True to form, I got up off my bottom and went out for a moderately vigorous clamber over the rocks along the Agua Fria River, in the Badger Springs area southeast of Prescott, on New Year’s Day. I like this area in summer, as the languid river offers pools of refreshing water and plenty of smooth rocks for sun-bathing. The steep canyon between Badger Springs and the second bend of the Agua Fria looked inviting, the last time I was there, so that was my focus on Tuesday.
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I started where I left off, and relaxed, last summer. It wasn’t hard to cross, hopping the rocks, though they are smooth and a bit slippery. My idea being to survive for the coming year, at least, I was slow and meticulous in crossing. The rocks are mostly white limestone here, with the occasional igneous volcanic cast-off, from eons ago. An example is the boulder in the lower right corner of the photo below. Igneous rocks absorb salinity easier than their granite and limestone companions.
Some fifteen years ago, a couple of local teens spotted some ancient petroglyphs along the trail from the parking area to Badger Springs. Walking further towards the second bend, they decided to tell their own story on this limestone bench. It’s a love story, and still is visible in the fluorescent spray colours they used.
An hour into my jaunt, I reached the second bend of the Agua Fria. From here, it would be about a two-hour boulder hop to Black Canyon City. One of these days, I will go down to BLC, park my car, and hike up the riverbank in the opposite direction.
As for the rest of the week, I have been happily occupied with Baha’i activities, the first of a series of dental appointments and helping the neighbours take down and store their holiday ornaments. I also went by the old house, found it wide open in the back, and, after determining this had been done by the soon-to-be new owners, picked up a few items that they won’t need and closed the house back up.
I had the pleasure of visiting one of Tucson’s signature locales, Sabino Canyon, on Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon. The first journey was taken with a group of Baha’i friends and some children from an apartment complex, not far from the home of one of my friends.
Above is the Sabino Canyon Visitors’ Center, operated by the U.S. Forest Service. Below are two shots of our happy group.
The vigilance of my friend, Annick, kept everyone together.
We enjoyed a sweeping vista, from the overlook near our designated picnic spot.
This was my own introduction to Sabino Canyon, and after a restful night and a scrumptious breakfast at Blue Willow Cafe, I headed back to the canyon, for a loop hike.
Rocks abound, as always. Some of them used to be trees.
The ridge above leads to Tucson’s own Cathedral Rock, 5 miles to the northwest.
Sabino Canyon was the site of a dam, until the 1980’s. Now the dam, and its “lake”, are but relics of an experiment in irrigation.
The scenes here are but a taste of the marvels that await the visitor to Tucson. It will be an interesting winter and spring, across this city and across our beautiful state. Stay tuned.
Another of my Prescott ties is to the American Legion. When I’m home on a Sunday morning, the lure of a delicious brunch at the post becomes irresistible. So it was this past Sunday, and it was not just standard fare, but chicken-fried steak that was offered with eggs and hash browns. Baked apples were also available, respecting the spirit of October. Thus, the Oktoberfest spirit continued. Afterward, I did an act of service for a couple of friends in town. Then, it was time for Sedona. I headed for Cathedral Rock, and by the luck of the draw, I found there was parking to spare, in the usually jam-packed lot off Back O’ Beyond Road. I headed up to the rock, scrambling as far as the 2/3 point of the trail. There, I spent a few minutes meditating, while several others, of all ages were scooting their way up through the crevice that provides the safest route to the base of Cathedral Rock itself. I would sit and contemplate the action, both above and below me, twice that afternoon, but refrained from joining the fracas of machismo. I tend to follow my intuition more in Sedona than in some other places, and since my intuition has been on overdrive, in general, these past nineteen months, I sat and calmly took in my surroundings. Presenting Cathedral Rock:
Here is the crevice which one must follow to the second saddle of this formation.
I’ve been up worse trails, though, so some day, my intuition may well say- “Go for it”.
Near Cathedral Rock is the east-west Templeton Trail, a mostly flat mountain bike route, going from a housing area, three miles to the south, to a juncture with Cathedral Trail.
