A cabin experience

With our five-day sojourn in the White Mountains, we achieved our goals, which admittedly were a little on the vague side, a circumstance that makes it a snap to achieve them.  Vague goals, also known as restlessness or ennui, result in basically any change of pace as a win, thus our cabin experience is a win, although some might view it a bit differently.

Our chosen destination - Alpine - conjures images of Swiss-like villages and hostels frequented by lederhosen-clad lads sounding their alpenhorns across the peaks and valleys while mountain climbers of all ilks reside in adorable pristine little cottages and drink hot cocoa before they tackle their chosen trek.

As in most things, the actual experience lacks much similarity to those images that may or may not have floated through my consciousness.  Alpine, Arizona, has none of those things, but is a small settlement scattered along the highway and into the forested slopes, with the business district comprised of very little business.  The population of 146 could not possibly require much in that way, even with filling the needs of tourists seeking the high country.

The mountain/meadow/lake/river aspect here is wonderfully awesome; the cabin part not so much, so I will get the lodging description out of the way first, and put it behind me.

We are in cabin #4 at (I omit the name to protect the guilty).  The place has a rustic look from the front with a carport off to one side and a small covered front stoop.  Upon entering, one’s smile that was offered to the manager who is showing the place becomes a bit plasticized and forced.  

He points out the “amenities”; oh never mind, there are none, although he indicated the closet that has three shelves where we may stash anything we like, or everything we brought because the only other horizontal surfaces are the two beds, a tiny kitchen counter, a dining table and a couch covered with a red throw, which I declined to look under.  This is color coordinated decorating at its best: the bedding is red-themed.

In a short while, the reality sets in.  We create minimal tables by stacking coolers but must remove whatever’s on them to access the contents.  There are two pairs of electrical outlets in the cabin, but only one has a ground, and the refrigerator is plugged into it.  The manager has thoughtfully provided a huge orange construction extension cord that snakes out from behind the fridge.  With careful planning, we can alternately use it to plug in the coffee maker and our two computers.

The ungrounded outlet works for alternating our two cell phones and our mifi.  It’s amazing with a little ingenuity can do!

The manager thoughtfully pointed out a broom and dust pan in the closet: they clearly had not been used in years, so I put them to work on the lurking dust bunnies.  I wouldn’t want to eat off that floor, but it did improve the situation some.

The floor is artfully covered with deteriorating linoleum.  Evidently, maintenance consists of nailing and stapling the edges down when they begin to wear and curl up.  It reminds me of the time we toured President Harry Truman’s modest home in Independence, Missouri: that frugal man had done much the same to maintain his flooring, only in his case, it seemed far more engaging.

Upon reading the posted rules and regulations, I began to understand exactly what we are in for.  In no uncertain terms, we are admonished in writing not to leave any animal remains hanging outside the cabin . . . and so we shall not, lest we be ejected from our dejected abode.

The lighting in the cabin is nearly non-existent (Chris says "It sure is dim in here."), but hey: the fridge is nice and there’s a stove . . . and it’s quiet.

To be fair, the beds are clean and comfy, but oh - that shower.  I leave that description to my first attempt at an ode.

Ode to a concrete shower

I approach you with trepidation,
O shower of hidden interior.
No lights within
Only a soap dish for punctuation.

Your walls of concrete,
Your floor of same
But for interest
A ceiling of wood is a treat.

No tile in sight
No shelf for shampoo
No window nor fan
Your countenance is a fright.

Your curtain is clean
As I dare to reach within
Two knobs - one hot, one cold
Deliver the water in a satisfying stream.

Adjustments made,
I soap from head to toe.
Satisfied am I
I have been thoroughly sprayed.

I emerge from within your confines,
Reenter the world from your concrete shell
You’ve done your job; I’m clean all over,
The deed is done, though I’ll not use you oftimes.

The great outdoors . . .

Certainly we have no desire to remain inside when we could be exploring the stupendous environment and would not want to even if our lodging was the height of luxury.

As I have mentioned, our activities are currently moderated due to circumstances beyond our control, but there's life to be lived nevertheless.

Prior even to arriving at our destination, we took a side road when we spied a sign for the Sipe White Mountain Wildlife Area.  Quite a few dirt-road miles later, we arrived at what appeared to be a historic ranch home site and riparian area.  The visitors center was closed, of course, due to that pandemic thing going on; I would love to have seen the interior of that beautiful house, but we enjoyed the grounds, the pond and the multiple hummingbirds at the feeders lined along the porch roof.  It appears that the house was previously the ranch owner's residence, but I have not found information about its history.

 

The volunteer host recommended a different drive for our exit - through a very scenic canyon, so we didn't have to backtrack.  Birds we identified in that vicinity and before include raven, turkey vulture, mourning dove, broadtailed hummingbird, rufous hummingbird and American robin.

At Nutrioso Reservoir, we added great blue heron, pied-billed grebe, yellow-rumped warbler, pygmy nuthatch, western bluebird and chipping sparrow.

Coming into Alpine and at Luna Lake, we added Canada goose and American coot.

Now whether the following photo is of Nutrioso Reservoir or Sierra Blanca Lake is a matter of conjecture; it all depends on which of us is being asked.

The question does accentuate the situation hereabouts: there are lakes, reservoirs, creeks, rivers, marshes and wetlands virtually everywhere.  They do kind of run together after a while.  I know it's only been two days, but criminetly, it's really really wet in these mountains; who can keep them straight.  Lots of trees, just like our wonderful forest at home, but a completely different feel overall with lush vegetation understory and wide open meadowlands laid out across gentle rolling highlands, unlike our mostly rougher and steeper Bradshaws.