August 9, 2019
Somehow, I seem to have allowed most of the summer to elapse without recording any of it here, so now I shall post a "few" pics and memories. Sorting through the daily rememberies brings me to the realization that the highlights are all about people, but to my dismay, I did not get photographs of many of those encounters. Primary among those was a surprise visit from two of our oldest friends, Kathy & Ray, passing through on their way home to Phoenix. I love having photos to underline my memories, but in that case, I shall just cherish the visit.
The kids . . .
And so it came to pass that in the land called Prescott, one of our offspring with her tribe in tow stopped in on her way to the land of the Pacific. Sara, Ray & ten-year-old Trinity, along with friends numbering six made our little abode their waystop before spending a week camping on the beach.
The Chino house could have fairly easily accommodated nine overnighters; however, our Monopoly-land abode was stretched to its limit. All beds and most floors were inhabited, and semi-chaos reigned. Whatever it took to see our sweetie pies was okay by us; in fact, the scene was repeated on their return trip.
Trinity is taking up the violin, but as that instrument would not have been appropriate for a camping trip, she arrived with her new less costly ukelele, upon which Grandpa Chris was able to offer some basic lessons.
Time was so limited, but we managed to plan and execute activities that seemed to suit the ages from nine to teens to adults. Hopefully, a good time was had by all - we need not talk about recovery time for me and the señor.
Kayaks & cayuses . . .
The stunning beauty of Watson Lake shimmering within the majestic bouldered hills of Granite Dells is always an attraction. With our two boats and convenient rentals, we set off in kayaks to enjoy a morning.
My granddaughter has matured so much since we last saw her!
It seems that when company comes, we often find ourselves saying things like "If you were here next weekend, we could have done such & such" or "Too bad, but last week was the (fill in the blank) festival". This time, though, they were right on to see the Prescott Long Riders 5th annual trail ride and all-horse parade into town. As we floated into and out of Watson coves, we were surprised to see more than one hundred riders working their way along the Peavine Trail that skirts the east side of the lake.
As if orchestrated just for us, we loaded up and turned in our boats and arrived at the historic Prescott VA medical center grounds with ample time to be there for the opening ceremonies, hear the Star Spangled Banner sung by a local teen and see the Long Riders circling through the Fort Whipple grounds.
The parade watchers' excitement was carefully contained.
Therapy horses were on hand to interact with veterans and children.
Our visitors were interested in the Fort Whipple history we shared as we enjoyed the grounds and toured the Sharlot Hall Museum adjunct in a 1909 military officer’s quarters. We have heard that other former cavalry officers quarters from that era are to be refurbished and utilized to house homeless veterans - what could be more fitting!
With more serendipitous timing, we found a parking place in Prescott (perhaps the last open slot in the parking garage), and wandered aimlessly on Whiskey Row, arriving in time to watch the Long Riders parade through town.
I have to admit it seemed fairly odd that a parade was proceeding along Montezuma/Whiskey Row, which is also State Highway 89 without the street being closed to traffic. Predictably, as the horses rode through on the west side of the street, pedestrians flocked out into the east lanes to watch and take photos, leaving vehicular traffic at a standstill. Hmmm. . . if I were queen, that would have been planned a bit better.
A fine gentleman who hailed from an earlier era, I suspect a member of the Prescott Regulators, was kind enough to have his photo taken with the girls.
The Wuehrmann pueblo . . .
Seriously? We have taken the German cousins to the Wuehrmann pueblo, but our children say they have never been there!? So . . . the occasion seemed just right for a jaunt over to our beloved Granite Dells, a five-minute drive from home, and a hefty climb up to the site.
A bit of a back-story: when the señor was attending Prescott College, he surveyed and mapped prehistoric sites in the Dells, and one of those sites later had his name appended to it.
Our little group did a good job of ascending through the boulders and brush; even the young girls exhibited no fear of the heights, and a few of the big boys scrambled on up to the summit to enjoy the panoramic views.
Chris gave us his anthropologist/archaelogist tour guide talk at the site itself, estimated to have been composed of 22 rooms and to date back about 700 years. It seemed fitting that we would have a Wuehrmann family photo at one of the more prominent remaining walls. It sets me to wondering what families trod that spot before us and who will come after.
How incredible to come together as a family and to walk where those before us walked and to now live in such proximity! We wandered here and there to take in the distant vistas that so many others have observed through the ages.
Keen eyes spotted occasional potsherds left from those long-ago residents.
Granite Creek continues to flow below and through the bouldery terrain, bringing water now as it did so long ago.
Lynx Creek ruin, Lynx Lake . . .
Because our group expressed interest in things of a native and prehistoric nature, we ferried them out for a hike to Lynx Creek ruins and enjoyed the views from that higher vantage point . . .
. . . and tarried a while at Lynx Lake for picnicking and relaxing in the rainstorm-cooled afternoon.
Granite Basin . . .