It was here that I had two rather mystical experiences. The first was watching wind-blown spider web threads blowing in the wind, with the full sun as a backdrop. I could imagine they were supernatural creatures, come to visit with us on that blessed afternoon. I did sense a lot of spiritual energy at some points along the path.
The second eerie experience took place as I was heading back from this view of Chimney Rock. A group of four women and a man approached me, and asked how close they were to the south parking lot. Of course, I didn’t know. The uncanny part was, one of the younger women strikingly resembled Penny as a twenty-year-old. This took me for a loop, momentarily. As they left, the girl chuckled that it seemed I didn’t know quite what to make of her. If she only knew.
As the afternoon still seemed young, I took in Little Horse Trail, near Bell Rock and hiked it as far as Chicken Point. Here is the bench that leads up to Chicken Point.
Chicken Point lies straight ahead and to the left.
Below is a view of Submarine Rock, from Chicken Point.
Before heading back, in the fading light, I caught a glimpse of Chicken Point’s “guardian”.
The day was more than rewarding. I was left with so much to ponder, So I did what any overstimulated Prescottonian would do- I stopped at Leff-T’s Steakhouse, in Dewey, and had a steak fajita salad. In view of the heavy brunch, this helped me enjoy a carb-free supper, thus avoiding a Diabolical Diastolic, the following morning.
Yesterday, October 3 brought me along one of southwest Colorado’s most magnificent sights: Wolf Creek Pass, with its spectacular blends of foliage and rock.
This Castle Rock is at Wolf Creek Pass’s east summit.
East meets south, at this face of WCP. Below, one can catch a glimpse of Treasure Falls, southwest of Wolf Creek Pass.
I finally found a breakfast spot, at 9:50. Junction Restaurant has tasty breakfast skillets, and Jackie will discuss anything from styles of eggs to the sorry state of the Everglades, in her native South Florida. Junction is on the east end of Pagosa Springs.
I had hoped to catch some views of Wetherill Mesa,at Mesa Verde National Park, but the gate attendant said Wetherill was closed on August 31. I did catch this view of fading foliage, near Mesa Verde’s entrance, before heading on to the Four Corners.
One of the truly special things about some of the southwest’s natural features is the way they seem to line up. There are two Chimney Rocks in Colorado. The one near Ignacio and Bayfield, east of Durango, is a newly-minted National Monument. The one south of Towaoc lines up almost perfectly north of Ship Rock, New Mexico and south of Sleeping Ute Mountain. I stopped for several minutes at the Ute Mountain Chimney Rock, approaching it with reverence and contemplating its seeming relationships with Ship Rock and Sleeping Ute Mountain.
The Four Corners has a raised platform, where one may simultaneously put a hand or foot on each of the four adjoining states: Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah. To me, Mother Earth has her own monument to this accident of politics: It’s the small rock formation, which is just at the northwest tip of New Mexico, seen below.
Just north of Flagstaff, the San Francisco Peaks, sacred to several indigenous nations, rise up and offer seasonal foliage of their own.
The peaks told me I was close to the end of my journey, and after a satisfying supper at Macy’s European Coffee House, I was a short hour and twenty minutes away. Now, I have five weeks of being in one place.
Monday, October 1, was my change-of-season, do nothing day. Actually, I did walk about 1 1/2 miles on Northglenn’s Grange Hall Creek Trail, a paved route from Fox Run to the dog park. There were lots of prairie dogs in the area just across from the dog park, which is in west Northglenn.
Besides that walk, I chose to not take a chance on making my uncle in Longmont, or friends in Boulder, possibly catch what I felt was coming on. As it happened, I felt better by evening, having rested. Such was Day 12, of my journey towards home.
Tuesday was different. After patiently working my way past the logjam caused by an accident on Denver’s south side, I spent time in three of Colorado Springs’ signature attractions. First was the U.S. Air Force Academy, which marks the first time I have visited a service academy. The Air Force cadets lucked out, in terms of scenery, getting the mountains of CS’s north side as their backdrop.
