Reveille was at 3am although I didn’t get up for 20 minutes to shower, load the van, grab a muffin and drink coffee with Iris before we took off at 4:20am in darkness. There were no critters dashing across the highway as expected, save for a lone coyote.
The sun rose an hour later, at 5:20am. We stopped to pee at a lone gas station. By 6:15am we were in Flagstaff eating at The Place on Route 66. Much to my disappointment, Mike and Ronda, whose names decorate the menu cover, no longer own The Place. Food was still good and affordable, though. Iris had the Arizona Omlette and Kevin and I both ordered two eggs with biscuits and gravy and hash browns. We had plenty of time from here on. We had time to enjoy our meal.
It was 7:15am when we continued our trip to Phoenix Sky Harbor, and I knew we had plenty of time. There were no traffic jams hindering our drive. We gassed up for $3.46 a gallon.
“Are there any blacks here?” asked Iris as we left Flagstaff. We hadn’t seen any all during our trip.
That question took me by surprise. “Sure we do, in Phoenix,” I answered, aware finally that not too many live in Navajo Country. Tucson and Sierra Vista are also more diverse. She also added that the nights here are cold, not warm like they are back East.
“That’s because we have clear skies and aridity,” I answered. Had she ever been in the Southwest desert before?
Iris gave me the feeling she was uncomfortable the entire time in Arizona. It wasn't just the forced closeness with the family that seemed to put her at unease, but her discomfort in and around desolate desert places. She has truly become a big city, big spending type of woman. Being with her this week has contrasted our personalities even more so. People say we look like sisters but we hardly act like what sisters are supposed to act.
Kevin sat in the back as Iris and I chatted up front, talking about her painful past with her previous boyfriend. I finally told her it was her ex-boyfriend that kept me away from her for many years, as I never trusted that man. He had always given me a leary look, as if he dispised me. He was quick to criticize me for my flaws while hiding his own. He ended up serving a year in prison for bank fraud, and she learned after that fact that he had had a criminal record before they had met. I had missed these conversations. I told her about my woes.
Our drive started at 4200’ in Page, rose to 5000’ at Gap, rose further to 6000’ and finally 7247’ on the north side of Flagstaff and the high plateau below the San Francisco Peaks. Once we got back into the van we slowly lost elevation again as we passed Sedona, Black Canyon City (where we stopped again for a bathroom break), and finally the airport where we dropped her off an hour ahead of schedule at 10am.
A part of me didn't want to see her go, but she seemed relieved to get out of the van and start her own voyage back to Baltimore.
The rest of the drive was quiet as we were both hot from the 95F heat. Traffic was light through the Phoenix Metro. I gassed up for $3.46 again in Case Grande. We stopped for lunch in Benson before the final stretch home. We were both exhausted now, and fears of a trashed house and pieces of cat around the house and yard frightened me.
When we drove up to our driveway at 1:23pm the yard was quiet. None of the dogs welcomed us at the back gate and I feared they were either dead or gone. They normally jump up with delight to see us. Instead Kevin sneaked up on the dogs via the back porch; all three were staring out the front window instead, but then stormed outside to see us.
I went to the yard to water the parched vegetable patches. The corn that had been harvested was now dry. The squash looked like the downy mildew had killed off the growth. (The squash won’t grow any more.) A few of the cucumbers dried up but many more doubled in size. I ended up picking three buckets of Contender corn and was pleased to see new snow peas poking through the soil. I used half of the harvested water and watered a part of the yard for 45 minutes while I tended to the front yard. The garden did OK in our absence. The Galliardia is going to seed but nothing died, not even the acacia seeds.
Storm clouds briefly sprinkled some rain but the monsoon season is now coming to a close. It was a good season. The yard didn’t grow into one lush green yard of Bermuda grass as I had hoped, and it looks like some of the crab and quackgrass took over parts of the yard in the absence of daily weedings. I won’t do too much more to it this year.
The bush beans that were dying were now completely gone. But overall everything looked better than I thought it would. Even the house was tolerable. Two buckets of food were still untouched (!) but there was a lot of dog fur everywhere, and dog food kibble all over the place. I was too tired to clean up anything.
I took the dogs on a four-mile hike at 6pm, making it just shy of the green water tank on the frontage road. This was my longest walk in over a week. I need to burn off the excess fat I grew over the week. My jeans are feeling tight.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Our last hurah: dinner at the Lake Powell Resort and Marina
Mom wanted to eat here and had made reservations for 5pm. Although we had a pretty view of the Wahweap Marina and Lake Powell, the high prices of the food scared me, especially since on the menu's bottom, in fine print, we learned that groups over six people automatically pay 20% gratuity AND a 6% "energy usage" tax and a separate 4.5% tax for a "environmental surplus" fee, making this an expensive meal even if everyone had just ordered salads and water.
Baring that in mind, I ordered a Ceasar's chicken salad for $8.50, which consisted of FOUR uncut Romaine lettuce leaves sprinkled with shredded Parmesan cheese and topped with HALF a cold chicken breast. I was not pleased.
Outside a small wedding party posed for photographs. It was a wedding with two Naval officers.
"Look honey, there's my fleet!" I mockingly injected, pointing to the houseboats docked in the marina.
Our waiter, a spunky "Firman" from Indonesia, was our server who constantly annoyed us with upsells: "Would you like some appetizers, more wine, how about dessert?" and Mom finally chased him away. He did a good job but the $345 bill for nine people, of which only $150 was for food, $70 for drinks, was just asinine. And then Jason paid the bill and wouldn't let me help out, another disappointment.
There were no Native Americans working in the restaurant or anywhere in the resort. But they had South Americans, Indonesians and Mexicans working there. Odd.
The only decent thing about this restaurant was the view. We saw the mountains change colors from bright yellow to orange and red as the hours dragged on.
The only consolation was that we were together for one last time, we thanked everyone for a good time, and conversation soon reverted to the inevitable return trip early in the morning. Our dinner ended up dragging out to 2.5 hours long (!).
I have noticably gained weight this week from lack of even basic exercise, but soon I'll be back on schedule and walking the dogs nightly on my powerwalks.
http://www.lakepowell.com/lodging-food/lake-powell-resort.cfm
Baring that in mind, I ordered a Ceasar's chicken salad for $8.50, which consisted of FOUR uncut Romaine lettuce leaves sprinkled with shredded Parmesan cheese and topped with HALF a cold chicken breast. I was not pleased.
Outside a small wedding party posed for photographs. It was a wedding with two Naval officers.
"Look honey, there's my fleet!" I mockingly injected, pointing to the houseboats docked in the marina.
Our waiter, a spunky "Firman" from Indonesia, was our server who constantly annoyed us with upsells: "Would you like some appetizers, more wine, how about dessert?" and Mom finally chased him away. He did a good job but the $345 bill for nine people, of which only $150 was for food, $70 for drinks, was just asinine. And then Jason paid the bill and wouldn't let me help out, another disappointment.
There were no Native Americans working in the restaurant or anywhere in the resort. But they had South Americans, Indonesians and Mexicans working there. Odd.
The only decent thing about this restaurant was the view. We saw the mountains change colors from bright yellow to orange and red as the hours dragged on.
The only consolation was that we were together for one last time, we thanked everyone for a good time, and conversation soon reverted to the inevitable return trip early in the morning. Our dinner ended up dragging out to 2.5 hours long (!).
I have noticably gained weight this week from lack of even basic exercise, but soon I'll be back on schedule and walking the dogs nightly on my powerwalks.
http://www.lakepowell.com/lodging-food/lake-powell-resort.cfm
Floating on the Colorado River
Our meet-up was at 6:15am in the lobby for our 7am departure to float down the Colorado with Colorado River Discovery guides. I had no idea what to expect but I feared more water-related boredom.
We boarded a luxury bus driven by a white-haired Pam from Oregon who kept talking about "dam" this and "dam" that as we drove down a two-mile acess tunnel to the drop-off point just across the Glen Canyon Dam.
The dam was pretty impressive from this vantage point, but still not nearly as big as Hoover Dam further south. We had to wear hard-hats while standing near the rock ledges, just in case there was a falling rock.
The group of 40 got on two rafts. I sat closest to the guide, with Kevin to my left and Iris, Bill and Mom behind me on the outer rafts. Matt and Alex were across from us on the outer side and Jason and Marcela were up front.
The rocks were 700' tall at this point.
Our party boarded the first raft that was led by PJ from California, a 60-something-year-old from Santa Barbara, CA who got his foresty degree from UC Berkeley. His passion for the outdoors was obvious.
After he let everyone introduce themselves (Mom introduced herself as from Germany and added "I am European") we learned that the three young men next to us were from Israel. We also had a Dutch couple and an Indian couple from New Jersey. The others were from the Phoenix area.
But Mom asked all the questions until PJ turned the tide by making everyone be quiet for two minutes to observe the sounds and sights of the river. We were still in the cool shadows of morning and I had to place a jacket over me. But the wildlife was out there: herons, cormorants and even a few perching ospreys, all wildlife I had hope to see on Lake Powell.
The Colorado River here is beautiful as the water slowly meanders around the red rocks. We floated more than we rafted the first three miles as PJ also talked about the geology of the rocks, pointing out fault lines and other protusions along the way. He was the best tour guide of natural history I've had and told him so. (Later on a man from Phoenix on the raft came up to me to agree with me. "I could have asked so many more questions but I didn't want to bore the others")
"There is so much wildlife out here in the mornings, that is why I only lead the morning tours" said PJ. The one bird we didn't see was the California condor, a bird close to extinction that was re-released to the wild nearby in the Vermillion Cliffs.
Soon we passed the Horseshoe Bend, where the rocks stood 1200' tall.
A park ranger next to me, Cynthia Adams, a short blonde woman sporting a long braid in the back got off the raft at our first break to talk about the pectroglyphs on the walls. They were from two eras, one Pueblan and the other more recent, showing big horn sheep and buffalo. A spiny lizard and then a larger gecko scurried along the rock wall as she spoke. When we continue our journey Cynthia stayed behind to talk to the other rafting groups stopping at the site.
It got warmer now as we entered our second hour, admiring the rock formations and looking for ledges that resembled other animals.
By 11am we had approached Lee's Ferry, a narrowing in the river which also was the geographical end of the Colorado Plateau and the start of the Kaibab Plateau. Here the river descended noticably and special permits to float further were required. Our group got out here and re-boarded the bus driven by Pam back to Page, passing Indian settlements, a few hokams and some teepees and the 1200' drop of the Paria River that reflected green below.
Although people started to doze off here, I was wide awake looking at the expansive scenery around me. This was arid country, and Pam repeated several times how the Indians lived in homes with no running water and have to drive into town to fetch it for themselves and their livestock. Was this because the ndians preferred it this way, or because the water company didn't want to bother connecting the communities to city water? I didn't ask Pam but figured she would have given me a vague answer about the fate of James D Lee, a Mormon settler and first ferry runner at his namesake town, Lee's Ferry.
"Was Lee murdered?" I asked her, not sure of the story anymore.
"He was persecuted" replied Pam.
It turns out that Lee, an avid Mormon convert, was one of the main attackers to the 120 immigrants who were killed by a Mormon group in central Utah's Mountain Meadows.
We got back to Page at 1pm and Kevin was hungry for beer and some food before we were to meet up with the gang for one farewell meal at the Lakeside Marina Resort Restaurant.
He wanted to try the Dam Bar and Grille, and I agreed if only to try its Dam Blonde beer.
Everyone but Iris joined us. She stayed in the van with the windows and doors open while she napped during our lunch. (I have done a van nap many a times, but never with the doors open in a strange town). We were parked in the shade.
The beer was OK and the conversation pleasant. All agreed that we enjoyed the rafting trip. It was hot outside, approaching 90F. JP walked passed us and waved our way. I would have invited him to join us if we weren't in a time crunch by then. I was tired and could have taken a nap instead, but once I was in the hotel room I had less than an hour before dinner and was more interested in checking my email and down-loading my pics to Jason's computer.
"You would make a great tour guide" said Marcela, referring to my love for the outdoors and my passion with languages and learning new things. It's a thought I've had for a while.
'
http://www.coriverdiscovery.com/
http://www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/people/i_r/lee.htm
We boarded a luxury bus driven by a white-haired Pam from Oregon who kept talking about "dam" this and "dam" that as we drove down a two-mile acess tunnel to the drop-off point just across the Glen Canyon Dam.
The dam was pretty impressive from this vantage point, but still not nearly as big as Hoover Dam further south. We had to wear hard-hats while standing near the rock ledges, just in case there was a falling rock.
The group of 40 got on two rafts. I sat closest to the guide, with Kevin to my left and Iris, Bill and Mom behind me on the outer rafts. Matt and Alex were across from us on the outer side and Jason and Marcela were up front.
The rocks were 700' tall at this point.
Our party boarded the first raft that was led by PJ from California, a 60-something-year-old from Santa Barbara, CA who got his foresty degree from UC Berkeley. His passion for the outdoors was obvious.
After he let everyone introduce themselves (Mom introduced herself as from Germany and added "I am European") we learned that the three young men next to us were from Israel. We also had a Dutch couple and an Indian couple from New Jersey. The others were from the Phoenix area.
But Mom asked all the questions until PJ turned the tide by making everyone be quiet for two minutes to observe the sounds and sights of the river. We were still in the cool shadows of morning and I had to place a jacket over me. But the wildlife was out there: herons, cormorants and even a few perching ospreys, all wildlife I had hope to see on Lake Powell.
The Colorado River here is beautiful as the water slowly meanders around the red rocks. We floated more than we rafted the first three miles as PJ also talked about the geology of the rocks, pointing out fault lines and other protusions along the way. He was the best tour guide of natural history I've had and told him so. (Later on a man from Phoenix on the raft came up to me to agree with me. "I could have asked so many more questions but I didn't want to bore the others")
"There is so much wildlife out here in the mornings, that is why I only lead the morning tours" said PJ. The one bird we didn't see was the California condor, a bird close to extinction that was re-released to the wild nearby in the Vermillion Cliffs.
Soon we passed the Horseshoe Bend, where the rocks stood 1200' tall.
A park ranger next to me, Cynthia Adams, a short blonde woman sporting a long braid in the back got off the raft at our first break to talk about the pectroglyphs on the walls. They were from two eras, one Pueblan and the other more recent, showing big horn sheep and buffalo. A spiny lizard and then a larger gecko scurried along the rock wall as she spoke. When we continue our journey Cynthia stayed behind to talk to the other rafting groups stopping at the site.
It got warmer now as we entered our second hour, admiring the rock formations and looking for ledges that resembled other animals.
By 11am we had approached Lee's Ferry, a narrowing in the river which also was the geographical end of the Colorado Plateau and the start of the Kaibab Plateau. Here the river descended noticably and special permits to float further were required. Our group got out here and re-boarded the bus driven by Pam back to Page, passing Indian settlements, a few hokams and some teepees and the 1200' drop of the Paria River that reflected green below.
Although people started to doze off here, I was wide awake looking at the expansive scenery around me. This was arid country, and Pam repeated several times how the Indians lived in homes with no running water and have to drive into town to fetch it for themselves and their livestock. Was this because the ndians preferred it this way, or because the water company didn't want to bother connecting the communities to city water? I didn't ask Pam but figured she would have given me a vague answer about the fate of James D Lee, a Mormon settler and first ferry runner at his namesake town, Lee's Ferry.
"Was Lee murdered?" I asked her, not sure of the story anymore.
"He was persecuted" replied Pam.
It turns out that Lee, an avid Mormon convert, was one of the main attackers to the 120 immigrants who were killed by a Mormon group in central Utah's Mountain Meadows.
We got back to Page at 1pm and Kevin was hungry for beer and some food before we were to meet up with the gang for one farewell meal at the Lakeside Marina Resort Restaurant.
He wanted to try the Dam Bar and Grille, and I agreed if only to try its Dam Blonde beer.
Everyone but Iris joined us. She stayed in the van with the windows and doors open while she napped during our lunch. (I have done a van nap many a times, but never with the doors open in a strange town). We were parked in the shade.
The beer was OK and the conversation pleasant. All agreed that we enjoyed the rafting trip. It was hot outside, approaching 90F. JP walked passed us and waved our way. I would have invited him to join us if we weren't in a time crunch by then. I was tired and could have taken a nap instead, but once I was in the hotel room I had less than an hour before dinner and was more interested in checking my email and down-loading my pics to Jason's computer.
"You would make a great tour guide" said Marcela, referring to my love for the outdoors and my passion with languages and learning new things. It's a thought I've had for a while.
'
http://www.coriverdiscovery.com/
http://www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/people/i_r/lee.htm
Friday, September 5, 2008
Day Four: Floating back to Page
Kevin and I were the first ones up again. Kevin put on two pots of coffee, smoked his cigarette while I once again photographed the rising sun over the red rocks. One outcropping, “The Penis” was just outside the aft deck. The color scheme never became spectacular.
This is when I noticed that there were no water fowl on Lake Powell. No gulls, no herons, no ibis, no egrets or cormorants. There wasn’t much wildlife at all except for z few whiptails, chipmunks or ravens whose footprints were in the morning sand.
I wanted to hike up the sliding schist rock. The rocks reminded me of so many other red rocks of southern Utah, where the sunlight bedazzles the various hues of the sandstone. I left the houseboat at 6:30am, missing the group breakfast of eggs, bacon and pancakes “We need to finish this gallon of milk!” said Mom, pointing to the half-gallon left.
The walk up the rock was my moment of solitude. I left the others behind as I hiked uphill in bare feet. A man in a small cave played the flute, adding a Native American theme to what I thought was at first an hallucination; was I really hearing a tune?
