Category Archives: Adventure

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument Annual Easter Campout 2024

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Every year a group of friends get together to camp at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. For a prior year’s story see this adventure. This year we had about 15 people sign up, two dropped out and many left early. Not because of anything bad happening to them but bad weather. This year the forecast was weirder than ever. Typically, it can get a bit toasty out there and our concern is over how hot is it going to get? A couple of days ahead everyone was checking the weather, and it did not look good for the home team. Friday was good, clear and warm. Saturday was supposed to be windy, Saturday night/early Sunday rain. It’s usually a toss-up in Arizona as to whether the weather reports are accurate. I have seen days where they say 70% chance of rain and it’s only cloudy etc. So, we just didn’t know.

I took the day as a floating holiday from work so that I could get headed out early. We usually all meet at a restaurant in the beautiful cosmopolitan city of Ajo for lunch on Friday. Ajo is what was called a “company town”. Back in the days of yore, companies, such as mining companies would build housing for its employees. Ajo is the Spanish word for garlic and as far as I know garlic has nothing to do with anything in the area. I read that The Spanish may have named the place using the familiar word in place of the similar-sounding O’odham word for paint (oʼoho). The Tohono O’odham people obtained red paint pigments from the area. (Source: Wikipedia, what else?)

The restaurant we normally met at closed down I believe even before the pandemic. There are very few choices for restaurants in town and the default has been The Agave Grill. One of our campers recommends the chef salad. Click here For a Yelp review. Only two people were planning on hitting The Grill for lunch and I wanted to join them. My grand plan was to head out and be at the park by 11-11:30, set up, then head back to Ajo to join then for lunch. Epic fail. I did get to the park at 11:30, checked in, but the 20-year-old ranger (Ranger Skippy) told me that I couldn’t go to the campsite until 1 because they were still cleaning. Um, what? You mean they have maids like in a motel? I went out to the site anyway and there was no one there. The other group sites were occupied but site 5, our reserved site, was clean, the beds made, carpet vacuumed, bathroom cleaned. I jest, it’s a campsite. A ramada and picnic tables surrounded by places for tents. The ramadas are a fairly new addition. In years past there were no ramadas for shade and it is usually hot out so we’re all huddling under the nearest Palo Verde “tree”. These skeletal monstrosities are more like a bush with branches that dwindle out to nothing and produce leaves the size of a grain of rice. So, our park entrance fees at work, they built ramadas and added a shower in the restrooms.

I decided to set up anyway, who’s to know? I texted my friends that I was supposed to meet up with at The Grill and said I wasn’t going to make it after all. By the time I did get set up I was so sweaty and gross I would not want to go into a civilized place, if you can call Ajo civilized.

I had purchased a new tent and this was her maiden voyage. The rain forecast was not making me feel too great but I had high hopes that the weather forecast was wrong or would change. The tent is called an “instant tent” and it really is. After years of clumsy flimsy poles to wrestle with Coleman finally produced an easy-up tent. If you want to see a demo of how easy, click here. I got all set up before anyone else got there.

Everyone trickled in little by little. Four of us travelled into Sonoyta, Mexico to make dinner reservations for Saturday night. This is a tradition for us to go into “town” and have dinner at The Excelsior Hotel restaurant and have dinner, shop at the local liquor/furniture/nik-nak store and get ice cream. There is also a taco stand right near the store that has been there feeding flies and people for 48 years. On the day we make the restaurant reservation, we usually dine here. The tires on the taco truck are completely flat, its swarming with flies and the food is delicious. I’m not sure if it’s because the health inspector doesn’t make it out there too often, or because it’s the only taco truck around as to how it’s been there for so long. Or the fact the tires are flat. All I know is that it won’t be entering The Great Food Truck Race any time soon.

