3 Rattlesnakes and a Frenchman

Although I was running short on time, my adventure in Chiricahua National Monument was not complete. I really wanted to hike to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain. The only competing circumstance was that I had a four-hour drive ahead of me to White Sands National Monument, and I needed to get there before 6pm to secure a camping permit. It was already noon. I would save time, I concluded,  by running the trail to the top of the mountain. After all, it was only a 1.9 miles hike round trip.

I pulled into the parking area. I was already up in the mountains, but this cylinder-like peak jutted up from the mountain as its own entity. I  had to see the view from atop. I grabbed my backpack and hydration pack, made sure I had my car keys, and was off. I started running up the narrow path which hugged the mountainside and spiraled DSC09539around the peak. There was one part with a narrow tunnel carved or blasted out by the Civilian Conservation Corps and another section where the rock and trail became smooth and bright white, appearing almost as if it was a part of a bobsled track. Apart from that, the rest of the trail was of typical rock and dust, with prickly plants all around and the summer sun in full exposure. Yes, it was strenuous, DSC09552going uphill the entire length of the trail, but it wouldn’t be long. I was pushing myself, taking on my machine mentality in which I concentrate on keeping mechanical movements and consistent speed, imagining I am nothing but a machine operating in a programmable mode. I was finally picking up speed and getting past my mechanical groove into a free-spirited free run until…..

“Tststststsssss” ( That’s how I spell the sound a rattlesnake makes). That noise was coming from behind me.

I ran right over a rattlesnake. My heart instinctively jumped at the sound. My feet must have barely missed stepping on it. Offended, it cringed and rattled its way off the trail. That was a close one!

Preparing for my first trip out West, I was very concerned about rattlesnakes. I read up about them. I thought they were going to be everywhere and would be a real issue for me. I was overly cautious to the point that now it is only humous to think back. My rattlesnake encounters ended up being so few that the threat of rattlesnakes had worn off and they weren’t even on my mind, until suddenly in this moment. Although it through me for a surprise I took this situation very pragmatically. I started building a small rock cairn as an indicator for myself on the way back that I would need to be cautious of a snake in the area.

Then I drew on what I new about rattlesnakes. They are mostly blind and rely heavily on vibrations on the ground to sense what’s going on around them. They aren’t aggressive until threatened. They will move out of the way if they sense someone coming. So I decided I would tread heavily and every-so-often throw a handful of stones out on the path in front of me to startle any snakes into a rattling mode.The plan seemed good to me, so I pressed forward.

Then, unexpectedly, around the bend appeared….a man- a young man- a fellow hiker. After a friendly smile and acknowledging “hello,” I proceeded to warn him: “I just passed a rattlesnake on the trail back there around the bend. I built a cairn. So when you see the cairn, just know there is a rattlesnake in the area.”

“I just saw too more rattle snakes.” He had an accent. He didn’t sound like he was from around here.

“Did you make it to the top?” I asked.

“No, I turned around. There are too many snakes.”

Turning around because of too many snakes, hadn’t even crossed my mind as an option. It troubled me that this guy was going to give up on the hike and a potential amazing view. When you face as many hardships as I have in life, what is a rattlesnake really? It’s got nothing on me.

“Well, I’m going to the top,” I informed. “You can follow behind me if you’d like. I’ll scare away the snakes.” My ego got an espresso shot right about here. I was the brave one. I was the daring one. I had suddenly become a leader.

And just like that I had a hiking companion. His name was Gzeivieur, and he was from France. He told me how he liked to vacation in the United States and visit our National Parks. It’s a perfect topic! I love to indulge in talking about the Parks, so naturally we proceeded to talk about our National Park experiences. We had been to many of the same ones. His favorite was Yosemite. Mine was Death Valley. On his present trip, he had already been to many of the places I was headed. We got on the topic of Dinosaur National Monument, a park I would become a big fan of. He recommended I visit a place near the park called Fantasy Canyon. The name alone sounded very intriguing. He told of rock formations unlike anything he had ever seen elsewhere.

We also reined in the conversation to our most immediate happenings. I told him I camped here in the Monument. He told me he stayed in a hotel in Wilcox. My mind flashed back to those abandoned and sketchy hotels I passed by on my way here.

“Tststststsssss” My stone throwing method had worked. I had been causally tossing stones every once in awhile and I had alarmed another rattlesnake, which scooted off our path.