Several careless hikers engraved their names in the rock. From my standpoint I could see all the houseboats and jet skis in Padre Bay. This was an advantageous vantagepoint. Coming down was a little trickier, but I made it back in 40 minutes with little fanfare. I quietly ate a pancake Kevin had made for me, had a cup of coffee.
We were off for our return trip at 9am. Mom sat up front, alone and in silence and Iris hid upstairs, lost in her study book. I left her alone as I knew she was behind in her studies (I had given up studying at all). I chatted with Jason, Marcela and Alex, took a few more photos but was now just in the mood to get off the houseboat. I was aching for terra firma.
We sailed into the Wahweap Harbor by 11:30am, still ahead of schedule.
The attendees at the marina came to us quickly and within 30 minutes we were getting unloaded at our vans. Kevin, Iris and I took off and ended up getting to the hotel an hour ahead of the others, even after stopping at the Glen Canyon Dam and the bookstore.
Gas prices had dropped another five cents in Page in the four days we were gone, to $3.79.
We made it to the hotel at 1:30pm and were ready to head back into town when the others finally arrived, and an intimate afternoon shopping turned into all of us piling into the van for dinner at the Fiesta Mexicana in town. Mexican food is always a big hit with Europeans.
It was my first margarita since June 2007. One was enough. My bean burrito was tasty and the service quite good.
No one wanted to join me to see Horseshoe Bend a few miles south of town, a quarter-mile jaunt to a spectacular overlook of the Colorado River. I spent 40 minutes there before checking out two more scenic overlooks before heading back to the hotel. Now it was 6:15pm and Kevin was fast asleep. The beers he was guzzling on the boat in the morning had tired him out.
He let me know he was not going to join us for a second trip into town for ice cream and souvenir shopping. We didn't find much in town earlier, and the historic part of Page was a backroad of old hotels that looked more like tennements. But this time we struck it rich, shopping at the "Dam Outlet" which was next door to the "Dam Bar and Grille." We shopped at a t-shirt shop and then stopped again at Wal-Mart for more bottled water: our reveille would be early tomorrow as we need to meet everyone at the lobby at 6am for a river rafting cruise that will last all morning.
I flipped through the cable channels to get reruns of this week's Republican NAtional Convention. I got nothing. I missed McCain's acceptance speech. The only news I got was that Hurrican Hanna is striking the Carolina coast and Hurrican Ike could potentially become a Cat4 storm striking south Florida by early next week.
This is when I noticed that there were no water fowl on Lake Powell. No gulls, no herons, no ibis, no egrets or cormorants. There wasn’t much wildlife at all except for z few whiptails, chipmunks or ravens whose footprints were in the morning sand.
I wanted to hike up the sliding schist rock. The rocks reminded me of so many other red rocks of southern Utah, where the sunlight bedazzles the various hues of the sandstone. I left the houseboat at 6:30am, missing the group breakfast of eggs, bacon and pancakes “We need to finish this gallon of milk!” said Mom, pointing to the half-gallon left.
The walk up the rock was my moment of solitude. I left the others behind as I hiked uphill in bare feet. A man in a small cave played the flute, adding a Native American theme to what I thought was at first an hallucination; was I really hearing a tune?
Several careless hikers engraved their names in the rock. From my standpoint I could see all the houseboats and jet skis in Padre Bay. This was an advantageous vantagepoint. Coming down was a little trickier, but I made it back in 40 minutes with little fanfare. I quietly ate a pancake Kevin had made for me, had a cup of coffee.
We were off for our return trip at 9am. Mom sat up front, alone and in silence and Iris hid upstairs, lost in her study book. I left her alone as I knew she was behind in her studies (I had given up studying at all). I chatted with Jason, Marcela and Alex, took a few more photos but was now just in the mood to get off the houseboat. I was aching for terra firma.
We sailed into the Wahweap Harbor by 11:30am, still ahead of schedule.
The attendees at the marina came to us quickly and within 30 minutes we were getting unloaded at our vans. Kevin, Iris and I took off and ended up getting to the hotel an hour ahead of the others, even after stopping at the Glen Canyon Dam and the bookstore.
Gas prices had dropped another five cents in Page in the four days we were gone, to $3.79.
We made it to the hotel at 1:30pm and were ready to head back into town when the others finally arrived, and an intimate afternoon shopping turned into all of us piling into the van for dinner at the Fiesta Mexicana in town. Mexican food is always a big hit with Europeans.
It was my first margarita since June 2007. One was enough. My bean burrito was tasty and the service quite good.
No one wanted to join me to see Horseshoe Bend a few miles south of town, a quarter-mile jaunt to a spectacular overlook of the Colorado River. I spent 40 minutes there before checking out two more scenic overlooks before heading back to the hotel. Now it was 6:15pm and Kevin was fast asleep. The beers he was guzzling on the boat in the morning had tired him out.
He let me know he was not going to join us for a second trip into town for ice cream and souvenir shopping. We didn't find much in town earlier, and the historic part of Page was a backroad of old hotels that looked more like tennements. But this time we struck it rich, shopping at the "Dam Outlet" which was next door to the "Dam Bar and Grille." We shopped at a t-shirt shop and then stopped again at Wal-Mart for more bottled water: our reveille would be early tomorrow as we need to meet everyone at the lobby at 6am for a river rafting cruise that will last all morning.
I flipped through the cable channels to get reruns of this week's Republican NAtional Convention. I got nothing. I missed McCain's acceptance speech. The only news I got was that Hurrican Hanna is striking the Carolina coast and Hurrican Ike could potentially become a Cat4 storm striking south Florida by early next week.
Day Three: Rainbow Bridge
Kevin was up early Thursday morning. By 4am he was up to make coffee and sit at the aft working on his Boston Globe crosswords. I didn’t get up until 5:30am. Iris was already up and slowly Jason and Marcela showed themselves, then Mom, then Bill and finally Alex and Matt.
The plan was to see Rainbow Bridge this morning, taking the speed boat up the canyon, hike up to the bridge and return to the houseboat. Mom and Bill would stay behind since they had already been to the Bridge, and kayak by themselves while we were gone. It sounded like the perfect plan.
We left by 8am. The ride there took longer than I thought, but once we were in the right canyon the scenery became more majestic. The canyon walls narrowed. The colors became more starker, and the smell of sage and other desert brush became stronger. It was my first flora aroma.
What did this canyon look like before the flooding back in 1963? I couldn’t help but wonder what really went on in DC when the Natives fought to keep Glen Canyon from flooding over. The US Supreme Court ruled against Native American rights and for water rights. Now the Rainbow Bridge is a Park Monument. It all seems so ironic to me.
The closer we came to the bridge, the more of a maze the water became. We went up one false alley, only to turn around and go into another one. The correct passage way was only well-marked at the last 1/8 of a way.
There were only two other jet skis parked at the dock when we pulled up, and the two men were on their way back as we jaunted out.
The canyon entrance to Rainbow Bridge started in a lush but not wet creek bed that ascended for another 2/3 mile. The path was paved (!) which took away from the natural state, but that was to make the passage easier for others with more disabilities. I couldn’t wait to see the bridge and neither could Kevin, who was ahead of everyone else. He’s already been labeled the Union Jack, someone who could relive the Civil War, as he wore his brown Indiana Jones hat and scoped out distance canyons through binoculars.
It was a pleasant walk to the Navaho monument. And although it was highly discouraged, I walked to the base of the bridge to look upward and marvel at God’s handy work. How long has the bridge been standing there? I did not walk pass the “Trail Closed “ signs, only walking near the ledge with the creek bed below. Iris kneeled down to marvel at a squirrel while others climbed around further up.
We weren’t alone for long. Soon a tourist group of around 30 came over the hilltop to join us, led by Tom the Tour guide from Arizona. He was decked in a white shirt and wore turquoise on his wristband, watch and ring. French and Germans were in this group but were amazingly quiet. We were ready to leave when Tom gathered everyone around to talk about the Paiute legend of the two boys and the stone lizard, and how the bridge became. He also showed up faint imprint of a dinosaur foot and an oyster. I never would have noticed them myself!
We were now ready to leave. After a short chat with Rick near the deck, who happened to be from Sierra Vista, we sped back to the houseboat where Mom and Bill were waiting. They had just come back themselves from a long kayak, exploring the Bay’s alcoves.
“Who wants to go back with me to Rainbow Bridge?” asked Mom. No one volunteered as we were all tired. And soon thereafter Mom and Bill were in the speedboat as we drove back west toward Wahweap to anker closer nearby.
They found a nice sandy beach near Padre Bay, the best beach so far.
There were plenty of other houseboats ankered at the same beach as us. This was a nice, sandy beach. The boys got off the boat to build a fire pit, burning the last of the firewood we had brought along. Kevin made the rest of the hamburgers and hotdogs and we had a nice meal by the fire pit after dark as we admired the night sky.
The Milky Way beamed in when the last of the sunrays set behind the mountain. Matt and I saw a few falling stars, and Matt pointed out a few satellites.
“There goes a polar satellite” he said as he pointed to one distant moving light.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“It’s moving toward Polaris.”
Oh.
Jason gave me the idea to photograph the night sky, but with my Rebel xTi it wasn’t easy as there is no manual mode for the shutter speed.
We were on the beach until 8:30pm. The sand never got cold and the breeze stayed warm. It was quite a delight being on shore like this, all together.
“Jason, have I ever told you I loved you?” I asked him as I looked over him.
“Yes, you have, but it’s been a while. I love you too, Connie.”
The plan was to see Rainbow Bridge this morning, taking the speed boat up the canyon, hike up to the bridge and return to the houseboat. Mom and Bill would stay behind since they had already been to the Bridge, and kayak by themselves while we were gone. It sounded like the perfect plan.
We left by 8am. The ride there took longer than I thought, but once we were in the right canyon the scenery became more majestic. The canyon walls narrowed. The colors became more starker, and the smell of sage and other desert brush became stronger. It was my first flora aroma.
What did this canyon look like before the flooding back in 1963? I couldn’t help but wonder what really went on in DC when the Natives fought to keep Glen Canyon from flooding over. The US Supreme Court ruled against Native American rights and for water rights. Now the Rainbow Bridge is a Park Monument. It all seems so ironic to me.
The closer we came to the bridge, the more of a maze the water became. We went up one false alley, only to turn around and go into another one. The correct passage way was only well-marked at the last 1/8 of a way.
There were only two other jet skis parked at the dock when we pulled up, and the two men were on their way back as we jaunted out.
The canyon entrance to Rainbow Bridge started in a lush but not wet creek bed that ascended for another 2/3 mile. The path was paved (!) which took away from the natural state, but that was to make the passage easier for others with more disabilities. I couldn’t wait to see the bridge and neither could Kevin, who was ahead of everyone else. He’s already been labeled the Union Jack, someone who could relive the Civil War, as he wore his brown Indiana Jones hat and scoped out distance canyons through binoculars.
It was a pleasant walk to the Navaho monument. And although it was highly discouraged, I walked to the base of the bridge to look upward and marvel at God’s handy work. How long has the bridge been standing there? I did not walk pass the “Trail Closed “ signs, only walking near the ledge with the creek bed below. Iris kneeled down to marvel at a squirrel while others climbed around further up.
We weren’t alone for long. Soon a tourist group of around 30 came over the hilltop to join us, led by Tom the Tour guide from Arizona. He was decked in a white shirt and wore turquoise on his wristband, watch and ring. French and Germans were in this group but were amazingly quiet. We were ready to leave when Tom gathered everyone around to talk about the Paiute legend of the two boys and the stone lizard, and how the bridge became. He also showed up faint imprint of a dinosaur foot and an oyster. I never would have noticed them myself!
We were now ready to leave. After a short chat with Rick near the deck, who happened to be from Sierra Vista, we sped back to the houseboat where Mom and Bill were waiting. They had just come back themselves from a long kayak, exploring the Bay’s alcoves.
“Who wants to go back with me to Rainbow Bridge?” asked Mom. No one volunteered as we were all tired. And soon thereafter Mom and Bill were in the speedboat as we drove back west toward Wahweap to anker closer nearby.
They found a nice sandy beach near Padre Bay, the best beach so far.
There were plenty of other houseboats ankered at the same beach as us. This was a nice, sandy beach. The boys got off the boat to build a fire pit, burning the last of the firewood we had brought along. Kevin made the rest of the hamburgers and hotdogs and we had a nice meal by the fire pit after dark as we admired the night sky.
The Milky Way beamed in when the last of the sunrays set behind the mountain. Matt and I saw a few falling stars, and Matt pointed out a few satellites.
“There goes a polar satellite” he said as he pointed to one distant moving light.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“It’s moving toward Polaris.”
Oh.
Jason gave me the idea to photograph the night sky, but with my Rebel xTi it wasn’t easy as there is no manual mode for the shutter speed.
We were on the beach until 8:30pm. The sand never got cold and the breeze stayed warm. It was quite a delight being on shore like this, all together.
“Jason, have I ever told you I loved you?” I asked him as I looked over him.
“Yes, you have, but it’s been a while. I love you too, Connie.”
Floating upstream
On Wednesday we all got up at sunrise, although the sunrise wasn’t as spectacular as I imagined it would be with the rocks around us. “The sun just came up and there was light!” said Iris.
We gathered at the table for coffee or tea and mixed cereal. After a quick jaunt up some brittle rocks for a hilltop view, we were off again for another ride on Lake Powell in the direction of Dangling Rope Marina and then Rainbow Bridge afterwards.
The only problem was, we were not on the man channel. We were floating up Last Chance Canyon in a northwesterly directon when we needed to go northeast and enjoying the many side canyons and waving at boats going in the opposite direction.
We had failed to pay attention to the buoys. “We drove two hours in the wrong direction!” said Bill rather disgustedly, two hours that took time from Rainbow Bridge that I was so looking forward to because of the Native American significance.
It wasn’t time wasted, though. Mom and Iris and I sat upstairs for a while and talked about her past and her hard time adjusting to American culture as a German in post-war United States.
The crowd changed over the day. Marcela and Jason and Alex came upstairs. Jason got into my crinoid passion. “Look, there are crinoids to the right!” said Jason as we passed a red sandbank, I became the Crinoid Hunter. Everything revolved around crinoids, which slowly took on a monstrously evil configuration. I gladly played up on the crinoid fascination. Everyone in the group learned all about crinoids from me.
My 1983 book “The Colorado River in the Grand Canyon” by Larry Stevens, a book I picked up for $2 at the town’s swap meet, came in handy in reference to crinoids in the area and the history of the river.
Iris kept texting her boyfriend Ed, telling him about the crinoids.
“What are crinoids?” he asked.
“They are small aquatic fossils, also known as Indian beads” replied Iris. The texting went back-and forth for as long as Iris got reception.
I was getting antsy for some exercise as we were filling up on tortillas and salsa, gummi bears, chips. We made it to Dangling Rope Marina at 3:30 to retank ($400) as Mom, Iris, Alex, Jason, Marcela got off the boat to check out the shoppette. Where was the dangling rope?
I got my National Park Passport stamped with the Glen Canyon NRA Dangling Rope stamp and picked up a canyon map and a 12-pack of Heineken beer. Those two items were $28.
“Must be the Mormon tax” I said, shocked at the price.
“The Mormons don’t get any of it” replied the blonde cashier. Good.
But I didn’t want to say no more as I knew how Mormons feel about their image.
“The Mormons are the reason why the beer here is only 3.8 percent” she added.
The beer was still good, although it didn’t last too long. I had two beers and Jason and Marcela finished off the rest.
I stayed on the houseboat while Jason, Iris, Alex and Matt sped by in the rented speed boat ahead of us, making fast turns around us and looking for a place to anker for the night. We ended up going back west a few miles before we found a sandy beach to spend the night.
Alex and Matt kayaked into the evening, I walked around some more looking for crinoids, swam around the boat for a bit, but then stayed on the boat the rest of the evening, working on photographs, talking to Jason and Marcela. Jason managed to download all 430 photographs I had taken up to that point. It was the only way I could see exactly what shots were focused and which ones weren’t. There were about ten landscape shots that were out of focus; probably when the lens was acting up on me.
We gathered around the computer to look at the photographs, something I have always been self-conscious about because I don’t like looking at other peoples’ vacation shots unless I was there as well. There were a few very good angles I took, and most of the shots I took of Marcela were very nice. She’s a very photogenic young woman.
Everyone left after the picture show. It was 8pm and the generator was turned off. I had no choice but to head toward my little cabin as well. The night was cooler and more comfortable this time and I could have sworn I heard the howling of coyotes and the drumming of a beat in the distance. Ancient Indian spirits, perhaps?
It was another inactive day for me spending most of it eating junk food. At this rate I was snacking I was going to put on a lot of weight. I wish I enjoyed water sports more. Mom brought three kayaks and I've yet desired to kayak. I'd rather hike up a side canyon.
We gathered at the table for coffee or tea and mixed cereal. After a quick jaunt up some brittle rocks for a hilltop view, we were off again for another ride on Lake Powell in the direction of Dangling Rope Marina and then Rainbow Bridge afterwards.
The only problem was, we were not on the man channel. We were floating up Last Chance Canyon in a northwesterly directon when we needed to go northeast and enjoying the many side canyons and waving at boats going in the opposite direction.
We had failed to pay attention to the buoys. “We drove two hours in the wrong direction!” said Bill rather disgustedly, two hours that took time from Rainbow Bridge that I was so looking forward to because of the Native American significance.
It wasn’t time wasted, though. Mom and Iris and I sat upstairs for a while and talked about her past and her hard time adjusting to American culture as a German in post-war United States.