Back at camp everyone was just chillin. When it got dark, we made a fire and all sat around regaling about hikes we’d been on, wacky situations we’ve found ourselves in and general campfire banter. Since most of us have seen a few winters in our day, we pretty much hit the hay fairly early. Now came the time for me to test out the new air mattress/cot situation. I was pleasantly surprised. Not only was it comfortable, but I woke up once during the night and thought I was at home. The sun was rising at around 6am and so I got up to have coffee. We had decided to have the traditional Easter morning breakfast potluck Saturday morning rather than Sunday because of the predicted rain. The forecast was not changing and so we erred on the side of caution and had the breakfast on Saturday. That was a good idea. We had to fight the wind a bit, 40mph gusts are the enemy of paper plates and napkins. One napkin blew into a nearby bush and one of the campers went to get it and got nailed by a teddy bear cholla.

We were able to remove the offending segment with a comb and just picking the thorns out. Cholla thorns are like fish hooks and have a barb that is both painful and difficult to remove.

After breakfast, some people went on hikes, others, like me, stayed around to chew the fat and enjoy the 40mph breezes. I mulled on whether to take one friend’s offer up on staying with them in the Air BnB in Ajo or to stick it out, hoping the weather forecast was wrong. We just didn’t know. Meanwhile, I was able to complete work on a knit beanie and start another. Stitch and Bitch, but I was the only one stitching and others were bitching about the medical procedures they had last year, what procedures they have scheduled and how difficult it can be to get up out of a chair anymore. Yes, gentle readers, we are all over 45. Um, okay, 50. I’ll leave it there.

The weather forecast was not entirely wrong. The rain was supposed to start at midnight, but it didn’t really start until about 3am. At least the wind let up some and my tent stayed dry. On the inside. By the time I emerged from my tent the rain had stopped. It was still overcast, and I was able to make coffee. It would still sprinkle off and on. A few people had bailed on Saturday afternoon, opting out of dinner in Sonoyta and avoiding getting their gear drenched. They missed out on being able to say, “Wow, it sure is brisk out”. This is something I had never heard uttered at an Organ Pipe Easter Weekend campout. I am sure I will never hear it spoken again at this event.

All in all, good trip. I do not regret staying in the rain. My tent kept me dry, I got to see some old friends, eat good food and see a family of illegal immigrants get busted at the border.

If you are so inclined, visit my Etsy shop to see some of my Stitch and Bitch products.

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2020 in Retrospect

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Originally published in December of 2020

Well, here we are. Who would have thunk it a year ago that we would be where we are now. The one bright spot in an otherwise gloomy year is the White House crazy train is finally slowing down. That is all I will say regarding politics.

I was reading posts from days gone by, I am a bit depressed. Pre-pandemic I was not doing much compared to the past 10 or so years. At least, I wasn’t writing about the things I was doing. A few Uber driving stories and that is about all.

As for this year, the last time I got together with friends was February where we went to a play. After that I managed to squeeze in a weekend at Ren Fair before they shut it down late March. During that time our offices at work sent most people who could to work at home. This was a huge challenge for the IT call center. We are on the front line taking calls from people who were hurled computer equipment and told to call us if they needed help. Boy, did they. All I will say about this is this:

I think the most exciting thing that happened to me was in January before the shit really hit the fan was I was in my first major auto accident. Not my fault and I wasn’t hurt. However I did need to replace my car for obvious reasons.

There I was peacefully driving home from the office and thinking, wow, traffic is going surprisingly smooth today when I saw my lane I needed to be in come to a grinding halt. I know this section of road and how it slows way down because of poor engineering, so I was able to stop. But, the car behind me not so much. The driver did not have insurance, luckily, as an adult not only do I carry full boat car insurance even though that car had been paid off for a while. Thinking back, this was probably the best thing that could happen to me. My car (see above) had very high mileage and I was going to replace it in 2021. I had driven so many thousands of miles with Uber that, though in good shape, it was mostly worthless because of the miles. I was dreading trading it in as I would get nothing for it, and as usual, I don’t have a lot of savings to spill on a down payment. My credit had been in the toilet for a long time and I was worried I was going to get screwed on interest rates for a loan. I took a lot of effort using the Uber money to get ahead and surprisingly enough my credit had recovered. The Enterprise Rental Car place gave my contact information to sales and they contacted me about replacing my car. Long boring story short, it was a great experience. Insurance came through with paying the Kelly Blue Book and I had the money for a pretty decent down payment. My interest rate was low and I ended up with a cool “new” car and do-able payments. That would have never happened if I went to a regular dealer and traded the car with a gozillion miles on it.

