Happy Places

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April 6, 2024- As I drove into the parking lot of Mayer Fire Department’s central station, a day-glo sign on a house above the road proclaimed “This is My Happy Place”. A similar notice, “Welcome to Our Happy Place”, greets visitors to the Wildflower Bakery, on the edge of Prescott’s Pine Ridge Marketplace. This led me to once more reflect on my own happy places.

The list starts with Home Base I, the cozy one-bedroom apartment where I’ve lived for the past ten years, and by extension includes Prescott as a whole. Within its confines, the city offers other happy places: Raven Cafe, Peregrine Book Store, Yavapai College’s Sculpture Garden, Wild Iris Coffee House, County Seat Restaurant, Prescott College,Lazy G Brewhouse (I stick to their Non-alcoholic IPA), Lifeways Book Store, any one of four Mom and Pop pizzerias, which I visit sparingly, these days and any one of several Baha’i and other friends’ homes. In the periphery are Zeke’s Eatin’ Place, Highlands Nature Center, Thumb Butte, Watson Lake and the Granite Dells, Willow and Goldwater Lakes, Dharma Farm and Granite Mountain.

Once outside HB I, there are the Happy Places on the road-and over the ocean: Samesun Hostel and Ocean Beach; Copper Sands Motel and Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument; Macy’s European Coffee House and Bakery-and the San Francisco Peaks; Brewed Awakenings Coffee House and Grand Canyon’s South Rim; Jacob Lake Inn (coming back in June, my friends) and the North Rim; every last one of the First Nations Pueblos; any number of Orange County beach towns; Santa Fe, with The Pantry and Henry & The Fish; Taos; Cuba (NM) and Ghost Ranch; Manitou Springs; Monument Valley; Tucson’s Old Town; High Desert Bakery and Coronado National Monument.

There are the Baha’i House of Worship and Wilmette Village’s center; Mishawaka and the Crisenberry Family Farm, in nearby Goshen; all of Massachusetts’ North Shore-and downtown Boston; Boothbay Harbor, Green Acre Baha’i School- and the entire coast of Maine; Cape Breton Island; Newfoundland; Vancouver Island; Amarillo, with the Fun Zone and Palo Duro Canyon; Gram’s Place-and all of Tampa Bay; Tonopah and Beans & Brew; Carson City and the Tahoe Region; Portlandia; the Olympic Peninsula; Crossville and the Cumberland Plateau; Aiken and Full Moon Coffee House; Osceola Tiger and Big Cypress; Philly’s Old City, and the Museum of Art in Wood; the ‘burbs west of Philadelphia and Glick’s Greenhouse.

There are Vannes and Daily Gourmand, in Bretagne; Makati, and Manila’s Rizal Park; Daet’s Bagasbas Beach; Luxembourg’s Old City; Frankfurt-am-Main’s Dom; anywhere on Jeju-do; Busan’s Gold King Coffee House.

Happiness, though, is in the mind and heart. The people in the above-mentioned places are what make each of them special. A few would call themselves acquaintances, most would count me as a friend and one has my heart, as no other person save my late wife, Penny, had it. Each of them, and their surroundings, bring me solace. Their list will, no doubt, grow.

Each substitute teaching job that did at least one child or teen some good, each volunteer shift that produced some good, each errand of mercy to needful friends accomplished, each hike done safely and each trip that was not a waste of time is also a happy place.

I salute everyone who offers their home or business in like manner.

Continuous Flow

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April 4, 2024- My cousin, John, came by this morning, just before I woke up. He and I were walking, along a rough, rocky path, which had a drop off into the ether, to the left, and a series of other rocky paths, to the right-each of those being separated by drop offs into the ether. He asked if I wanted to stay over there. I told him I had many things to do, before I went there to stay. That was when I awoke.

John and I were quite close, as boys, and into our young adulthood. He visited me, when we were both in VietNam, in 1971. He and his wife, Mary, helped me when I was unceremoniously evicted from my apartment, in February, 1977. We kept in touch, though I last saw him at my brother, Brian’s, funeral, in 1994. John passed away three years ago, this June.

