In Utmost Isolation

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on May 4, 2016 in Community, Hiking and Nature, Uncategorized

April 30, 2016, Black Canyon- This is a few days late getting to print, but here is what happened today. I started out in mid-morning, stopping in for breakfast at Flour Stone Bakery, a lovely little spot in the old mining town of Mayer, some 30 miles southeast of Prescott. It has authentic challah, and finely baked rye and other loaves of bread. I am inclined to stop here on future forays along Black Canyon National Recreation Trail, which I started walking, in segments, about 15 months ago- just north of Mayer.

Here is Flour Stone Bakery, inside and out.

Flour Stone Bakery, Mayer, AZ

Flour Stone Bakery, Mayer

It seemed that the entirety of western Yavapai County, from Prescott to Mayer, was hopping, with one form of mass entertainment or another- Bicycle Marathon, Antique Car Show and, here, just plain Antique Shows.

I needed to get back into the wilderness, though, at least for several hours. So, on to Black Canyon it was.

The segment I hiked today extended from Black Canyon City’s trailhead to Cottonwood Gulch, about 6 miles one way. It is roughly 3/8 of the Black Canyon-Table Mesa Road section of this amazing high desert system. In a nutshell, that means I have hiked a bit more than half of the entire trail (44 of 81 miles), over the past 15 months. Manageable segments work well for me, in this regard.

Here are a few scenes from along the trail, which alternates between hugging the Agua Fria and exploring the rugged hills and mesas, west of the river.

Here is a view of Horseshoe Bend, about two miles south west of the trailhead. A family was enjoying the water of Agua Fria, at this serene spot. They were among the few people I encountered this afternoon. Six bicyclists, here and there, rounded out the “companionship”. Mostly, though, it was the desert and me, alone. Plants, though, were quite prolific.

Flowering barrel cactus, Black Canyon

Emerging cholla, in basalt field

Mr. Sandstone

He didn’t bring me a dream, but his presence was oddly reassuring, in the quiet of the afternoon.

Hilltop bench, Cheapshot Mine region

I chose this little redoubt, atop Cheapshot Hill, to rest and write a bit in my journal. After a brief interlude here, I kept on going to Cottonwood Gulch, just shy of an intriguing Thumb Butte-like mesa, whose name escapes me. I will check that one out on my next segment hike, from Table Mesa Road, probably next Fall. Here is where I chose to turn around.

This bush reminded me a bit of mimosa, though I know it is something different- just don’t know its name. It looks like a four-wing saltbush, but the flowers resemble those of saltcedar.

Desert lily, Cottonwood Gulch

Well, those last two gave me a reason to pick up a wildflower book, which was actually part of a map of Death Valley, of all places.

This trail was certainly the most isolated I’ve experienced since Seven Falls, northeast of Tucson, and it was every bit as satisfying a challenge- 12 miles in a day.

.Upon returning to community life, a poetry reading and a lively jazz-funk concert rounded out this last day of April.

Heart-shaped Prickly Pear colony

Seismic

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on April 22, 2016 in Assistance, Community, Social, Uncategorized

April 21, 2016, Prescott- I have been thinking, a lot, about the recent flurry of earthquakes that have caused so much destruction in places like Manta, Ecuador and Kumamoto, Japan. on our turbulent planet, quakes seem to come and go in series, but the truth is, Earth is never still.

Some react to these events by issuing stern warnings about the “Big One”. Others, and I include myself in this category, have been rather “business as usual”, in that regard. I don’t feel like anything humongous, other than at a relatively local level, is going to happen, any time soon. I have an emergency bag at the ready, but that has as much to do with living at the edge of a dry forest, as it is about getting ready to flee a broken coastline.

Nonetheless, there is only so much turbulence that our resilient planet can handle, so the question begs: How seriously do we take the prophecies of doom?

On Quartz Mountain

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on April 10, 2016 in Hiking and Nature, Uncategorized

April 9, 2016, Prescott- Last Sunday, I threw in a 1-mile round trip side trail, to my Prescott Circle jaunt. Quartz Mountain is a unique promontory, in the mostly pine-clad, dry-soil terrain that is prominent in the western half of Prescott Circle. It appears to be the remnant of a volcano, which also makes sense, given that quartz is scattered from White Spar to an area just west of Thumb Butte.