The civilian visitor is more than welcome here, but must enter and exit through the North Gate. The Visitor Center offers a good overview of life at the Academy, both in video and in stationary display,
After a Philly steak, at the Visitor center’s food court, I checked out the Academy’s Cadet Chapel, which offers spiritual care for every Faith and denomination.
The interior is equally inspiring.
Feeling that our future Air Force officers are in good hands, I went on to the stunning scenery of Garden of the Gods. This is a city park of Colorado Springs, willed by its last private owner, Charles Elliott Perkins, who only visited the area twice. He insisted that the city keep the park free from commercial development, that it not serve alcoholic beverages in its cafe and that the park itself be free of charge to all visitors. ( A film on the park, at the Visitor Center does charge $5 admission, but the film is, of course, optional).
Here are five scenes from this magnificent place.
This is an view from the main parking lot, where we gathered for a free guided tour.
Here is Man and Lion. Below, are the Cathedral Spires.
On the very left of the photo below, one may discern the Kissing Camels. Sandstone can produce amazing images.
After the guided tour was over, I continued on to Balanced Rock, about three miles southwest of the Main Garden.
One major attraction of Colorado Springs, visible from the Garden, remains: Pikes Peak. I will start out early in the morning, when I next visit the area, in order to make that special hike.
The guide said the area on top of the ridge, between the Garden and Pikes Peak, had been the worst damaged area in the recent, horrific fire which hurt Colorado Springs so badly. It is, fortunately, barely visible to visitors to CS, now.
I had one area left to check out on Tuesday: Old Colorado City, on Colorado Springs’ west side.
On this south side of the street, I enjoyed a small eclair and iced tea, at La Baguette. Its namesake bread is available for a very low price, and the pastry, my first eclair (pronounced here AY-klayr, as it is in France) in nearly thirty years, was “magnifique”.
The north side of the street has its standouts, as well.
Bancroft Park is a small, but pleasant hang-out for area youth.
Colorado Springs, as shown here, is indeed younger than Denver, by just a year.
My journey had only a day left, so on I went, gassing up in Pueblo, the friendly desert town to the south of CS, getting supper in Fort Garland and stopping for the night at Wolf Creek Ranch, a reasonable ski resort, at the foot of formidable Wolf Creek Pass.
It’s not as big as Union Spring, but few places are.
After shaving by using my side view mirror, and saying a few prayers, I left Lake Britton and had a decent breakfast at Fireside Village, in the small town of Hat Creek, CA. The creek for which the town is named is an integral part of the Mount Lassen drainage area, as is Kings Creek.
I arrived in Mt. Lassen Volcanic National Park around 9:30 A.M. and spent six hours there, enjoying the contrasts- from lushness to austerity.
We are greeted almost immediately by the great peak, with plenty of the legacy of its 1915 eruptions, much in evidence.
I looked around Loomis Museum, which features a seismograph that records all tectonic activity in the area, with photographs taken by B.F. Loomis, right after the eruptions of May 19 and 22, 1915. Comparative photos are also shown of the area, both before the eruptions and several years after. It is noteworthy that Lassen Peak is the southernmost volcano in the Cascade Range, with the Sierra Nevada beginning closely to the south.
Not far from the museum is Manzanita Lake, which, along with the aforementioned creeks and other lakes to the north of Lassen, sustained several Native American tribes in the area. Native crafts are well-displayed in the museum, along with the story of Ishi, the purported last member of the Yahi Tribe, who lived west of Lassen Peak.
Here is a view of Manzanita Lake. If I come back to Lassen, it will be to spend a couple of days in a cabin at Manzanita Lake.
The forest has suffered this past summer, from lightning-caused fires. There are several areas of the park that are still closed to the public, and fire crews were much in evidence along the main park road. West and north of Summit Lake is the main hot spot area.
Still, the damage caused by rock and magma far surpassed that done by forest fire. Here is a rock field, just east of the Manzanita Visitor Center. There are four basic types of rock at Lassen: Basalt, andesite, red dacite and gray dacite, (shown below).
Lassen Peak may be hiked, to a point within 1,200 feet of the summit. After that point, the tuff underfoot becomes too treacherous, and is thus closed to hikers.