I was not at all jarred by this dream. It just affirmed for me that I have many things for which to remain in this life, from a wealth of good friends-one in particular-to several goals, over the next six years and beyond. About an hour after I got myself together for the day, two friends were asking for assistance, and I was able to help both, in small ways. From there, I retrieved items left behind at yesterday’s job site, then took part in a shelter simulation with the area Red Cross team. This evening, there was a session for healing and assistance prayers, at the home of some Baha’i friends.

I also got some input into cosmic energy trends for the rest of the year, which will help in planning activities, both here at Home Base and further afield, including international travel. There will be some small adjustments made, with regard to dates of overseas journeys, and close consultation with friends in each country is crucial. That should be the case, anyway, but the energy trends amplify that need.

Things are bound to be fast-paced, in certain months, and like cold molasses, in others. Energy will be continuous in flow, though, regardless.

“I have promises to keep, and miles to go, before I sleep.”-Robert Frost

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42891/stopping-by-woods-on-a-snowy-evening

The Hermit Shares Space

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March 29, 2024- The three-year-old girl wrapped her arm around a pole, while standing just above the stairs at the rear door of the shuttle bus. It was a crowded bus, and even with her watchful grandmother standing between her and the door, she was taking no chances.

Hermit’s Rest is the site of the westernmost of Mary Colter’s eight buildings that grace Grand Canyon’s South Rim. It is in an otherwise nondescript section of the Rim Trail, set away from the stunning overlooks that are signature to the canyon’s edge. Louis Boucher would have preferred it that way. He was a prospector for gold, and probably uranium, in the days before the national park was established. His trail, now called Hermit Trail, leads down to the Colorado River, some 8.7 miles one way. (If I were to hike to the river, it’d involve a camp out at Hermit Camp-not far from where Louis made his home.)

The gateway to the end of one line.
Mary Colter’s Beehive Oven, resembling a Hopi outdoor oven
South side of Hermit’s Rest store.

Neither man-made nor nondescript last long at the Canyon, though. A short walk through the trees reminds the visitor of why the trip was made, in the first place.

The Inner Basin, from Hermit’s Rest.

I began the visit at Hopi Point, where the last trip was cut short, owing to a flash flood in Tusayan, which necessitated most of the visitors having to go back to Grand Canyon Village and tend to their lodging. I was able to make the journey around the eastern route, to Cameron, and then back to Prescott, via Flagstaff. Not everyone was so fortunate, and many ended up spending the night in one of the lobbies of hotels within the park.

Today, there was wind, but no water, so all of us were able to go clear to Hermit’s Rest, or to one of the other viewpoints. I walked from Hopi Point to Mohave Point, taking in the following scene, among others.

The Colorado River has a demure presence, beyond The Battleship, from Hopi Point.
If you think that living on the South Rim is easy, this juniper pine begs to differ.
A view from The Abyss.
The Abyss also shows the effect of weathering, on the topmost layer of limestone.
Here is a view of Monument Creek, flowing into the Colorado River.
From Pima Point, a zoom lens affords a close-up of the Colorado River, without a long hike!

Finally, just when you think you’re done with the Canyon, here’s the next big thing:

The first question says it all.
If your answer is “Yes”, happy hiking-and camping!

I am not beyond that sort of adventure yet, but for today, it was time to head back, so onto the shuttle buses I went, including from the Village to the Visitors Center, which was the bus where the little girl and her family crowded on. We all got to go where we had planned, today. No rain, just wind.

Tonalea

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March 27, 2024- “You don’t need to leave a tip. We didn’t really DO anything.” The cashier thus made her appeal to the dignity of one and all, as I paid for a couple bags of freshly ground coffee. I thought how refreshingly decent this woman is, and how sentiments like hers give the lie to the notion that Gen Z is collectively self-centered and always has its generational hand out. (The Greatest Generation, once upon a time, expressed similar sentiments about us then-youthful Boomers, but I digress.)

One of the bags was going to the old friend I was en route to visit, and to his family. C lost his wife of 40 + years, a few months back, and so I was heading up to Tonalea, to offer condolences and emotional support. The community’s name in the Dineh (Navajo) language, means, essentially, Red Lake. There is, in years of heavy winter and spring precipitation, an actual lake, off U.S. Hwy/160, on the community’s north side. This year, I saw no lake.