The trail was soon leveling off and we were nearing the end when Gzeivieur warned of another rattlesnake. This little guy was snug up against a rock right aside the trail. To continue walking on the trail would put us in teritorial risk, so we maneuvered ourselves off the trail on the opposite side, skillfully fumbling over some rocks.

And then…

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We were there! We made it! Gzeivieur had been so close on his first attempt.

There at the top was a lookout building. I’m not sure if it was intended to be a fire tower sort of building, or a weather station at some point, but it was paneled with windows which looked out into the spectacular landscape. DSC09574

Clouds had rolled in bringing out a dark richness in the landscape. Here golden wild grass carpeted the mountaintop. Just below us was the valley spread, now so miniature, speckled with trees and hoodoos, and just level with the eyes were dark blue and grey mountains. I am so glad neither of us gave up on reaching a view like this. There was a 360 degree view. We walked around all sides a few times before we began our descent.

DSC09561Despite all our snake encounters on the way up, there wasn’t a single encounter on the way down, but I did see a short-horned lizard. As we descended, my hiking pal and I continued talking all about our National Park adventures. I might have shared with him a story or two of some of my wild happenings.

I will say some of the most interesting and genuine people I’ve met have been out on the trails or at different sites in the National Parks. I’ve made a list of them to ponder, remember, and appreciate these people. All of these people I’ve met from the across the National Parks are rich in experiences. They are like books, full of adventures and tales to tell, and our paths meeting end up enriching our own stories.

It’s one thing for a solo traveler like myself to venture across my country. But here was Gzeivieur, doing the same but as a foreigner. That’s some pretty “bad a**ery,” but hey, he still wasn’t going to finish this trail because of the rattlesnakes, so I one-upped him this time. But it’s all in good humor. I was glad to meet Gzeivieur. Before we parted ways, we exchanged social media information. I continue to follow his adventures as he does mine.

Back in my car. I strapped myself in. Chiricahua National Monument provided a full and robust beginning to my summer odyssey. I was now ready for the next leg of the adventure. It was time to head into New Mexico to White Sands National Monument.

Check back next Wednesday, as the adventures continue. 

Click here for the previous entry: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2019/02/28/my-crisis-at-chiricahua/

Check out my book “Among Blue Smoke and Bluegrass” on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Among-Blue-Smoke-Bluegrass-Tennessee/dp/1790631297

My Crisis at Chiricahua

I was done. I didn’t want to get out of bed, or off the ground rather. Life had knocked me down and I didn’t have the energy to get back up. The sunlight woke me to numerous birds singing and chirping all around me. I was amidst a bizarre and new landscape here at Chiricahua National Monument in Southeastern Arizona on the first full day of my new adventure. Visually, it was a beautiful morning. There was much to see and explore, but life had knocked me down and here I remained.

Prior to this trip I had experienced a series of difficulties in life. There were new challenges and unwanted changes at work, drama with my living situation, and most heavy and lingering of all, a health struggle with Drug-Induced Lupus. I’m very open with the fact that apart from the Lupus I had, I have a chronic hereditary autoimmune disorder called Ulcerative Colitis. It  keeps my intestines from functioning properly and causes an array of physical challenges. I was fortunate to be on an infusion medicine which kept me at prime health for six years, but then my body negatively reacted to a final dose of the medicine, gifting me a battle with Lupus. Numerous organs in my body ceased normal function, I became extremely weak, and had a hard time standing up for more than a few minutes. During the whole course of the disease, no doctor knew what was happening. It was only revealed after the fact. This left me with lots of uncertainty and questions. My last scheduled doctor’s appointment was with a cancer specialist.

Needless to say, despite all the uncertainty, symptoms started to wear off. I started to regain my health. I worked hard to remain fit and bring myself back to life. But I had not fully recovered, and lingering inflammation was spread throughout my body, making me feel weak and unwell, and so I was tired and worn out.

I lay there in the sleeping bag in my tent thinking about the person I used to be— full of life and energy, always eager for adventure. I missed him. I missed being flooded with so much excitement and adrenaline, that I’d be up before the sunrise seeking the next new vista.