Several boulders are on display in the Devastation Area, site of the worst damage from the May 22, 1915 eruption. Below is a red dacite specimen.
Below, is Kings Creek.
I spent an hour or so in the Summit Lake area, enjoying a light lunch and another beautiful lake. An 11-mile hiking loop is available from Summit, on another visit.
The piece de resistance, however, is an unexpected sight, with an even more unlikely name: Bumpass Hell. Kendall Bumpass, a cowpoke from Hat Creek, found this area of mud pots and boiling springs, which have an average temperature of 200 degrees Fahrehheit, in the 1890’s. He lost his own left leg to an unstable patch of boiling soil. Bumpass Hell is the largest of five hot spots in Lassen Volcanic National Park.
At the edge of heat and sulphur, small plants, like this purple heather, thrive in patches, uptrail from Bumpass Hell.
I would spot more awe-inspiring scenes, beyond Lassen, in the Spanish Creek/Feather River Gorge area, north of Lake Tahoe, on the way to Reno, and another visit with my friends.
Lassen Volcanic National Park was the fourth California site to be designated a national park. It remains among the most eclectic.
Monday, Sept. 24, found me waking up in one of the finer places in which I’ve stayed, hotel-wise. Union Creek Resort has several cabins, which are in reality country houses, along the upper Rogue River, east of Prospect, OR. I could easily stay here for several days and just relax, albeit sans TV- which I have done more often than not this trip, anyway. Here is the cabin I used the other night.
The folks here were as gracious and helpful as any I’ve met, anywhere in the world- and the Rogue River Gorge is a spectacular backdrop.
It’s quite apparent why the Rogue is a favourite of white water rafting buffs.
I stopped briefly downriver, at Mill Creek Falls, closer to “downtown” Prospect.
The Rogue River defines so much of what makes this southwestern sliver of Oregon’s interior. One could easily, as I said initially, spend days in relaxation and meditation.
I continued, through bustling Medford, to the laid back ambiance of Ashland, interior southwest Oregon’s southernmost town, and a haven for theater, especially Shakesperean theater. The Ashland Springs Hotel is among the tallest buildings between Portland and Santa Rosa, if not San Francisco. I waited briefly here for my friend to appear.
The staff here were very warm, in greeting the various guests, and phone inquirers, who happened along while I was waiting.
Once Jody arrived, we went by the Elizabethan Theater, and its two satellite theaters. This is the nation’s oldest Shakespearean venue, and is an outdoor theater-in-the-round.
The Shakespearean Festival takes place for several evenings, right around this time in September.
We had a fabulous lunch at Greenleaf Restaurant, along Ashland Creek and in the central plaza. It was hot in Ashland that afternoon, but the creek made a big difference in comfort level. I will caution against drinking much, if any, of the lithium water that is available on the plaza, for tasting. I gave it a shot, in sporting fashion, with no ill effects. Lithium water is what it is, though.
After lunch, before Jody had to leave, we sat in Lithia Park, by a duck pond, and discussed life in general.
After Jody left, I went back to Lithia Park and explored a bit further. Some resident deer had captivated a woman, who was hiding behind a post, so as to get several photos of the creatures. I found a blind of my own, and took the animals’ portrait.
There are numerous small gardens within Lithia Park as well.
My days tend to start early, get taken up longer than I expect, with posting and other aspects of my routine (praying, etc.), so before I know it, it’s mid-afternoon. I returned to my car, gassed up and headed towards Mt. Shasta and the small town of McCloud, CA. , which sits serenely at the great dormant volcano’s foot.
Here is a northern view of Mt. Shasta. Below, is McCloud Hotel.
Mt. Shasta is more clearly visible from this southeast viewpoint.
Finally, I found Lake Britton, and a campsite operated by Pacific Gas & Electric Company, on forest service land, east of Mt. Shasta. This gave me the perfect amount of solitude, which I rarely crave, but needed on Monday evening.