It was a smooth ride from Prescott to Flagstaff, where I bought the coffee from Macy’s European Coffee House and Bakery, owned by another old friend. Traffic in and around Northern Arizona University reminds me a bit of Manila-everyone is doing their own thing, and gridlock is not altogether a rarity. My upbringing helps me transcend that, as a motorist here and as a pedestrian in my second favourite big city (after San Diego). Looking out for others makes for a longer journey, but for better self-esteem, at day’s end.

Driving from Flagstaff to Tonalea was even smoother. Dineh and Hopi people are quite orderly and civil, in their driving habits, and the area is sparsely polulated, to boot. As the two Elephant’s Feet (grey sandstone rock formations) looked on, from across the highway, I turned on the graded dirt road that winds around, towards Black Mesa, and reached C’s homestead, five miles inward. There he stood, as I arrived, at about the same time as planned.

C reminisced about his wedded life and what had led to his wife’s passing. Her suffering, it seemed, was mercifully short. We then talked of the connection between those of us in the flesh and our departed loved ones. Years ago, as Penny and I lay together, she told me she had seen my Penobscot ancestors standing over me, as I slept. I was not surprised by that. The ties that departed souls have to this world are very, very strong. Everything that has happened to me, both the serendipitous events that have transpired and my protection from malevolent forces, over the past thirteen years, or even before, has been due to those who have gone before me, and who make up a bulwark of energy that lets me do the bidding of the Divine.

After a two-hour visit, and my reassuring him that all will be well, even with the swirling changes that seem to bother him so, it was time for C to get back to tending to his family, working on his fences, and keeping livestock from eating his trees. It was also time for me to head back to Prescott, with a “halfway stop” at My Pita Wrap, a small Mediterranean restaurant on Flagstaff’s main drag. Going back up to Dinehtah, with its otherworldly rocks, grounded people and mystical energy, is always a reset for my own personal energy.

Back to the Border and to Bull Pasture, Part 2: Quitobaquito and Ajo Mountain

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March 14, 2024- I felt rather the middle of a sandwich, the sprinters going down ahead and the lone woman, about my age, hanging back-especially when I stopped to take a photo-which is when she would dart out of sight, only to emerge when I was several steps ahead. Fun fact: We all got back to the parking lot, at Estes Canyon trailhead, at about the same time.

My first order of re-visiting business, to the places my late wife, Penny, and I visited, in 1983, was Quitobaquito. This spot is reached, either by driving down from the Visitor’s Center, via the North Boundary route, or by way of Highway 85. I chose the latter, first stopping for a few minutes in Lukeville, then following the unpaved, but graded, South Puerto Blanco Drive, for fifteen miles. The border wall is visible, to the south, for most of this route. There were no migrants visible, during my visit. Border Patrol agents were on site, at three spots along the wall.

Quitobaquito has no clear meaning, in English, but may be a hybrid Spanish-Tohono O’odham phrase meaning “little spring”. It as several springs, and a small rill to the east, feeding it. When Penny and I were here, it was shallow, and the water looked brackish, although the nearest salt water, in the Sea of Cortez, is still 6o miles to the southwest. Today, though, the pond was well-formed, and had been shored up by stone border-lining.

Trailhead, for short walk to the pond.
Quitobaquito (above and below)

I wonder, though, about the lack of birds, which is an unusual state of being for a pond in the Southwest-or anywhere in North America. It was, in fact, once a very rich environment for birds, amphibians and fresh-water fish. Other than a trio of fellow travelers, I was the only soul around.

Next up was a return visit to Ajo Mountain, which has several stops of interest, along a 19-mile loop. Penny and I hiked to Bull Pasture, a fairly rigourous jaunt, when in her late twenties and my early thirties. It was a good follow-up, for me, to yesterday’s hike in Montezuma Canyon, 215 miles to the east. Although I have always been somewhat a dawdling hiker, I still made the walk up and back, in about 2 1/2 hours-taking about the same time as those who appeared to be moving much more quickly. They seemed to need more breaks, though, so that evened things out. I like to take a lot of photos, so here are five:

The west face of Ajo Mountain.

