Sonoran interlude

After both of us coming down with a flu-bug--me first, then Jodi--we ended up back in the outback, feeling somewhat funky but enjoying the desert wild.  We parked the camper near a wilderness area east of Phoenix and did a few day hikes, all that our sick little selves could handle.  We idled over coffee, read great  scads of excellent literature, and enjoyed ourselves immensely.  However, it must be said that this was not the place of our first choosing.  We originally wanted to go to the Cabeza Prieta Wildlife Refuge outside of the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.  We have known for some time that the border region of southern Arizona was somewhat overrun by the flood of illegal immigrants and drug runners, but we hadn't thought of it much recently until Jodi read an article by Tim Cahill about the very area we proposed to visit.  Apparently, the place is quite dangerous now with gun-totting narcotrafficantes.  Illegals routinely die in their attempts to cross over, and trains of heavily laden drug runners are so common such that, in some places, signs have been put up warning travelers to avoid getting too far off the main roads.  In short, we've given over large parts of the USA to south-of-the-border gangsters.  What the hell?  Mini rant:  The lack of truly serious action on this by our government is beyond me.  Democrats are hoping the illegals will support their base; republicans want the cheap, easily exploitable labor; both parties are worried about sounding "racist" if they do anything substantial.  Most of this could be stopped with very little effort.  First, legalize marijuana for all uses, recreational Dead-heads and rasta-dudes all the way to cancer patients.  Second, give every employer in the US about six months to check all employees for legal status using the so-called "E-verify" system; then send a small army of ICE agents across the land, fining all businesses substantially  for employing illegals.  It would take virtually no time for most of the tide to reverse.  US labor wages would increase, and workplace exploitation would decrease.  We'd pay a bit more for our veggies and meat, but more citizens would be gainfully employed.  Win-freakin'-win!  But will anything logical be done?  Of course not.  Meanwhile, crime and misery increase, and, especially germane to this blog, wilderness areas become too dangerous to visit, AND they get trashed by the hordes that traverse them.  Our northern California woods are especially suffering under the Mexican drug cartels that are running pot growing organizations.  They tear up the land, use all kinds of nasty insecticides, and patrol the grows with automatic weapons.  Mexican nationals with AK47's in our national forests! Arrrrgghhh....

So, that said, we have to choose our destinations more carefully.  Next, it's off to Kofa National Wildlife refuge.  Yeah, I know I said I wouldn't divulge the areas I went to, but I'll throw out this bone for the adventurous who want to get out there.  Here are some more photos of the most recent exploits.

Until next time, have an adventure of your own, wherever that may be.

First encounter with the Sonoran

After dragging our carbon feet across miles that would take days on a loaded bicycle, we entered the Sonoran Desert, which is much different in character from the Mojave.  Much of the Mojave is higher, but it is also drier.  By desert standards, the Sonoran is "wet," receiving in many locations about 11 inches of rain a year divided between winter and summer rainy seasons.  This moisture coupled with extreme heat give rise to a vast array of amazing vegetables, most notably the iconic saguaro pictured above.  These monsters can be thirty feet high and hundreds of years old.  The grooves in the arms and trunk are actually pleats, and when the rain is good, the saguaro expands to on-load as much water as possible for the still considerable dry periods.  They spread millions of seeds after blooming, but only a tiny fraction take root and grow into the noble cacti that dot the Arizona landscape.  They don't occur naturally anywhere outside of southern Arizona and northern Mexico.  Many are shot full of holes by desert birds who make their nests safe and sound above the desert floor.  My favorite story of shooting a saguaro, however, concerns a drunk redneck who  decided a stately cactus was the best target for his hungry shotgun.  Blam! Blam! Blam! Mr. Red-in-the-Neck waged battle against the stoic succulent until it had had enough.  Battered and blasted, the mortally wounded cactus teetered and fell...right on top of the offending shooter, stout spines and hundreds of pounds of angry green meat that pegged him to the ground, killing him.  Don't shoot at cacti, kids, you never know when they might bite back.

We struck out from our quick camp besides a sandy wash and hiked into the hills, bundled against a cold spell still working its way through the state.  The dead beast you will see below is a pack rat, a handsome rodent, and he could not have been dead long.  A few short hikes in the desert will suffice to show you the middens or piles of debris that these creatures accumulate for their nests, often dragging in all manner of objects from far and wide--cans, bottles, bits of plastic and wood, whatever is at hand.  Last year, as Jodi, Django and I were camped in central Nevada, we had one somehow get into our camper.  A Battle Royal ensued with me wrapping a towel around one hand and reaching into a cabinet to snag the terrified creature, at one point pinning the tip of his tail under a cabinet door.  I failed to catch him.  We left the escape route open and were happy to find all clear the next morning.  We did, however, have the tip of his tail as a trophy of our rough and tumble encounter.  All hail the Rodent King!

The palo verde tree.  Note the green bark that photosynthesizes:

The fearsome cholla, teddy bear variety, I think.  Don't tangle with these!

Tamarisk, and Asian invader, in autumn glory:

Hiking a desert wash:

The mighty shall fall:

 Jodi inspects a rock; Django confirms its volcanic origins (smart dog):

Mojave fantastica

After the craziness of completing my semester at the college, it was time to escape.  A bike tour was not in the stars this winter, so we loaded up the camper and headed out the the great Southwest, the Mojave and Sonora deserts.  First stop, the East Mojave Preserve.  I won't reveal the exact location of any spot in these following entries.  The desert is for exploring.  Get a map and head out!  The nights have been freezing, the days cool, perfect for a walk through sandy washes and the twisted arms of Joshua trees.  We set out along an old Jeep track and eventually climbed a craggy ridge--windless, bright, perfect.

Clouds on the mountain

Freezing mornings, hard frost on roofs and trail, a thin morning light pouring through clouds, we greet another day in the mountains.