The big green bow makes it easier to spot in the parking lot amongst all the other silver Altimas.

So, that was January and February. March, relocated from office to home. I won’t bore with details about that. A few technical challenges, had to upgrade my internet so that people could hear every word I was saying on the phone rather than every other word. I just want to say that I am grateful that I am fortunate to be able to do that. Business continuity in a disaster. Not everyone so lucky. On the Uber and Lyft pages I belong to online many drivers were S.O.L because business dropped severely. So even though it has sucked with how busy we are supporting all the new work from homers at the end of the day I am truly grateful for it. Could have been a lot worse.

Other than the off hike or road trip, not much else to report. Our annual campouts were cancelled this year, and that was a bummer. One key person in our group passed away without being able to see him again and that was very sad. My annual Christmas gathering, Festivus will not be taking place for obvious reasons. Hopefully 2021 will ring in better days to come. But I will leave you with a few images commemorating 2020 and a quote from one of my favorite movies (silly as it may be), “Ever After” the line uttered by the great Angelica Huston,” Just remember, no matter how bad things get, they can always be worse”.

RIP Esmerelda Smokycoat

Stay tuned for the Road Trip to Marfa adventure. This is the one thing I did this year anywhere involving an adventure, but will be a separate post!

How It All Began for The Scuba Jedi

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I first started diving in 2006. At the urging of a friend who told me that SCUBA was like snorkeling on steroids, I decided to go for it. I am a fairly fearless person so the idea of diving wasn’t so scary to me. I hear people all the time when I bring up the fact I dive have a ton of excuses loaded up as to why they “can`t” dive. Their ears won`t equalize, they`re claustrophobic, they`re afraid of sharks, and so on. My biggest excuse for not learning to dive prior to August of 2006 was I didn’t think I was going to look good in a wetsuit. So I was rolling out of a bar one night and right in the same plaza was a SCUBA center. It wasn’t far from home and so I decided to call them and sign up for lessons. That was in July of 2006 and by the end of August I was able to get in a class. I took a three day crash course and was eligible for my open water certification within a weekend. I wasn’t able to get on a trip to go for the open water portion until November. I purchased some good fins, a 5mm Henderson Gold Core wetsuit, some other tidbits such as safety sausage, whistle, dive knife, lights, and was ready to go. I found a carpool partner for the trip to San Carlos, Mexico. I had never been to Mexico before so this trip was a trip of firsts. My first time to Mexico, first time SCUBA diving, and first time visiting a strip bar. Details to follow on that last one.