Buttercups, the small delights of vast Estes Canyon
Organ pipe cacti are only found in southwest Arizona, Baja California and a swath of northwestern mainland Mexico. Seedlings thrive and grow on rocky hillsides, and then only when protected, for a time, under “nurse trees”, such as mesquite.
There is a sprawling nature to Estes Canyon, a worthy hiking destination, in and of itself.
Whilst in Estes Canyon, I met a couple heading back. The woman said that, in her view, Bull Pasture was more like bull pucky and that Estes Canyon was more pasture-like. Upon reaching the top, I can see that she may not have gone far enough. Here is the view from Bull Pasture itself.
The actual area where Spaniards grazed cattle. Bull Pasture trail continues down from the sign, to a couple of springs. A party of college students and their professor came up from the springs, overtaking me, after a brief conversation. We still met up again, back at the trailhead.
It was, nonetheless, a lovely return to an old gem.

Back to the Border, and to Bull Pasture, Part I: Lukeville and Ajo

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March 14, 2024- Traffic was bustling, at the Lukeville/Sonoyta Crossing. The place had been closed, a few months ago, with the Federal government bemoaning lack of resources to handle a surge in migrants trying to cross into the United States. It turned out this was mainly a processing issue, and the Arizona National Guard was dispatched to help with ancillary duties, so that the Border Patrol agents could focus on clearing up the processing of those who were seeking asylum, from any one of two dozen countries, and returning those not qualifying for refuge, to Mexico, or to their countries of origin.

The United States/Mexico border, at Lukeville/Sonoyta.

Lukeville had plenty of traffic, going both ways, but the restaurant was closed and the gas station convenience market’s shelves were half empty. I saw little evidence of the crisis of the past few months, other than an active Border Patrol work station, on South Puerto Blanco Drive, that had a few tents set up-either for detained migrants or for agents to get out of the sun. It is likely that they are used for a little of both. These events come in waves, though, so unless Congress and the President can reach an understanding, soon, it is likely to be a long summer of ebbs and flows of both desperate and opportunistic people trying to enter the U.S.

Before all this, and my return to Quitobaquito and Bull Pasture-both within Organ Pipe National Monument (Lukeville also lies within the Monument), I took some time to look around Ajo. Morning’s light, at Copper Sands Motel, revealed this courtyard.

Relaxing spots, at Copper Sands Motel, Ajo (above and below)

In town, there are two stand-out areas of note: The Plaza, and Curley School. Both were built in the 1920s, when Phelps-Dodge Corporation began to realize the peak operation of its copper mines in the area. Curley School is named for the company’s regional manager: Michael Curley. Ajo Plaza, in the style of a Spanish community gathering place, was the one area where the three otherwise segregated ethnicities, Anglo, Mexican and Tohono O’Odham, could mix freely. Today, of course, there is no segregation. I saw people of all racial groups here, as elsewhere in the country-and in each case, they were working in responsible positions.

Here are two views of Ajo Plaza, where several people were gathered, to relax over coffee and tea, or to discuss business.

East side of Ajo Plaza
North side, Ajo Plaza
Ajo Plaza’s Greenspace

Across from the Plaza is Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, also a marvel in white.

Immaculate Conception, from the east side.

Curley School educated all Ajo area students, from 1919-1997. When it was found to be in disrepair, a group of Ajo residents, working with the University of Arizona, developed a renovation plan, and the facility, consisting of nine buildings was refitted as artisan apartments and up-to-date classrooms, for the practice and study of the Fine Arts. Here are three views of the facility.

Main Building, Curley School, Ajo
Inner Classrooms, Curley School, Ajo
Standing Duck Cairn, Curley School, Ajo

As with all such operations, the New Cornelia Open Copper Mine ran out of its product, and has left tailings in its wake.

Tailings from New Cornelia Mine, east side of Arizona Highway 85, south of Ajo.

Hopefully, the area can be cleaned up and restored as a natural area, useful to both people and wildlife. The same ingenuity that saved Curley School would be beneficial here.