I had the brief company of two men and three children, who had been atop the mountain for an hour or so, studying the quartz and learning of the different colour blends. Most, as you will see, are white quartz, though there is a fair amount of pink, and some two-tone.

East side of Quartz Mountain

I checked out this area, just below the summit, before heading up.

View from east slope of Quartz Mountain

Granite outcropping, north slope of Quartz Mountain

The views from any point near the summit are thrilling.

San Francisco Peaks, from Quartz Mountain

Now, here are several scenes of the summit.

Iron-tinged white and gray quartz, Quartz Mountain summit

Southwestward, from Quartz Mountain, towards Sierra Prieta

View of Quartz Mountain summit crest, from just underneath

Agave and prickly pear cacti, Quartz Mountain summit

As you can see, the desert aspects of Prescott’s status as a transition zone are quite prolific, even at 6,000 feet.

This little gem is one of several good reasons for side hikes, off the main Circle Trail system.

As it happened, today (April 9), was a good day for Segment 3 of the Circle. It’ll be featured in the next post.

Prescott Circle Trail, Segment 4: White Spar to Copper Basin, Part 2

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on April 7, 2016 in Community, Hiking and Nature, Uncategorized

April 6, 2016, Prescott- While we were living in Phoenix, in 2002, news came of a horrific wildfire, that was bearing down on Prescott: The Indian Fire. It could easily have swept through Thumb Butte and down Copper Basin, slamming full force into downtown Prescott. That didn’t happen, thanks to the Forest Service, and the fates of Nature. As it was, though, the Indian Fire seared a large area between White Spar and Copper Basin, leaving several square miles of sticks in its wake.

On Sunday afternoon, I walked in some of the same areas affected by the Indian Fire. Wolverton Mountain rises above the trail, though no family named Clowers lives there. Quartz Mountain is reached by a side trail, about 1/2 mile south of Wolverton. Both peaks were singed in 2002.

I began at the Copper Basin end of the segment, starting out on the Aspen Creek Trail. The creek comes down, from the western base of Wolverton Mountain, and flows down towards Granite Creek and downtown Prescott. The creek is barely flowing, and indeed, the ground in this area is badly in need of a soaking.

Trailhead, Aspen Creek Trail

Gray granite, Aspen Creek Trail

I came soon enough to the upper reach of Aspen Creek Canyon.

Aspen Creek Canyon

Aspen Creek Canyon, Prescott

As the sun was getting a bit lower, I came to the junction with Wolverton Mountain Trail and Quartz Mountain side trail. Walking along the Wolverton, I had several fine views of the high ridge of the Sierra Prieta Range, of which these peaks are an eastern offshoot.

Sierra Prieta Range

Junction of three trails

Sierra Prieta Range, from Wolverton Mountain Trail

A glimpse of Wolverton Mountain’s practical use was visible from the trail, though the summit itself will be the focus of a future hike.

Summit of Wolverton Mountain, from trail.

Shortly after passing Wolverton’s eastern edge, I came to Quartz Mountain Trail. This unique promontory will be the topic of the next post.

Out Like A Lion

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on March 31, 2016 in Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Striving, Uncategorized

March 30, 2016, Prescott- I’ve been pretty busy this week, with work, and a brief foray into the “after work” social gathering scene. I find it still as shallow as it was when I frequented such gatherings, before Penny came along. People have their closed groups, and no matter that one or two might invite a newcomer, out of courtesy, it doesn’t take long for the body language to stiffen and the eye contact to move to those familiar faces.

My thoughts went today to the places where, and the people with whom, I feel at home. Not all are my ever-agreeable supporters. Some are critics, but they are honest critics, and are often quite helpful. As my beloved always said, “The opposite of love is indifference”.

In this hour of a March that is headed out like a lion, after treating us to icy wind and a dusting of snow, I want to honour the places that are homes to me, in the West, since it’s been a while.

