Two and done

Yes indeed, the señor is now sporting two knee replacements - one for each leg, and we are ecstatic to have that behind us.  No more legs bowed as if he had sat a horse for lo these many years.  No more sitting down at every slightest opportunity to relieve the pain.  No more avoiding activities that require extensive walking.  Reviving real life - the one in which we are free to be.

It's now been a month(ish) since the last surgery; a day without scheduled activities, gigs, classes, or other projects was the impetus for an irresistible boondock with no particular destination and no timeline.  

It's hot(!), so we headed northward toward higher elevations along the Drake road.  We passed the cement plant just off the highway.  Memories of long-past happenings surfaced, as usual when traversing those regions that we've been exploring for half a century.  "Remember the time" we verbalize, or just allow the rememberies to surface, swim around and dive back down.

Long before the monstrous cement facility had been thought of, we knew the old ramshackle wooden houses scattered around that area, abandoned dwellings of flagstone quarry workers and their families way out there, far from any town amenities.  That was the place where flagstone was trucked down from the mountain to the north and loaded onto trains that ran the track there.  A burying ground was nearby; the cement plant built up around it, and later relocated those graves when they became a nuisance for the operation.  The plant's expansion also did away with the few remaining houses.

Across the road was the site of later quarriers' modest trailer houses.  Another memory: Once when we were exploring on the other side of the canyon, we saw one of those mobiles catch fire.  Helpless across the chasm, we watched as people ran to help retrieve belongings out of the conflagration.

Many years prior to that, I recall being on the south side of Hell Canyon and being fascinated at the sight of the dugway chiseled into the steep chasm's cliff.  It had been the route for 19th century wagons coming into central Arizona.  I once searched the north side above the canyon and was certain that I located traces of that old trail, and found what appeared to be three graves nearby.   It's all so overgrown with junipers now that I can no longer find it.

Well, that was quite a little digression; now back to our boondock.  Prior to attaining what we expected to be cooler climes, we explored a rough dirt track, leaving the truck behind and proceeding on foot despite the heat.

Abundant stands of cliff rose were just past their full-bloom stage, and impenetrable thickets of Apache plume vied for a place in the sun.  It's amazing how such plants thrive and proliferate in that mostly thin poor soil scattered atop the rock surface, but thrive they do.

  

The thickets reached higher than our heads . . .

 

. . . on a far different scale, small isolated flowers were visible if one paid attention.  They and cactus flowers were beautiful in their unique way, made perhaps more precious by their subtlety. 

 I never cease to marvel at the seemingly infinite number of hues in nature!

Back in business . . .

After that walk on rugged rocky ground, we were satisfied that both knees seemed to be fully operational; however, the sun's rays were beating on us from above and reflected back from the hard-packed soil, so we opted to drive further, climbing higher where the breezes were cooler.

After having explored that region over multiple decades, there are not many back roads we haven't traversed, but one caught our eye with its sign: "Summit Mountain".  One of us has conjured a memory of going out there previously, but one of us is adamant that we have never ventured thus, so who knows if we had or if we hadn't.  The biggest advantage of having a poor memory is that one gets to enjoy as if for the first time things that one might have done previously . . . or maybe it's just that one dirt track looks an awful lot like the next dirt track, so perhaps one is remembering another dirt track and not the dirt track that one is on at any given time.

At any rate, we turned toward Summit Mountain, winding around multiple switchbacks to gain elevation up the exceptionally steep slope.  The high summit of Summit (reminds me of Table Mesa, in effect Table Table) has been amply utilized for microwave and communication equipment.

 

We halted near there to walk out along the edges of the precipice.  From there, we were astounded to have views as far distant as Mount Floyd near Seligman, Bill Williams Mountain, Prescott's Granite Mountain, Mingus & Woodchute mountains, Sycamore Canyon way to the east of us, and everything in between.  It really was just exhilarating.

 

At least as exciting as the distant scenes was the cactus "garden" in full bloom along the cliff face.  Multiple hedgehog cactus clumps were stunning with their various scarlet blossoms.  Each one was more beautiful than the previous, but as a group, we felt we had hit the beauty jackpot.

Also closer at hand down below us was a beautifully sited ranch house and inviting pond, all nestled within a peaceful grassy glade (I have to wonder if there are fish in that waterhole).

When we had finally had our fill of scenes distant and underfoot, we departed the mountain's perimeter and followed the road (such as it is) to the forested interior.  It became clear that we were entering the crater of an extinct volcano; the outer edge was made up of solid jagged lava bedrock, while the center's surface was volcanic cinders occasionally protruding in hillocks above the green grass forest floor.

At an elevation of nearly 7,800 feet, we were treated to cool breezes in the shade of the ponderosas and live oaks.  

 

Sadly, we saw signs that bark beetles may be killing those wonderful stands of pines.

The gnarly dirt road continued on further past the summit; however, we turned back after a bit.  We were in the Tacoma that was challenged by the deep ruts; Ruby the FourRunner could have pulled it off much better.

In the end, we were satisfied with our day in Arizona's cool north country, and happy with the great beauty to which we were treated.  Even the wildflowers were beautiful in their shy subtle way, perhaps even more treasured because they are not so easily noticed without making an effort.