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Me near Eagle Rock

The shop I dived with, Scuba Specialties was the best dive center in Arizona. The instructors were second to none, the facility was fantastic, and they did a great job keeping everyone together on the trips for the camaraderie and friendships being established. For the open water skills, my instructor was shop co-owner Frankie Smith. Frankie is a lot of fun as well as being a Master Instructor with loads of experience and a talent for making you feel calm and secure. We had to split the students up into two groups and I was diving with Frankie and a set of twin girls whose father was with us to help. Their dad was a divemaster. The first dive was just to follow Frankie around and get comfortable breathing under water and to look around at the marine life. There were a lot of sea lions there and they were swimming along with us and playing. Going through the skills is quite the gauntlet. I did pretty well until the last dive on the second day. I was getting tired and the second to the last skill I had to do was mask removal and clearing. During our classroom session, our instructor, Gary, said somehow, some time, somewhere, no matter how experienced you are, something is going to flip you out and you are going to spew your reg out. I thought, no way, not me! I`ll never do that! Well, when I removed my mask, I opened my eyes and I freaked out when the salt water burned them. I spit out my regulator and Frankie had to wrangle me back to reality, he jammed the reg back in my mouth and I completed the skill. I gave him the OK signal and he sent me off with Beau, a divemaster, to swim around and calm down. I had kicked up enough silt from flailing that I caused poor visibility, but I followed Dive master Beau for a while. We surfaced a little ways from the ship and had a surface swim. Being inexperienced I had way too much air in my BC and it was strangling me. I tried to swim but there was a current and I was exhausted from the incident down below with the mask. I begged Beau to help me and we did tired diver tow. I did my last skill which was releasing the weights and re-installing them. I had trouble with one of the pockets and Beau couldn`t even get it so he let it go. I got back on the ship, ditched my gear and went to sit on the bow to catch some sun and mellow out. We were at a site called Eagle Rock which is right up against a large rock wall where the waves roll and cause some light turbulence. There were waves and the ship was rocking. I started feeling worse and worse and worse. The guys were very attentive and kept asking me if I were okay. Being the rugged independent trooper, I kept saying I was just fine. Soon I admitted that I wasn`t fine. I was getting very seasick. They told me to get out of the sun and so I went and sat in the middle of the ship. Beau brought me some cold fresh water and I drank it, but he told me to pour it on my head. I did and it made me feel a bit better. But, that didn`t last and before I knew it I was chumming off the side. All I had in my stomach was water and so that`s all there was. Izzy, one of the instructors, laughed at me and asked me if I was feeding the fish. I said, well, kind of…if they like water! So I got my open water certification. I went back to my room and calmed myself for the night`s festivities. We went to dinner and I bought Beau a nice shot of expensive tequila. He asked me if I would be interested in going dancing and I said sure! Here`s where the strip club comes in. I was shocked at first, but thought there is one of two things I could do. I could get indignant and ask to be taken back to the hotel, or I could have more tequila. The tequila won out.

Heading out for my first open water dive

Heading out for my first open water dive

After that I was hooked on SCUBA. I made another trip to San Carlos the January after that trip. Once again I was with Scuba Specialties and this time the instructors aboard were Kendall, the shop owner, and John Flanders who is now the owner of Academy of Scuba. I was fun diving and ended up with Leslie, a Dive Master, as my dive buddy and roommate. January was mortal cold and it took some getting used to. I didn`t even complete the final dive on the last day as my feet were turning purple. But it was great being able to dive for the fun of it and not have to go through all those skills! I ended up driving down there all alone, I couldn`t hitch with anyone else nor did I have any passengers. I don`t mind going alone as I listen to audio books and keep myself entertained. As I mentioned, I am relatively fearless and don`t get too nervous about things like driving into Latin American countries by myself. On the first dive I lost my snorkel and the second dive, Leslie found it. We stayed at the same dive site and as fate would have it, there the thing was. I`ll bet there are a lot of snorkels and various other SCUBA knick-knacks laying on bottom. I had to surface first as at the time I was an Air Sucking Pig (ASP) and seemed to go through my tank faster than anyone else. I was feeling so mellow and at ease, but when I surfaced I noticed the ship`s motor was on and there was a commotion on deck. I saw three of the fun divers cutting the wetsuit off Ron, one of the students getting his open water certification. I hurried to get on board and John came up behind me and demanded me to move aside! I jumped back and let him on first. The surface support then helped me on and I stayed out of the way. Turned out the three fun divers were EMT`s and Ron had suffered a diving accident. Later on we found out what happened. They were on bottom doing their skills and when John went around the group asking everyone what they had left for air, Ron indicated 500psi. So John told him to get with Beau and head up. Well, Ron wasn`t too comfortable apparently because it does get harder to breathe when the tank is low. He began to panic and therefore started aspirating water in through the corners of his mouth. Beau was pressing Ron`s reg to his mouth to make sure he didn`t spit it out. After Ron was in full on panic, Beau released his gear and brought him up. He was unconscious by then and luckily the firemen EMT`s were on the job! They managed to resuscitate him and as soon as everyone was back on board we headed out. A faster ship met us up and took Ron, one of the EMT`s and Kendall out of there. They took him to the Naval Hospital in Guyamas for the night. Kendall stayed with him. Needless to say, Ron`s diving was over for the weekend. The next day we went out again and everyone completed their certification and I only dove the one dive that day as I was freezing.
Since then I have earned my advanced level PADI cert. I have traveled to Grand Cayman (see The Grand Cayman Adventure), St. Maarten, Bonaire, and Curaçao for diving. I have also been back to San Carlos many times.