Prescott and vicinity, Flagstaff, Marana, Tubac, Bisbee, Thatcher, the Sunnyslope area of Phoenix, Holbrook, Hopi land, Pine Springs, Reno and Carson City, San Diego and vicinity, Dana Point, San Clemente, Lomita, Santa Barbara, Ojai, Ashland (OR), Portland, Spokane, Anacortes, Wrangell, Juneau, Sitka, Ketchikan, Afton (WY), Cortez, Boulder, Colorado Springs, San Luis (CO), Socorro, Albuquerque, Truth or Consequences. I can go to any of these places, and there will be a welcoming presence.

I will talk further about my homes in the Midwest, the South, the Northeast, and the rest of the world, in subsequent posts. The point is, I am ever grateful for all who have reached out, kept faith in me, and not abandoned me out of difference of opinion, hurt feelings, or convenience.

Let’s see whether the March Lion gives way, willingly, to the April Lamb.

The Moon Is Green

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on March 17, 2016 in Historical, Personal Values, Seafaring, Striving, Uncategorized

March 16, 2016, Prescott- I’ve had an affection for things Celtic, since long before things Celtic became trendy. My half-English mother forbade the playing of Irish music in the house, but she’s come around to at least allow its play, on the music channels of her cable service.

My own affection for such is part of a lifelong connection with those who are close to the soil. So, I feel bonds with the indigenous- not only my Penobscot ancestors on my paternal grandmother’s line, but all Native Americans, Inuits, Siberians, Hawaiians, Australian aboriginals and those whom I called, in my childhood ignorance, “the natives” (tribal Africans).

I associate Celts, ancient Teutons, Slavs and the nomadic peoples of the Eurasian steppe with the land, also. It seems they ravaged one another, in wave after wave, and usually just as the one group was settling into sedentary life, there came the next horde.

That’s been the way of humanity, since we headed up, out of Africa, and wherever else we may have mastered the art of upright mobility, and spread across the continents. We have so often looked to the other’s yard, for prosperity- or at least for a change of scene. Indigenous people had these conflicts, too, though when the Europeans came to these shores, with visions of commerce and gain, the American peoples were in the process of establishing a peaceful network of trade routes, from southeast Alaska and the taiga of Canada, to Tierra del Fuego, and so many points in between. It is highly likely that there was trading between the Aleuts and the people of Japan; between the Greenland Inuit and the peoples of Scotland and Norway (even before Iceland was settled); and, possibly, between the seafaring people of what is now northeast Brazil and the kingdoms of western Africa. Then, too, nobody could hold a candle to the masters of the ocean: Those who went east, from the Malay Peninsula, and became the Micronesians and Polynesians, or west, and became the Malagasy.

We face, possibly in my lifetime, if not in my son’s, a decision about the proper use of the resources on our planet’s Moon, then those of at least the near planets of our solar system. Green- the colour of many of our wardrobes, tomorrow, will continue to have different connotations to different people. Mean green, or gentle green? Commerce, at any cost, or careful stewardship? It seems this has gone on, since Croesus minted his first coins, or even since the nations that pre-dated the Great Flood, if one believes in such things.

Where are you, in this debate? (My Xangan friends, in particular, please know that I don’t take umbrage at contrary opinions, even if I get a little spirited once in a while.) Express yourselves, and Erin Go Bragh!

Itsy-Bitsy

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on February 26, 2016 in Uncategorized

35. con-artist, puberty, spider venom, Cheetos.

February 25, 2016, Prescott- I didn’t work today, but I did receive my renewed Fingerprint Clearance Card- good until 2022. Getting it to the three district offices was the order of the afternoon.

A bit of verse, in celebration.

Lydia finds that Red Hot Cheetos are a cheerful mid-morning snack.

Since she underwent puberty, and has since carried around a full egg sac.

Standing on four of her eight legs, she tries to crawl up the denim.

The shrieks are deafening, from the girls, afraid of spider venom.

Lydia, you see, is a tarantula, and quite the con-artist.

She only need appear, and send the humans scattering.