And then there were the nightmares I had, which tainted my mood. I couldn’t remember them. They were fragmented and all over the place but they also drained me. Life just left me sore inside and out. I was waiting for the next tragedy or unforeseeable event to happen. It was as if I could sense it around the corner. Deanna Favre in her book, The Cure for the Chronic Life, describes this condition of survival in which we learn to live chronically in crisis. She says “these patterns give birth to worries that permeate every corner of our lives. Soon, we become less about becoming all that God has in store and instead spend most of our time enduring what the world throws our way…When we are living in chronic crisis, we are never quite breathing in the fullness of life, but instead holding our breaths, afraid of what might come around the corner” This is where I was.

After an hour, I brought myself to resolution. I knew Chiricahua National Monument deserved my time and attention. I had done just a little exploring the previous night. The landscape was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It was part desert, part jungle, part grassland, part temperate forest. It is a very unique location because it is where the Sonoran Desert gives way to the Chihuahua Desert at the base of the Rocky Mountain chain. This leads to a wide diversity of animals and plant life, including wild boar, fox, short-horned lizards, and sometimes, although rarely, jaguars. But most fascinating of all is the coatimundi, a relative of the raccoon which looks and behaves more like a monkey. I wanted to see one.

I got myself out of my tent and packed up. I had stayed in the one and only campground in the park, Bonita Canyon. It was a nice shaded campground with a series of small bridges. I then drove through the canyon and up the mountain to Massai Point where I would begin a hike. This park road was one constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. It begins in the dry woodlands shaded and adored with impressive hoodoos and canyon walls. The road, ascending, hugs the mountain very closely and barely evades a cliff on the other side. It seems miniature too, like not quite full two lanes. In addition there were fragments of rock strewn across the pavement which had simply eroded and fallen on the road. I strategically swerved around them, as to not damage my car nor its tires. This road was an endeavor itself.

Once parked, I began to gather my belongings for the hike. The hike would be at least 5.5 miles in a sun-exposed, rocky, dry climate. I needed to make sure I had adequate water and calories. I needed my camera, my hiking GPS, my park map, and a change of clothes. I knew when the sun rose higher into the sky, I would shed my long sleeves. Trying to pack my bag was a little hectic, because I hadn’t had time to organize my car yet. Everything was sort of just thrown haphazardly into the trunk. Somehow, in the shuffle, unbeknownst to me at the time, I dropped my keys in the trunk. Then, when I thought I had everything I needed, I closed the trunk, locking myself out of the vehicle.

I felt geared up and finally ready to go. Hiking across the parking-lot to the trailhead, I peered into my backpack to check where I put my keys and realized I did not have them. My heart began to race. This was one of my nightmares. I plopped my bag on the ground and quickly removed everything with frantic haste. There were no keys.

This can’t be happening, I thought. I raced back over to the car. I looked in the window to see if the keys were on a seat. Nope. I tried opening every door and the trunk. They were all locked. I emptied my backpack again, carelessly scratching the screen of my GPS on the jagged pavement. I did not have the keys. I looked around me on the ground. No keys.

I was alone. There was no one up here. Besides the family camping next to me way down in the canyon, loudly speaking Chinese into the wee hours of the night, I hadn’t seen anyone else in this park. Plus, the visitor center would be a very long day’s hike away, and when I passed it, it looked closed for the season.  I wouldn’t have enough water to make it there anyway. In a panic, I ran over to the NPS sign by the trailhead, to see if there was any notice about emergencies. Nothing. I checked the park map. No emergency information.

I couldn’t call anyone either. There was no cell phone service here, and I had also left my phone in the car. My head began to feel lightheaded in the angst of the moment. With denial, I went back over to the vehicle and tried the doors again. In a retrospectively rather humorous manner, I laid my hands on the car and made my plea: “God, I don’t know what to do. I just need a miracle. Just one miracle. Please unlock the door.”

I tried.

Nope. Still locked.

My resolution: Pretend like this didn’t happen. I’ll go on this hike anyway. Maybe someone else will be here by the time I get back, and maybe I’ll find a water source during my hike.

I turned my head away from the car, to begin my hike, and there laying right on the pavement were my keys.

They looked so beautiful, like some rare prized possession. It was like I was Indiana Jones coming upon the Ark of the Covenant, or the Fountain of Youth, or something.

It was right here in this location I had searched my bag over and over again. There were no keys here just moments ago.

Now, we could say I overlooked them, but I truly believe more was at work here. After I found the keys, the voice of God spoke to my soul brief and direct to the point, “Be still. Be calm. Don’t worry.” That came over me like a wave of peace, extinguishing all my anxiety, not just in this situation, but everything I had been feeling lately from my health, to my self-complacency, and the subtle anxiety which ran in the background all day and night.