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San Carlos

 

Inner Basin Adventure

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You can camp year round in Arizona. You do have to pick your places as during the winter camping up north is out of the question, and in the summer camping in the desert would be a bit uncomfortable. My favorite camping in in the mountains where there are tall pines and aspen, grass and shade. The thing is, when the monsoon season hits (around July 4), it rains every day and I really hate camping in the rain. So when I got the invite to camp the weekend of June 5-7 in the San Francisco Peaks I jumped at the chance. The weather would be beautiful, it was before monsoon season and it was hotter than the seventh chasm of hell in the valley.

I get off work at 1:30 in the afternoon so I could bolt on up there right after. I would have the car packed and two of our camping party were going up early to snag a couple of skookums campsites at Lockett Meadow.

Of course it rained.

There are three basic physiographic regions in Arizona. Basin and Range, which includes the Sonoran Desert and the Phoenix area, the Transition Zone, which is chaparral, the areas around Payson, Sedona, and Prescott and last, the Colorado Plateau, which is high elevation and snow in the winter. The Colorado Plateau was where we were headed.

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The image is misleading as the Colorado Plateau should be green and the Basin and Range should be brown

As I left Phoenix, it was raining. But I had high hopes that it would clear off. As I headed up a mesa to the transition zone, which I refer to as The Riddermark, it got worse. However, when I got to Flagstaff it seemed to be clearing on one side and really dark and foreboding toward he east. Thank Dog we were going west! Lockett Meadow is located on the north east side of the San Francisco Peaks.  The Peaks were once a huge, cone-shaped stratovolcano that rose somewhere between 16,000 and 20,000 feet high and looked like Mt. Ranier in Washington or Mount Fuji in Japan.  About 250,000 years ago it blew it’s top and left behind several peaks and a nice place to camp called the Inner Basin. The actual campground is located in a place called Lockett Meadow. I tried to research where the name came from but could find nothing. My guess is it was named after some bloke named Lockett.

I got a text from Deb back in Phoenix that our campsites were going to be 14 and 15. Megs and Ken had already arrived and were setting up.  stopped for some firewood then headed on to the forest. I thought that the meadow was toward the bottom of the peaks. Boy, was I wrong about that. I headed in on the gravel road and it was still sprinkling. I still had high hopes that it would stop. Wrong again. Once I turned off FR 420 on to FR 552 (AKA The Fury Road) I saw a sign that said it was unmaintained, steep and curvy. Now, here’s something about me that part of my ‘wuss feature. I really hate and am terrified of driving narrow, steep, unpaved roads. But I tell myself I gotta do it. So I chived on. I bottomed out in a few places and was white knuckled on the steering wheel. I kept telling myself to stop whining, I’ll be all right. But some people are afraid of the dark, some are afraid of the number 13. My phobia is of driving on roads like this.