The crowd changed over the day. Marcela and Jason and Alex came upstairs. Jason got into my crinoid passion. “Look, there are crinoids to the right!” said Jason as we passed a red sandbank, I became the Crinoid Hunter. Everything revolved around crinoids, which slowly took on a monstrously evil configuration. I gladly played up on the crinoid fascination. Everyone in the group learned all about crinoids from me.
My 1983 book “The Colorado River in the Grand Canyon” by Larry Stevens, a book I picked up for $2 at the town’s swap meet, came in handy in reference to crinoids in the area and the history of the river.
Iris kept texting her boyfriend Ed, telling him about the crinoids.
“What are crinoids?” he asked.
“They are small aquatic fossils, also known as Indian beads” replied Iris. The texting went back-and forth for as long as Iris got reception.
I was getting antsy for some exercise as we were filling up on tortillas and salsa, gummi bears, chips. We made it to Dangling Rope Marina at 3:30 to retank ($400) as Mom, Iris, Alex, Jason, Marcela got off the boat to check out the shoppette. Where was the dangling rope?
I got my National Park Passport stamped with the Glen Canyon NRA Dangling Rope stamp and picked up a canyon map and a 12-pack of Heineken beer. Those two items were $28.
“Must be the Mormon tax” I said, shocked at the price.
“The Mormons don’t get any of it” replied the blonde cashier. Good.
But I didn’t want to say no more as I knew how Mormons feel about their image.
“The Mormons are the reason why the beer here is only 3.8 percent” she added.
The beer was still good, although it didn’t last too long. I had two beers and Jason and Marcela finished off the rest.
I stayed on the houseboat while Jason, Iris, Alex and Matt sped by in the rented speed boat ahead of us, making fast turns around us and looking for a place to anker for the night. We ended up going back west a few miles before we found a sandy beach to spend the night.
Alex and Matt kayaked into the evening, I walked around some more looking for crinoids, swam around the boat for a bit, but then stayed on the boat the rest of the evening, working on photographs, talking to Jason and Marcela. Jason managed to download all 430 photographs I had taken up to that point. It was the only way I could see exactly what shots were focused and which ones weren’t. There were about ten landscape shots that were out of focus; probably when the lens was acting up on me.
We gathered around the computer to look at the photographs, something I have always been self-conscious about because I don’t like looking at other peoples’ vacation shots unless I was there as well. There were a few very good angles I took, and most of the shots I took of Marcela were very nice. She’s a very photogenic young woman.
Everyone left after the picture show. It was 8pm and the generator was turned off. I had no choice but to head toward my little cabin as well. The night was cooler and more comfortable this time and I could have sworn I heard the howling of coyotes and the drumming of a beat in the distance. Ancient Indian spirits, perhaps?
It was another inactive day for me spending most of it eating junk food. At this rate I was snacking I was going to put on a lot of weight. I wish I enjoyed water sports more. Mom brought three kayaks and I've yet desired to kayak. I'd rather hike up a side canyon.
Glen Canyon NRA: Wahweap Marina, the first day
I got back to the hotel lobby at 7am and the rest of the family was already seated to eat breakfast. There wasn’t much of a choice: donuts, toast, Raisin bran and Fruit Loops, orange juice, apple juice, coffee and tea. I had two small bowls of Raisin bran. I wasn't expecting it to last long.
We all sat at a small round table built for two, squeezed in together and made small talk. It turns out that we all met our partners on-line in some form.
“The cybersex was the best I’ve ever had!” I exclaimed, getting the group to chuckle.
We drove to the Wahweap Marina shortly thereafter, in two vans. Mom and Bill got the paperwork ready while Iris and I chatted with Marcela at the pier. Everyone else was at the boat, too.
We asked Marcela all the questions and she willingly answered. She and Jason met on-line three years ago on Yahoo! She left Romania to work as an au-pair girl in Germany, where she picked up the language rather fast. Her mother is an alcoholic and she has seven other siblings. Her German isn’t perfect and neither is her English, but she can communicate in either language, sometimes switching words from one to another if she doesn’t know a particular meaning. I had no trouble understanding her.
Our luggage was loaded on for us by the marina employees: Lucasz from Poland drove the luggage cart, Garth from South Africa gave the captain and skipper boating instructions. There was a lot of inspecting to do before we could leave. The boat across from us had a two-year-old German Shepherd Dog on board, and another man, from Boston and now living in Carmel, IN, chatted with Kevin for a bit. It seemed like we would never leave the marina.
Our houseboat rental was M22 Myacht, a 53-footer with four cabins and room to sleep 12. We had a TV and DVD player, a stove, two small refrigerators and two toilet-shower stalls.
We finally left the marina at 9:20am, only to get confused as to what was the main channel. The red and green buoys were hard to see in the sun.
The three stacks of the Navajo Power Plant never left us. Rocks around us were red rock sandstone from the Protorozoic and Paleozoic era, 1.7 billion years ago, from the Colorado Plateau. It was hard to see the buoys on the river as in the distance all we could see were rocks.
Mom, Iris and I chatted upstairs on the upper deck for a while and never noticed we were going the wrong way. We were in Last Chance Canyon, a riverway with no way out. We were floating in a northwesterly direction when we needed to go northeast.
We made a long U-turn before we settled on a compass direction of South, then North and finally a gradual Northeast before ankering in Padre Bay for the afternoon. Alex and Mom kayaked, Kevin snorkeled, I walked around in vain looking for crinoids and took lots of good photographs. Dinner was chicken breasts with rice mix and lots of tortilla chips. Everyone went around and chatted in groups for a few minutes.
Our bunk was upstairs with Mom’s but it was closest to the generator which blasted long after we went to bed. We could hear the water pump activate everytime someone flushed the toilet.
At night I couldn’t sleep too well as I felt congested and it turned out that everyone else was congested and overheated as well. I didn’t do too much today but was tired nonetheless. Hopefully tomorrow would be more active.
We all sat at a small round table built for two, squeezed in together and made small talk. It turns out that we all met our partners on-line in some form.
“The cybersex was the best I’ve ever had!” I exclaimed, getting the group to chuckle.
We drove to the Wahweap Marina shortly thereafter, in two vans. Mom and Bill got the paperwork ready while Iris and I chatted with Marcela at the pier. Everyone else was at the boat, too.
We asked Marcela all the questions and she willingly answered. She and Jason met on-line three years ago on Yahoo! She left Romania to work as an au-pair girl in Germany, where she picked up the language rather fast. Her mother is an alcoholic and she has seven other siblings. Her German isn’t perfect and neither is her English, but she can communicate in either language, sometimes switching words from one to another if she doesn’t know a particular meaning. I had no trouble understanding her.
Our luggage was loaded on for us by the marina employees: Lucasz from Poland drove the luggage cart, Garth from South Africa gave the captain and skipper boating instructions. There was a lot of inspecting to do before we could leave. The boat across from us had a two-year-old German Shepherd Dog on board, and another man, from Boston and now living in Carmel, IN, chatted with Kevin for a bit. It seemed like we would never leave the marina.
Our houseboat rental was M22 Myacht, a 53-footer with four cabins and room to sleep 12. We had a TV and DVD player, a stove, two small refrigerators and two toilet-shower stalls.
We finally left the marina at 9:20am, only to get confused as to what was the main channel. The red and green buoys were hard to see in the sun.
The three stacks of the Navajo Power Plant never left us. Rocks around us were red rock sandstone from the Protorozoic and Paleozoic era, 1.7 billion years ago, from the Colorado Plateau. It was hard to see the buoys on the river as in the distance all we could see were rocks.
Mom, Iris and I chatted upstairs on the upper deck for a while and never noticed we were going the wrong way. We were in Last Chance Canyon, a riverway with no way out. We were floating in a northwesterly direction when we needed to go northeast.
We made a long U-turn before we settled on a compass direction of South, then North and finally a gradual Northeast before ankering in Padre Bay for the afternoon. Alex and Mom kayaked, Kevin snorkeled, I walked around in vain looking for crinoids and took lots of good photographs. Dinner was chicken breasts with rice mix and lots of tortilla chips. Everyone went around and chatted in groups for a few minutes.
Our bunk was upstairs with Mom’s but it was closest to the generator which blasted long after we went to bed. We could hear the water pump activate everytime someone flushed the toilet.
At night I couldn’t sleep too well as I felt congested and it turned out that everyone else was congested and overheated as well. I didn’t do too much today but was tired nonetheless. Hopefully tomorrow would be more active.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Reveille at Oh-Dark-Thirty
Kevin was up at 3:30am.
"Kevin, it's three-thirty!" I exclaimed.
"I know, and I'm wide awake now!"
My back was aching from something I did to it yesterday.
So we turned on the TV for the latest news: Gustav was now a tropical depression heading into NE Texas, after drenching southern Arkansas, northern Louisiana and eastern Texas. Hurricane Hanna was off the Bahamas with winds of 80mph. Ike was off further east and another depression was forming off Africa. More coverage of Sarah Palin's 17-year-old pregnant daughter, the slow coverage of the RNC which reminded me of a Geriatric convention turn fund raiser for hurricane victims, and the anti-war protests in St Paul, MN. So in other words, nothing new happened.
There was nothing on TV despite the many channels: Jesus Talk, Sports, Shopping and reruns of stupid 1960s sitcoms. I even watched Joel Osteen talk about hope, the Houston-based evangelist who lives off the donations of his church visitors and who, IMO, should get a new hair style because the Wet Head went out of style 30 years ago.
Kevin showered at 4am, got coffee from the lobby and was out at 5am to load up the van and go to WalMart at 6am when it opens. He had chatted with the night shift downstairs and learned that the WalMart needed 600 employees to operate 24 hours a day. They were only able to get 300 from town. That is why the SuperCenter closed at midnight and opens at 6am. For a WalMart it's clean and the aisles widely-spaced.
My plan was to walk around town at 6am, come back at 7am when Mom wanted the family to gather for breakfast, and at 7:30am leave for the Marina and get the houseboat.
"Kevin, it's three-thirty!" I exclaimed.
"I know, and I'm wide awake now!"
My back was aching from something I did to it yesterday.
So we turned on the TV for the latest news: Gustav was now a tropical depression heading into NE Texas, after drenching southern Arkansas, northern Louisiana and eastern Texas. Hurricane Hanna was off the Bahamas with winds of 80mph. Ike was off further east and another depression was forming off Africa. More coverage of Sarah Palin's 17-year-old pregnant daughter, the slow coverage of the RNC which reminded me of a Geriatric convention turn fund raiser for hurricane victims, and the anti-war protests in St Paul, MN. So in other words, nothing new happened.
There was nothing on TV despite the many channels: Jesus Talk, Sports, Shopping and reruns of stupid 1960s sitcoms. I even watched Joel Osteen talk about hope, the Houston-based evangelist who lives off the donations of his church visitors and who, IMO, should get a new hair style because the Wet Head went out of style 30 years ago.
Kevin showered at 4am, got coffee from the lobby and was out at 5am to load up the van and go to WalMart at 6am when it opens. He had chatted with the night shift downstairs and learned that the WalMart needed 600 employees to operate 24 hours a day. They were only able to get 300 from town. That is why the SuperCenter closed at midnight and opens at 6am. For a WalMart it's clean and the aisles widely-spaced.
My plan was to walk around town at 6am, come back at 7am when Mom wanted the family to gather for breakfast, and at 7:30am leave for the Marina and get the houseboat.
Monday, September 1, 2008
The trip to Page, Arizona
Reveille was at 4am , but I didn’t get up until 4:20am to brew coffee and do last-minute chores: fill up the dog bowls, refresh the cats’ water and food, clean out the kitty box, empty the grey water into the yard where the grass seed was still growing. (The grass I cut three days ago was already looking tall. It was still covered in dew after sunrise.). It was 60F at 4:30am. The birds weren't even out yet.
I ran out of time. Ideally I would have walked the dogs one more time around the neighborhood, but I only got them around the .8-mile route. The dogs wanted more and would have gone the usual route in the figure-eight, but I was already running late. We didn’t leave the house until 6:20am.
Traffic on I-10 was minimal. It was quieter than a Sunday morning. We faced no slow-gos. The construction in and around Tucson was closed for the day. We even had time to spare south of Phoenix where we gassed up at a Love’s for $3.53 (the lowest gas was at a B-grade station in Tucson for $3.41) and ate a late breakfast at Burger King.
Our responsibility was to pick up my sister Iris flying in from Baltimore. Mom's job was to pick up the other sister from Raleigh, NC. Both luckily were expected in within 30 minutes of each other. We were to drive via convoy from the airport to Page via Flagstaff.
Iris landed at Sky Harbor on time: 9:50am. We got to the parking area at 9:51. Despite her long travel time she looked happy and refreshed, wearing red knee-length shorts and a white shirt with red trim. Her hair was cut shoulder-length with blonde highlights. Within 20 minutes we were on the I-17 driving further north with contact to Mom via cell phone. Mom picked up Alex and Matt from Termnal 2 and was packing up the van. They were behind us, with a van full of passengers and two kayaks in tow.
We commuted via cell phone throughout the commute without meeting face-to-face. I was anxious to see Alex and Jason again. We finally met up at a quaint tourist restaurant in Black Canyon City, at Rock Springs Café that was once a stage coach/post office in 1918. A photograph of George and Barbara Bush hung on the wall behind me. The wait was a little long and the food so-so and the place didn't look all that authentic to me, but to the out-of-stater, who cares? Arizona has a lot of authentic Old West sites (most of them in ruins or abandoned) but most road-side attractions are cheap replicas of a bygone era.
Everyone looked great. I got to meet Jason’s girlfriend Marchella and Alex’ boyfriend Matt once we had stopped to eat. But everyone was tired from the drive and our table was a thick wooden table. It wasn’t very conducive to talking. Mom was so excited about having all of her children together at one table and kept interrupting our private talks to divert the attention to her. I sat between Iris and Alex. I figured I’d talk more privately when the timing was better.
But what to talk about? Where to start? There was so much to get caught up with.
Back on the road the drive was more settled as everyone had eaten and taken a bathrom break. We were now 80 miles from Flagstaff.
“There sure isn’t much out here” said Iris as she looked out the window. The elevation slowly got higher as we closed in on the town. This is beautiful country albeit the Sedona area is overpriced and super-regulated. Despite its beauty it's not a place I go to much because of the high concentration of tourists awing at red rocks.
“What do you mean, nothing? There’s all those beautiful rocks!” It’s the spirituality of Arizona’s terrain and air that make this state so beautiful. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
I filled her in on Arizona geography and some history but she was tired. She had been traveling for over six hours and I didn’t want to bore her, but I wanted to point out some of the historical buildings in Flagstaff. I really like the town and always enjoy spending time there. The mixture of Native American, aging hippie and ueber-progressive Northern Arizona University student make Flagstaff especially enticing.
“You will see a lot of Native Americans in town. This town has some of the highest percentage of Native Americans” I said.
“How can you tell who is a Native American and who is a Mexican?” Iris asked.
“The Natives are much fatter” I replied, not wanting to be racist, but to point out an observation. I see so many obese Natives in this town.
“Oh yeah, I remember reading about how the Natives lack an enzyme that breaks down certain particles we have in our processed foods.” I remember the CDC talking about the extremely high obesity rates in Mexican-Americans and Native Americans a few years ago.
Once we were outside Flagstaff after a pit-stop and gas ($3.67) she napped in the back seat as we headed north on Highway 89 toward Page. We maintained an elevation of 6000' most of the distance as we drove due north on the two-lane highway.
Kevin and I listened briefly to CNN radio to get caught up with Hurricane Gustav. The storm was downgraded to a Cat 2 storm and had by-passed NOLA to the west. The city had been spared the worst. But to CNN Gustav was all the news.
Arid red peaks scattered on either side of the highway. Small homes on either side of the highway were Native American homes. They stood in small clusters with large acreage lots around them. The lots were large and clean, but there were no people anywhere. No water ran here unless it came off the red rocks. The homes were often just single-wide trailers or simple wooden homes. Old rusty full-sized pick-ups stood in the front yard. Cattle grazed nearby. This was the simple life I admire the People for. They live so meekly with so little. It’s a humbling feeling knowing so many White Folk would be miserable living like that. And I can't forget that the Union Army faught many battles against the Native Americans for this land.
Some of the homes were naked or totally abandoned. Many of the road-side vendors were just wooden shacks crudely constructed. “Buffalo Jerky” was advertised on hand-written signs near towns with "Major credit cards accepted" written below.
By 4pm the Labor Day traffic going south from Page got congested. Full-sized pick-ups towing full-sized boats were all heading back to the Flagstaff-Phoenix area.
“We may have Lake Powell all to ourselves!” I said.
By now we were ahead of Brian’s van. Two rest stops along the 90-mile stretch still didn’t get them caught up with us until we made it to the Day’s Inn in Page.
The last 20 miles south of Page were the prettiest. We were cresting the hill near the North Rim, as the Grand Canyon opened into a wide valley to our west. The highway was still going uphill when we reached a road-side vista where Indians were selling their jewelry. Natives were seated but many were already packing up there goods.
Iris managed to get some nice turquoise, and even bought me a lovely diamond-cut turquoise necklace that I will always wear. It hangs over my Iraqi cartouche which I haven’t taken off either.
Several other tourists around us were German. Iris and I spoke German on occasion. He accent I heard sounded Swaebisch, one of the ugliest German accents IMO.
Two miles south of Page we passed signs for Antelope Canyon and Horseshoe Bend. We could see the Colorado River poke its way through the peaks around Page.