Leaving the Central Oregon KOA, in Culver, just north of Redmond, my itinerary for the day was Bend and Crater Lake, with an overnight stop somewhere in the Rogue River Valley. I did not figure on three of Oregon’s best kept secrets. Ogden Memorial Park, on the south edge of Culver, captures Crooked River Canyon. It is named for Peter Ogden, the hero of the Whitman Massacre and founder of Ogden, Utah.
Also memorialized here is Navy Lieutenant Rex Barber, a native of Culver, who shot down the airplane carrying Admiral Yamamoto, in World War II. Smith Rock overlooks the town of Terrebonne, just north of Redmond and Bend. Here is the middle of Volcano Alley (my term for central Oregon), with Mt. Jefferson and the Three Sisters winking back, from the west.
At Smith Rock State Park, hundreds of Oregonians and visitors busied themselves with hiking, jogging, rock-climbing and just plain gawking, in an environment not unlike several in central or western Arizona.
Smith Rock, ORCrooked River Bridge, Culver, OR
Below, is the aptly-named Crooked River. Rock climbers were numerous, on this bright, blessed day.
I hiked down to the river and along its banks for a while, before heading to Bend, central Oregon’s burgeoning hub.
Crooked River, at Smith Rock, OR
Bend has a fine reputation as an interesting recreation center. Stopping for lunch at Sidelines Sports Bar & Grill, I was not disappointed. Yes, they have great lemonade, as well as superb food. I learned something new about Oregon- there are lots of Arizona Cardinals fans here.
Below is Brooks Park, along the banks of the Deschutes.
I soon found myself in another unexpected treasure: Newberry Volcano National Monument. This is one of a few national monuments run by the US Forest Service, rather than by NPS. I took the road to the top of a cinder cone, in the North Unit of the Monument, and spent a little time near the Visitor’s Center, afterward. This volcano exploded some 7,000 years ago.
The Middle Sister comes into view, from the top of the North Cinder Cone at Newberry.
On my way to the car, a little park resident was busy with its supper.
The day drew to a close, with a near-perfect sunset, at chilly and gorgeous Crater Lake, Mount Mazama’s gift to posterity.
The only drawback of being on the north side of this quiet gem at sunset is- the lake is not in the foreground. It is still a thing of beauty, though.
These days, one after another, have been amazing. Next up: The Rogue River Valley and northern California’s own Volcano Highway.
The last day of summer stirred, fresh but still very smoky, in East Wenatchee. I had the pleasure of staying overnight with these fine folks.
After freshening up, breakfast, morning prayers and writing my Seattle post, I was off to see the condition of Wenatchee, in the ongoing struggle with relentless smoke. It was not as thick as yesterday’s, but visibility was, as yet, not too good. Nonetheless, I stopped at Riverside Park, for further prayer and reflection. This could be any misty morning, along the Columbia River, but the smoke was palpable still. The air was a bit clearer when I got to Wenatchee’s centerpiece, Ohme Gardens, on the north side of town. There is a complete arrangement of nature here: Great trees, flowers, rock, water, and manicured Victorian-style lawns.
Just outside Ohme Gardens is a stark reminder of Wenatchee’s location, at the divide between the green Cascades and the brown that covers much, but not all, of the Palouse.
The interplay between the Palouse and the Columbia River is much in evidence, in the area between Wenatchee and Quincy, the next sizable town to the east.
As I got past the bustling city of Yakima, I spotted Yakama Nation Cultural Center, in Wapato. This fascinating culture would be well worth a trip north, in and of itself, one of these days. Alas, the center was about to close when I got there. The motels I checked nearby were far too pricey and there was no camping in evidence anywhere nearby, so I moved on.
I made a brief stop at Toppenish National Wildlife Refuge, before continuing on to Goldendale. This wetland is vital to sustaining the web of life in a largely dry area north and east of the Cascades.
Next: Goldendale, Columbia Gorge and on to Bend, OR.
