Mice or Meese....

So...whether you prefer "cacti" or "cactuses"...for meaning more than one cactus, we are there.

Google says either term is acceptable for the plural...with cacti the more common.

We have seen a bunch of them...enough for 3 lifetimes...although, we have gotten to know our cactus pretty well!

The commons...Prickly Pear, the various Cholla, Ocotilla, Yucca and of course, their partners in crime, the Creosote bush, Palo Verde tree and Mesquite.

And other than an arm amputation from a Yucca (well, maybe it was just a finger prick), we have survived...at least so far!




And of course...the Saguaro ("sa-WAR-o").

The iconic poster child of cacti...and as might be expected, we found them in mass at the Saguaro National Park just north of Tucson.

They are so western...you expect to see them with holsters tied down low and six shooters in the cross draw...and every one of them guilty of holding up stage coaches, trains or cattle rustling....





"...All righty there Mr. Saguaro, come out with your hands up!..."





And King Canyon Trail in Saguaro National Park was the perfect 3 mile loop hike and thanks to guidance from one of the Rangers back at the Visitor Center, we had a chance to see some hieroglyphs up close that are often missed on the trail.








And 200 years from now, people will be taking their equivalent of a photo of the graffiti from the ruins of New York City and trying to figure out what it means...!






Once we learned about the Saguaro and where they grew, it's almost as if they became our travel buddies, our token benchmark telling us whether we were still in the Sonoran Desert.


Bisbee, yup...Tombstone, yup... Phoenix, a few...California, nope.

If you look back at the Tonto Indian cliff dwelling post, Saguaro are present.

They were also a staple and main plant used by the extinct tribe who built Casa Grande - the Big House, also posted previously.

The Saguaro was the source of life, food, baskets, storage containers, wood for tools, and markers for the passing seasons.

It was the desert south-west equivalent of the venerable Maple hugged and worshiped by modern day Vermonters...




And since Saguaro are native to Arizona and the Sonora Desert, should you see a western with Saguaro present, it was not filmed in Texas!!!




Let the adventure continue...

O Comes Before P....

Most older folks don't talk about it.  Some don't even want to think about it.



But I realize that my head is a bit tired after 50 years of work...

I read an article recently about aging and memory...the writer is involved in research on dementia...he is also aging, likely around my age from his description...sixty-something going on 8.

He is also a college professor...

His view is that dementia is real...but grossly over-diagnosed.

His reference is based on his personal observations teaching college kids.   He said they were more apt to have a lapse in memory, get days of the week mixed up, forget work assignments or sleep through a test day way more frequently than old people simply forgetting what the date is.

But twenty-somethings get a free pass on their memory lapses, while a Senior would be put under a magnifying glass for the same behavior.

Interesting observation...





But never-the-less, my head is still tired.

It is nothing serious...nor am I too worried...

And yet...I recall at one point, my work password was PL8spinner..."plate spinner".

It was my badge...my personal skill...my own secret power.  It is what I was known for.



You remember the plate spinners on TV - the guys that could spin porcelain plates on the slender poles...and keep them spinning...more and more plates, running back and forth, keeping them spinning...till they started crashing to the floor.

Except I did not allow any of my plates to crash to the floor.



Some may view it as a brag...that is not the intent.  Call it simply an old guy remembering how it was.

Like Springsteen's Glory Days...



I learned to be really good at keeping multiple high visibility projects actively running all at the same time...and to achieve my deadlines.  I never missed a deadline...ever.

Give me the nastiest hill to take, the meanest fire breathing dragon to be slain...then go away - let me do it my way without micro management.

I was good at it...real good at it.

It was what I was known for, it was my niche...and there was high demand!  I got handed the biggest, gnarliest, toughest projects to manage.  I never said No, even times when I should have...

And I know when it all started.  I was 19...it was during my only year of college:

I realized there are a lot of people in the world way smarter than me.  I couldn't control that.  But I could control how hard I worked...

I determined nobody would outwork me.




Pretty simple...but it worked for me...it was my secret weapon.

I worked hard...always up...always active...never stop processing or thinking about work...be better, faster, more efficient...always bring your A game.

Whether it was getting dirty tearing off a dusty 20 year old roof...roust-abouting on an oil rig deck...climbing hand over fist up the outside leg of a 300 foot tower to hang an antenna...operating a window washing scaffold up and down 28 floors on the outside of a building to deliver hardware...resolving a critical network issue costing $25,000 per minute for delayed flights at a major airport...or managing a 130,000 sq foot data center build out.