NEXT: A return to Quitobaquito and Bull Pasture

Bookends of Love and Light

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March 13, 2024, Ajo- The motel owner came to the door, after I left a voice mail on her phone, and cheerfully welcomed me into the office. After I paid, she went over and showed me the room, proudly pointing out the improvements she had made to it.

Earlier in the day, as I checked out of Knight’s Inn, the clerk thanked me, profusely, for having stayed the night. There is always a pleasant stay to be had, at a Knight’s Inn-and the price has always been reasonable.

Between these two bookends of love and light, there was plenty of good cheer. When I went over to a nearby Speedway station, to get a cheap bit of breakfast, the clerk signed me up for a Speedy Rewards card, which I got to put to use, right away, when filling Sportage’s tank, an hour or so later. I had been a bit lazy, in getting onto such a discount program, up to now, but it’s time.

Making a pilgrimage to Bisbee, I found High Desert Market and Cafe was closed on Wednesdays, so another new spot was in order. I chose Main Street Bistro, which has a similar, if smaller, menu to HDMC’s. The wait was longer, with only one person staffing the patio area, but the wait was well worth it. I took a stroll downtown, after, and looked at the area where two buildings burned, a month ago. Of course, it was roped off, and pictures were not in order. I did take a shot of this rock formation, above the patio at Main Street Bistro.

Mr.Toad guards the Bistro.

It was now time to return to Coronado National Memorial, high on the border, near Hereford, AZ. This time, I wanted to hike at least 3/4 of the way up Joe’s Trail, which runs from just west of the Visitor’s Center to the fourth ridge of Coronado Peak, where there is space for several vehicles. I left my SUV in the parking lot at the Center, and managed to get 3/4 of the way, turning around and hiking back, with the hope of finding a place en route to Ajo, in time to make a Zoom-based meeting. (This didn’t pan out, and was my one disappointment of the day). The hike, though, in Montezuma Canyon, was sheer delight.

View from the base of Joe’s Trail, Coronado National Memorial.
Outcropping, lower Montezuma Canyon.
A jolly old king, Montezuma Canyon.
View from a narrow trail, Montezuma Canyon
At my turn-around point, with a view towards the canyon rim, Montezuma Canyon, Coronado National Memorial

I headed inexorably west, then north, and west again, after leaving the Memorial. The road called Ajo Way is one that Penny and I took, 41 years ago, to visit Kitt Peak, Organ Pipe National Monument and Puerto Penasco, Sonora. I would visit Organ Pipe, this time around, and drop in at the border town of Lukeville-but those are for tomorrow. Kitt Peak and Puerto Penasco are for another time, and possibly I won’t be visiting alone, but we’ll see.

For now, the border at Coronado is quiet, no sign of any mass incursions, surreptitious or otherwise, and the rangers suggested it’s been that way there, for a while. In Ajo, meanwhile, the Copper Sands Motel, and its owner, Linda, are delighted to have guests who mind their manners. Copper Sands kind of reminds me of Gram’s Place, the hostel where I stayed in Tampa, two years ago-lots of bric-a-brac and a funky patio or two.

I am getting ready to rest, bathed in love and light.

Tucson’s Dome and The Pride of the Catalina Foothills

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March 12, 2024- The Old Pueblo shimmered in the morning light, and invited me to stay a while. First was a dinner invitation, which I wouldn’t dream of passing up, then there was all that lay in front of me, in El Presidio, and nearby Jacome Plaza, the gateway to the University of Arizona. I would not have enough time to visit U of A, but more on that in a bit.

Pima County Courthouse, Tucson

My first stop was the Pima County Courthouse, the domed gem of downtown Tucson. Five To Oh Coffee is a small stand, inside the building, with plenty of seating in the patio just outside. In the Sonoran Desert, “outside” is comfortable all day long-from mid-October to the end of May. So, I took my large coffee and blueberry empanada to a shady spot near the yet-to-open Southern Arizona Visitors Center.

A few minutes later, it was upstairs to the Dillinger Courtroom, where John Dillinger and his accomplices were tried and convicted-after the Tucson Police duped Public Enemy # 1 and the gang into a baited trap.

