Day 5: From Mountaintop to Lowlands

The next morning we observed one of our neighbors bathing with water from the creek. We were impressed. We had not tested the water temperature, but I suspect it was quite cold. I bathe my face from a water bottle, but Ian heats his water. We both heat water to scrub our scalps.

Mt. Lemon

It had rained overnight but the ground was dry and our tent dried quickly. We had decided to drive to the end of the mountain road to the top of Mt. Lemon. There are a few towns and a ski resort. During the week traffic was regulated by the hour because of construction. Since the regulation ceased in the evening, we had been hearing large haulers roaring down the mountain above us each night.

Construction had stopped for the weekend, so we would encounter no delays. As we wound our way up the road, the view into the valley below grew increasingly stunning. The landscape reminded me of other mountainous areas we have visited, but it is a view of which I will never tire.

Until, perhaps, I live in the mountains.

I wondered how many people lived in mountain-top villages and commuted into Tucson to work. In urban areas people commute for as long as an hour or more each way. The scenery along this commute was far superior to urban highways, so this did not seem unreasonable. Winter might be an obstacle. The next day, we heard that the road had been closed due to icy conditions.

We saw many cyclists climbing farther than I had expected. I wondered whether they made the entire 50 mile round trip. Construction barred cyclists from traveling beyond a certain milepost, however. The road surface was quite rough for a stretch after that milepost. Seeing these dedicated cyclists reminded me of what Tour de France riders must endure.

There had been wildfires several years ago. In the villages we remnants of the blaze in some of the blackened landscape and in the abundance of home construction. I thought at first that the area was simply being developed for additional visitors and residents. Then I realized that many of those homes were probably replacing structures lost in the fire.

Being Tourists

The first village, which had probably been a quaint, was now a wreck. We stopped at some of the attractions, such as the General Store and Gift Shop. I had become very light-headed, feeling as though I were high. I from a store clerk learned that this is not uncommon because of the elevation gain. Older people sometimes experience symptoms like those of a heart attack, frightening them terribly.

I procured some Greek wine because the small wine collection included two of our favorites, which seemed like a good sign. Later, although my first sips of the wine were disappointing, its flavor grew on me. The flavor changed noticeably depending on the food (or lack thereof) it accompanied.

To this sinful purchase I added a hunk of fudge, which began disappearing quickly once we had our first taste. A week later, while finishing the last of our edibles, I learned that fudge and Greek wine were a pretty good combination.

While paying for my purchases in the General Store, I overheard a walkie-talkie broadcast of a rescue operation. A man had somehow fallen down a hill and was now unable to scale it.

The ski resort bore little resemblance to the images I had imagined. I expected a posh ski lodge peopled with upscale ski buffs. This resort was a more humble affair, with only two restaurants, a shop, and some outdoor seating. Although we could only see two snow-covered slopes, a map depicted quite a few separate trails. I do not know why no one was skiing today.

Precipitation for Miles Around

Remembering how cold I had been getting at night several thousand feet below, I purchased a ski mask. In the coming week, I would grow unable to live without it. As we began our descent, snow began to fly. We stopped a few times for the view, observing heavy clouds and mist rolling rapidly across the valley.

In a short period of time, the valley became invisible. More than just this mountain was experiencing heavy precipitation. Nearly all of Tucson and its mountains seemed to be experiencing rainfall. The snow fell more and more heavily as we descended. I was surprised to see many cars heading up the mountain.

I was not acquainted with the layout of Tucson and the surrounding mountains, but Ian could tell that Saguaro National Park was receiving heavy rain. We had hoped to hike there today. We headed towards the park anyhow, hoping that the rain might be spent by the time we arrived.

At the visitor center a weather report informed us that wet conditions were expected over the next several days. Sunny weather was expected to return around the time we would be leaving. We had experienced this kind of news in Lake Superior Provincial Park last summer. However, Michigan residents know that weather forecasts are more often wrong than right, especially where bad weather is concerned.

We asked whether hiking would be advisable today. The guides at the center wondered, too, since a guided hike was scheduled to begin momentarily. After scanning the skies, the guides reached the conclusion that people could safely hike. I had been looking forward to a hike, so this news came as a relief.

Wondrous Plant Life Springing from Red Soil

We chose a trail which we hoped was less well-traveled, hoping to enjoy the desert in solitude. The beauty and strangeness of the plant-life along our way stopped us many times. We both had cameras which we used passionately, hoping to bring some of the beauty home with us.

The soil was varied from more muted tones of orangeish-red to deep brick-like shades. The trail frequently intersected with wide dry-washes. Although water was absent now, deep hoof-imprints told us that it had been very wet recently.

Horses, Mules, Donkeys or Burros?

We became more intrigued by these hoof-prints as we began to see evidence of human activity. On one long stretch of trail, loose soil covered both the trail and some of the surrounding area. We theorized that heavy rains had eroded the trail. I mused further that given the distance we had traveled, the hoof-prints must be related to the newly spread soil. No one would carry this much soil so far, nor would wheel-barrows be sufficient or practical in this terrain.

Further along we noticed a few wide plant-less patches. I thought these must have been holding areas for the equines. We began to observe that the loose soil surrounded some of the plants close to the trail. It was not until the trail was mostly free of loose soil, but isolated plants were surrounded by soil did it occur to us that some plants must have been brought in or relocated.