We arrived in Page at 5:30. The Days Inn was the first hotel in town, and just across the street was a WalMart where we stopped to get last-minute toiletries. We met up with Mom and Gang 30 minutes later and at 7pm we met for dinner at the Jack-In-The-Box fast food restaurant next door.
News on TV already downgraded Gustav to a Tropical Storm. None of the levees in NOLA had broken and Geraldo Riviera was not blown away by hurricane winds into the Gulf. Hurricanes Hanna and Ike are five to ten days away from hitting US landfall as well.
Jason, who has lived the past 20 years in Germany, had no clue who “Jack” the bald Cueball head figurine was so both Iris and I filled him in on that stupid gimmick even I don’t understand. We sat eight across as we chomped down our sandwiches and talked politics again.
“Did you hear that Sarah Palin’s teen daughter is pregnant?” asked Alex. “We heard that tonight on Larry King” Ouch. So much for conservative Republican family values. To me a pregnancy is no big deal—unless it were miraculously my own—but I know how hyped up conservatives get about unwed teen mothers when the teens aren't their own. The news media is making this subject a big deal and I'm wondering...who cares?!
We also talked briefly about Iraq, chemical poisoning in Iraqi veterans, life back East and Iris’s hospital work, but we all decided that we needed a good night’s sleep and would continue our conversations over the next few days while traversing the rental boat along the Lake.
Mom looked so content and at peace with herself, and to me that was my priority. Jason, Alex, Iris and I promised each other that we all would have a good time.
“No arguing!” stressed Alex.That’s right, definitely no arguing. The trip already promised to be better than planned.
We had driven over 540 miles today.
http://www.rockspringscafe.com/
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1813984-1,00.html
I ran out of time. Ideally I would have walked the dogs one more time around the neighborhood, but I only got them around the .8-mile route. The dogs wanted more and would have gone the usual route in the figure-eight, but I was already running late. We didn’t leave the house until 6:20am.
Traffic on I-10 was minimal. It was quieter than a Sunday morning. We faced no slow-gos. The construction in and around Tucson was closed for the day. We even had time to spare south of Phoenix where we gassed up at a Love’s for $3.53 (the lowest gas was at a B-grade station in Tucson for $3.41) and ate a late breakfast at Burger King.
Our responsibility was to pick up my sister Iris flying in from Baltimore. Mom's job was to pick up the other sister from Raleigh, NC. Both luckily were expected in within 30 minutes of each other. We were to drive via convoy from the airport to Page via Flagstaff.
Iris landed at Sky Harbor on time: 9:50am. We got to the parking area at 9:51. Despite her long travel time she looked happy and refreshed, wearing red knee-length shorts and a white shirt with red trim. Her hair was cut shoulder-length with blonde highlights. Within 20 minutes we were on the I-17 driving further north with contact to Mom via cell phone. Mom picked up Alex and Matt from Termnal 2 and was packing up the van. They were behind us, with a van full of passengers and two kayaks in tow.
We commuted via cell phone throughout the commute without meeting face-to-face. I was anxious to see Alex and Jason again. We finally met up at a quaint tourist restaurant in Black Canyon City, at Rock Springs Café that was once a stage coach/post office in 1918. A photograph of George and Barbara Bush hung on the wall behind me. The wait was a little long and the food so-so and the place didn't look all that authentic to me, but to the out-of-stater, who cares? Arizona has a lot of authentic Old West sites (most of them in ruins or abandoned) but most road-side attractions are cheap replicas of a bygone era.
Everyone looked great. I got to meet Jason’s girlfriend Marchella and Alex’ boyfriend Matt once we had stopped to eat. But everyone was tired from the drive and our table was a thick wooden table. It wasn’t very conducive to talking. Mom was so excited about having all of her children together at one table and kept interrupting our private talks to divert the attention to her. I sat between Iris and Alex. I figured I’d talk more privately when the timing was better.
But what to talk about? Where to start? There was so much to get caught up with.
Back on the road the drive was more settled as everyone had eaten and taken a bathrom break. We were now 80 miles from Flagstaff.
“There sure isn’t much out here” said Iris as she looked out the window. The elevation slowly got higher as we closed in on the town. This is beautiful country albeit the Sedona area is overpriced and super-regulated. Despite its beauty it's not a place I go to much because of the high concentration of tourists awing at red rocks.
“What do you mean, nothing? There’s all those beautiful rocks!” It’s the spirituality of Arizona’s terrain and air that make this state so beautiful. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
I filled her in on Arizona geography and some history but she was tired. She had been traveling for over six hours and I didn’t want to bore her, but I wanted to point out some of the historical buildings in Flagstaff. I really like the town and always enjoy spending time there. The mixture of Native American, aging hippie and ueber-progressive Northern Arizona University student make Flagstaff especially enticing.
“You will see a lot of Native Americans in town. This town has some of the highest percentage of Native Americans” I said.
“How can you tell who is a Native American and who is a Mexican?” Iris asked.
“The Natives are much fatter” I replied, not wanting to be racist, but to point out an observation. I see so many obese Natives in this town.
“Oh yeah, I remember reading about how the Natives lack an enzyme that breaks down certain particles we have in our processed foods.” I remember the CDC talking about the extremely high obesity rates in Mexican-Americans and Native Americans a few years ago.
Once we were outside Flagstaff after a pit-stop and gas ($3.67) she napped in the back seat as we headed north on Highway 89 toward Page. We maintained an elevation of 6000' most of the distance as we drove due north on the two-lane highway.
Kevin and I listened briefly to CNN radio to get caught up with Hurricane Gustav. The storm was downgraded to a Cat 2 storm and had by-passed NOLA to the west. The city had been spared the worst. But to CNN Gustav was all the news.
Arid red peaks scattered on either side of the highway. Small homes on either side of the highway were Native American homes. They stood in small clusters with large acreage lots around them. The lots were large and clean, but there were no people anywhere. No water ran here unless it came off the red rocks. The homes were often just single-wide trailers or simple wooden homes. Old rusty full-sized pick-ups stood in the front yard. Cattle grazed nearby. This was the simple life I admire the People for. They live so meekly with so little. It’s a humbling feeling knowing so many White Folk would be miserable living like that. And I can't forget that the Union Army faught many battles against the Native Americans for this land.
Some of the homes were naked or totally abandoned. Many of the road-side vendors were just wooden shacks crudely constructed. “Buffalo Jerky” was advertised on hand-written signs near towns with "Major credit cards accepted" written below.
By 4pm the Labor Day traffic going south from Page got congested. Full-sized pick-ups towing full-sized boats were all heading back to the Flagstaff-Phoenix area.
“We may have Lake Powell all to ourselves!” I said.
By now we were ahead of Brian’s van. Two rest stops along the 90-mile stretch still didn’t get them caught up with us until we made it to the Day’s Inn in Page.
The last 20 miles south of Page were the prettiest. We were cresting the hill near the North Rim, as the Grand Canyon opened into a wide valley to our west. The highway was still going uphill when we reached a road-side vista where Indians were selling their jewelry. Natives were seated but many were already packing up there goods.
Iris managed to get some nice turquoise, and even bought me a lovely diamond-cut turquoise necklace that I will always wear. It hangs over my Iraqi cartouche which I haven’t taken off either.
Several other tourists around us were German. Iris and I spoke German on occasion. He accent I heard sounded Swaebisch, one of the ugliest German accents IMO.
Two miles south of Page we passed signs for Antelope Canyon and Horseshoe Bend. We could see the Colorado River poke its way through the peaks around Page.
We arrived in Page at 5:30. The Days Inn was the first hotel in town, and just across the street was a WalMart where we stopped to get last-minute toiletries. We met up with Mom and Gang 30 minutes later and at 7pm we met for dinner at the Jack-In-The-Box fast food restaurant next door.
News on TV already downgraded Gustav to a Tropical Storm. None of the levees in NOLA had broken and Geraldo Riviera was not blown away by hurricane winds into the Gulf. Hurricanes Hanna and Ike are five to ten days away from hitting US landfall as well.
Jason, who has lived the past 20 years in Germany, had no clue who “Jack” the bald Cueball head figurine was so both Iris and I filled him in on that stupid gimmick even I don’t understand. We sat eight across as we chomped down our sandwiches and talked politics again.
“Did you hear that Sarah Palin’s teen daughter is pregnant?” asked Alex. “We heard that tonight on Larry King” Ouch. So much for conservative Republican family values. To me a pregnancy is no big deal—unless it were miraculously my own—but I know how hyped up conservatives get about unwed teen mothers when the teens aren't their own. The news media is making this subject a big deal and I'm wondering...who cares?!
We also talked briefly about Iraq, chemical poisoning in Iraqi veterans, life back East and Iris’s hospital work, but we all decided that we needed a good night’s sleep and would continue our conversations over the next few days while traversing the rental boat along the Lake.
Mom looked so content and at peace with herself, and to me that was my priority. Jason, Alex, Iris and I promised each other that we all would have a good time.
“No arguing!” stressed Alex.That’s right, definitely no arguing. The trip already promised to be better than planned.
We had driven over 540 miles today.
http://www.rockspringscafe.com/
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1813984-1,00.html
The Day Before
Yesterday (Sunday) was busy for me. I had so much planned for the garden, getting things ready before leaving for a week: picking all the peppers and beans, watering the vegetable patches and getting the last of the grass seed sowed. How was I going to get it all done AND have time for one last walk with the dogs?
I managed to get most of the garden chores done, but then the skies darkened in the mid afternoon and I delayed my hike with the dogs. At 4pm the sky burst open and it rained hard for over an hour. Even the 50-gallon bins got filled with fresh water. The clothes that were hanging outside were wet, too. This may be the last of the monsoonal rains, according to the meteorolists on KVOA. Will be just-seeded grass die from lack of rain?
So much for driving down Hunter Canyon for one last run. The dogs would have dragged the wet mud into Essie and smelled up the truck.
Instead, I opted to walk the dogs and as soon as it dried up enough, I was off. I left the house at 6:42pm and ended up walking over four miles...reaching a green water tank off Highway 92, just short of the Hunter Canyon trailhead parking. I had never walked that far south with the dogs along the frontage road, and it was a scenic, uphill jaunt. Sara loved being upfront, and Sadie took turns running fast-forward to catch up with Sara, then running back to wait up for Sammy and me. And when she could, she'd race through a water puddle.
San Jose Peak in Mexico was shrouded in a low fog cloud, adding a mystical view of the desert sky as the sun faded behind the mountains. It was quite dark by the time I got back.
All three dogs were wet when I returned, from running through the tall weeds along the path. I got a good work-out, too. I needed that walk! Kevin was already in bed but left his home-made ravioli on the stove.
Hurricane Gustav continued to be the newsmaker. Sen McCain announced that the Republican National Convention would be curtailed quite a bit on opening day on Monday so that GWB could concentrate on any hurricane-related news.
I managed to get most of the garden chores done, but then the skies darkened in the mid afternoon and I delayed my hike with the dogs. At 4pm the sky burst open and it rained hard for over an hour. Even the 50-gallon bins got filled with fresh water. The clothes that were hanging outside were wet, too. This may be the last of the monsoonal rains, according to the meteorolists on KVOA. Will be just-seeded grass die from lack of rain?
So much for driving down Hunter Canyon for one last run. The dogs would have dragged the wet mud into Essie and smelled up the truck.
Instead, I opted to walk the dogs and as soon as it dried up enough, I was off. I left the house at 6:42pm and ended up walking over four miles...reaching a green water tank off Highway 92, just short of the Hunter Canyon trailhead parking. I had never walked that far south with the dogs along the frontage road, and it was a scenic, uphill jaunt. Sara loved being upfront, and Sadie took turns running fast-forward to catch up with Sara, then running back to wait up for Sammy and me. And when she could, she'd race through a water puddle.
San Jose Peak in Mexico was shrouded in a low fog cloud, adding a mystical view of the desert sky as the sun faded behind the mountains. It was quite dark by the time I got back.
All three dogs were wet when I returned, from running through the tall weeds along the path. I got a good work-out, too. I needed that walk! Kevin was already in bed but left his home-made ravioli on the stove.
Hurricane Gustav continued to be the newsmaker. Sen McCain announced that the Republican National Convention would be curtailed quite a bit on opening day on Monday so that GWB could concentrate on any hurricane-related news.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Hurricane Gustav now a Cat4 storm
Kevin reported earlier that the gas station down the street has already raised the price of gasoline by 20 cents. CNN is calling Gustav a "Killer Storm" and I'm getting nightmares of Katrina again. On top of all this, the GOP convention starts Monday in St.Paul, MN.
___
New Orleans orders mandatory evacuation
By BECKY BOHRER, Associated Press Writer 1 hour, 19 minutes ago
NEW ORLEANS - Spooked by predictions that Hurricane Gustav could grow into a Category 5 monster, an estimated 1 million people fled the Gulf Coast Saturday — even before the official order came for New Orleans residents to get out of the way of a storm taking dead aim at Louisiana.
Mayor Ray Nagin gave the mandatory order late Saturday, but all day residents took to buses, trains, planes and cars — clogging roadways leading away from New Orleans, still reeling three years after Hurricane Katrina flooded 80 percent of the city and killed about 1,600 across the region.
The evacuation of New Orleans becomes mandatory at 8 a.m. Sunday along the vulnerable west bank of the Mississippi River, and at noon on the east bank. Nagin called Gustav the "mother of all storms" and told residents to "get out of town. This is not the one to play with."
"This is the real deal, this is not a test," Nagin said as he issued the order, warning residents that staying would be "one of the biggest mistakes you could make in your life." He emphasized that the city will not offer emergency services to anyone who chooses to stay behind.
Nagin did not immediately order a curfew, which would allow officials to arrest residents if they are not on their property.
Gustav had already killed more than 80 people in the Caribbean, and if current forecasts hold up, it would make landfall Monday afternoon somewhere between East Texas and western Mississippi.
The storm's center moved into the Gulf of Mexico from Cuba late Saturday and at 11 p.m. EDT was about 530 miles southeast of the mouth of the Mississippi River, the National Hurricane Center in Miami said. Top winds were near 140 mph and likely to strengthen.
Forecasters warned it was too soon to say whether New Orleans would take another direct hit, but residents weren't taking any chances judging by the bumper-to-bumper traffic pouring from the city. Gas stations along interstate highways were running out of fuel, and phone circuits were jammed.
Forecasters at the National Hurricane Center said they were surprised at how quickly Gustav gained strength as it slammed into Cuba's tobacco-growing western tip. It went from a tropical storm to a Category 4 hurricane in about 24 hours, and was likely to become a Category 5 — with sustained winds of 156 mph or more — by Sunday.
"That puts a different light on our evacuations and hopefully that will send a very clear message to the people in the Gulf Coast to really pay attention," said Federal Emergency Management Agency chief David Paulison.
Levee building on the city's west bank was incomplete, Nagin said. A storm surge of 15 to 20 feet would pour through canals and flood the neighborhood and neighboring Jefferson Parish, he said.
Nagin estimated that about half the population had left and admitted officials were worried that some people would try to stay.
Even before the evacuation order, hotels closed, and the airport prepared to follow suit.
Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff planned to travel to Louisiana on Sunday to observe preparations. Also, likely GOP presidential nominee John McCain and his running mate, Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, are traveling to Mississippi on Sunday to check on people getting prepared.
As part of the evacuation plan New Orleans developed after Katrina, residents who had no other way to get out of the city waited on a line that snaked for more than a mile through the parking lot of the city's main transit terminal. From there, they were boarding motor coaches bound for shelters in north Louisiana. The city expects to move out about 30,000 such residents by Sunday.
"I don't like it," said Joseph Jones Jr., 61, who draped a towel over his head to block the blazing sun. "Going someplace you don't know, people you don't know. And then when you come back, is your house going to be OK?"
Others led children or pushed strollers with one hand and pulled luggage with the other. Volunteers handed out bottled water, and medics were nearby in case people became sick from the heat.
Unlike Katrina, when thousands took refuge inside the Superdome, there will be no "last resort" shelter. "You will be on your own," Nagin said.
About 1,500 National Guard troops were in the region, and soldiers were expected to help augment about 1,400 New Orleans police officers in helping patrol and secure the city.
Standing outside his restaurant in the city's Faubourg Marigny district, Dale DeBruyne prepared for Gustav the way he did for Katrina — stubbornly.
"I'm not leaving," he said.
DeBruyne, 52, said his house was stocked with storm supplies, including generators.
"I stayed for Katrina," he said, "and I'll stay again."
Many residents said the early stage of the evacuation was more orderly than Katrina, although a plan to electronically log and track evacuees with a bar code system failed and was aborted to keep the buses moving. Officials said information on evacuees would be taken when they reached their destinations.
Advocates criticized the decision not to establish a shelter, warning that day laborers and the poorest residents would fall through the cracks.
About two dozen Hispanic men gathered under oak trees near Claiborne Avenue. They were wary of boarding any bus, even though a city spokesman said no identity papers would be required.
"The problem is," said Pictor Soto, 44, of Peru, "there will be immigration people there and we're all undocumented."
Farther west, where Gustav appeared more likely to make landfall, Guard troops were also being sent to Lake Charles.
The National Hurricane Center issued a hurricane watch for Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana and part of Texas, meaning hurricane conditions are possible within 36 hours.
Two East Texas counties also issued mandatory evacuation orders, and authorities in Mississippi began evacuating the mentally ill and aged from facilities along the coast.
National Guard soldiers on Mississippi's coast were going door-to-door to alert thousands of families in FEMA trailers and cottages that they should be prepared to evacuate Sunday.
