Over it in Tucson
February 23, 2017

Ankle surgery done and recovery complete - check!
Eye surgery done and recovery complete - check!

It’s now back to life as we conceive it.  A kamikaze drive from our current roosting spot in Tucson to Mesa netted the all-clear signal from the surgeon.  In fact, Dr. Graff seemed inordinately tickled with what he saw while perusing the images of Lefty’s nether side.

He explained the pictures the techs took of my eye’s inner workings (this really is miraculous stuff here, folks!) that showed the macular hole completely healed with only a tiny cyst residing there that will resolve itself in short order.

The doc was practically gleeful in announcing Lefty’s recovery.  Upon hearing the good news, I was compelled to ask him whether I had actually questioned during the procedure if he was doing the surgery with a q-tip, and sure enough, folks, I really did do that - was kinda hoping I had imagined it in the foggy twilight.  “It was adorable”, he laughingly said, and he truly did seem to mean it.

My other burning question was whether I could have actually seen the vitreous being drained from my eye, or if I might have imagined that.  Sure enough, because the optic nerve remains in working order while the orb itself is chemically stilled, I could, and did, witness the fluid in my eye being drained away.  A sight I will never forget, it contained dark streaks that I presume were the multitude of floaters departing within the vitreous.  Admittedly, I was fascinated with the sight, even in my somnambulant state.

Rincon Country West, trains and planes . . .

Our first time in Rincon Country West RV Resort, so aptly named, we are finding much to appreciate.  We were scarcely in our space before we were invited to happy hour at a neighboring RV.  Everyone at the large outdoor circle welcomed us and a good time was had by all as we imbibed our adult beverages and feasted on potluck appetizers.

Chris’ keyboard playing on subsequent evenings garnered lots of appreciative listeners and allowed us to get acquainted with even more folks, interesting and experienced RVers who shared memories and recommendations for places to visit and stay.

Extensive facilities for sports and activities of every imaginable ilk abound here and there are clubs, gatherings and games constantly, not to mention the largest garden railroad (who knew that was a thing???) in Arizona is here.  My pics of the layout do not do it justice, unfortunately.

The railroaders are a bunch of fun enthusiastic fellers that have done a bang-up job with the large intricate lines and incredibly detailed scenes - everything from Barney Fife at the diner to an Indian village with a woman hard at work at rug weaving to an outdoor dance pavilion, a pink jeep and rock climbers to a rural setting complete with appropriate barnyard sounds and so much more!  In response to my excitement about the layout, I got the VIP tour that didn’t miss a single detail.

One of the model railroaders hard at "work".  The layout requires a good bit of maintenance, some of it interestingly due to javelinas that arrive of an evening for refreshment from the model's running waterways.  I was astounded that they don't do more damage to the sets.

Railroad aside, the planes part of being here is not nearly as fun, but seems to go with the territory in Tucson.  Civilian airliners and military jets are often overhead and make their presence noisily apparent.  It seems very odd to be hiking on a trail in the serene quiet of the desert mountains, only to have the solitude broken regularly by large accelerating and decelerating aircraft.

And about that hiking:  we had a marvelous day of it with cousins Barb & Jim.  Barb planned a primo day for us: a rocky trail into the Tucson Mountains culminating at a roofless stone house followed by a to-die-for late lunch at Starr Pass Resort, and a nice birding finale at Sweetwater Wetlands Park.

In addition to the phenomenal sights and views in the mountains - impressive numbers of saguaros rising majestically above varied abundant desert vegetation - we were surprised to hear the call of a great horned owl.  So unexpected that we were rooted to the spot as we scanned the surrounding mountainsides trying to spy the bird.  Finally, he called again, allowing us to zero in to his location.  Once we spotted him in a palo verde tree, we were even more astounded to see that it was a pair of owls calling to us from across the canyon.  Too distant to get a good photo, we gave it a try anyway.

There really is a pair of great horned owls in this picture.

The trip bird list grew on the hike with the addition of black-throated sparrow, black-tailed gnatcatcher and canyon towhee.

The stone cabin is a popular trail terminus; a small group of people were there when we arrived.  Evidently, enough trekkers have visited there and left crumbs from their snacks that the neighborhood avian life bops in to try out the tidbits left behind.

The house was built in the 1930s by Sherry Bowen, ostensibly as a suitable place for his wife to regain her health.  The couple returned to New York from their very isolated perch after the birth of their only child to resume their vocations of writing and reporting for the Associated Press.

At Sweetwater, we identified common gallinule, gadwall and gray hawk to add to the trip list. . .

. . . and there were turtles by the gazillions, which always makes me go a little snap-happy.