It had been a long time since I heard God’s voice in my life. During my entire recent illness, though so many questions were put on the table, God felt distant to me. I felt alone. But here He was reminding me that He has me in the palm of His hand. He is looking out for me, and He cares. Yes, He is big enough to care about the world and eternity, but He also cares about me and my keys getting locked in the car. I also find it worth pointing out that in my prayer I had an idea of how this could be resolved. In a plea to solve my dilemma, my petition was for God to open the doors. God did resolve the issue, but in an unexpected perhaps even more miraculous way. In life, in the midst of my difficulties, great and small, I often often pray with my already thought out resolutions in mind. Sometimes God is on the brink of solving our problems in unexpected ways. Keep this in mind when your plans seem hopeless.

This moment of God speaking to me would be the foundation for everything I would learn and everything that would build within me this summer. This voice and this message would comfort and guide me as I would face an amazing summer of extremely cherished unfortunate and inconvenient events. Although I would continue to  seek out the voice of God during this trip, these few words would be all He would leave me with for a long while:

“Be still. Be calm. Don’t worry.”

After this incident with my car keys, my backpack seemed to carry much lighter and my body suddenly possessed more energy. Worry had been weighing me down, but God tamed that wild beast and took it away. I was ready to explore.

DSC09476 (2)As intended I hiked Ed Riggs Trail to Mushroom Rock Trail to Inspiration Point Trail to Inspiration Point itself. The first trail began by descending into a valley of trees and shrubbery. All around me stood tall dark hoodoos, clustered together at various heights. They looked alive, almost as if they were in the process of growing. In some aspects the view was reminiscent of Bryce Canyon, but here the hoodoos took on a more stalky, weightier form, and their color was a sandy grey. Here these geological features were the result of an ancient volcanic eruption. Also, though arid, lichen adorned the rocks, and greenery was draped over the landscape. At one point I came to a window in the rocks, and could look out into the valley.

DSC09462I had never beheld a landscape like this before. To me, it looked like what I might imagine one of China’s stone forests to look like. I’ve never been to China, so this is purely out of speculation and comparison to photographs. Nowhere in the United States have I been in any environment quite like this. There was such a combination of environments that it became confusing to identify and best to consider Chiricahua its own entity.  

After venturing through the forest, I ascended to arid grasslands, and then onto rock faces where lizards scurried.  The reach of my hike ended at a peninsula looking down into the canyon. It was stunning, hoodoos climbed up and down the mountains, and in the distance the canyons spilled and became level with the desert plains, showing that Chiricahua is its own location, an island in the desert. When driving to the park, I ascended from the desert into the mountains where this secret canyon lay. This unique biome and hidden world l above the desert plains was the stronghold of the Chiricahua Apache Indians.  

Back near the trailhead was a lookout tower with a plaque stating how the Apache had a secret hideout in the mountains across from the monument on the other side of the valley. One important leader and warrior was buried there. He wanted to be buried where no white man would ever tread. No one has been able to find this secret location and grave. I love mysteries in the National Parks.

I can say, without reservation, that Chiricahua National Monument is one of the top five underrated gems of the National Park Service. It is also special to me because of what happened here. Whenever I look at my hiking GPS and see the scratches across its screen, I remember my panic and God delivering me from my situation. It reminds me of his ever-presence.

I would love to someday return to Chiricahua National Monument, reimagine its history, explore its stories, revel in its landscape, and find a coatimundi. I never did see one.

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Check back next Wednesday for the next episode in the adventure.

Click here for the previous entry: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2019/02/23/a-new-adventure-an-expedition-of-being-lost/

Check out my book “Among Blue Smoke and Bluegrass” on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Among-Blue-Smoke-Bluegrass-Tennessee/dp/1790631297

A New Adventure: An Expedition of Being Lost

This adventure starts with blood, droplets to be precise, running down my arm. I was not sure what to do. I was prepared for many circumstances. I knew how to best handle a bear encounter. I was accustomed to venomous snakes by now. I knew how to avoid hypothermia, and I may have learned a thing or two about sandstorms, but I was not prepared for the angry TSA agent at Chicago’s O’hare International Airport.