I still could not identify which variety of equine had created the hoof-prints. The prints were probably too small for horse hooves, but I did not know the relative sizes of mules, donkeys, and burros. Later, at a museum in Tombstone, I saw an exhibit of ancient equine shoes. The burro shoes were an exact match, if my memory were accurate.

On a trail heading up towards a low hill, the trail bit deeply into the surrounding soil. Once again we saw deeply-imprinted hoof-prints. However, they dug into the vertical wall to the right of the trail. I imagined that the animals may have spooked. I did not think that sure-footed animals often used in the desert would have been so clumsy under normal conditions.

The Desert Comes Alive with Mammals

We turned around after we reached the summit of the small hill. Although it was not quite dusk, we began to see more animal and birds. Although we saw no exotic specimens, such as javalinas, we saw several rabbits and a few groups of quail. I think I may have seen some roadrunners.

The second or third rabbit we saw was enormous, with long legs and tall ears. Although the animal crept behind some foliage, we made a valiant effort to capture his image on film. I mentioned to Ian that I had read that if one sat for five minutes in complete silence and stillness, the surrounding creatures would become accustomed to one's presence and go about their business.

We attempted to do this, as an experiment. We were mostly quiet, and not completely still, but saw no increase in the amount of visible wildlife. I thought it would be very difficult to remain so still and quiet for five minutes. Yet when I looked at my watch, seven minutes had passed.

The most exciting animal life we saw, at least for me, was three parties of horses and riders. I shot photos of each animal as it passed, hoping the images would turn out well. I expected the shots to be blurry, since they were close-up and the animals were in motion.

After two parties had passed, I asked Ian to stand in the trail so that I could focus on him. Then as the horses passed, I simply aimed in the same direction and clicked as they entered the frame. Back home when the pictures returned from the lab, I observed that each and every photo was in focus and properly-lit, if not perfectly framed.

A thrill of excitement surged through me as I imagined how much fun it would be to ride these trails. I asked the leader of the third party whether they were coming or going. They were returning home. I imagined, with envy, how wonderful it would be to live close enough to this park to ride on a regular basis. Perhaps on our next visit I would ride with a paid guide.

A Day Well-Spent

When our hike was over, I was surprisingly sore considering the mild terrain, our ambling pace and frequent stops. Because of a winter cold and lingering cough, it had been nearly a month since I had exercised. I supposed I was out of shape and wondered how I would handle the more challenging hikes we hoped to do in the coming days.

We were both extremely pleased with our hike and the beautiful sights it had revealed. I had rarely enjoyed plant life the way I had today. Hikes for me are usually about ruggedness and endurance. I usually have little patience for frequent stops to examine plants.

However, the wildlife here was altogether foreign to a life-long native of the Northeast and Midwest. It was difficult not to stop and gaze with wonder at each new specimen. Sometimes we struggled to keep the names of the plants straight. We could only remember a few: ocotillo, prickly-pear, cholla (of which there were several varieties), agave, saguaro, and mesquite.

Feeling more tired than usual, we rewarded ourselves with a pre-dinner rest period and canned soup which required virtually no preparation. We discovered to our dismay that our lantern's mantel had disintegrated, which meant we would be without the usual homey glow. However, I was able to read by head-lantern, and Ian rigged an ingenious duct-tape/flashlight combination which provided ample light when hung from a pole.

Astronomy

I asked Ian to accompany me to the parking lot so we could gaze at the stars. His presence would protect me from mountain lions. I laid on the ground staring into the starry sky. He pointed out the North star, and for the umpteenth time had to explain to me how to locate it. He claimed it was the brightest star in the sky, but it did not look very bright to me.

We talked about how the sky looked a little different this far south. Then we began to talk about how the sky would look if we were in the Southern hemisphere. He explained that we would see the Souther Cross. I had always been hazy about how constellations changed over the course of a year and based on one's location on the globe.

But now I began to form a model in my mind of what must happen, given the tilt of the Earth; the Earth's rotation; and its yearly trip around the Sun. As I visualized these factors coming together, it began to dawn on me as it never had before how and why our sky changed as it did.

A mystery had been resolved.

Going "Camp Crazy"

In the tent as we tried to get warm, Ian announced that he was beginning to get a little "Camp Crazy". He was getting tired of being cold and dirty. My first reaction was to feel a bit alarmed. We were only half-way through our trip and I was not yet ready to give up camping.

I also worried because we would be going up North again in late Spring, which meant we would be facing cold temperatures at night, once again. However, that trip would be two weeks in length rather than only one week. I could not imagine how we could camp for that long if Ian were already camp crazy on our third night of camping here in Arizona.

But I was cold too.

I kept thinking, as I grew more frustrated each night, that I just needed to figure out how to cope with the cold better. Rather than reading under the lantern until I was too cold to stand it, I should keep my legs warmer. Then, when I had learned to keep my legs warm, I thought that since my face and hands got too cold, I should just retire into the tent earlier.

The first time that I retreated into the tent early, I foolishly sat on top of my sleeping bag writing while my body slowly froze. Although we ended up camping for two more nights, I never got it quite right. Each night I would fall asleep feeling a little more agitated about being so cold.

Tonight, however, I said nothing to Ian, hoping that we could somehow work out this dilemma in a way that would make both of us happy.
^ Arizona, March 2005 < A Very Fine Museum Strenuous Work for Fine Food >