In addition to our welcome time with Barb & Jim, we had a lovely evening with dear friends Norma & George and a lunchtime get-together with Walter & Paulette, who have relocated back to Arizona from their long-time home in Washington.  For some reason, they did not heed my admonition to move to Prescott and are now ensconced in Tucson.  I dropped the photographic ball and forgot to get a shot of us with Walter & Paulette, but we managed to get a restaurant staffer to shoot us with Norma & George.

I dropped said ball again when I was too involved laughing with the “princesses”, a small group of school chums from one of the Dakotas, all of whom were sporting tiaras for their reunion and having the best time ribbing each other about their respective roles way, way back in elementary school days.

Agua Caliente . . .

One final foray prior to departing Tucson, Chris & I drove alllll the way across the city for a short look-around at Agua Caliente Park (the expanses of pavement and traffic filling it, everyone vying for their own spot at a speed far too rapid for safety are just about my undoing).  Although normally a fine birding locale, our mid-afternoon stop on a chilly windy day was not conducive to seeking nor finding, with one exceptional exception.

We had scarcely arrived when I heard a distant call of a great horned owl.  We began to follow the sound, although we heard it only seldom and despite the fact that the bird was surely hidden within the depths of the very bushy unshorn palms.  Our only clue besides the occasional sporadic vocalization was the approximate area we had seen a great horned on our only previous visit several years prior.  Despite the seeming impossibility of spying the owl, we located him in short order and were able to share our exciting find with a birder from Chicago who was appropriately impressed with our good fortune - skill, he called it; plain dumb luck seemed more like it.  And I even got a nice shot of of the magnificent bird during one of the times he poked his head out of his hidey hole far up in the tree.

This was our first glimpse of the owl.

Imagine finding that tiny speck 30-or-so feet up somewhere in this mass.

This cactus wren was relentless in warning us away; perhaps we were encroaching too near to her nest.

The señor finds the oddest things sometimes, like this millipede exoskeleton.

Speaking of odd: whilst lunching on the terrace, we witnessed verdins industriously worrying at sugar packets.  Of course my curiosity required satisfaction, thus we inquired of the staff and discovered that the birds have developed a taste for the natural sweets and distinguish between the real thing and artificial sweeteners identified by their colors.  More discerning than their human counterparts, they eat only natural sugar.

"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."  That sentiment was artistically chalked onto the floor of the stone cabin.

Tramping two wildernesses 
February 17, 2017

A while back, pre-busted-ankle (PBA), I set a goal of hiking all the wilderness areas in Arizona.  After all, a person can neglect a person's closer environment in favor of wandering the whole wide world, so it seemed a reasonable target.  The busted ankle got in the way of that for a goodly spell, but has healed sufficiently for back-country tramping.  Then there was that little eye set-back, requiring a much shorter hiatus; reasons/excuses/obstacles are now set aside and the hikes resume.

Because we landed in Ehrenberg, Arizona, which is the nearest community of any size (relatively speaking) to the Trigo Mountain Wilderness, we took a stroll over that way, having little idea of what we would encounter.

A rough dirt track brought us to a likely enough canyon for access to the mountains.  And yup, I was skeered on the way down into it - down slopes with loose gravel give me pause now that one of those has caused me such pain, so the señor lent a comforting hand and, in this case, my new walking stick provided extra stability.

Once we were within the confines of the canyon, we followed the route of Lopez Wash, winding between the wildly rugged cliffs.  The footing was mostly through deep sand and gravel, not unusual for a wash bottom, but very laborious.  Turned out to be quite a workout, but for all that, we traversed about two-and-a-half miles before the thought of the same distance slogging back out began to sound worrisome.

It was a hard five miles, my first long back-country trek since PBA, and I was near to tears by the end, but what an awesome feeling to be able to do it!

The canyons seemed to be completely arid.  Although we saw no sign of moisture, there was lots of deer and burro scat and some birds, including Gambel's quail, so it seems that there must be a water source somewhere in there.

It would not be a place to hike in the summertime, but the temps were fine for us.  By following the wash bottom, our gradient was fairly level.  The mountains were amazingly convoluted, mostly solid black rock swirled and whorled into bizarre shapes, pocked with caves and holes on cliffsides and windows at ridgetops.

New birds we identified there were verdin, ash-throated flycatcher, turkey vulture and blue-gray gnatcatcher.

Near our turnaround spot, the landscape hue changed dramatically, becoming a light sandy color.  Chris the geologist opined that the rock looked as if it might have been formed by a pyroclastic flow.  I smiled and nodded.

There I am trundling along, really more like slogging through the deep gravel that required many shoe-clearing stops.

One more time . . .