Somehow in the midst of things, while taking off my backpack, one of the sharp edges of a National Park pin I had adorned on my backpack, latched into the skin of my thumb and ripped, providing a slender stream of blood running down my arm towards my elbow. I wasn’t aware there was even a wound, until I saw the alarming bright red color cascading down my arm. I grasped my thumb with the rest of my fingers in the palm of my hand, adding pressure to stop the bleeding, and prevent the blood from dripping onto anything.

“Hurry up! Keep moving!” The TSA agent called out in a passionate and bothered tone.

I was trying— trying to get my belt off, remove my laptop from it’s case, put my shoes up on the conveyor belt, and empty my pockets while not losing location of my plane ticket nor wallet. And trying not to bleed on everything. If anything was an omen or foreshadowing of the rest of this year’s summer adventure. This was it.

In a clumsy sort of juggling act, I got all my parts and pieces up onto the conveyor and walked into the tubular cylinder for my body scan. Nobody knew of my bloody situation. I passed through, my belongings were delivered back to me, and I was trying to put myself back together and manage my wound before I’d be reprimanded for holding up the line.

Phew! I made it. First order of business: find a bandaid. I went from gate to gate. Either there was no employee or the agents were too swamped with passengers boarding flights. After adequate effort, I found a kind lady at a gate who disappeared and came back with three bandaids “just in case.” I was all set.

Here I was, on the verge of a new adventure. I had prepared months in advance for this. This would be my third great National Park adventure and road trip. Two years prior I had ventured out West, primarily to California, and hiked and camped in Yosemite, Sequoia, Death Valley, and other National Parks. That was the prelude, the falling in love with the National Parks, that spurred my month long National Park adventure the following year, in which I pondered the Canyonlands and reached my highest summits. This summer would be the grand sequel, a continuation, the ongoing romance of me and the natural world.

Reading my accounts, one might think I am sort of a freespirit, and although that title does sound appealing, I do like my adventures to be planned out. I do make elaborate itineraries. I may not always stick to them, and I adjust when needed, but the underlying fear is to miss out on something, so I want to make sure all major points of interests possible are considered.

My plan was to fly from Chicago to Phoenix Sky Harbor, get a rental car I had secured months prior, and venture from Arizona into New Mexico, down through West Texas to the border of Mexico, back through New Mexico, up through Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, California and finally conclude in Las Vegas. The focus of the trip: visiting as many National Parks sights as possible and seek beauty and inspiration.

By now, I knew what I was doing, I was well experienced. I was only tired. A number of life’s circumstances had worn me out. I was hoping that this trip would rejuvenate me and provide me new perspective. I seek God when I am out in the wild. I believe he designs the natural world to point us to him. When we lose ourselves in it, God uses the beauty and symbols of nature to speak to us. When we seek, God opens the door. He honors that.

During my plane ride from Chicago to Phoenix there were no interesting characters to chat with, no painted young lady heading off to a tattoo convention nor a ditsy girl asking me if two bottles of water is enough for an overnight trip into the Grand Canyon. Nothing like that. I was alone to my thoughts. I knew I would be making many more memories, and it would be important to not forget any of the experiences I’ve had thus far, so I cracked open my journal and made a long outline of everything I remembered from my previous epic summer adventure. I would use that outline to start my blog, write a book, and recollect that entire summer experience. With that behind me, I would feel free to soak up new experiences, savor them, and write about them.

When I got to Phoenix, I picked up my rental car. My sweetest deal yet: $450 total for one month. I hit the road and stopped at a familiar Chipotle in Casa Grande, which I had eaten at the summer before. It was a good place to stock up on calories, and it was also right across from a Walmart to stock up on supplies. I’ve gone into great detail of how this works in the record of my previous adventure, but essentially, I have figured it cheaper to buy much of my camping gear after arriving, instead of paying for extra luggage. As quick as I could, trying to save daylight, I stocked up and hit the road southeastward to Chiricahua National Monument. I had entertained the idea of heading west to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, but after being bombarded with warnings online about safety; reading about a murder taking place in this National Park; and the National Park Service posting:  “Illegal border crossings and activities, including drug smuggling, occur daily,” and what to do when encountering people in distress, I decided I didn’t need any of that in my life. Hence southeastward to Chicachua I went. I knew very little about this National Monument, and hadn’t heard about it until planning this trip, but its landscape looked out of this world.