I assumed everyone was smarter than me...but nobody was going to outwork me.

It was the norm to manage 10 or 12 different complex project work streams, all executing at the same time...

Executive Level status reports and PowerPoint decks for customer review...

With the technical details all tightly managed in my head...project teams, deliverables, meetings, prioritized tasks, risks and contingencies...work breakdown structures...nothing forgot...and never a missed due date!



But...

My mind is a bit tired now...

So, I've reverted to simple memory tricks - using the alphabet.

"Let's see...O comes before P in the alphabet...so it is Organ Pipe Cactus National Park, not Pipe Organ Cactus NP that we are going to next.

Is that OK with you....errrr....hmmm....Ja Je Ji Jo Ju - Judy?"




Let the adventure continue...

High Oh Silver...Away....

Only the gray beards remember him...

He saved the Lone Ranger more than once in every show...

Tomahawk, fringed buckskin and a six shooter...

Plus a Bowie knife he could throw and split a match stick with...

Iconic

He's the image that first pops into your head when you hear the word "Tonto..."




But now - I see cliff dwellers...

Tonto National Monument...we had no idea what we would see when we got there. We had not done our usual homework. 

Ashamed to say, this was one of the few places where we were more focused on getting another stamp in the Passport Book, rather than a strong desire to see the attraction...we just didn't know what was there.



The journey was white knuckle for some...and a major delight for others (go figure - there were only two of us!)

And I always know when things are getting uncertain for J!

She instinctively reaches for the door handle, either to hold on tight or jump out...never certain which she might be contemplating at any moment.

(With a maiden name of "Jumper", there is sufficient awareness that she might...well...jump...at any time).

It's even more worrysome when she reaches for the door handle when she's the one driving! 






High up into the Pinal Mountains...following old mule shaped mining trails, now called roads...Globe, Tortilla Flat, Superior, the Lost Dutchman...all old historic mining towns from the days of prospector feast and famine, high in the mountains of Arizona.

Spectacular western mountain scenery with long valley vistas.

And my kind of indian tribe, building their homes with a grand view...on a Windy Hill!

Today - we turn the faucet and hot the water gets...

And the Tonto Indians - water from the closest spring was "only" a quarter mile away - as the crow flies. 

But it was over twice that to walk down the mountain and up the next to the spring to fill their jugs...and then again, to carry them back over that same half mile down and up trail to return home.

And don't you know that every 8 year old boy knew exactly how many steps it took to traverse that route, having counted every single one of them! 

Though the cliff dwelling was a ruin, there were enough walls and ceilings remaining to know they were not living in the Grand Hilton, and yet...

It was built to be communal...

for protection of the tribe and the individual...

Rooms more Judy sized than Terry sized!

Low ceilings with petite entryways...

Yet evidence of thoughtful design such as interior vented fireplaces...

And grinding pits used as pestles with their rock morters...

Storage and sleeping shelves carved into the rock.







Industrious...built to provide for the long term...and with an objective to protect those they love...

Some of the most basic, yet noble of human qualities, resonating from deep within the souls of men since time began.





Let the adventure continue...

the big 'ouse...

Big Bend and Terlingua provided a wonderful four day visit...great adventure days bookcased by memorable sunrises and sunsets...

And we survived!!!

We did Big Bend - with no Drug Runners or illegal alien encounters and only one casualty...may the Leading Lady RIP.






At this point, between New Mexico and Texas, we have been living with rocks, sand and desert browns for nearly two lifetimes...and the Wild Woman was ready for some green!

So I pulled out my magic compass entrusted to me by Cap'n Jack Sparrow his own self...

Hmmm.... Looks like our next great adventure awaits in Arizona!






Who would have thought Arizona was green???  But compared to South Texas, it was surprisingly so.

Green Creosote bushes, along with Palo Verde trees (meaning "green stick" in Spanish and the AZ state tree) are nearly everywhere.

Add in the stately and iconic Seguaro, huggable Teddy Bear Cholla, tall Ocotillo, Prickly Pear cactus plus a fair amount of farming, and AZ was looking pretty verdant! 





Clyde got us safely to Casa Grande, AZ (how's your Spanish?) before he sat down and would move no further.  Wondering if there may be some mule in his family tree, but don't tell him I said that. 

Located between Tucson and Phoenix, it was close enough to make day trips to each quite easy.