There is so incredibly much country to explore in Yavapai County, yet one of the places we return to again and again is Granite Basin with its picturesque little lake and a variety of trails and trooping-off-through-the-woods opportunities.
We took the young'uns up that way and enjoyed a short walk that quickly terminated when a lightning blast got a bit too close for comfort.
The water's surface was a'bloom with water lillies.
Sara managed to entice a tiny water snake from his hidey-hole; getting him to pose atop a lily pad was nothing short of miraculous.
Treasures were acquired . . .
. . . and memories made. . .
The blues . . .
The Hotshots . . .
And as always, we say a prayer of gratitude for the 19 Granite Mountain Hotshots on the anniversary of their tragic deaths while fighting the 2013 Yarnell fire.
The world's oldest rodeo . . .
Should we or shouldn't we? We discovered that it does not do to defer making a decision about attending the Prescott rodeo - it sells out! Despite that, when we decided that we would regret not going, we found two individual seats available and with a bit of luck, we ended up watching the World's oldest rodeo together and had a marvelous time. It was one of the best we've seen in a long time: the stock was excellent and the cowboys even better!
Oak Creek . . .
Somewhere during the summer, I had a yen to go fishing at Oak Creek. I didn't give that quite enough forethought, though; we soon discovered that as the elevation decreased, the temperatures increased.
We were not to be deterred by a little summer warmth, though, so we even stopped along the way to walk and marvel as so many others have at the vistas around us.
As I gazed back up into that canyon in the distance, I knew I would have to make it a destination for a saunter in slightly cooler temps. It looks extremely intriguing.
My notion of getting a self-portrait was slightly ill-conceived; on the other hand, at this age, perhaps fuzziness in the image is not a bad idea.
Knowing that fish awaited us in the creek, we cut short the oohs and aahs, and found our way to Grasshopper Point. Geez Luize, they charge an arm and a leg to get into those places over there and senior passes only get it cut in half, but in the end, it was well worth the outlay (I have perhaps exaggerated the cost, but I have become accustomed to having my senor pass be the golden key that permits passage to fee-required places such as that - evidently, when you are in Sedona-land, it is presumed to be worth more money).
The very nice ranger who accepted our admission fee gave us very specific directions to a good fishing hole; unfortunately, once we were at the parking lot, we couldn't make heads nor tails of what he was talking about.
No matter: we set off and found a most magnificent spot with a wonderful waterfall rapids right where the creek turns and forms a serene green pool. Tall trees lined the rocky bank on the other side and smooth water-carved rock on our side gave the perfect spot to sit in admiration of that little slice of nature.
The icing on the cake was that the fish were ravenous; we caught a good many trout, one in the whopper category. As the day wore on, they had their fill or were no longer interested in the tidbits we tried to tantalize them with, so we packed it in and headed home, but not before stopping for an ice cream and perusing the beautiful Indian jewelry and artwork at Garland's.
An intriguing deer sculpture out in front caught my eye. It was accompanied by a sign that suggested I push the accompanying button, so naturally I did just that, which resulted in the deer telling us its name was "Bumper" because it is constructed of recycled vehicle bumpers.
The spoonbill! . . .
One of the great highlights of where we live is that trailheads to Watson Woods Riparian Preserve and Watson Lake are a mere few minutes away. Thus it was as easy as the proverbial pie to take a walk to water's edge for a gaze at the incredibly odd site of a roseate spoonbill perched high on a snag as he surveyed his domain.
As far as I know, this is the one and only time such a bird has graced our region far from his usual habitat, and folks are flocking (sorry!) from far and wide to observe him. How and why he is here is anybody's guess. It was originally presumed that he would very shortly depart our shores, but here he remains since his arrival on August 1.
I had previously checked him out from across the lake, but hoped to get near enough on the trail to get some good photos. Alas, it was not to be: although social media abounds with stunning shots of the delicately tinted subject, my camera was most definitely not up to the task. In fact, my efforts were laughable in comparison, but I include some here anyway just because I worked so hard at it.
I never tire of the natural beauty around us nor of the intriguing sights that I find on my jaunts - large or small, impressive or insignificant. As in many things, getting there is as interesting as being there. We are so very fortunate to live in such a wonderful place!
After my walk to see the spoonbill (I will never forget the first time I saw one: it flew low right over my head in Louisiana and was absolutely magnificent!), I left the trails behind and wandered along the water's edge.
Odd to see water rings on a tree; those on the cottonwood below show that the water level has dropped a good bit.
If I had remained on the trail, I would not have seen the tracks, raccoon and deer, of critters that come down for a drink at night.
This hobbit tree was another that was submerged until recently.
My route back was circuitous and wandered into Watson Woods where I expected to be eaten alive by mosquitoes. For whatever reason, there were none at all, and the walk was delightful within that great green grotto.
That section of Granite Creek was dry so I wandered its bed up to the bridge over no waters.
I sat on this bench last spring and photographed kayakers enjoying coming that far up the creek from Watson Lake.