The last encounter with civilization on my way to Chiricahua National Monument, was the town of Wilcox, Arizona, a half-dead, barely-clinging-on sort of place. With abandoned gas stations and hotels here and there. I was thinking, I’m really in the sticks now, but not so much sticks as much as prickly cacti. The next thirty five miles of the journey would be desolate but stunningly beautiful. My car swooped down a long stretched of two lane road surrounded by fields of amber waves and majestic purple mountains on all sides in the far distance, bringing to life to me a line from our National Anthem. I had to stop my car to step outside and take it all in. When I turned my car off, I was greeted with a profound quietude and peace. There were no other cars, no other sounds, just a rich and warmly golden glowing landscape, great distances for my eyes to see, an overwhelming sense of appreciation, and a keen sense of patriotism.

I took some photos and continued on my way. As I was driving, I was reflecting on all the diverse landscapes I have seen, from the tropical islands of Florida, the thick forests of Tennessee and Kentucky, the rounded reaches of the Sierra Nevada, the odd beauty of the Death Valley, the rocky cliffs of Maine, the red earth and pine forests of Utah, the beaches of California, and the prairies of the Midwest, even the high forests of Mexico, the deserts of Peru, and the jungle of Panama. I have seen many places, and I know they come from the same artist. The more landscapes I see, the more I get to know God in a grander sense. I see the extent of his artistry. The creativity and diversity is abundant, showing just how magnificent, wide, and expansive God is. Who is God? Take a moment, hike a trail, climb a rock, watch the sunset, observe everything and consider it purposeful, designed with meaning: God revealing truth about himself to you.

That is one of the main appeals of nature to me— the intimacy I find with God. Surely in this trip God would speak to me like he has done in the past. Formulaic, I thought: Get away, spend time alone, surely God will meet me here again. I do, I truly do believe God finds the soul out seeking him in the wilderness. But at the beginning of this trip, to an extent, I thought I had God figured out. I had put him in a box. I thought I found a way to hear from him on demand. Need God to speak to my soul? Simple. Get out in the wild alone. This would prove to be a humbling experience. Literally and figuratively I first would have to spend some time wandering in the desert.

 

Check back every Wednesday for new “episodes.” Next: https://joshthehodge.wordpress.com/2019/02/28/my-crisis-at-chiricahua/

Check out my book “Among Blue Smoke and Bluegrass” on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Among-Blue-Smoke-Bluegrass-Tennessee/dp/1790631297

Saguaro National Park: Land of Killer Bees

The Africanized Honey Bees a.k.a. “killer bees” are found throughout Saguaro National Park. What makes them so dangerous is that even if you offend one bee, the insect releases a pheromone that attracts the rest of the colony in a swarm to assault the perpetrator, or so I’ve read. And if you end up finding yourself too close to a hive in the bees sacred “safe space,” you might as well consider yourself dead.

These bees are no joke. They are a cross-breed that were mixed to increase honey production in Brazil but later made their way into  south Texas and now Southern Arizona. I was reading all about the Africanized Honey Bee after seeing the safety warning on the Saguaro National Park website.

Needless to say, I had no encounters with bees at Saguaro National Park. Everything about my time in the park was pleasant. It started at the Red Hills Visitor Center at the Saguaro West Tucson Mountain District. Something a bit peculiar about this National Park is that there are two distinct parts of the park separated by the city of Tucson.

When I got out of my car at the visitor center I noticed the National Park centennial flag flying high, a beautiful vista of Saguaro cacti all around me, and the mountains resting in the distance. Inside a park ranger, or perhaps just a visitor center employee, told me hiking is not recommended in the heat, but that I could drive the Bajada Scenic Loop. I appreciated the advice, but I knew she didn’t know that last summer I went hiking and camping in Death Valley and the Mohave Desert. I can handle the heat. While I had her attention I asked for the best directions to get to my campground at Catalina State Park. She was very friendly and helpful, giving me area maps and detailed directions. I have only ever had very positive experiences with everyone who works for the National Park Service. As tradition, before leaving the visitor center, I purchased a pin. I purchase a pin at every National Park I visit. It’s my one cost effective souvenir.