Like this but scarier

Like this but scarier

I’m yelling out loud, “Where is this f****** campground??!!!”. When I get higher and higher where it seemed to level off it really started raining. I was glad it was raining on the road as I was driving. I finally reach the campground and start looking for sites 14 and 15. I got to number 8 and there was Ken standing in the rain wearing a bright yellow rain poncho. I pull in and park. I had a huge golf umbrella in the car and it came I handy. Ken asked me if I wanted to sit in the car with them so I did. they said that they had to move from the original sites as the wind was blowing so hard they thought they were going to end up in Oz with the Munchkins. the left the easy-up (A portable shelter) down there and thought they would go get it when more people showed up.

After that we went to get the easy up. The wind was not kind to it and two of it’s legs were broken at the knees. We managed to take it down and get it in the car and drove back to the camp. Still raining. Megs’ daughter Hannah showed up with her partner, Hannah. The Hannah’s were like a well organized military unit. They had their tent up in about two minutes and then Little Hannah (aka McGuyver) built a fire in the rain. Then they built a lean-to using large sticks they found and a tarp. Meanwhile I got my tent up and furnished with Megs’ help. The lean to was going over the fire. It was at an angle so that smoke could escape. During the building of the lean to Megs and I were holding up the tarp while the Hanna’s finished off planting the poles and tying them down. It was then that Deb and Paul came in. They were thinking we were in 14 and 15 and kept going. They then came back around and we started yelling at them to stop. They kept going then stopped but we were all stuck hammering things and holding up tarps. They stopped a bit down the road then kept going. It was about then that Ken was trying to reconstruct the easy-up. They got the tarp secure and I hopped in my car to try and catch Deb and Paul. They were too far ahead of me and I found myself starting down the gravel road to hell. I stopped and did a very tight 3 point turn hoping to not crash into a rock or something.

When I got back Ken was still struggling with the easy-up, The Hannah’s were comfortable installed under the lean to and Ken says, “Fuck it, let’s go get a room in town!”. They didn’t have any blankets and Deb and Paul were supposed to deliver blankets. That was the perfect excuse to get the hell out of there and the freezing cold rain. Also, it started lightning.

As soon as we got into phone range I texted Deb to find out where they were. They said they got a room and said there were still enough rooms left. I texted Ray and told here where we were and soon we were all in Deb and Paul’s room having happy hour. It was nice sleeping in a warm dry room instead of the wet cold tent with lightning and thunder.

Next day we grabbed breakfast and headed up the mountain. The road wasn’t as bad as a passenger, I just have a phobia driving roads like that. The weather was clearing and things were looking promising. We went on a hike to Inner Basin and got as far as one of the many watersheds on the mountain and had lunch. there was a huge aspen grove that was stunning and when we got to the basin there was a great view of some of the peaks.

Photo courtesy of Deb

Photo courtesy of Deb

The next day was even more beautiful. We stayed till about 11:45 and then got headed out. I was once again white-knuckled, hyperventilating and crying with fear as I drove down that steep ass bumpy road. I was never so glad to get to the bottom. Next time. I am definitely riding with someone else driving.

Until next time

The Scubajedi

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Photo courtesy of Deb

Photo courtesy of Deb

Annual Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument Easter Weekend Campout 2015

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Every year a core group of friends get together and go down to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument for and Easter weekend campout. I have been blessed recently with a Monday through Friday job where I get out of work at 1:30 in the afternoon, so this year I could jump in my car after work and head down. I had packed up everything non perishable the day before, so all I had to do on Friday was pop home to get my food for the cooler, tend to the cats and I headed off to Eden.

I left by 3pm thinking stupidly that might beat the traffic heading out of town. I was way wrong. It was bumper to bumper all the way from the confluence of the 60 and 1-10 through Buckeye. I got to the campsite about 6:30 and quickly got to setting up.

 

It was good to see everyone again as some of us only see each other once a year. Others of us regularly hang out as we are in a book club together, or just like to do things together. This annual even had been going on for over 16 years. I really enjoy it as I love to camp and though some years it can be a bit warm down there, the campground is really good and getting better as now there is SHADE!