Dillinger Courtroom, Pima County Courthouse

Dillinger was still a media sensation, and his craftiness was matched by that of the Pima County Sheriff, who sold tickets to people wanting to see the killer bandit in his jail cell. After his conviction, Dillinger was sent to a prison in Indiana, from which he again escaped, and was later killed in Chicago.

Once I had read the displays outside the courtroom ,including information on Wyatt Earp, it was time to check out the Visitors Center. There, I noted a diorama of southern Arizona, with various buttons that lit up cities, highways, rivers, mountain ranges (Pima County has nine of those) and Native American reservations (Arizona has 23 of those).

On the west patio of the Courthouse is a Memorial Park honoring the victims of the January 8, 2011 shooting, in a northeast Tucson shopping center. They ranged in age from 9 to 76, and included a sitting Federal judge, a Congressional aide and a girl who had been born on September 11, 2001. Left paralyzed by the attack was the shooter’s prime target: United States Representative Gabrielle Giffords, still alive and in recovery.

Christina Taylor-Green, the 9/11 Baby who died in the 2011 attack, was an avid swimmer. Thus, this fountain became a centerpiece of the memorial.

Heroes of an earlier time of difficulty are also honoured here. Among them was my late father-in-law, Norman Fellman, captured by the Nazis near the end of the battle, in January, 1945. He survived six months in the concentration camp at Berga, where he was placed because he was Jewish.

Lunch time brought me to a small food truck, parked at Jacome Plaza, just east of the Courthouse. Carlos Jacome, Sr, and his wife, Dionicia, raised thirteen children-and the downtown Tucson business core-with help from a former rival, Harold Steinfeld. Jacome’s Department Store, along with Steinfeld’s, was a staple of downtown, for decades. In honour of the Jacome family, all of whom had a keen interest in the business, Jacome Plaza stands in front of the central public library. OaxaRio Food Truck serves fresh, delectable Oaxacan and Sonoran style treats. Next to it is Special Eats, which contributes to autism and Down’s Syndrome assistance programs. Here is a view of Jacome Plaza:

“Sonora”, by David Black (1991), restored by Trevor O’Tool.

Once lunch was enjoyed, under “Sonora’s” watchful gaze, I spent a nerve-wracking, but ultimately fruitful hour-long learning experience, in Joel D. Valdez Library, attempting to get online, and finally figuring out, with the aid of two library clerks, that my VPN was blocking access to the WiFi. Good to know, for the future: Get online first, then activate VPN-so long as the network is secure, as this one was. This experience used up the time I would have spent walking over to the University of Arizona, but no matter.

After checking e-mails, creating the previous day’s post and enjoying a refreshing Shamrock Matcha, at Ike’s Coffee, across the street from Jacome Plaza, it was time to go up to Tohono Chul, Tucson’s signature northeast green space. “Tohono Chul” means “desert corner”, in the language of the Tohono O’odham, whose own name means “Desert Dwellers”. It is a prime botanical garden, preserved by Richard and Jean Wilson, in the late 1960s. The Wilsons owned nearby Haunted Book Shop, from 1979-97, and gradually pieced Tohono Chul together, until the present 49 acres resulted in today’s bright oasis. Today, Jamie Maslyn Larson and her team maintain the vision set by the Wilsons, and Tohono Chul is a bright spot in the Catalina Foothills neighbourhood.

Tohono Chul Botanical Garden, north Tucson
Geology Wall, Tohono Chul Botanical Garden

Jumping Cactus, aka cholla, Tohono Chul Botanical Garden.
A “boot” left by a sahuaro, serves as a nesting site for various birds and small mammals.

It was soon dinner time, as well as quitting time for the Park staff, so off we all went, at 5 p.m. I headed down to a Red Lobster, on the southwest end of town, and joined a couple of old friends for a pleasant 90-minutes of catch-up and great food.

Finally, the drive southeastward, to Benson, then Tombstone, and finally to Sierra Vista-where my favoured Knight’s Inn was ready with a comfortable room. Thanks, Old Pueblo, for once again showing more of your many good sides!