In Alabama, shelters were opened and 3,000 National Guard personnel assembled to help evacuees from Mississippi and Louisiana.
"If we don't get the wind and rain, we stand ready to help them," Gov. Bob Riley said.
___
Associated Press writers Peter Prengaman, Janet McConnaughey, Alan Sayre, Allen G. Breed, Mary Foster and Stacey Plaisance contributed to this report from New Orleans. Doug Simpson in Baton Rouge, La., and Michael Kunzelman in Gulfport, Miss., also contributed.
___
New Orleans orders mandatory evacuation
By BECKY BOHRER, Associated Press Writer 1 hour, 19 minutes ago
NEW ORLEANS - Spooked by predictions that Hurricane Gustav could grow into a Category 5 monster, an estimated 1 million people fled the Gulf Coast Saturday — even before the official order came for New Orleans residents to get out of the way of a storm taking dead aim at Louisiana.
Mayor Ray Nagin gave the mandatory order late Saturday, but all day residents took to buses, trains, planes and cars — clogging roadways leading away from New Orleans, still reeling three years after Hurricane Katrina flooded 80 percent of the city and killed about 1,600 across the region.
The evacuation of New Orleans becomes mandatory at 8 a.m. Sunday along the vulnerable west bank of the Mississippi River, and at noon on the east bank. Nagin called Gustav the "mother of all storms" and told residents to "get out of town. This is not the one to play with."
"This is the real deal, this is not a test," Nagin said as he issued the order, warning residents that staying would be "one of the biggest mistakes you could make in your life." He emphasized that the city will not offer emergency services to anyone who chooses to stay behind.
Nagin did not immediately order a curfew, which would allow officials to arrest residents if they are not on their property.
Gustav had already killed more than 80 people in the Caribbean, and if current forecasts hold up, it would make landfall Monday afternoon somewhere between East Texas and western Mississippi.
The storm's center moved into the Gulf of Mexico from Cuba late Saturday and at 11 p.m. EDT was about 530 miles southeast of the mouth of the Mississippi River, the National Hurricane Center in Miami said. Top winds were near 140 mph and likely to strengthen.
Forecasters warned it was too soon to say whether New Orleans would take another direct hit, but residents weren't taking any chances judging by the bumper-to-bumper traffic pouring from the city. Gas stations along interstate highways were running out of fuel, and phone circuits were jammed.
Forecasters at the National Hurricane Center said they were surprised at how quickly Gustav gained strength as it slammed into Cuba's tobacco-growing western tip. It went from a tropical storm to a Category 4 hurricane in about 24 hours, and was likely to become a Category 5 — with sustained winds of 156 mph or more — by Sunday.
"That puts a different light on our evacuations and hopefully that will send a very clear message to the people in the Gulf Coast to really pay attention," said Federal Emergency Management Agency chief David Paulison.
Levee building on the city's west bank was incomplete, Nagin said. A storm surge of 15 to 20 feet would pour through canals and flood the neighborhood and neighboring Jefferson Parish, he said.
Nagin estimated that about half the population had left and admitted officials were worried that some people would try to stay.
Even before the evacuation order, hotels closed, and the airport prepared to follow suit.
Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff planned to travel to Louisiana on Sunday to observe preparations. Also, likely GOP presidential nominee John McCain and his running mate, Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, are traveling to Mississippi on Sunday to check on people getting prepared.
As part of the evacuation plan New Orleans developed after Katrina, residents who had no other way to get out of the city waited on a line that snaked for more than a mile through the parking lot of the city's main transit terminal. From there, they were boarding motor coaches bound for shelters in north Louisiana. The city expects to move out about 30,000 such residents by Sunday.
"I don't like it," said Joseph Jones Jr., 61, who draped a towel over his head to block the blazing sun. "Going someplace you don't know, people you don't know. And then when you come back, is your house going to be OK?"
Others led children or pushed strollers with one hand and pulled luggage with the other. Volunteers handed out bottled water, and medics were nearby in case people became sick from the heat.
Unlike Katrina, when thousands took refuge inside the Superdome, there will be no "last resort" shelter. "You will be on your own," Nagin said.
About 1,500 National Guard troops were in the region, and soldiers were expected to help augment about 1,400 New Orleans police officers in helping patrol and secure the city.
Standing outside his restaurant in the city's Faubourg Marigny district, Dale DeBruyne prepared for Gustav the way he did for Katrina — stubbornly.
"I'm not leaving," he said.
DeBruyne, 52, said his house was stocked with storm supplies, including generators.
"I stayed for Katrina," he said, "and I'll stay again."
Many residents said the early stage of the evacuation was more orderly than Katrina, although a plan to electronically log and track evacuees with a bar code system failed and was aborted to keep the buses moving. Officials said information on evacuees would be taken when they reached their destinations.
Advocates criticized the decision not to establish a shelter, warning that day laborers and the poorest residents would fall through the cracks.
About two dozen Hispanic men gathered under oak trees near Claiborne Avenue. They were wary of boarding any bus, even though a city spokesman said no identity papers would be required.
"The problem is," said Pictor Soto, 44, of Peru, "there will be immigration people there and we're all undocumented."
Farther west, where Gustav appeared more likely to make landfall, Guard troops were also being sent to Lake Charles.
The National Hurricane Center issued a hurricane watch for Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana and part of Texas, meaning hurricane conditions are possible within 36 hours.
Two East Texas counties also issued mandatory evacuation orders, and authorities in Mississippi began evacuating the mentally ill and aged from facilities along the coast.
National Guard soldiers on Mississippi's coast were going door-to-door to alert thousands of families in FEMA trailers and cottages that they should be prepared to evacuate Sunday.
In Alabama, shelters were opened and 3,000 National Guard personnel assembled to help evacuees from Mississippi and Louisiana.
"If we don't get the wind and rain, we stand ready to help them," Gov. Bob Riley said.
___
Associated Press writers Peter Prengaman, Janet McConnaughey, Alan Sayre, Allen G. Breed, Mary Foster and Stacey Plaisance contributed to this report from New Orleans. Doug Simpson in Baton Rouge, La., and Michael Kunzelman in Gulfport, Miss., also contributed.
Weather for Page, AZ
The only town on Lake Powell. No rain in the forecast!
TodayAug 30
Isolated T-Storms
89°72°
30%
89°F
SunAug 31
Scattered T-Storms
77°66°
40%
77°F
MonSep 1
Partly Cloudy
83°59°
20%
83°F
TueSep 2
Partly Cloudy
81°58°
20%
81°F
WedSep 3
Sunny
86°61°
10%
86°F
ThuSep 4
Sunny
89°65°
0%
89°F
FriSep 5
Sunny
90°66°
0%
90°F
SatSep 6
Sunny
91°65°
0%
91°F
SunSep 7
Sunny
91°66°
0%
91°F
MonSep 8
Sunny
91°68°
0%
91°F
TodayAug 30
Isolated T-Storms
89°72°
30%
89°F
SunAug 31
Scattered T-Storms
77°66°
40%
77°F
MonSep 1
Partly Cloudy
83°59°
20%
83°F
TueSep 2
Partly Cloudy
81°58°
20%
81°F
WedSep 3
Sunny
86°61°
10%
86°F
ThuSep 4
Sunny
89°65°
0%
89°F
FriSep 5
Sunny
90°66°
0%
90°F
SatSep 6
Sunny
91°65°
0%
91°F
SunSep 7
Sunny
91°66°
0%
91°F
MonSep 8
Sunny
91°68°
0%
91°F
Packing up for the big trip
Kevin's already going through the packing list for our Lake Powell Reunion: Sleeping bags and all the extras, camping gear, food stuffs, washing all our clothes. As usual, he's the more meticulous of us.
I'm still going through the garden getting last minute things taken care of: watering the vegetables with all the rain water so that mosquitoes don't grow in any standing water, picking off all the green beans and planting new plants ("Contender" is harvestable within 55 days), relocating caterpillars to the back alley as we have a lot of wooly bear caterpillars now, that, if left unattended, will eat all the crops and grow into the Isabella Tiger Moth.
Meanwhile, Hurricane Gustav is growing into a Category 4 storm just off Cuba and is still heading toward New Orleans. It's our biggest storm yet this season. That means that the $3.64 gasoline will rise again and the people of NOLA will once again relive the nightmare of Katrina from three years ago.
***
Gustav swells to dangerous Cat 4 storm off Cuba
By WILL WEISSERT, Associated Press Writer 1 hour, 2 minutes ago
HAVANA - Gustav swelled into a fearsome Category 4 hurricane with winds of 145 mph on Saturday as Cuba raced to evacuate more than 240,000 people and Americans to the north clogged highways fleeing New Orleans.
Gustav already has killed 78 people in the Caribbean and the U.S. National Hurricane Center in Miami said it could strengthen even more after hitting Cuba and entering the warm Gulf of Mexico on a projected course for the Katrina-battered U.S. coast.
Cuba grounded all national airline fights, though planes bound for international destinations were still taking off at Havana's Jose Marti International Airport. Authorities also canceled all buses and trains to and from the capital, as well as ferry and air service to the Isla de Juventud, the outlying Cuban island-province next in Gustav's path.
Heavy winds had already felled mango and almond trees and were shaking the roofs of buildings in the province, said Ofilia Hernandez, who answered a community telephone near downtown Nueva Gerona, Isla de la Juventud's largest city.
"Everyone's at home. It's getting very ugly," she said. "All night last night there was wind, but not like now. Now it's very strong. Things are starting to fall down."
The government's AIN news agency said officials were evacuating some 190,000 people from low-lying parts of tobacco-rich Pinar del Rio province on the western tip of Cuba's main island. AIN reported that 50,000 already had been evacuated further east.
Stiff winds whipped intermittent rains across Havana, where police officers in blue and orange rain coats supervised workers removing stones, tree branches and other debris from the storied beachfront Malecon, as angry waves crashed against the sea wall below.
Some shuttered stores had hand-scrawled "closed for evacuation" signs plastered to their doors. At others, small lines formed as residents stocked up on bread. Cars waiting to fill up their tanks stretched into the street outside some gas stations.
"It's very big and we've got to get ready for what's coming," said Jesus Hernandez, a 60-year-old retiree who was using an electric drill to reinforce the roof of his rickety front porch.
The U.S. naval base at Guantanamo, Cuba, was hundreds of miles to the east, out of the storm's path.
Gustav rolled over the Cayman Islands Friday with fierce winds that tore down trees and power lines while destroying docks and tossing boats ashore on Little Cayman Island, but there was little major damage and no deaths were reported.
By midday Saturday, Gustav was about 185 miles east of the western tip of Cuba and just 55 miles east-southeast of the Isla de Juventud. It was expected to be moving northwest near 14 mph.
Hurricane force winds extended out 60 miles in some places.
Haiti's Interior Ministry on Saturday raised the hurricane death toll there to 66 from 59. Gustav also killed eight people in the Dominican Republic and four in Jamaica.
Gustav could strike the U.S. Gulf coast anywhere from the Florida Panhandle to Texas, but forecasters said there was an increasing chance that New Orleans will get slammed by at least tropical-storm-force winds, three years after devastating Hurricane Katrina.
People began pouring out of the city along the highways and the government announced plans for broader evacuations. The Federal Emergency Management Agency said it expects a "huge number" of Gulf Coast residents will be told to leave the region this weekend.
As much as 80 percent of the Gulf of Mexico's oil and gas production could be shut down as a precaution if Gustav enters as a major storm, weather research firm Planalytics predicted. Oil companies have already evacuated hundreds of workers from offshore platforms.
Retail gas prices rose Friday for the first time in 43 days as analysts warned that a direct hit on Gulf energy infrastructure could send pump prices hurtling toward $5 a gallon. Crude oil prices ended slightly lower in a volatile session as some traders feared supply disruptions and others bet the U.S. government will release supplies from the Strategic Petroleum Reserve.
Meanwhile, the hurricane center said Tropical Storm Hanna was projected to near the Turks and Caicos Islands late Sunday or on Monday, then curl through the Bahamas by early next week before possibly threatening Cuba.
It had sustained winds near 50 mph Saturday and the hurricane center warned that it could kick up dangerous rip currents along parts of the southeastern U.S. coast.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/tropical_weather
I'm still going through the garden getting last minute things taken care of: watering the vegetables with all the rain water so that mosquitoes don't grow in any standing water, picking off all the green beans and planting new plants ("Contender" is harvestable within 55 days), relocating caterpillars to the back alley as we have a lot of wooly bear caterpillars now, that, if left unattended, will eat all the crops and grow into the Isabella Tiger Moth.
Meanwhile, Hurricane Gustav is growing into a Category 4 storm just off Cuba and is still heading toward New Orleans. It's our biggest storm yet this season. That means that the $3.64 gasoline will rise again and the people of NOLA will once again relive the nightmare of Katrina from three years ago.
***
Gustav swells to dangerous Cat 4 storm off Cuba
By WILL WEISSERT, Associated Press Writer 1 hour, 2 minutes ago
HAVANA - Gustav swelled into a fearsome Category 4 hurricane with winds of 145 mph on Saturday as Cuba raced to evacuate more than 240,000 people and Americans to the north clogged highways fleeing New Orleans.
Gustav already has killed 78 people in the Caribbean and the U.S. National Hurricane Center in Miami said it could strengthen even more after hitting Cuba and entering the warm Gulf of Mexico on a projected course for the Katrina-battered U.S. coast.
Cuba grounded all national airline fights, though planes bound for international destinations were still taking off at Havana's Jose Marti International Airport. Authorities also canceled all buses and trains to and from the capital, as well as ferry and air service to the Isla de Juventud, the outlying Cuban island-province next in Gustav's path.
Heavy winds had already felled mango and almond trees and were shaking the roofs of buildings in the province, said Ofilia Hernandez, who answered a community telephone near downtown Nueva Gerona, Isla de la Juventud's largest city.
"Everyone's at home. It's getting very ugly," she said. "All night last night there was wind, but not like now. Now it's very strong. Things are starting to fall down."
The government's AIN news agency said officials were evacuating some 190,000 people from low-lying parts of tobacco-rich Pinar del Rio province on the western tip of Cuba's main island. AIN reported that 50,000 already had been evacuated further east.
Stiff winds whipped intermittent rains across Havana, where police officers in blue and orange rain coats supervised workers removing stones, tree branches and other debris from the storied beachfront Malecon, as angry waves crashed against the sea wall below.
Some shuttered stores had hand-scrawled "closed for evacuation" signs plastered to their doors. At others, small lines formed as residents stocked up on bread. Cars waiting to fill up their tanks stretched into the street outside some gas stations.
"It's very big and we've got to get ready for what's coming," said Jesus Hernandez, a 60-year-old retiree who was using an electric drill to reinforce the roof of his rickety front porch.
The U.S. naval base at Guantanamo, Cuba, was hundreds of miles to the east, out of the storm's path.
Gustav rolled over the Cayman Islands Friday with fierce winds that tore down trees and power lines while destroying docks and tossing boats ashore on Little Cayman Island, but there was little major damage and no deaths were reported.
By midday Saturday, Gustav was about 185 miles east of the western tip of Cuba and just 55 miles east-southeast of the Isla de Juventud. It was expected to be moving northwest near 14 mph.
Hurricane force winds extended out 60 miles in some places.
Haiti's Interior Ministry on Saturday raised the hurricane death toll there to 66 from 59. Gustav also killed eight people in the Dominican Republic and four in Jamaica.
Gustav could strike the U.S. Gulf coast anywhere from the Florida Panhandle to Texas, but forecasters said there was an increasing chance that New Orleans will get slammed by at least tropical-storm-force winds, three years after devastating Hurricane Katrina.
People began pouring out of the city along the highways and the government announced plans for broader evacuations. The Federal Emergency Management Agency said it expects a "huge number" of Gulf Coast residents will be told to leave the region this weekend.
As much as 80 percent of the Gulf of Mexico's oil and gas production could be shut down as a precaution if Gustav enters as a major storm, weather research firm Planalytics predicted. Oil companies have already evacuated hundreds of workers from offshore platforms.
Retail gas prices rose Friday for the first time in 43 days as analysts warned that a direct hit on Gulf energy infrastructure could send pump prices hurtling toward $5 a gallon. Crude oil prices ended slightly lower in a volatile session as some traders feared supply disruptions and others bet the U.S. government will release supplies from the Strategic Petroleum Reserve.
Meanwhile, the hurricane center said Tropical Storm Hanna was projected to near the Turks and Caicos Islands late Sunday or on Monday, then curl through the Bahamas by early next week before possibly threatening Cuba.
It had sustained winds near 50 mph Saturday and the hurricane center warned that it could kick up dangerous rip currents along parts of the southeastern U.S. coast.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/tropical_weather
Friday, August 29, 2008
BONK!
After yet another morning of weeding the back yard, picking green beans, killing caterpillars (if I catch any on our edibles, they are doomed), sowing the last of the Bermuda grass and a late afternoon powerwalk with the dogs up Hunter Canyon for the entire 2.5-mile loop, I stopped at the local gas station to fill up Essie. He was half full but with Hurricane Gustav expected to hit New Orleans (some are saying the city will take a direct hit) either Monday or Tuesday and gas prices already going back up because of fears to off-shore platforms, I filled him up. At $3.64 it cost me nearly $38. I remember a few years ago when a full tank cost me $25...
I was not looking at the car door when I walked back to my driver's side and walked straight into the edge of the metal side door. It hit me smack between the eyes and my left cheek. It hurt, and I felt like an ass for not watching where I was walking. Did the two men who were standing near the convenience store witness the event? It bled immediately and my left check below my eye quickly swelled up.
