A send-off and a return

What a send-off!  It was a spontaneous Cliff Rose christening of the Wolf Pup with a sweet gift for us.  Neighbors Tom & Jacque, joined serendipitously by Gail, came out to bid us farewell with treats - festive balloons and all!  We are blessed indeed to be surrounded by so many dear folks!

More serendipitousness!  Fortunately, no one was around when we returned in short order with our tail between our legs.  It was one of those things where you know the angels are looking after you.  Just as we got around the corner onto Rosser, I suddenly wondered if I had brought my sunglasses, so we pulled to the side of the road to check.  That alerted the man behind us that our right light was out and he kindly pulled up to tell us.  We circled a few blocks to return home to work on it.  No dice: we could not discern how to remove the cover, nor could we find a way to get to the wiring.

As luck would have it, it was nearly time for the Affinity RV folks to open their doors, so over we went.  I am sorry I did not get the names of the two fellers who came immediately to our assistance, but it must be Johnny because they were on the spot.

They couldn't get the blasted cover off, either (maybe you're expected to junk the trailer once a taillight goes out?), but with much trial & error and seemingly no solution, the answer was the one known to every computer owner - they unplugged the trailer's connection to the truck, plugged it back in, and voila, the light worked.

Alamo . . .

With that issue behind us, we journeyed on to Alamo, Nevada, with ease (there was that crazed freeway backup in Las Vegas, but minor in the larger scheme of things. 

One of the attractions for stopping there (besides that it's on the way to Oregon) were the extensive wildlife refuges in the area.  After arrival, the señor suddenly recalled reading about a prehistoric rock art site near there, so we set off in search.

After a little bit of hit & miss, we located it.  Not one major panel as some are, but the petroglyphs are pecked into multiple boulders strewn around the hillside.  Each has a marker by it, and a good thing: it would be next to impossible to find them all; many are so weathered as to be indecipherable.  Some were completely different than any we've seen before.

Chris thought this one was a map.

 

 

We have brought Darren's ashes along with the intention of releasing some wherever seems fitting and that place was perfect for a remembrance.  We released him to the ancestors until we join him there.

Water: from ground & from sky . . .

We were in the Pahranagat Valley of Nevada's Central Basin, known for its abundant underground water and artesian springs.  For many miles, the valley floor is lush with grass (often waist high) and trees shading the pastures.

I have never seen so many cattle on pasture anywhere: there were many hundreds eating  their fill.  It is an incredible sight in the midst of sere desert. 

We did our best to see Ash Spring and Crystal Spring, but both were fenced and posted.  My brother Frank would have been disappointed that I didn't ignore the signs and climb the fence (it's a Kelley thing).  To do my best for the Kelley tradition, I climbed up onto a three-foot high cement thingamajig (with quite a bit of help) to at least get photos at Ash Spring.

At the wildlife refuge surrounding Frenchy Lake, we got in a nice walk (made brisker because of impending storms) to get to the far end.  What a beautiful setting it is in with the rugged mountains beyond!  The geology in this region is extremely varied, with rocky convolutions lining the green ribbon of the valley floor.

As expected, the Pahranagat has been inhabited for centuries.  There is ample evidence of those who have passed that way.

Refreshed from our first night out, we packed up breakfast and headed out for the Pahranagat Wildlife Refuge with its two large lakes and miles of marshland.  We had the place to ourselves with the exception of a ranger who was trying to call up a yellow-billed cuckoo.  I never was able to discern if one had been spotted there, nor did we see one.

I will mention the birds we've identified so far and try to remember to keep up with the trip list: rufous & black-chinned hummingbirds (yes, we have our feeders up), Eurasian collared dove, house finch, turkey vulture, red-winged blackbird, American coot, rock dove, bald eagle, great egret, peregrine falcon, lesser goldfinch, Canada goose, western grebe, California gull, red-tailed hawk, great blue heron, white-faced ibis, kestrel, western kingbird, northern pintail, black Phoebe, Gambel's quail, raven, cinnamon teal.

Our early walk was filled to the brim with beauty on every side.  The rugged mountains and turquoise-hued sky were a delightful backdrop for the verdant surroundings.

Into the desert . . .

The contrasts here are striking: there is no transition at all.  The landscape is at once marshy and then is immediately arid barren desert.  The Pahranagat abuts even more miles of what is aptly called the Desert Wildlife Refuge.  We could not resist a drive out the unimproved dirt Alamo Road to see what was to be seen, but not before one more walk to see historic structures, neither of which is very well documented.  The small wood cabin was perhaps a line shack or storage place.

The stone Petroglyph Cabin is so called because of the carvings on its surface.

In stark contrast to our previous meanders, that one was exposed and hotter than blazes, which seemed to suit the buzzards and reptiles that were in abundance.

My pard thought it was a splendid drive, me not so much.  Although we climbed far up from the valley floor, the parched landscape changed not one iota.