Sweeping Vistas to One-Star Bare Bones

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March 11, 2024, Eloy, AZ- The manager of the motel took a minimalist view of the condition of her establishment: Rooms which are clean and very well-appointed, but have yet to install locks on several of the rooms-relying on chains inside the door, only. “We have a security guard who is constantly on the move or is watching the bank of security cameras! Those who want more can go the city, and pay more!” Me (Silently)- “I see, said the blind man”.

This is a place where tragedy is waiting to happen, despite the woman’s declaration that “My staff and I refuse to rent to anyone who looks shifty!” Update: As it happened, I got a wondrous night’s sleep here. Yet, it will be the last time I stay at the place. A skewed vision of how people should be served and protected will not end well.

My day, otherwise, was splendid. Coffee with a group of fellow seniors, was followed by a Zoom session on contacting our district’s Congressman, on a matter of interest to my fellows in Faith-and me. Then, there was a hike with HB, in the Constellation Trail system, named for a jet plane, which crashed in the area, in 1959. We walked about an area with sweeping vistas, which I had last hiked, with another friend, in the snow-four years ago. It is equally majestic, in the snippets of Spring.

Northward view, from Constellation Trail system (Hully Gully Trail)

Looking towards Hully Gully Trail, Constellation Trail system

Striated rocks, Constellation Trail system

A petrified chorus, Constellation Trail system

One could spend days, exploring the Constellation system, itself part of the Granite Dells formation, on Prescott’s northeast side. I have been there several times, and will be there several more.

After helping serve another buffet-style meal, this evening, at Solid Rock’s soup kitchen, it was time to head out towards Tucson, and the border with Mexico-where I will spend a couple of days, seeing what is actually going on-as opposed to the conjecture of the mainstream media. Getting to this small, but growing, desert city, roughly halfway between Phoenix and Tucson, I settled in at the above-mentioned motel, which will remain nameless, for now.

It was a fine, productive day, so I leave the management of the place to learn their own lessons, as I have spoken my peace to them.

The Age of Earth

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February 24, 2024- Four men in a vehicle, traveling for three hours and thirty minutes each way, can spend that time in a variety of conversational styles, from silence or one-word-dialogues (No thank you, to either of those) to elevated discourse. It’s best if the latter steers clear of politics, and today’s conversation did just that-focusing on the geological features through which we were passing.

Our planet came together, as an entity, 4.543 billion years ago. This is also called the accretion of Earth. The first known continent was Vaalbara, which formed about 3.6 billion years ago. Africa, the oldest modern continent, came into being 300 million years ago, followed, 100 million years later, by North America. The other extant continents’ formative dates were: South America, 225 million years ago; Asia, 66 MYA; Antarctica, 34 MYA; Australia, 10 MYA and Europe, 5 MYA.

This information, and the views that we enjoyed, traveling between Prescott and Mohave Valley, this morning and afternoon, were fodder for observations about the varied topography and geology. One may enjoy Ponderosa pine forests, that seem to go on forever, chaparral stands, Joshua trees, relatively barren desert, and rock formations from 1.84 million years ago-which are known as Vishnu Schist-this last, being close to the Colorado River, and the oldest layers of rock seen at the Grand Canyon.

As it happened, it was the Cerbat Mountains, a rugged, but rather low-lying range, in and around Kingman, which drew the greatest interest from the three men with whom I was riding, to and from the smoke alarm installations. Rocks have, over the past few decades, have achieved their due, both as scenic features and as backdrops for more extensive recreational activities. The Cerbats are mini-hoodoos, in spots, and have their share of fans, including the residents of Chloride, about twenty miles north of Kingman. I visited that old mining town a couple of times, most recently on the way back from a Carson City jaunt, in the summer of 2021.

The rest of the drive provided reminiscences of drives along a segment of Old Route 66, from Kingman to Peach Springs, and on to Seligman. The small villages, Grand Canyon Caverns and the various little restaurants and gas station coffee shops all have their adherents. My personal favourite is West Side Lilo’s, in Seligman, followed by Hualapai Lodge, in Peach Springs and Seligman Trading Post.

It is the scenery, though, that keeps me grateful for the chance to drive out to places like Mohave Valley (where we worked with the local Fire Department, installing smoke detectors). There are no boring places-at least not to me, or to those with whom I worked today.