tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39016472011-04-21T11:40:35.379-07:00october desertemdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comBlogger161100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-848454242002-11-20T17:44:00.000-08:002002-11-20T18:39:55.000-08:00
arizona was in the middle of a drought. lance, our pink jeep guide, mentioned that sedona had only gotten half of its typical eight-inch yearly rainfall. ours was the last tour of the day and we all felt the chill set in on the way back to civilization. who knew though that the chill would turn to sub-freezing temperatures, wind, rain, hail, and snow.
we got it all at the south rim of emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-848405952002-11-20T15:54:00.001-08:002002-11-20T18:31:34.000-08:00
how did sedona get developed? that should be a question on everyone's mind. we overheard a guide say, if discovered today sedona would be treated more like yosemite: a haven for campers and travellers with few houses or businesses. instead, sedona is like a natural disneyland. disney lived there in fact, as did lucille ball and many other celebrities and financially fortunate souls.
it is emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-848405752002-11-20T15:54:00.000-08:002002-11-20T18:30:31.000-08:00
hundreds of years ago hundreds of people lived at montezuma's castle. five stories. the sinagua lived here for centuries and then unexplicably disappeared. no one knows why. no one knows where they went to. and now the site is overrun by wild, savage third-graders. bring pockets full of candy to fend them off if needed.
emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-848405032002-11-20T15:53:00.000-08:002002-11-20T22:28:21.000-08:00
Part two of the mother and daughter desert sojourn. Part one found us in southeastern Arizona visiting the Figueroa Clan, traveling historical highways and viewing desert blooms. For part two we headed west and then north, from a new urban city to an ancient cliff dwelling, motoring up and over red rocks and peering down the steepest of the canyons.
arcosanti sits alone in the middle of a emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837552682002-10-29T21:15:00.000-08:002002-10-31T23:54:20.000-08:00
High in the Superstition mountains Boyce Thompson nurtures palm trees and delicate herbs. Australian outback and tropical trees. But the best are the cacti. All kinds of cacti. And succulents. And chapparel. And trees. Saguaros and Palo Verde seem to dominate and the cholla are mysteriously allowed to grow right up along the trails. This still surprises me, with all of the cholla scare tactics emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837550112002-10-29T21:07:00.000-08:002002-10-31T22:27:12.000-08:00
At Robert's there were five Border Collie puppies, eyes not even open, but already with names. Teeny, the largest of the bunch and the first born is my cousin Solomon's favorite. He's hoping to keep her. Mom has her eye on Una, whose name was changed to Zora (short for the spanish word for skunk as well as the nickname of my grandfather's favorite boxer) the first day we were there. She might emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837549222002-10-29T21:05:00.000-08:002002-10-31T22:25:21.000-08:00
We extended our trip and extra day. With so much time spent on the Safford-Morenci trail and all of the stops along the way, we missed out on quality Grandma and Grandpa time. Grandma made tortillas and Grandpa began to string the chilis into ristras. Grandpa's eye sight is failing him -- in fact he can't see much at all any more, just light and dark and images on the outside of his peripheral emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837547552002-10-29T21:01:00.000-08:002002-10-31T21:50:48.000-08:00
The last stop of the day was to see the spot where Nana was buried. My mother had fond memories of her. All I really remember was playing underneath her treadled sewing machine which she used her entire life. The cemetary is in Solomon, on top of a mesa. Most of the graves are unmarked except for the piles of stones that cover the gravesite. Nana's site had flowers and a headstone. Her husband emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837545992002-10-29T20:56:00.000-08:002002-10-31T21:37:12.000-08:00
Getting to Duncan we past the town where Sandra Day O'Connor grew up. A land of cattle ranches and small, hyper-modest houses. But this is what this part of Arizon is: the land of no pretenses. Or so it seemed to my outsider's eye. In Duncan we stopped at a farm that had a truck full of pumpkins and a barn full of chilis and potatos and gourds. We petted a very skinny, lonely puppy. We got emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837544622002-10-29T20:53:00.000-08:002002-10-31T20:31:54.000-08:00We were starting to worry about time. It must have been four o'clock already. We still hadn't got the chilis and it would be a bit of a drive out to Duncan still. The sky was amazing with dark clouds and light clouds and sun bursts.
emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837544002002-10-29T20:51:00.000-08:002002-10-31T22:21:48.000-08:00
I asked Robert how he met Barbara A. He said once, in his early twenties, or maybe before then, someone told my dad and him that they should meet a couple that lived out on the Gila. So they drove out of town, down towards train trestles that cross the Gila River, along a mesa where the night sky must hold the world's largest deposit of stars. Barbara lives on top of the mesa now, instead of atemdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837538822002-10-29T20:40:00.000-08:002002-10-31T22:19:15.000-08:00
Clifton was similar to Morenci. A "mountain" town, the Frisco River meanders through its main avenues. In 1983 God seemed to punish the striking copper miners double and the Frisco River swelled over its banks. A wall of water, six feet tall is the account I read, marched through the town and left acres and acres of mud in the houses, in the stores, in the businesses. It's hard to overcome a emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837537462002-10-29T20:37:00.000-08:002002-10-31T23:43:54.000-08:00
From Highway 70 Robert pulled onto the Safford-Morenci Trail. Atleast I think that is what it is called. It's a fifty mile maintained dirt road that used to be the only connection between the two towns. Nowadays it's a scenic route, though I'm not sure many people know about it. We saw ocatillo, cholla, nopales, yucca, agave and the mandatory saquaro stands. An old volcanic core keeps watch andemdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837534172002-10-29T20:29:00.000-08:002002-10-31T22:12:35.000-08:00
The next morning we set out to buy chilis in Duncan. We figured we'd be gone two hours. Probably two hours. Maybe three if we stopped here and there.
It took us eight.
Driving out of town I saw three cyclists and from afar I could make out trailers on the back of their bikes. And sure enough, as we got closer and then drove past them, I could clearly see that these were BOB trailers. Robert emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837532032002-10-29T20:24:00.000-08:002002-10-31T21:18:05.000-08:00
My uncle Robert was at our disposal during the days and we took advantage of this. Robert is the type who can name every plant you see, point out the different rock layers and tell you which ones are sedimentary and which are volcanic. He knows all the back roads. He likes to meander. And he likes to talk. This makes him a magical tour guide and favorite walking companion.
First stop was emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3901647.post-837530462002-10-29T20:20:00.000-08:002002-11-20T17:04:50.000-08:00
I spent last Christmas with my paternal grandparents in the first time in years. They live in Southeast Arizona between the Black Hills and the Graham Mountains. I realized that I had let too many years go by, too much time without spending real quality time there. With them. Hanging out. Exploring the desert. Eating real Mexican food. Visiting Family. So I decided to venture east. First to emdothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430053380347679707noreply@blogger.com