And since it had been weeks and weeks since the Wild Woman had a proper shopping trip, we headed to a large mall in Phoenix to medicate the withdrawal symptoms.  I may be an enabler!



Feeling refreshed, it was off to the Casa Grande National Monument for which the present day town is named.

"Casa Grande" is of course Spanish and means "Big House", so named by a Spanish Priest who first saw the above ruins in the 1500's.

Built sometime between 1100 and 1300 AD, it might be the equivalent of the present day Vanderbilt estate, and there are no other ruins similar to this which still remain. 



It is a multi-story building, part of a large desert compound, built by an advanced, highly integrated Indian tribe that was heavy into farming, extensive irrigation and advanced water management, intricate jewelery making and trading with tribes as far away as South America based on artifacts found.

Though now an extinct tribe, there are more than 8 present day tribes which claim this early Indian group as their ancestors, making this site highly sacred to a large number of American Indians.





For us, maybe most interesting was the thought that this dwelling, built by hand, with the foundation set to align with compass North, and built from Caliche (natural concrete like material native to Arizona) still exists with the finger and hand prints from workers who created and shaped the building over 800 years ago.

Sure, Europe has its old Roman ruins, although in America there's not much else other than maybe petroglyphs and cliff dwellings which still exist from this long ago.




And it makes me wonder...and realize...that none of the things considered to be "important" which I've done in my lifetime will exist 800 years from now.

And this building, likely considered at the time to be the lowest of menial effort, maybe even forced labor, done in the midst of the desert heat, still yet remains.




Maybe it's us...with our modern day priorities and with what we think is important, who are actually backwards and uncivilized...



Let the adventure continue...

The Leading Lady is dead...

The Leading Lady is gone...dead...

It was on the Mexican border.  We were hiking a canyon, the Santa Elena, an easy 2 mile out and back. 

To the left is Mexico, to the right is Windy Hill...with only the roiled Rio Grande separating the two.

It was at the end of the west park road in Big Bend.  

It could have been the end of the world.  

I had no idea it was the end for the Leading Lady...




The book said it was safe, the Ranger said it was safe, people at the trailhead said it was safe.

Now, the Leading Lady is gone...life will never be the same...




I committed my life to protecting her, my vow was to die if required.

Love, cherish and protect till death.  It's the vow I've taken seriously for 43 years.

I've given my best for her, put her first, her needs above mine...

On this day, I was trying my hardest, but there was little I could do.



Here's how it happened, as clearly as I can recall.



On flat hikes I let her lead, to set the pace with her shorter stride striking the cadence.  The Indians did the same when women and children were in the group.

On tougher sections I go ahead, helping her with a hand up or down as needed.

I try to stay on the down slope side as a block or anchor, a safety net should a slip happen.

She is the meaning to my life...protect at all costs.



There was nothing I could do on this day...

The trail was just along the river edge, they said...


Easy, they said...


So up we climbed...

Maybe we should have turned back...

Hand over hand, fingers and toes fighting to hold on.

Up, up, up...

"...Easy..." they said.

...against a trail slanted...no - predisposed - to feed trespassers to the hungry river waiting below.

Those tiny speck people on the lower face of the rock wall...

All part of the plot...

...with the Leading Lady the mark.



Surely if they can do it, we can too...

The book said it was easy...




And we did finally reach the far end of the trail.

Scenic, in a special way, not a huge vista, but one must know the history behind the Santa Elena canyon...considered to be unpassable for a very long time.

Mexico to the left, freedom to the right.

Austin, Crockett and Bowie...Sam Houston and the Texians...

With "Remember the Alamo..." whispering from the canyon walls.

The ribbon of green has washed away the river of red which flowed to earn that freedom.





And the Leading Lady...

In thinking back, it happened on the trail heading back.

I can't pinpoint the exact spot.

I think it was here, somewhere along this section...near where the hiker in blue is crouched...or the one in black. 

It was here that the Leading Lady met her end.

The Leading Lady was always a bit afraid...afraid of heights, concerned with slipping, fearful of the edges...limited confidence...holding on tight...




John Muir said "...In every walk with nature, one receives far more than what he seeks... "



It was in this section that the Leading Lady died...and the Wild Woman was born.

Still emerging, still finding her way, but with a difference...

No trail too fearful, no challenge too daring.

Caution with confidence.



RIP Leading Lady...

Long live "Wonder Woman"!




Let the adventure continue...