In the vein of ya never know what you're gonna find, there it was: "ET jerky".  I could not resist a "beam-me-up" photo, although the señor opined that I didn't manage to look very frightened.  Evidently, I was unpalatable; Scotty spit me out to goof around another day.

 

Shake-down cruise

As we are finding our way back to Arizona, we are satisfied that our shake-down cruise for the Pup is a success.  Now we are painfully aware of how small the teensy tiny interior of a 16-foot trailer is.  No doubt it’s a do-able proposition with some mind-set adjustments and a more minimalist lifestyle.

The trailer’s use will benefit from the addition of shelving and bins to assist in everything (lots less of everything than was in the 32-footer) having its place and remaining there, thereby insuring that I can travel in a chaos-free environment.  We’ll see how that translates into practice when Sara joins us in Oregon and we become three in there . . .

Escalante & Harriet . . . 

Quite a few years have flown by since we have visited our friend Harriet in her Escalante digs, so this was the perfect opportunity to say “Hey!”  While there we dined out for superb barbecue ribs and next evening were entertained at her home.  Since our last stop there, Harriet has transformed her gallery on her home property into an inviting experience.  What a pleasure to peruse her artwork and eclectic offerings of everything from Zapotec coasters to rocks and fossils, from antiques to locally made crafts, and so much more!  

A stop at Serenidad Gallery is a must in Escalante; be sure to tell her we sent you.

The self-proclaimed star of the show at Serenidad was Harriet's Maine coon cat, Nicki.

Looking around . . .

One day only for checking out that region: absurd - the vastness and variety of those amazing landscapes could only be glimpsed adequately if explored over several lifetimes, and our stay of two nights obviously would not fit the bill.  One stop was a must, though; we enjoyed Harriet’s one-woman summer-long watercolor exhibit at the Anasazi State Park museum - a delight of artfully preserving native dwellings and ceramics. 

When the señor had been checking out an old USGS map, a favored pastime, he noticed a cliff dwelling that he had a yen to investigate.  It is not marked on the new maps: vulnerable ruins are deleted from modern maps to prevent vandalism, or perhaps I should say "reduce" instead.  Of late, I have been horrified to see so much graffiti on natural and prehistoric sites, seemingly an increasing and disturbing trend.

It was not a long hike to where we expected to find the ruin, but did entail quite a bit of scrambling through brush and managing our way through a jumbled eroded dry creek bed.  In the end, it would have been the easiest thing to have gone past the ruin, or what there is left of it if you didn't know where and what.

The prehistoric site appears to have been relatively extensive, but it is now smashed to smithereens beneath gigantic slabs of sandstone that have fallen from the roof of its once-protective alcove.  One partial wall is visible on the left, and another smaller section stands still with several roof support limbs exposed.  Other than those remnants, it is obliterated.  If we had not been searching for it, we would likely have never noticed its existence as we struggled to find a way through the canyon.

 

Speaking of canyons, Harriet had told us about a picturesque very short slot, scarcely deserving of the canyon designation, and we were happy she had.  It’s another of those sights that does not jump out at the psserby.

A short walk takes you clear to the back of the cleft pretty quickly, while views of the sky are mostly obscured by the high undulations of rock smoothed by Nature’s hand and reaching in turns across overhead.  Going in . . . and coming out were equally stunning views.

 

 

 

 

The slot was in Long Canyon, which, as you might suspect, is long . . . winding, steep and deep and oh so breathtakingly beautiful.  We marveled at each twist and turn as one stunning scene after another came into view.

 

More wandering around for our "sampler", we also enjoyed time at Calf Creek, which was running clear . . .

. . . and at the Escalante River, which was muddy with storm runoff and still higher than normal.

 

 

A short off-trail scramble got us up high enough to see across miles upon miles of multi-colored rock carved into fantasmagorical shapes enough to stagger the mind with the immensity of it all.  The up-close was fun for climbing and scrabbling over and around while the distant scenes took on the aspect of a wildly imaginative fantasy.

 

    

 Oh, to have the tenacity of this tree . . .

 

Waterholes . . .

 

We broke up our day-long drive home with a lunch stop at Cameron Trading Post on the Navajo Reservation where we were again reminded of the covid-19 pandemic.  The folks there were 2020 strict, requiring double-thickness masks and social distancing.  As always, we were impressed with the beautifully displayed Navajo artwork.

After we had dropped down past the mammoth Echo Cliffs and passed the Vermillion Cliffs, we went by the entrance to Waterholes Canyon.  With it came flooding memories of 2002, when Darren & I had driven to Lee’s Ferry together to participate in his grandfather’s memorial.  Coming home, we stopped to explore that slot canyon, and had a wonderfully good time, managing to get a lone photo of ourselves by convincing the camera to cling precariously to a nearly vertical smooth rock wall.