Now I am sporting an inch-long cut in my frow and will most likely sport a bruise on my face as well. Just in time for the family reunion next week!
It rained on and off all day today. The yard is looking lush green and this will most likely be the last month the yard looks this good. There's more grass than weeds but I will leave the weeds for next year. My daily efforts have noticably cut back on the goatheads the dogs track in every day.
More storms came toward us sortly after midnight. More rain is expected to come this weekend. And there may be rain next week as well.
I kept the back patio door open to let in the fresh air. A large green grasshopper came in. No books I threw at it would kill it, but Vinnie eventually caught and ate it. You go, Gurl!
The weather forecast for our town looks wet for a while:
Tonight: Thunderstorms, some locally heavy early will become more isolated after midnight. Low 63F. Winds light and variable. Chance of rain 80%.
Tomorrow: Partly to mostly cloudy with a chance of thunderstorms. High around 80F. Winds E at 10 to 15 mph. Chance of rain 40%.
Tomorrow night: Variable clouds with thunderstorms, especially during the evening. Low near 65F. Winds ESE at 5 to 10 mph. Chance of rain 40%.
Saturday: Windy with scattered thunderstorms, especially in the afternoon. High 77F. Winds ESE at 15 to 25 mph. Chance of rain 40%.
Sunday: Windy with thunderstorms in the area. Highs in the upper 70s and lows in the low 60s.
Monday: A few thunderstorms possible. Highs in the low 80s and lows in the low 60s.
I was not looking at the car door when I walked back to my driver's side and walked straight into the edge of the metal side door. It hit me smack between the eyes and my left cheek. It hurt, and I felt like an ass for not watching where I was walking. Did the two men who were standing near the convenience store witness the event? It bled immediately and my left check below my eye quickly swelled up.
Now I am sporting an inch-long cut in my frow and will most likely sport a bruise on my face as well. Just in time for the family reunion next week!
It rained on and off all day today. The yard is looking lush green and this will most likely be the last month the yard looks this good. There's more grass than weeds but I will leave the weeds for next year. My daily efforts have noticably cut back on the goatheads the dogs track in every day.
More storms came toward us sortly after midnight. More rain is expected to come this weekend. And there may be rain next week as well.
I kept the back patio door open to let in the fresh air. A large green grasshopper came in. No books I threw at it would kill it, but Vinnie eventually caught and ate it. You go, Gurl!
The weather forecast for our town looks wet for a while:
Tonight: Thunderstorms, some locally heavy early will become more isolated after midnight. Low 63F. Winds light and variable. Chance of rain 80%.
Tomorrow: Partly to mostly cloudy with a chance of thunderstorms. High around 80F. Winds E at 10 to 15 mph. Chance of rain 40%.
Tomorrow night: Variable clouds with thunderstorms, especially during the evening. Low near 65F. Winds ESE at 5 to 10 mph. Chance of rain 40%.
Saturday: Windy with scattered thunderstorms, especially in the afternoon. High 77F. Winds ESE at 15 to 25 mph. Chance of rain 40%.
Sunday: Windy with thunderstorms in the area. Highs in the upper 70s and lows in the low 60s.
Monday: A few thunderstorms possible. Highs in the low 80s and lows in the low 60s.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Still waiting...
For my substitute teaching certificate to come in via email. I met with the TtT program manager for Arizona and he said "soon" although he told the audience that the certificates can turn around within a week. It's been two weeks since I mailed mine off. I can't start work without it.
So...since I was stuck on base again I had time to air up my tires. My front right tire was down to 25psi!!! The recommended pressure for the van is 36. The front left was down to 32.
With two plus hours to spare before my ed class, I had my oil changed as well. It was past the 7000 mile due change anyway and I was tired of seeing the "CHANGE OIL" sign come on every time I turned on the ignition. I hadn't had the oil changed since Laredo last February.
I went to Oil Can Henry's and was out of there within 30 minutes, but also $77 poorer since I opted for the oil cleaning additives and new air filter.
This is part of the vehicle prep for next week's Lake Powell get-together with the family. I'm picking my sister up from Phoenix-Sky Harbor at 10am Monday morning and together we all are driving up to Page for the night, then signing for the pontoon boat early the next morning. We will be sailing up Lake Powell for three days. I hope the weather is nice.
I'm a little nervous about the trip. All the siblings will be there as well and two partners. This is the first time my mother's had all her kids in one sitting in over 20 years. At least we can say it didn't take a funeral to get us all together.
I'll miss the Republican convention though. Bummer. I missed it in 2004 as well because we were moving from New Jersey to Arizona during that time and I could only get glimpses of it via NPR radio, and that was when we were near a town.
So...since I was stuck on base again I had time to air up my tires. My front right tire was down to 25psi!!! The recommended pressure for the van is 36. The front left was down to 32.
With two plus hours to spare before my ed class, I had my oil changed as well. It was past the 7000 mile due change anyway and I was tired of seeing the "CHANGE OIL" sign come on every time I turned on the ignition. I hadn't had the oil changed since Laredo last February.
I went to Oil Can Henry's and was out of there within 30 minutes, but also $77 poorer since I opted for the oil cleaning additives and new air filter.
This is part of the vehicle prep for next week's Lake Powell get-together with the family. I'm picking my sister up from Phoenix-Sky Harbor at 10am Monday morning and together we all are driving up to Page for the night, then signing for the pontoon boat early the next morning. We will be sailing up Lake Powell for three days. I hope the weather is nice.
I'm a little nervous about the trip. All the siblings will be there as well and two partners. This is the first time my mother's had all her kids in one sitting in over 20 years. At least we can say it didn't take a funeral to get us all together.
I'll miss the Republican convention though. Bummer. I missed it in 2004 as well because we were moving from New Jersey to Arizona during that time and I could only get glimpses of it via NPR radio, and that was when we were near a town.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Tropical storm Julio
A constant drizzle has fallen since yesterday afternoon, rain brought in from Tropical Storm Julio off Baja California. It was raining when I was driving home last night after class and the drizzle was constant all night long.
I enjoy this kind of rain, the gentle kind of rain that lingers for hours. The sky is still overcast. This doesn't feel like Arizona monsoonal rains.
Ironically, there is a wildfire in Draper, Utah (south of SLC) burning. Over 200 people had to be evacuated.
Yesterday I overheard one classmate say to another "The monsoon this year won't go away!" but I am not complaining. This saves me watering in the garden, and the grass I've put down gets a strong root base for the future. (There are still bald spots in the yard, but my summer-long work in the yard to de-weed the acre of punctureweed and thumbleweed has been a success.)
It's still raining now, slowing me down in my routine for Tuesday mornings: pull weeds and prune roses until the garbage gets picked up. Then take the dogs up Ash Canyon for an hour or so (we lasted 40 minutes; I turned around when I heard someone fire his shotgun up the trail)
After the walk I drove up to the Catholic cross just south of the canyon. There's a chapel and a statue of the virgin Mary. This statue welcomes the immigrants off the mountains and many illegals trekking across the border stop there for blessings. (A few have been found dead from dehydration or hyperthermia over the years). It was my first time up the mountain chapel, but I didn't stay long because the dogs were panting hard and Sadie kept barking at pedestrians.
I pulled more weeds from around the garden after the walk, mostly tumbleweed that is about a foot across and ready to bolt upward. My hands are cut up and dry now, but I made a big difference in the yard today. I don't know why I have an aversion to wearing gloves; they certainly would protect my hands.
I am enjoying these rains. The oleanders are still in their red or pink blooms. New growth on the photinias are up and the new shrubs are also growing.
But KVOA weather said this afternoon that these rains from Julio could be our last days of the monsoon. Hurricane Gustav is off the coast of Haiti and hopefully he will bring more rain later this week to our corner of Arizona...
I haven't seen the shrubs along the perimeter so lush and green since our first winter here, in 2005. That's when I thought the young tumbleweed seedlings were small pine trees coming up and I was excited to see green plants growing in the yard.
Aaah yes, desert transplants learn quickly!
I enjoy this kind of rain, the gentle kind of rain that lingers for hours. The sky is still overcast. This doesn't feel like Arizona monsoonal rains.
Ironically, there is a wildfire in Draper, Utah (south of SLC) burning. Over 200 people had to be evacuated.
Yesterday I overheard one classmate say to another "The monsoon this year won't go away!" but I am not complaining. This saves me watering in the garden, and the grass I've put down gets a strong root base for the future. (There are still bald spots in the yard, but my summer-long work in the yard to de-weed the acre of punctureweed and thumbleweed has been a success.)
It's still raining now, slowing me down in my routine for Tuesday mornings: pull weeds and prune roses until the garbage gets picked up. Then take the dogs up Ash Canyon for an hour or so (we lasted 40 minutes; I turned around when I heard someone fire his shotgun up the trail)
After the walk I drove up to the Catholic cross just south of the canyon. There's a chapel and a statue of the virgin Mary. This statue welcomes the immigrants off the mountains and many illegals trekking across the border stop there for blessings. (A few have been found dead from dehydration or hyperthermia over the years). It was my first time up the mountain chapel, but I didn't stay long because the dogs were panting hard and Sadie kept barking at pedestrians.
I pulled more weeds from around the garden after the walk, mostly tumbleweed that is about a foot across and ready to bolt upward. My hands are cut up and dry now, but I made a big difference in the yard today. I don't know why I have an aversion to wearing gloves; they certainly would protect my hands.
I am enjoying these rains. The oleanders are still in their red or pink blooms. New growth on the photinias are up and the new shrubs are also growing.
But KVOA weather said this afternoon that these rains from Julio could be our last days of the monsoon. Hurricane Gustav is off the coast of Haiti and hopefully he will bring more rain later this week to our corner of Arizona...
I haven't seen the shrubs along the perimeter so lush and green since our first winter here, in 2005. That's when I thought the young tumbleweed seedlings were small pine trees coming up and I was excited to see green plants growing in the yard.
Aaah yes, desert transplants learn quickly!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
On the Border
“How about going on another road trip like we did a few months ago?” asked Kevin after I got back with the dogs in Hunter Canyon on Saturday.
“Sure! I’d like to explore Lochiel again, that border town off FR 61.” Kevin concurred.
So after working in the garden and shearing weeds for an hour, then watching the usual political talk shows (the big talk this time, as expected, was the choice of Sen Joseph Biden as Sen. Barack Obama’s VP), we finally took off at 10:30am. We realized it was a little on the late side for a daytrip that ended up taking most of the day.
“I hope we don’t get rained on!” said Kevin as we drove south on Highway 92 into dark clouds lingering over the mountains. There certainly was that risk according to our weather forecast. For now the skies were partly cloudy with white clouds, with distant grey clouds west of the Huachucas.
We have done this drive before, to Patagonia and back via Forest Road 61, stopping at ruins or abandoned mines to hunt for pyrite or copper bits. It’s sparsely populated but the alluvial plains, riparian habitats and jettison mountains in all directions make this valley between the Patagonia and Huachuca mountains an underrated tourist haven. The drive offers head-turning sceneries at every hill and curve. I don’t mind that at all, though, because that gives me more room alone in these mountains that never get above 5000’.
Forest Road 61 starts off Highway 92 as the Coronado National Monument Road. It crests Montezuma Peak (6757’) and the FR begins as the dirt road descends the south side of the Huachuca Mountains. Mexico disappears into the south with the San Antonio Mountains, and lush green valleys below.
This is beautiful country, and I have to ask myself why I don’t explore this region more often.
It has been several years since we explored this stretch. Sadie sat in the front, but her restless spirit would not relent. She was either wanting to join the big dogs in the back bed, or she wanted to hug Dad in the front seat. She whimpered, whined, and barked with the big dogs when cows grazed too closely to the side of the road.
We stopped a few times to walk the dogs, finding unnumbered side trails on either side of the road.
As we approached the international border east of Lochiel we saw piles of rusty steel beams placed on railroad beams to keep the steel off the ground. These steel beams will some day be vehicular barriers along the fence in the near future. Popular with drug smugglers and coyotes, FR 61 will soon host part of the contentious border fence. New warning signs now warn drivers of illegal activities in this area.
The sky began to clear up as we approached Lochiel, once a town of 400 people in its mining hay days. Now just a few houses remain. It's mostly open ranches now. The border station was closed years ago when funds ran low, and the former building is now bordered up and fenced.
Lochil is now a small ranching community owned by a few families who have bought up the historical buildings in the old village square and fenced up the historical buildings: the old customs house and the custom's agent house next door, the chapel, the family cemetery, the post office. NO TRESPASSING signs were everywhere. Even the cemetery held a wooden sign warning trespassers “Private cemetery. This is not a tourist attraction!”
After we drove to the customs house Kevin parked the truck to let me walk with the dogs up the hill to the chapel and cemetery. Even the family cemetery now warned trespassers "This is a family cemtery, not a tourist attraction. KEEP OUT" The locals were serious about no tourists in town, apparently.
I could see the remaining homes of Lochiel from the cemetery gate in the valley below: small homes on large lots, shaded by cottonwoods. The white adobe chapel overlooked the town below the hilltop cemetery. I felt all alone here. No noises, no people, just Kevin at the bottom of the hill smoking his cigarette and waiting for me by his pick-up.
Sadie darted back to Dad when I walked up the hilltop. She's all Daddy's Little Girl. Mexico looked so inviting from this vantage point. The tall distant mountains of the San Antonios, a dark green meadow sprinkled with wild sunflowers and other yellow flowers, and a border fence that is still easily negotiated by passers-by. The lyrics to the Eagle's 1974 renegade song "On the Border" came to mind:
On the Border
Leave me be, I'm just walking the line
I'm out on the border
All I wanted was some peace of mind
Leave me be, I'm just walking the line
I'm out on the border
All I wanted was some peace of mind
I walked further up the road along the border to look south into the lush valley of northern Mexico. The mountain range drove my eyes far into the distance. A frontage road parallel to the border travels in either direction. We drove on it eastward for a mile, crossing a few washes where tire tracks were visible in the sand, and passing the 112 border marker before turning around at a steep, curvy and rutted section of the road. The terrain here was hilly and wooded.
We opted to continue north on FR 61 to Duquesne, passing back into west Lochiel where a group of people were lined up along a white picket fence to watch riders and cows give a show."They're training for the Sonoita rodeo next weekend" explained Kevin. We saw another group of riders in another meadow area further down.
Duquesne was even more deserted than Lochiel. Here no one lived. A few bordered up homes still remain, and much to my chagrin some property near the ruins has been staked out for new development. Why would someone want to destroy this pristine land with endless views of north Sonora?
“Drugdealers” answered Kevin.
Indeed some beautiful glass mansions stood isolated near several mountain tops. But I don't think I'd want to traverse the steep rutted roads to and from Nogales for shopping. Once the homes come up the paved roads will be next, then more convenience stores and the tranquil life of this valley will be gone for good. This part of Arizona deserves to remain isolated.A full-sized van driven by an elderly man slowed us down twice along this road. We passed him twice and saw him pass us while we were stopped at the old Harshaw townsite, now nothing more than a creek crossing, lush meadow and one lone adobe ruin.
“I hope he makes it to Patagonia before we get back in the truck” I said. He slowed down even more when he saw us.
A family cemetery dating back to the early part of the 20th century still remains across the street from the Harshaw Townsite lot, the last resort for local families of the Jimenex, Tapia, Sotos, Acevedos who lived here over 100 years ago. The iron-wrought crosses, fake flowers and cement frames of the graves were lined in colorful memorabilia of the deceased. Despite the old graves, the hillside lot is still maintained with care. The surviving family of Miguel Soto, a rancher and cowboy who died in Harshaw in 1912, now live in Tucson, according to a historical marker on Miguel's grave.
We were now very hungry and ready for a bite to eat in Patagonia. There are several restaurants there we've eaten at over the years, one is the Cowboy bar off Highway 82, the other now closed. That left us with the Velvet Elvis Pizza Company, also right off the highway. I once saw a short feature on that place in Arizona Highway, the TV travel series that used to air Saturday mornings at 5am.
"Oh, Pizza!" said Kevin as he negotiated the pickup off the road to park. The sky was overcast but there was no full shade for the dogs. We ordered our plain pizza and sat outside to be able to watch the truck from our vantage point.
We did not know that this restaurant was an all-organic food restaurant. Our pizza crust was whole wheat and not quite baked through. (It was very al-dente) but we didn't tell the waiter that when he came by to check on our food. We were too hungry and wanted to drive back via the Flux Canyon Road. We were now losing daylight by eating.
The pizza was OK. I like whole wheat crust but Kevin gave the pizza a "C." Service was fine and the inside decor not as gaudy as the title suggested. The interior had mostly South American art on the walls, so that the lone velvet Elvis on the wall seemed rather out of place and downright tacky. All the staff spoke Spanish. (I learned later that the owner is from Ecuador).
The dogs enjoyed the leftover pizza crust. We let them out to drink, pee and eat and then we continued our return drive. It was now after 5pm. We had about two hours of daylight. We would be coming home in the dark going back the way we came and driving 30mph.
Flux Canyon road is accessible just a few miles south of Patagonia to the highway's east. After a flat meadow start the narrow, primitive road quickly ascends steeply over jutting boulders and some rather hair-raising turns with steep drop-offs. By now storm clouds were moving in and a heavy rain quickly followed. This had potential of turning into a nightmare if we were stuck on a primitive road during a flood.
The road looked damp from a previous storm. I didn’t want to have to experience the sensation of tumbling down a primitive road, losing the dogs and our lives and laying there for days before someone discovered us. This is a region where we seldom see others. This is a place we must come back to and discover more backcountry roads. This mountain range is full of discovery.
