settlers and the Native Americans), hiking trails, discovering the northern wilderness and of course good micro beer will be my impetus for this trip.

I will most likely get on Highway 191 in Yellowstone National Park and drive that route back to Douglas, AZ. http://www.usends.com/mapguy/MapPgs/mapx91.htm

I could easily spend an entire month in western Montana but school starts up again on 2 August for me. (College starts two weeks later) Weather will play a factor but I do plan on being back in Arizona by the start of August. I'll be road weary by then anyway.

Would I rather do this trip with Kevin? Hell yes. Montana is his dream, too. I'll be missing him a lot along the way, especially when I'm at the contentious battle sites where the Natives fought valiantly against their overpowering adversaries. However, one sees and experiences more as a solo traveler, without the whines and whimpers of a second person doubting your stamina, drive or ambition. And besides, I've never been lonely on the road: there are too many other people already on it!

I haven't decided which dog will go with me. Sara went with me to South Carolina back in 2005 but she's slowing down now and I don't think she could handle those ten-mile hikes in the wilderness. However, when it comes to personal protection she can not be beat. I will have to convince Carol to allow her in the house in Indiana, though.

The mileage will be around 3700 miles, 5400 for the entire round trip. (It's the cost of gasoline that will be the biggest expense...) Once I get to Sioux City I don't plan on driving more than 100 miles a day. The rest will be for exploration and discovery and working on my travel blog. (I'll have a new blog by then anyway as this one's running out of MB)

There will be other factors that may postpone or alter this trip. I talked with Eric last night and he seems to be wanting to move to Los Angeles with his band mate Derek. Just a few weeks ago it was Boston, MA. I'd be delighted to have him "next door" in California but, as a mom, moving to LA as a young man is risky. I will be too worried about Eric making it on his own there. The Angelinos will eat him alive. Truly only the strong survive in that town.

Los Angeles just isn't a nice town. It's not even pretty. It's smoggy, congested and full of rude locals. I'd rather see Eric settle down in San Diego or Monterey, or even points north like Chico. But Eric wants to make it big in LA.

Eric and Derek (sounds like a comedy duo) already know they are welcome here. Even if they take a week or a month to relax in Arizona, they could stay here and relax before they hit California. Perhaps they'll like Tucson better anyway than Los Angeles. With the many Californians emigrating to Arizona I wouldn't be surprised.

So...I have a LOT ahead of me. I still have to focus on my courses here. I have to hope that Kevin will be OK on his own for two months. We have both been talking about exploring Montana together and this trip will be a reconnoitering trip for our joint trip the following year. In 2010 Kevin will have three weeks paid vacation. It won't be too much longer afterthat when Little Ethan will be with us for those summer adventures.

Alien encounters

I was able to convince Kevin to go on a walk with me along the river. The dogs needed their exercise and I was itching to get out anyway.

We took off shortly after noon. It was noticably cooler today, with more overcast grey clouds lingering overhead. I wore my fleece to the river and never took it off. The winds from Friday brought in the cold front.

The dogs, as usual, had a blast along the river, with the girls running in and out of the water at any given time. The cottonwoods, as expected, were in green bloom. Life is coming back to the river!

And shortly after we started our hike we saw our first Great Horned Owl perched quietly on a cottonwood branch.

Barely a mile along the river, with the dogs pranching ahead of us, we heard the screams of a woman. Oh shit, I thought, we had come across some annoying birders and the dogs were off leash. Sadie started barking and more screams ensued. I was expecting another woman to come running after me, yelling at me to get my dogs back on their leashes.

Instead, we discovered that we had frightened two Mexican women who were on the other side of the river.

"No te preocupes, los perros son muy tranquil" I reassured the women. The younger one didn't seem to believe me and got behind the older woman.

Kevin stayed calm too, keeping quiet and in the background since he knows no Spanish. I tried my best Spanish and asked them if they needed help. In all my nervousness I couldn't spit out one decent sentence. I'm normally better than this. The women did not run away, instead they came toward us, asking us if the water was shallow enough for them to cross over a snag. They wanted help.

We had no food or water on us, but after some back-and-forth I realized they wanted us to help them back to the road. I called 911.

A dispatcher told me to stay away from the women "because there may be others hiding in the woods." I knew the women were alone because the dogs would have been more aggressive if they had sensed more people in the area.

"Are you alone?" asked the dispatcher.

"No, I have my husband with me and we have our three dogs with us. I've been talking to the women...they got left behind by a pack of seven men last night and slept alone near the river. They are harmless and look very tired."

"OK, I'll have an agent meet you at the bridge in a few minutes."

Margarita clearly wanted us to accompany them back to the main road. They were tired. They were low on water, too.

The women, both from Durango, Mexico, had gotten lost overnight and lost the seven men they were with. One of the men was Margarita's friend. Some friend he was to abandon them in the middle of nowhere. They spent the night along the river. Both wore black jackets and dirty jeans. The black hair looked frazzled after a rough night. The women surely were cold last night as the wind had howled again.

The group was on its way to Texas to look for work. (I wish I could have told them that Texas was far, far away and that the interstate they were looking for was still 40 miles to the north.) I wanted them to know that the corridor they hiked through was also popular with narcotrafficos. If Texas is where they thought they were going, they were at least 300 miles too far west. Both women looked aghast when I told them how far away Texas was.

Margarita, the older of the two, took a liking to me. Berta, the younger woman, walked toward the rear, clearly afraid of the dogs. Even Margarita told her that the dogs, especially Sammy, were calm. Sadie barked at Berta a few times but I told the dogs to go on ahead and to be nice. Sara was more interested in romping in the water.

By the time we got back to Hereford Road the women knew the dogs' names. Sadie warmed up to the women and kept playing with them. We walked back to the pick-up, gave the women some water, and waited for the USBP. Berta was exhausted and lay right on the pavement to rest. Margarita and Kevin each smoked a cigarette. Margarita's hands were badly scratched from the willows and mesquite that she ran into overnight.

I felt sorry for the women but they seemed relieved to be off the river and in safety. The three USBP agents treated them kindly, offering them sandwiches which they took, and while the women ate the agents asked them the required questions. The Border Patrol agents were friendly and professional (they always are) and treated the women kindly.

"We have been pretty busy lately" said one agent to Kevin, referring to the illegals they pick up along our sector. Even the newspapers seem to be reporting more drug busts and illegal safe houses in town. "Thanks for helping us out" the agent said.

We stayed long enough to watch the procedure--this was Kevin's first USBP procedure--and then we drove off, waving at the women as we returned home.

"Thank-you!" said Margarita in perfect English as they entered the USBP van.

An hour after we got home it began to drizzle. Margarita and Berta were safely out of the cold rain. Had we not found them they would have wandered for at least nine more miles along the river before coming to the next road, Highway 90. They may have collapsed beforehand from fatigue. They had no clue where they were.

Seeing these two women today puts a humanitarian face to this immigration problem. I wish my Spanish were better so I could have talked more to Margarita. It's a long, long way from Durango.

Mar 8 Tonight
Windy. A few showers from time to time. Low 47F. SSW winds at 15 to 25 mph, diminishing to 5 to 10 mph. Chance of rain 30%.
Mar 9 Tomorrow
Mostly cloudy skies. High 66F. Winds SSW at 15 to 25 mph.
Mar 9 Tomorrow night
Partly cloudy. Low 43F. Winds SW at 15 to 25 mph.
Mar 10 Tuesday
Sunshine. Highs in the upper 60s and lows in the low 40s.

___

http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/08/news/doc49b36b7f6552c267588253.txt

http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/03/08/news/doc49b36b1fa4e14524528490.txt