After simply taking some pictures outside and around the visitor center I drove to the DSC03171Desert Discovery Nature Trail, which is a short interpretive half-mile loop around various cacti. There were some impressive Saguaros to observe. I learned that the inside of the Saguaro cactus can be up to 20 degrees cooler than the air outside. Therefore birds, kangaroo rats, and even foxes find shelter within the cactus. I would have never known this and find it fascinating that there is much more to the cactus than what meets the eye. Walking around the trail loop was intriguing as simple and short as it was. I had been in deserts before but not a desert with so much cacti and plants. The ground itself was very barren and crusty but all over and placed, in such an impressive array, were all sort of cacti and rocks. It almost looked like it was designed purposely despite it being wild. Also looking up at the Saguaro evoked a feeling similar to that of looking upon the mighty Sequoia- both are iconic, stately, and extremely resilient plants. While the Sequoia is largely fire resistant, the Saguaro is heat and sun resistant, enduring extreme heat and sunlight. These plants just give off an inspiring essence of strength.

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Here on the nature trail I took quite a few photos, not only of cacti and the mountains over to one side, but admittedly of myself. I wanted to get a picture of myself with the Saguaro. I have a walking stick that also doubles as a monopod for my camera. In many terrains it’s easy to shove the stick into the ground and set the timer on my camera. Here the desert floor was so hard I could not get my stick to stand upright, so taking photos was a bit more challenging.

There were many small lizards scurrying about this trail too. I did manage to get a few good lizard pictures.DSC03207

After my peaceful trail walk, I embarked on the one-way Bajada Scenic Loop in my car. Since it is one-way, it was a commitment. There was no turning around- although at times I was concerned it was a little too rough on the car. But we managed without any problem at all. I pulled over at a few times to take pictures and took a short hike up Signal Hill to check out some petroglyphs- the first of many petroglyphs I would see on this trip.

I knew my time in Saguaro National Park would be brief. I wasn’t planning extensive hikes. I wasn’t planning to stay long. I mean after all- killer bees! But in all sincerity, I knew it was a small National Park. So, after a couple hours, I was done. That was it. I left just thinking, that it was very pleasant, and something new. I had never experienced this type of desert landscape and had never seen the Saguaro in its natural habitat.

DSC03268I departed Saguaro National Park and made my way around the outskirts of Tucson to Catalina State Park where I had reserved a campsite in advance. When I made my reservation I did so online rather blindly. When I arrived I was surprised to find that my reserved campsite was probably the most scenic one in the whole place. From where I pitched my tent, I had an amazing view of the Catalina Mountains, which were golden with the warm glow of late evening sun resting upon them. There were a number of holes in the ground where rather large ants and beetles would run in and out of. I tried setting up my tent in the least obtrusive area. While I was setting up my tent, I saw a coyote trotting around just next to my campsite with the mountains behind him.

This campground was not remote. It was close to the entrance of the park and had newly laid blacktop all throughout. It was well developed, with trash receptacles and bathrooms with showers. However, I only saw one other campsite occupied, So I was pretty much alone. it was very peaceful.

I pitched my Kelty Salida 2, my new tent, one of two tents I brought on this trip. Kelty is very airy and intended for hot desert environments, while my other tent, more sturdy and insulated, which I call “True Blue,” is for colder and wetter environments.

After I set up camp I drove across the street from the state park to none other than Wal-Mart- very convenient. Now, camping in a park across the street from a Wal-Mart in say Kentucky sounds just very sketchy. But this Wal-Mart had to be the nicest fanciest Wal-Mart I have ever been to. The parking lot was immaculate with landscaped islands and classical music piped throughout. It did seem very fitting though, because surrounding this area were private, planned communities with very fancy and expensive desert oases.

I bought a sandwich, Greek yogurt, and an apple, which I later ate in my car for dinner, as well as food for the next couple days. I also had to buy lot of gear for the month ahead. Since I arrived to the West by plane, I could only bring so much, so I had to buy a sleeping bag, pillow, matches, batteries, and food storage containers. I also bough a $8 camping air mattress for those nights I would really need a good sleep.

DSC03294This night I slept in my tent on the ground in just my sleeping bag. I brought my road atlas and driving GPS with me into the tent to work on my route for the following day. I wasn’t looking at the atlas very long before I fell asleep. I slept well, except remembering waking up a few times cold. I wasn’t expecting it to get cold at night. In the morning I woke up to a chorus of coyotes. I took advantage of the shower at the campground, knowing my next opportunity for a shower would be a number of days away, a few National Parks later, and on the other side of the Navajo Nation.

I got in my car ready to slide up the east side of Arizona to Petrified Forest National Park-or in my mind, planet Lothal from Star Wars. Here I would secure my first wilderness permit and backpack into the wilderness to spend the night.

 

Check back tomorrow for my account of the wilderness on planet Lothal.