The fresh rain left the blooming grasses coated in a silvery sheen. This was Canon Moments to the tenth power. Caterpillars of unknown variety were eating on grass blades and roadside shrubs in full force.
I recognized every stop on this road: the abandoned mines on either side, the abandoned Blue Eagle mine along Alum Gulch (now closed off as a Superfund Site) and the old mining equipment off the road. This is perfect camping country.
And once again, as we’ve done many times over the years, we promised each other we’d come back here for a weekend camp-out. We stopped briefly at both sites, found no pyrite, and drove on.
Once we hit Harshaw Road again we were back on familiar territory. We only stopped for pee breaks and to give the dogs a rest from the constant rumbling of the at-times poorly-grated road.
Sara and Sadie now were exhausted. Sadie slept behind Kevin in the cab, Sara rested her head in the back bed. Sammy, as usual, refused to sit or lay down out of fear he’d miss barking at a cow or rabbit. The cows were grazing along the road in big herds now.
Duquesne and Lochiel were now deserted of any activity as we drove through them again. Ravens (or were they black vultures?) huddled in tree canopies along washes. Lights began to come up along the border although Mexico looked dark The setting sun broke its light rays and poked through a storm cloud in two distinctive rays.
This was perfect smuggling country. Kevin brought out his .45 for added safety and scanned his left and right peripherals as he drove. I would not have driven this stretch alone.
“Sara will take care of the illegals” said Kevin, referring to her protective nature when strangers approach the vehicle. I have no doubt in her determination to protect us.
As we approached Montezuma’s Peak we saw the lights of nearby Naco, and further south the lights of another Mexican town. Cananea, perhaps? We had never noticed lights in Mexico before because we don’t drive this isolated Forest Road at night. It was so tempting to dream of walking south into Mexico and never turning back. This part of Sonora is breathtaking and I can only assume it’s more beautiful further south.
We were now on the homestretch as the clock neared 8pm.
Kevin went straight to bed as we got home. I got comfortable on the couch and watched the rest of the Beijing Olympics closing ceremonies.
“I hope he makes it to Patagonia before we get back in the truck” I said. He slowed down even more when he saw us.
A family cemetery dating back to the early part of the 20th century still remains across the street from the Harshaw Townsite lot, the last resort for local families of the Jimenex, Tapia, Sotos, Acevedos who lived here over 100 years ago. The iron-wrought crosses, fake flowers and cement frames of the graves were lined in colorful memorabilia of the deceased. Despite the old graves, the hillside lot is still maintained with care. The surviving family of Miguel Soto, a rancher and cowboy who died in Harshaw in 1912, now live in Tucson, according to a historical marker on Miguel's grave.
We were now very hungry and ready for a bite to eat in Patagonia. There are several restaurants there we've eaten at over the years, one is the Cowboy bar off Highway 82, the other now closed. That left us with the Velvet Elvis Pizza Company, also right off the highway. I once saw a short feature on that place in Arizona Highway, the TV travel series that used to air Saturday mornings at 5am.
"Oh, Pizza!" said Kevin as he negotiated the pickup off the road to park. The sky was overcast but there was no full shade for the dogs. We ordered our plain pizza and sat outside to be able to watch the truck from our vantage point.
We did not know that this restaurant was an all-organic food restaurant. Our pizza crust was whole wheat and not quite baked through. (It was very al-dente) but we didn't tell the waiter that when he came by to check on our food. We were too hungry and wanted to drive back via the Flux Canyon Road. We were now losing daylight by eating.
The pizza was OK. I like whole wheat crust but Kevin gave the pizza a "C." Service was fine and the inside decor not as gaudy as the title suggested. The interior had mostly South American art on the walls, so that the lone velvet Elvis on the wall seemed rather out of place and downright tacky. All the staff spoke Spanish. (I learned later that the owner is from Ecuador).
The dogs enjoyed the leftover pizza crust. We let them out to drink, pee and eat and then we continued our return drive. It was now after 5pm. We had about two hours of daylight. We would be coming home in the dark going back the way we came and driving 30mph.
Flux Canyon road is accessible just a few miles south of Patagonia to the highway's east. After a flat meadow start the narrow, primitive road quickly ascends steeply over jutting boulders and some rather hair-raising turns with steep drop-offs. By now storm clouds were moving in and a heavy rain quickly followed. This had potential of turning into a nightmare if we were stuck on a primitive road during a flood.
The road looked damp from a previous storm. I didn’t want to have to experience the sensation of tumbling down a primitive road, losing the dogs and our lives and laying there for days before someone discovered us. This is a region where we seldom see others. This is a place we must come back to and discover more backcountry roads. This mountain range is full of discovery.
The fresh rain left the blooming grasses coated in a silvery sheen. This was Canon Moments to the tenth power. Caterpillars of unknown variety were eating on grass blades and roadside shrubs in full force.
I recognized every stop on this road: the abandoned mines on either side, the abandoned Blue Eagle mine along Alum Gulch (now closed off as a Superfund Site) and the old mining equipment off the road. This is perfect camping country.
And once again, as we’ve done many times over the years, we promised each other we’d come back here for a weekend camp-out. We stopped briefly at both sites, found no pyrite, and drove on.
Once we hit Harshaw Road again we were back on familiar territory. We only stopped for pee breaks and to give the dogs a rest from the constant rumbling of the at-times poorly-grated road.
Sara and Sadie now were exhausted. Sadie slept behind Kevin in the cab, Sara rested her head in the back bed. Sammy, as usual, refused to sit or lay down out of fear he’d miss barking at a cow or rabbit. The cows were grazing along the road in big herds now.
Duquesne and Lochiel were now deserted of any activity as we drove through them again. Ravens (or were they black vultures?) huddled in tree canopies along washes. Lights began to come up along the border although Mexico looked dark The setting sun broke its light rays and poked through a storm cloud in two distinctive rays.
This was perfect smuggling country. Kevin brought out his .45 for added safety and scanned his left and right peripherals as he drove. I would not have driven this stretch alone.
“Sara will take care of the illegals” said Kevin, referring to her protective nature when strangers approach the vehicle. I have no doubt in her determination to protect us.
As we approached Montezuma’s Peak we saw the lights of nearby Naco, and further south the lights of another Mexican town. Cananea, perhaps? We had never noticed lights in Mexico before because we don’t drive this isolated Forest Road at night. It was so tempting to dream of walking south into Mexico and never turning back. This part of Sonora is breathtaking and I can only assume it’s more beautiful further south.
We were now on the homestretch as the clock neared 8pm.
Kevin went straight to bed as we got home. I got comfortable on the couch and watched the rest of the Beijing Olympics closing ceremonies.
Hunter Canyon on a Saturday afternoon
Yesterday afternoon (Saturday), after another morning of tedious garden work that never seemed to end, I had the urge to take the dogs up Ash Canyon for an hour or so to walk around and explore. The wash in the canyon is well-known among rock hounds and prospectors for gold flakes. I have never been there with the dogs.
We never made it to Ash Canyon, though. As soon as I got into Essie to drive the five miles to the trailhead, it began to rain. And hard. And then the wind blew in that wouldn’t relent. There was no way I was going to walk around in the rain, so I pulled into the Hunter Canyon trailhead to let the dogs out there and hope for the rain to end.
A black sweatshirt and backpack were hung over the barbed-wire fence along the forest boundary fence, left behind by an immigrant who managed to hike across the border and get picked up in Hunter Canyon. In the grey clouds of the afternoon, I was a little worried of meeting a group of illegals coming down from the mountain.
I had to park Essie after half a mile because the rain was too intense and the dry-rotted windshield wipers were screeching at high decibels. The dogs stayed near and around the SUV and at times Sadie would put her front paws on Essie’s hood and look at me as if she wanted in.
After 20 minutes the storm stopped and we finished our loop around Hunter Canyon. This was my first time driving the loop around Hunter Canyon in a few months. The dogs stayed outside the entire time and I didn’t let them back into the vehicle until we were back at the trailhead.
Although the dogs brought in sand and dirt and smelled up the van with wet dog smell, I was glad to make the loop with the dogs. The grass was green and most of the emory oaks were looking lush and healthy. For now, at least, we skirted another summer of potentially deadly wildfires in the foothills.
We never made it to Ash Canyon, though. As soon as I got into Essie to drive the five miles to the trailhead, it began to rain. And hard. And then the wind blew in that wouldn’t relent. There was no way I was going to walk around in the rain, so I pulled into the Hunter Canyon trailhead to let the dogs out there and hope for the rain to end.
A black sweatshirt and backpack were hung over the barbed-wire fence along the forest boundary fence, left behind by an immigrant who managed to hike across the border and get picked up in Hunter Canyon. In the grey clouds of the afternoon, I was a little worried of meeting a group of illegals coming down from the mountain.
I had to park Essie after half a mile because the rain was too intense and the dry-rotted windshield wipers were screeching at high decibels. The dogs stayed near and around the SUV and at times Sadie would put her front paws on Essie’s hood and look at me as if she wanted in.
After 20 minutes the storm stopped and we finished our loop around Hunter Canyon. This was my first time driving the loop around Hunter Canyon in a few months. The dogs stayed outside the entire time and I didn’t let them back into the vehicle until we were back at the trailhead.
Although the dogs brought in sand and dirt and smelled up the van with wet dog smell, I was glad to make the loop with the dogs. The grass was green and most of the emory oaks were looking lush and healthy. For now, at least, we skirted another summer of potentially deadly wildfires in the foothills.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
My second class
After a morning of gardening--a task that never seems to end--I went to the college and sat in a course that I had to audit first through the instructor, Teaching Methods for English as a Second Language Learner. It's a required course now for all Arizona Teachers.
It was intimidating sitting in that class. Besides a counselor, a principal, a sub teacher and a sign language for special ed, I am the only non-teacher at this time. But the instructor, Beth Colburn, and a fellow middle-school teacher, Margarite, made me feel at home and we were the last three to talk after class.
I am the only one in class with any real-life second-language acquisition, and those painful memories from my childhood in Berlin's Carsten Grunschule are coming back to me.
It's going to be an exciting course. Beth promised me I won't be left out. Margarite told me the same. Margarite even cried a bit when she remembered her brother who was killed in Vietnam. Watching her made Beth's and mine eyes teary as well. No doubt both are very passionate about teaching. They will keep me in high spirits.
This gives me six credits for the semester. Tomorrow morning I have to go back to campus and add the two courses. It's more than enough for me now. At this point I am glad I am not working full-time.
It was intimidating sitting in that class. Besides a counselor, a principal, a sub teacher and a sign language for special ed, I am the only non-teacher at this time. But the instructor, Beth Colburn, and a fellow middle-school teacher, Margarite, made me feel at home and we were the last three to talk after class.
I am the only one in class with any real-life second-language acquisition, and those painful memories from my childhood in Berlin's Carsten Grunschule are coming back to me.
It's going to be an exciting course. Beth promised me I won't be left out. Margarite told me the same. Margarite even cried a bit when she remembered her brother who was killed in Vietnam. Watching her made Beth's and mine eyes teary as well. No doubt both are very passionate about teaching. They will keep me in high spirits.
This gives me six credits for the semester. Tomorrow morning I have to go back to campus and add the two courses. It's more than enough for me now. At this point I am glad I am not working full-time.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Hunter Canyon
We took all three dogs up Hunter Canyon an hour before sunset. That is still my favorite little hideout. The two older dogs knew the routine, but Sadie was excited.
The dogs jumped out of the truck at the trailhead. Kevin drove the pick-up up the forest road while I powerwalked up the trail to catch up to him at Kelly Springs .7 miles up the road. The dogs ran after the truck while Sadie kept stopping to look back at me. She finally caught up to the big dogs at Kelly Springs Then I jogged the mile back and the dogs joined me. They all got a good work-out.
I know the dogs should be on leashes at all times, but watching them get some energy out of their system and seeing them run free to me is still preferred. These dogs need to run hard and they can't burn off their energy efficient enough on a leash. When no one is around, I'd rather they be able to be dogs and run free. Yet I am always looking for other hikers or hunters in these forests.
All the trees that were dying of drought this past spring have sprung back to life. The old yellow leaves are now lush green across the forest. We escaped the fires for another year, whew.
The dogs jumped out of the truck at the trailhead. Kevin drove the pick-up up the forest road while I powerwalked up the trail to catch up to him at Kelly Springs .7 miles up the road. The dogs ran after the truck while Sadie kept stopping to look back at me. She finally caught up to the big dogs at Kelly Springs Then I jogged the mile back and the dogs joined me. They all got a good work-out.
I know the dogs should be on leashes at all times, but watching them get some energy out of their system and seeing them run free to me is still preferred. These dogs need to run hard and they can't burn off their energy efficient enough on a leash. When no one is around, I'd rather they be able to be dogs and run free. Yet I am always looking for other hikers or hunters in these forests.
All the trees that were dying of drought this past spring have sprung back to life. The old yellow leaves are now lush green across the forest. We escaped the fires for another year, whew.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Back to School
Tonight was my first college course in 15 years: the Arizona Constitution. It's taught by an ex-New Jersey man, Bob Atkinson from Jersey City. Hiis accent is still very pronounced. "I've been trying to get rid of it for the last 30 years!" he said.
He is a dynamo instructor and now I am going to see if I can change from the AZ Constitution to the US Constitution, embedded course in the same, making this six-week course twice as long. I will learn a lot from his course.
There are 13 students in this course, one of them is a man. Some of us are older, but most aren't much older than Erin.
I'm excited about being back in school..
He is a dynamo instructor and now I am going to see if I can change from the AZ Constitution to the US Constitution, embedded course in the same, making this six-week course twice as long. I will learn a lot from his course.
There are 13 students in this course, one of them is a man. Some of us are older, but most aren't much older than Erin.
I'm excited about being back in school..
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Missing Idaho
It’s been a few busy days for me and an active week overall
The monthly hiking club meeting was last Tuesday night. I came to the meeting 45 minutes late so that I didn’t have to watch another person’s vacation slides from Hawaii last April. I’m just not a tropical person; my time in Haiti cured me of that, but some of the landscape photos were well done and of course the flora is out-of-this-world.
“You need to lead a few hikes!” said Brenda to me toward the end of the meeting, and I agree, but I just haven’t been able to get myself into the mountains this year. The garden has been my priority all summer long and I’m still not done. I hope to lead hikes starting in September, when a few fall hikes in the nearby sky islands would be ideal.
The long-awaited car camp to Idaho which the club had been talking about for a few months is now going to be from 19 August through 2 September. Hearing that was a little heart-breaking, as I so wanted to see Idaho finally, but it cuts into my college courses and the Lake Mead trip. I had no choice but to back out. Only four people are going: Brenda, Gordon, Steve and Paul.
Maybe next year I can finally see Big Sky country when I drive up to Montana, Idaho and northern Utah. I want to see the sites that Lewis and Clark wrote about in their journals.
After a heavy rain Wednesday night and soft ground to work with, I spent the last three mornings pulling weeds from the back yard by hand. Wednesday my back was so sore from the constant bending that I asked for some of K‘s Tylenol, which did the trick.
Pulling weeds for me is like eating tortilla chips: you just can’t pull one. You’re knee high to the ground looking at that prostate crabgrass and notice other weeds in the immediate area, and then more weeds. The more you pull, the more you see and you don’t want to stop while ahead. I have to force myself to stop and take breaks. And that’s when I notice the aching back, the cut-up hands, the dirt-stained knees of my jeans.
The monsoon has been good the last few days, hitting Tucson harder than here but probably because there are more paved roads there that flood over. The city got three inches Wednesday night, we got half that. The garden is in full bloom, and the oleanders are all in red and pink display. If it weren’t for all the pests now feasting on the garden, I’d say the garden looks very healthy.
But I am tired of gardening, burned out from working it practically every day since March. The corn is becoming infested wth mold and other beetles, the beans seem to have some sort of rust on them, and I find new pests in the garden every day. I feel like I am losing the battle! We had a big infestation of the tomato hornworm this summer. The garden is also full of leafhoppers, chiggers, armyworms and Mexican bean beetles. The red salvias in the front yard have spittlebugs.
I belive in organic gardening. It's safer and cheaper but it's more time-consuming. Sometimes the work to maintain a well-balanced garden is overwhelming, and the many pests remind me that I'm still not quite the master in the garden that I'd like to be.
The change of pace from constantly being on the road was relaxing and much appreciated this summer, but now I am ready to travel again. I was home locked this summer, perhaps the first time in years. I will resume my road travels be next summer. Now I have my school to concentrate on as I start my teaching certification process.
Getting myself registered for school was on my mind all week, as classes start Monday. The garden outside kept holding me back; I’d go outside as soon as Kevin left for work just to see what sort of weed flowers I needed to pull, and before I knew it, several hours had passed.
Watching the Olympic games was another distraction all week. Watching athletes try their hardest to win “the gold” and seeing their faces beam with pride when their national anthem plays for the world, is quite a tear-jerking sight. The Chinese sofar have done a great job, despite several allegations of cover-ups and denials. But I’ll leave those for after the Olympic torch is extinguished.
Driving into town was a daily event this week. I miss human interaction so when I got to speak to others, I reveled in the opportunity. On Thurday I stopped by both the Republican and Democratic headquarters to pick up campaign materials for both Kevin and me. Kevin said he is voting for McCain and I got him McCain materials. I am voting for Obama so I stopped at the Democratic headquarters. Both headquarters were open and staffed and accepting voter registration. I wanted to see if any Obama material was available.
I grabbed two bumper stickers and ended up talking to two volunteers. One, Meg, was very enthusiastic about supporting the Democratic candidates for positions, giving me a rundown of who was running for my district (25). I had no clue until Meg pointed that out to me.
