Saturday, November 20
Moving, but barely

I’m off to a late start this morning for several reasons. First off, I haven’t felt at all well since Wednesday. Second, I stayed up late last night watching the movie “Tombstone”, and third, what the hey, I’m on vacation. A direct result of foregoing television for 35 years is the tendency to become catatonic in front of a set that is in operation, no matter the programming. In this case, the movie was excellent. Val Kilmer was superb as Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp was brought to life by Kurt Russell. Sam Elliott excelled as Virgil Earp, but then Sam Elliott could just stand there and spout any old drivel and I would swoon. The supporting cast was great; I was mesmerized.

Now I have become wildly curious to have questions brought up by the flick answered, so have resolved to do some research. I have been especially taken with the knowledge that Doc Holliday’s gal pal, Big Nose Kate, lived and died in the Arizona Pioneer’s Home in Prescott, that selfsame abode that supported my own father’s final years. And I knew that at least one of the Earps lived in Prescott - Virgil, I think, but will determine who, which ones and when with some scouting around.

The Verde & kachinas . . .
As we ventured forth at a not-so-early hour, I wanted primarily to crawl back into my hidey-hole for the day. It was cool, windy and cloudy, a not very auspicious beginning to what Chris hoped to be a fishing day. Ah well, that first step is usually the hardest, except when it leads one to be outside, unprotected in the face of crumb-bumb weather.

Scarcely down the road a mile and I spy a Saturday market. Impossible to proceed without checking it out, I am sure, so clear around the next roundabout we go to bring us in the opposite direction to see what is what. We both were glad we did (well, probably me more than C) because it was a as fine a gathering of artisans as I’ve seen in quite some time. Some of the wares were really very unique jewelry, wonderfully crafted, and others included items I've never seen before.

The calcite lamps were wonderful - tubes of translucent crystal manufactured to be lighted from inside by electric bulb or candle - each one a natural work of art from the earth and fashioned by man. This man in particular actually mines the calcite himself and then cuts it into the tubular shapes, some set into gnarled manzanita burl bases. I hated to leave without one of those; they were just lovely.

We enjoyed good conversation with a Hopi man by the name of Virgil Long, a kachina maker. He worked away as we chatted and we were unable to resist coming away with one of his creations: White Chin Kachina.

Journey resumed: again we turn toward the Verde River, my absolute favorite place in the entire world. We have hiked into a multitude of places on the river, each one with its own distinctive character due to varying geology and vegetation. We have been to this particular spot several times over the years and have found it to yield some very large fish. It is unusual in that you can drive fairly close to the river, presuming, that is, if your vehicle sports four-wheel drive like Ruby, our Toyota 4Runner, and you are slightly deranged, just enough to tiptoe your conveyance down a steep washed-out rock-strewn trail. When we are touring with the travel trailer, we employ Toter, the Toyota Tundra, which is strong enough to pull the Totee, but at those times miss being able to back-road with Ruby’s agility.

Chris loves doing this; shifting into four-wheel satisfies some of what he lost when I won the argument about whether to purchase standard or automatic transmission ten years ago when Ruby came to live in our garage.

The weather did not improve for the day; however, we did get some scattered sunshine and protection from the wind while down in the canyon and enjoyed the hiking. Because of the wind, I’m guessing, we saw bird none despite my schlepping the spotting scope down into the canyon. We caught no fish, had nary a nibble; however, the fishing was great. I have yet to see a time when the fishing wasn’t great no matter what the catch.

I should temper that overly enthusiastic proclamation: when I was sick enough to roll around on the boat deck in the fish blood and guts, vomiting all over anyone and everyone while being tossed around off the coast of Mexico and while I was sick enough to make the decision to throw myself over the side to end the agony but was too ill to rise enough to make the leap - well, the fishing was not so great that time (whether or not we caught anything).

We likely will not be able to return to this spot on the Verde for months. It is subject to closure from December 1 to June 30 because of nesting bald eagles. Those closures keep us from several places we like on the Verde, but there are plenty of others.

This is a good place to enjoy the Verde Canyon train as it passes each morning and afternoon. We have often been lolling on the bank or cooling off in the water as it rattles along the canyon wall above us. I think they should put us on the payroll as we add local color and wave enthusiastically to the passengers who greet us similarly. Once when it came along as we were swimming, we were surprised to see (and be seen by) Chris' secretary who was out enjoying her weekend excursion.



On the way home, we were thrilled to see the full moon hanging over House Mountain.




Final tally for the day . . . birds 0, fish 0, people happy.