Munching on a Cheeto or two,

Not what I’d call working her hardest.

The web can wait, until the bugs and flies stop chattering.

Whose Love Is It, Anyway

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on February 16, 2016 in Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Uncategorized

February 14, 2016, Prescott- I spent Valentine’s Day on a trail, of which more in the next post. Right now, I feel the need to address some concerns that came up, regarding a post I wrote on another social media site.

No, love is not physical in origin. It is not limited to the chosen few, nor is it something that should cause rifts between friends, siblings or parents/children. In a contentious society, such as the one we have now, such rifts often happen- over anything.

Love is a spiritual force. It began with everything we experience with our senses, being brought into existence. It became manifest in plants, when they propagated. Likewise, with animals, when they procreated, then nurtured their offspring and family members.

Humans have taken love to the next level- and we see the spiritual, feel the eternal. I have spent the past five Valentine’s Days as an observer, a well-wisher to couples, and a would-be soother to the distressed. There have been some, including one I thought was a friend, who have attacked me for even hinting that we should treat today as a time for honouring the concept of relationships. More’s the pity.

The fact is, most of us have been in a close friendship that, sooner or later, evolves into romance, and in many cases, marriage. Many of us, myself included, have had such friendships, and I have certainly had my share of those which “went south”.

I have had one that endured, and that’s really all that matters-in my case. Love is eternal. It will survive the worst of excesses, abuses and miscarriages of justice. It can be confused with its physical manifestations of affection, and lust. They feel good, when they are mutually accepted by both in a friendship, for a time. Real love, coming from the spirit, feels good for all time.

Hope your Valentine’s Day went well. If it didn’t, may you receive more love, as this year progresses.

Shakepeare Rules

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on February 9, 2016 in Uncategorized

February 8, 2016, Prescott-

20. sonnet, astronaut, cheese, glitter, karaoke

Sleep on this, I say. I am not one who can rattle off the names of poetic forms. I know a quatrain has four lines, a sestina has six, and that’s about it. Let’s consider, for a moment, the sonnet.

This type of verse, I am learning in my advancing state of being, has fourteen lines, of ten syllables apiece, written in iambic pentameter. I was most likely taught this in Junior High English- but who listens to talk of John Donne, or Petrarch, in seventh grade?

Shakespeare made the genre glitter. May I present his Sonnet XIV:

“Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck;
And yet methinks I have Astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert;
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.”

Much in this world glitters. In the end, the tinsel falls apart. Astronauts, though, look starward, as the Bard does here. He had the foresight to see the celestial as Man’s future focus. A lot of what we treasure, like fine cheese or a gilt evening gown, is doomed to fall apart, sour or spoil. The stars and planets, shall not.

Back to the sonnet: How do you think the late David Bowie would have sounded, singing the above verse in a karaoke fest? I believe it would not have gone well. Troubadours did not make a living, on the verses of Petrarch, or those of Spenser, Marlowe or Will,himself.

Yet, give it a try, if you are so inclined. There are almost as many sonnets by Shakespeare as there are moods in a season. The Bard was a master of observation, and of the turn of a phrase. In any age, Shakespeare rules.

Christmas Eve

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on December 25, 2015 in Family, Hiking and Nature, Uncategorized

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Two of my beautiful grandnieces, with their Nana.

December 24, 2015, Saugus- This day has always been an “icing on the cake” sort. In my younger days, the parties were full-on, booze-fueled. Of the past thirty-four years, the booze has gone away, but the revelry, whether of the Grand Canyon Baha’i Conference sort, or spent hiking on one trail or another, has remained integral to my year.

I spent today walking along the east shore of Lake Quannapowit, in Wakefield, which I last visited in 2011. The day was foggy, which only added to the sense of mystery in the area. One of my paternal aunts lives at the south end of Wakefield’s downtown, so I stopped by her place for an hour.

This evening, my brother, Glenn, hosted a few of us family-members. Two of his grandbabies added a an amazing level of energy to the festivities. We also tucked into some glorious sirloin steaks, before the Santa Parade, actually a one fire truck ride-by.

Here are some more photos of the day.