One thing about the Democrats that makes me uneasy is its stance on illegal immigration. The Democrats seem to want uncontrolled immigration and hand-outs for all.
“Not at all!” answered Meg. “We just put a humane stance on this, as these are human beings we are talking about” I can’t argue that, and would not want to see human being abused in any way. But open hand-outs are draining our tax dollars.
“Not at all” continued Meg. “There is a $12 billion underground economy that is in our favor” she went on, “they pay taxes like the rest of us but don’t declare them. That money then goes to the state because the illegal immigrants are afraid to declare them.” She defended her stance quite well, and I admired her enthusiasm for the political process. We shook hands before I left. I hope to see her again.
I feel like I have 23 years to catch up with, 23 years in which I could have gained valuable experience as a teacher. I am overcompensating for my lack of experience with vigor and enthusiasm; I hope I don’t get shot down again in the classroom.
Yesterday I registered for my first college course in years: Arizona Constitution. It’s a required course for teachers. The admissions process and registration took me just little over an hour, and I was granted in-state tuition. I didn’t have to prove anything else but my driver’s license, although I had my vehicle registration with me just in case. (Where is my voter registration card?!?!)
My Ford Escape cost me $264 to register for the next 18 months. That’s $253 MORE than what it cost me when I was active duty! But the added costs are worth it. I seldom go on post anymore, and mostly to visit the garden shop or to see what the PX has on sale, which most often is very little and the tax savings are only worth it if the purchase is high, as the gasoline to travel the added ten miles adds up over time. The lowest price in town for regular unleaded is $3.75, dropping another two cents in the last two days. It hasn’t been that low since early June.
The track and field events at the Beijing Olympics are now in their second week. Michael Phelps, the faved US swimmer, evened the Olympic record set by Mark Spitz in 1972 (the first year I took note of the Olympics, when I was in Berlin) Mark Spitz was on NBC Sports to talk about his record being broken. Now grey-haired and sans moustache, he still looks great for his age. How old is he anyway? I remember he was a graduate student in dental school when he was an Olympian. He was one of my first crushes as a young girl, but now, 36 years later, there is no longer any evidence of Spitz’ once heart-breaking good looks.
Watching the events on TV, from gymnastics to swimming and now to my track events, I feel how old I have gotten. I am no longer th active woman from just a few years ago. My back is constantly in pain. I haven’t jogged since the Bataan Marathon. I don’t miss the running because running means sore and burning knees. My knees no longer ache. I still weigh the same since leaving the army and I watch what I eat. The dogs and our power walks around the neighborhood keep me in somewhat aerobic shape, but I no longer wake up wondering if I should jog the four miles around the foothills or not. Now I wake up and wonder if I should pull weeds or not.
What will my future hold? I hope to be employed very soon but now classes will keep me busy. Erin is in dental hygiene school too now and hopefully she will be certified next spring. I am so relieved that she is finally working on her future. Now I have to focus on Eric, who at 19 seems to enjoy just lingering at home and living off the welfare of his dad. At least I don’t have to worry about him being homeless. With his natural smarts it’s a shame, though that he’s not applying himself in any way.
The monthly hiking club meeting was last Tuesday night. I came to the meeting 45 minutes late so that I didn’t have to watch another person’s vacation slides from Hawaii last April. I’m just not a tropical person; my time in Haiti cured me of that, but some of the landscape photos were well done and of course the flora is out-of-this-world.
“You need to lead a few hikes!” said Brenda to me toward the end of the meeting, and I agree, but I just haven’t been able to get myself into the mountains this year. The garden has been my priority all summer long and I’m still not done. I hope to lead hikes starting in September, when a few fall hikes in the nearby sky islands would be ideal.
The long-awaited car camp to Idaho which the club had been talking about for a few months is now going to be from 19 August through 2 September. Hearing that was a little heart-breaking, as I so wanted to see Idaho finally, but it cuts into my college courses and the Lake Mead trip. I had no choice but to back out. Only four people are going: Brenda, Gordon, Steve and Paul.
Maybe next year I can finally see Big Sky country when I drive up to Montana, Idaho and northern Utah. I want to see the sites that Lewis and Clark wrote about in their journals.
After a heavy rain Wednesday night and soft ground to work with, I spent the last three mornings pulling weeds from the back yard by hand. Wednesday my back was so sore from the constant bending that I asked for some of K‘s Tylenol, which did the trick.
Pulling weeds for me is like eating tortilla chips: you just can’t pull one. You’re knee high to the ground looking at that prostate crabgrass and notice other weeds in the immediate area, and then more weeds. The more you pull, the more you see and you don’t want to stop while ahead. I have to force myself to stop and take breaks. And that’s when I notice the aching back, the cut-up hands, the dirt-stained knees of my jeans.
The monsoon has been good the last few days, hitting Tucson harder than here but probably because there are more paved roads there that flood over. The city got three inches Wednesday night, we got half that. The garden is in full bloom, and the oleanders are all in red and pink display. If it weren’t for all the pests now feasting on the garden, I’d say the garden looks very healthy.
But I am tired of gardening, burned out from working it practically every day since March. The corn is becoming infested wth mold and other beetles, the beans seem to have some sort of rust on them, and I find new pests in the garden every day. I feel like I am losing the battle! We had a big infestation of the tomato hornworm this summer. The garden is also full of leafhoppers, chiggers, armyworms and Mexican bean beetles. The red salvias in the front yard have spittlebugs.
I belive in organic gardening. It's safer and cheaper but it's more time-consuming. Sometimes the work to maintain a well-balanced garden is overwhelming, and the many pests remind me that I'm still not quite the master in the garden that I'd like to be.
The change of pace from constantly being on the road was relaxing and much appreciated this summer, but now I am ready to travel again. I was home locked this summer, perhaps the first time in years. I will resume my road travels be next summer. Now I have my school to concentrate on as I start my teaching certification process.
Getting myself registered for school was on my mind all week, as classes start Monday. The garden outside kept holding me back; I’d go outside as soon as Kevin left for work just to see what sort of weed flowers I needed to pull, and before I knew it, several hours had passed.
Watching the Olympic games was another distraction all week. Watching athletes try their hardest to win “the gold” and seeing their faces beam with pride when their national anthem plays for the world, is quite a tear-jerking sight. The Chinese sofar have done a great job, despite several allegations of cover-ups and denials. But I’ll leave those for after the Olympic torch is extinguished.
Driving into town was a daily event this week. I miss human interaction so when I got to speak to others, I reveled in the opportunity. On Thurday I stopped by both the Republican and Democratic headquarters to pick up campaign materials for both Kevin and me. Kevin said he is voting for McCain and I got him McCain materials. I am voting for Obama so I stopped at the Democratic headquarters. Both headquarters were open and staffed and accepting voter registration. I wanted to see if any Obama material was available.
I grabbed two bumper stickers and ended up talking to two volunteers. One, Meg, was very enthusiastic about supporting the Democratic candidates for positions, giving me a rundown of who was running for my district (25). I had no clue until Meg pointed that out to me.
One thing about the Democrats that makes me uneasy is its stance on illegal immigration. The Democrats seem to want uncontrolled immigration and hand-outs for all.
“Not at all!” answered Meg. “We just put a humane stance on this, as these are human beings we are talking about” I can’t argue that, and would not want to see human being abused in any way. But open hand-outs are draining our tax dollars.
“Not at all” continued Meg. “There is a $12 billion underground economy that is in our favor” she went on, “they pay taxes like the rest of us but don’t declare them. That money then goes to the state because the illegal immigrants are afraid to declare them.” She defended her stance quite well, and I admired her enthusiasm for the political process. We shook hands before I left. I hope to see her again.
I feel like I have 23 years to catch up with, 23 years in which I could have gained valuable experience as a teacher. I am overcompensating for my lack of experience with vigor and enthusiasm; I hope I don’t get shot down again in the classroom.
Yesterday I registered for my first college course in years: Arizona Constitution. It’s a required course for teachers. The admissions process and registration took me just little over an hour, and I was granted in-state tuition. I didn’t have to prove anything else but my driver’s license, although I had my vehicle registration with me just in case. (Where is my voter registration card?!?!)
My Ford Escape cost me $264 to register for the next 18 months. That’s $253 MORE than what it cost me when I was active duty! But the added costs are worth it. I seldom go on post anymore, and mostly to visit the garden shop or to see what the PX has on sale, which most often is very little and the tax savings are only worth it if the purchase is high, as the gasoline to travel the added ten miles adds up over time. The lowest price in town for regular unleaded is $3.75, dropping another two cents in the last two days. It hasn’t been that low since early June.
The track and field events at the Beijing Olympics are now in their second week. Michael Phelps, the faved US swimmer, evened the Olympic record set by Mark Spitz in 1972 (the first year I took note of the Olympics, when I was in Berlin) Mark Spitz was on NBC Sports to talk about his record being broken. Now grey-haired and sans moustache, he still looks great for his age. How old is he anyway? I remember he was a graduate student in dental school when he was an Olympian. He was one of my first crushes as a young girl, but now, 36 years later, there is no longer any evidence of Spitz’ once heart-breaking good looks.
Watching the events on TV, from gymnastics to swimming and now to my track events, I feel how old I have gotten. I am no longer th active woman from just a few years ago. My back is constantly in pain. I haven’t jogged since the Bataan Marathon. I don’t miss the running because running means sore and burning knees. My knees no longer ache. I still weigh the same since leaving the army and I watch what I eat. The dogs and our power walks around the neighborhood keep me in somewhat aerobic shape, but I no longer wake up wondering if I should jog the four miles around the foothills or not. Now I wake up and wonder if I should pull weeds or not.
What will my future hold? I hope to be employed very soon but now classes will keep me busy. Erin is in dental hygiene school too now and hopefully she will be certified next spring. I am so relieved that she is finally working on her future. Now I have to focus on Eric, who at 19 seems to enjoy just lingering at home and living off the welfare of his dad. At least I don’t have to worry about him being homeless. With his natural smarts it’s a shame, though that he’s not applying himself in any way.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Another slow weekend
With the Beijing Olympics in full swing and reports that we would get rained out again, we stayed at home. I weeded the yards which are growing fast with various weeds; some patches in the back yard are back-to-back infested with Russian thistle. On Sunday Kevin never left the couch and atched the games all day long from a horizontal position while I walked the dogs for three miles along the frontage road. Sadie is turning into a super dog and obeying commands.
Today I volunteered at the extension office again. I had planned to work 10am-2pm but ended up working from 11am to 4:20pm, overwhelmed with phone calls and email. It's the season of the Sphinx moth popping up everywhere. (We pulled 12 hornworms from our own garden this weekend, from our tomatoes and pepper plants)
I never did finish all the questions and will go back there for tomorrow morning for a few hours. I hate leaving clients waiting. Joyce, the extension administrator, said I am one of two dedicated volunteers this summer. Donna, the other Master Gardener, works on Wednesdays.
So, from crown gall on Chinaberry trees, to stunted clustered new growth on sage, rosemary and ash trees, dying grape vines, more Sphinx moths and chiggers in the back yard, this summer has proven to be busy for MGs.
Still, Jim still reminds me that I still have a life elsewhere. I can't allow myself to get burned out. I will do this volunteering for as long as I can because I do elarning about the gardening here, helping others and trying new things.
Tomorrow is the highlight of the Perseid meteor showers, starting after 1:45am (moonset) to dawn tomorrow. The sky is partly cloudy riight now, but I hope to catch a few meteors early in the moring while sipping my coffee.
Russia and Georgian forces are fighting each other in Georgia since Friday. The big talk is that the fighting could escallate. Lucky for me I don't have to worry about getting sent anywhere to fight someone else's war.
Today I volunteered at the extension office again. I had planned to work 10am-2pm but ended up working from 11am to 4:20pm, overwhelmed with phone calls and email. It's the season of the Sphinx moth popping up everywhere. (We pulled 12 hornworms from our own garden this weekend, from our tomatoes and pepper plants)
I never did finish all the questions and will go back there for tomorrow morning for a few hours. I hate leaving clients waiting. Joyce, the extension administrator, said I am one of two dedicated volunteers this summer. Donna, the other Master Gardener, works on Wednesdays.
So, from crown gall on Chinaberry trees, to stunted clustered new growth on sage, rosemary and ash trees, dying grape vines, more Sphinx moths and chiggers in the back yard, this summer has proven to be busy for MGs.
Still, Jim still reminds me that I still have a life elsewhere. I can't allow myself to get burned out. I will do this volunteering for as long as I can because I do elarning about the gardening here, helping others and trying new things.
Tomorrow is the highlight of the Perseid meteor showers, starting after 1:45am (moonset) to dawn tomorrow. The sky is partly cloudy riight now, but I hope to catch a few meteors early in the moring while sipping my coffee.
Russia and Georgian forces are fighting each other in Georgia since Friday. The big talk is that the fighting could escallate. Lucky for me I don't have to worry about getting sent anywhere to fight someone else's war.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Southwest Birding and Nature Festival
I am so glad I signed up for this three-day event held in town. For $15 I am attending lectures and slide shows by local/regional scientists, photographers and naturalists on the flora and fauna of this county.
And what a biologically diverse county we live in. From a hummingbird region to desert wildlife and skyislands with gorgeous hiking trails, Cochise County has it all and everyone who lectured has been passionate about birding, reptiles, butterflies, dragonflies and damselflies, native gardens, conservation, raptors, bats and local history. I haven't been bored yet during any of the lectures and during breaks get to talk to some of the locals in attendance.
http://www.swwings.org/
And what a biologically diverse county we live in. From a hummingbird region to desert wildlife and skyislands with gorgeous hiking trails, Cochise County has it all and everyone who lectured has been passionate about birding, reptiles, butterflies, dragonflies and damselflies, native gardens, conservation, raptors, bats and local history. I haven't been bored yet during any of the lectures and during breaks get to talk to some of the locals in attendance.
http://www.swwings.org/
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Hiking the Lower Miller Creek Trail
We finally went on a hike again, the first one since leaving the White Mountains almost two months ago. I hadn't been on this trail since coming back from Texas and momentarily forgot how to get there!
We took all three dogs on leashes up the trail, which meanders along Miller Creek. I had forgotten how beautiful that trail is. The dogs had fun; they drank when they wanted to from the creek. This was Sadie's longest hike to date: three miles.
At one point we had to stop near some horses crossing the creek and took a bypass to avoid scaring one of the horses that looked apprehensive of the dogs. The owner had to calm it down by petting it and speaking calmly to it.
The hike took us 1:20 hours. Sadie pulled the entire time as Kevin held her back. (I had the two big dogs)
We were back by 1pm and I resumed my gardening, laying more Bermuda grass down in anticipation of today's storms. It took seven more hours before the downpour, but then it lasted two hours. We hadn't had rain all week so this was nice. The wilting beans and squash should come back to life.
It was an otherwise quiet weekend. I neither went hiking with Brenda in Tucson, nor joined the Garden Club for their picnic yesterday. I just didn't feel like driving anywhere, even though the price of gasoline is dropping and $20 less now than it was at its peak two months ago. ($3.86 in town).
We gardened lightly all weekend. Yesterday we went to WalMart and Target to get a few more garden and pet supplies. K suggested we stop at El Paso Steakhouse and we had a surprisingly good meal there: I had two Blue Moon Wheat Beers (with orange slices), some brisket and potato skins we shared. The bill came to $24 with tip. We hadn't had such an affordable and tasty meal in months. El Paso is now our new hang-out. Even though "Colonel" Bill was not there, several other senior patrons who once hanged out at Applebee's are now hanging out at EP.
Sadie's "pre school" is coming along fine, too. She pays intense attention to Kevin and learns fast, although food is her primary lure that she still fights with the other dogs over. She now parks at other dogs and wants to be a tough little German Shepherd. She's going to be one beautiful dog.
We took all three dogs on leashes up the trail, which meanders along Miller Creek. I had forgotten how beautiful that trail is. The dogs had fun; they drank when they wanted to from the creek. This was Sadie's longest hike to date: three miles.
At one point we had to stop near some horses crossing the creek and took a bypass to avoid scaring one of the horses that looked apprehensive of the dogs. The owner had to calm it down by petting it and speaking calmly to it.
The hike took us 1:20 hours. Sadie pulled the entire time as Kevin held her back. (I had the two big dogs)
We were back by 1pm and I resumed my gardening, laying more Bermuda grass down in anticipation of today's storms. It took seven more hours before the downpour, but then it lasted two hours. We hadn't had rain all week so this was nice. The wilting beans and squash should come back to life.
It was an otherwise quiet weekend. I neither went hiking with Brenda in Tucson, nor joined the Garden Club for their picnic yesterday. I just didn't feel like driving anywhere, even though the price of gasoline is dropping and $20 less now than it was at its peak two months ago. ($3.86 in town).
We gardened lightly all weekend. Yesterday we went to WalMart and Target to get a few more garden and pet supplies. K suggested we stop at El Paso Steakhouse and we had a surprisingly good meal there: I had two Blue Moon Wheat Beers (with orange slices), some brisket and potato skins we shared. The bill came to $24 with tip. We hadn't had such an affordable and tasty meal in months. El Paso is now our new hang-out. Even though "Colonel" Bill was not there, several other senior patrons who once hanged out at Applebee's are now hanging out at EP.
Sadie's "pre school" is coming along fine, too. She pays intense attention to Kevin and learns fast, although food is her primary lure that she still fights with the other dogs over. She now parks at other dogs and wants to be a tough little German Shepherd. She's going to be one beautiful dog.
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