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.
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.
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.
“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.
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