The Cibola Refuge being on our way home from the Trigo Mountains was just too tempting; we had to stop one more time for the Goose Loop and were so glad we did.

We just happened to pull up exactly at the time that multiple tidy formations of cranes were coming in for the night amidst a maelstrom of migratory turkey vultures vying for an evening roost.  That day was the first we've spotted vultures and there was the explanation: they had been away for the season.

There were far more cranes than before and many of them congregated closer to our vantage point, so of course I shot more pics.

Joshua tree . . .

While it seems unlikely that anyone would venture off hiking and somehow inadvertently end up in a wilderness area, we managed to do just that.  In fact, we didn't even know it until afterward.  Anyway, that trek did not count toward the Arizona wilderness goal: it was in California.

Because we had never been to Joshua Tree National Park and because it was close enough to drive to from Ehrenberg, we chose it as our destination for our final day out and about.  We had no idea that our jaunt would take us into an area of the Joshua Tree Wilderness.

The park is gigantic; our only viable option was the visitor's center nearest us and a hike out from there.  We soon knew that we would want to return at a later date for a more thorough exploration.  Oddly enough, the region we were in did not have any Joshua trees in it because the elevation is not conducive to their survival.  One has to wonder just why there is so much territory included in the Joshua Tree National Park if there are no Joshua trees therein; however, one wonders about many things that seem to be nonsensical.

The hike that we undertook begins at an oasis, in this case a site with sufficient water to allow a copse of palm trees to thrive, and terminates at an oasis.  I cannot from first-hand knowledge say just what the final terminus is like because I came to my senses in time to set my sail for our starting point.

At any rate, we trooped along for a beautiful six-mile round trip through truly beautiful landscape with striking distant views, even out to the distant Salton Sea.

The granite boulder formations are reminiscent of Prescott's Granite Dells.

It was when I had nearly exhausted myself and was certain that we had to be nearing our destination, the trail took us up a very steep section where we looked down on the continuing route through the canyon in the following photo and over the lip into an adjacent canyon, I finally had enough sense to call a halt to forward progress.

As it was, I was exhausted but upright and still cheerful (mainly because it was over), somewhat disappointed that we did not reach Lost Palms Oasis, but happy I did not have to be rescued.  It was not until we were far along on the route that Chris mentioned a fact I had failed to note: the hike is rated as "strenuous".  It was deceptively moderate for the early stretch, but became quite steep in places further on, with those slippery decomposed granite slopes.  I did more and more of them without the señor's assistance, gaining confidence as we went.

Hiking a relatively rough 11 miles in two days:  priceless, considering that I only began walking at all without "The Boot" three months ago.

Here we go with the reptiles again.  This handsome dude was in a battle royal with yet another handsome dude until the other handsome dude waved a white flag of surrender and departed rapidly from the battle field.  He has a rather fierce demeanor, in my opinion.

This was really exciting - I had never seen one before!  It is a chuckwalla, a very large lizard species.  We estimated this one at 16 inches in length.  He also looks rather cranky, but is primarily vegetarian and non-venomous.

We were quite taken with these begonia-like plants that were scattered on the sandy wash bottoms, even more so when we saw one in blossom.

This was easily the largest ocotillo I've ever seen.  It had branches that were twice the span of my fingers should I have been foolish enough to attempt wrapping my fingers around one of its branches.

Ya never know . . .

There were not a lot of people on the Lost Palms Oasis Trail, but those we encountered were certainly interesting.

First there was the nice young couple from Oregon, who were on a cross-country trip to her home of origin, High Point, South Carolina.  They were accompanied by a most well-behaved pup by the name of Tequila, who was not precisely on the trail.  He appeared to be quite content to peruse whence they came.

And then there was Tom.  Chris took one look at what he was carrying and asked him if he was headed out there to watch television.  Turns out the answer was far more intriguing: Tom is a major contributor to a website called xeno-canto, which is dedicated to sharing bird sounds from all over the world.  The contraption he was valiantly carting out to the hinterlands was to record bird calls for uploading to the web.

We had the sad news to impart that there was quite a dearth of avian life on the trail that day, possibly more abundant at the oasis, but he would never get to that before dark.

Rock wren, Bewick's wren, raven and American crow were the only new birds we ferreted out there; in fact, they were the only birds at all.

We were startled to see these snow-capped peaks ahead of us after driving across the desert and coming over the Chiriacco Summit, at only 1,700 feet in elevation.

The aerobatics and finesse of a crop duster are always a marvel to watch.  This one was often no more than six feet off the ground.

Chris' playing for the Valentine's Day dinner was well received . . .

. . . as was his music for the Friday night concert.