In the 1980’s, Penny and I made a list of places we wanted to see together. The idea of a trip up the coast, “The Whale Trail”, came into our collective mind. We would go to Santa Cruz, Coos Bay, Astoria, Grays Harbor, Neah Bay, Port Renfrew, the (then) Queen Charlotte Islands and southeast Alaska. Time constraints, continuing education and money issues rained on that parade, and we did make it to Santa Cruz once or twice, but never beyond it. All these years later, with our son raised and now living his own life, my spirit-soul mate and I finally made it to Coos Bay, Astoria, the Grays Harbor/ Ocean Shores region and, Tuesday morning, to Neah Bay. I spent Monday night sleeping under the blessed stars at Lake Ozette’s Lost Resort. Once or twice, I awoke during the night, glanced up and saw two stars directly above me, looking like a pair of eyes. Just before dawn. I awoke for the day, looked up, and saw one star, appearing like a heart beaming down at my heart.
Upon getting myself together, I went up to the office and found Lost Resort’s owner, who was somewhat befuddled that anyone would be up and about at such an early hour. There were, actually, about six of us wandering about. He took my payment, excused himself and I also moved along, to photograph my surroundings. Below is Lake Ozette itself.
The owner left a message for all who came while he was gone to Forks.
So, on do we all go. I headed up the hill to Neah Bay. Along the way, there are views of the Straits of Juan de Fuca and of Vancouver Island.
I was glad to find, open for business, the Warmhouse, upon arriving in Neah Bay. The Makah people mean it, when they say “Welcome”. Of course, there is a $10 fee for using the trails, but it’s good for a year.
After biscuits and gravy, coffee and a bit of conversation with some of the Makah and a pair of motorcyclists from Idaho, I went on towards Cape Flattery, the northwestern-most point in the contiguous 48 states.
First, though, a stop was in order at Fort Nunez Gaona DIAH Veterans Park. This spot pays homage to the brief occupation of the area by the Spanish in the 1760’s (thus, the name Juan de Fuca being attached to the strait just north of here, as well as the San Juan Islands, at the north end of Puget Sound.). It also lists the names of every Neah Bay resident who has served in the nation’s military, living or dead. “Diah” is the original Makah spelling of Neah Bay. Below is a view of Neah Bay itself.
Those with several days to spend here may hike down past Hobuck Beach, to Shi-shi Beach and the old settlement of Ozette (U’cit, in Makah), which was the original home of the Makah people, west of the present-day lake of the same name. Neah Bay was the U. S. Government’s established reservation site for the Makah. Ozette gives me a reason to return, someday. Cape Flattery Trail is largely planked, making the area easily accessible to many who would otherwise have difficulty. It is a 3/4 mile journey, each way.
Above is the trailhead to Cape Flattery. Below, is the split between the north and south points of the cape.
Here are some of the sea caves which riddle Cape Flattery, and which may be the downfall of the cape above.
Just off the Cape, lies Tatoosh Island, a gull nesting site, which is also sacred to the Makah.
I spent about forty minutes at the Makah Cultural Museum. at the north end of town.
After bidding farewell to Neah Bay, I headed for the Straits Coast, towards Port Angeles. The first town one encounters on this route is Sekiu.
Along the way, there are views of the Olympic Range to the south.
Port Angeles is a major hub for the Straits Coast. Here, one may take a ferry to Victoria, BC.
Here, people come from all over the northwestern corner of Washington to meet their supply needs. Here, one may swim in the Strait. I visited Feiro Marine Life Center, and met the resident octopus, among other tenants.
East of Port Angeles lie Sequim, Jamestown, and Sequim Bay. The s’Kallam people are stewards of this area, much as the Quinault, Hoh, Makah and other peoples are along the west coast.
Lastly, the evening found me on the ferry from Bainbridge Island, on the west side of Puget Sound to Seattle.
The rocks are mostly white limestone here, with the occasional igneous volcanic cast-off, from eons ago. An example is the boulder in the lower right corner of the photo below. Igneous rocks absorb salinity easier than their granite and limestone companions.
Some fifteen years ago, a couple of local teens spotted some ancient petroglyphs along the trail from the parking area to Badger Springs. Walking further towards the second bend, they decided to tell their own story on this limestone bench. It’s a love story, and still is visible in the fluorescent spray colours they used.
A Sagittarian Seeker 