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is located in southern Arizona, south of Ajo, west of Tucson, and east of Yuma. It borders Mexico and you can see it from there. The park was founded in 1937 by  President Franklin D. Roosevelt.

The park was created as a way to preserve a representative area of the Sonoran Desert. The new monument was part of a movement in the National Parks to protect not just scenic wonders but also the ecological wonders of the country. Over 75 years later, Organ Pipe Cactus is now one of the best preserved examples of the Sonoran Desert wilderness.

Within the monument, signs of human use are also preserved and protected. The monument is the site of culture and history that reflect long, widespread and diverse use by American Indian, Mexican, and European groups. The intersection of these of these three cultures is significant archeologically, geographically, and internationally. (Copied and pasted from here as I am too lay to regurgitate this information).

Those who show up on Friday evening usually just hang out and catch up. Some of is who get there early enough make the short trip in to Sonoyta, Mexico go to the steak house there to make reservations for the following evening as is tradition for us to eat Saturday night at the only good restaurant in Sonoyta. Also, there is a liquor/various sundries store called Vasquez where we buy good tequila, and some like to visit the pharmacia to get cheap over the counter drugs. I got there too late for that this year.

On Saturday we all usually go for a hike. Some like to treacherous long hike up Mt Ajo (which means garlic in Spanish), some like the kinder gentler hike to what is called Bull Pasture and others like me in recent years either site around at camp (when I had a broken toe), or go on even easier hike. Last year I went to what is called Dripping Spring. this is a little dribbly spring coming out of  a little cave in the rock and it is swarming with bees, so you don’t stay too long. This year a feature area called Quitoqibito spring in the south of the park. In past years it’s been closed because of illegal immigration activities and the only people lurking about in that area were the “Coyotes”, their victims and the border patrol.

The visitor center was giving tours of the newly opened area on Saturday so three of us decided to go. It was a 20 mile very bumpy ride out there, but you could see the “fence” they are trying to build to keep those pesky Mexicans out. Like the Great Wall of Arizona. It looks like something that can be climbed in like, 1 minute. It isn’t finished and when we drove further it was just a short easy to jump fence really just to indicate the border. Along the fence in a road that was built by FDR and is now patrolled by border agents. We drove parallel to this until we got to the parking area for Quitoqibito Spring.

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We walked around the pond and up to the spring boil then back to the van after a long winded tour and lecture on the history of that area. Then we drove the bumpy road back to the  camp and saw a nesting great horned owl that looked like a cat sitting on a nest in a Saguaro.

We got back and my friend Joan and I took to crocheting and everyone else that was back just kicked back and chatted. At 6pm we were all going in to Sonoyta for dinner. Then there was the great scuffle as to who was driving and who was riding with whom. I said I would drive and could take two more, but everyone pretty much found a ride and I Jon ended up with me, which I liked because he is a retired border agent. We were joking that I should bring my new lighter that is shaped like a bolt action rifle ha ha…

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We crossed the border which is getting scarier as they have much military posted at the borders now. But nothing happened and we went in and had dinner at the little steak house we always eat at. It isn’t the best but it’s the best in town.

Afterword, we headed back to camp. So here’s where it gets interesting. We were probably no more than 100 yards of American soil when I see the old blue and red lights in the rear view mirror. I said, “Oh shit, Jon, we’re getting pulled over, I haven’t done anything”. So I pull over and the officer approaches my car. I roll the window down and he asks if I speak Spanish. I say no, of course not your friggin idiot, do I look like I speak Spanish? Of course only the No part was audible, the rest were my thoughts. So he shows me the radar gun and he says I was going 58km in a 40km zone. I apologized, thinking he’s a liar and that radar gun is an etch-a-sketch. I ask what to do. He tells me I can go to the police station and pay the fine. I ask how much is the fine and he says $1000 pesos.  About $80 American dollars. I look at Jon and he’s just staring ahead and ask what to do and he says it’s up to me. Well, I didn’t have $80 on me so I tell the officer is there any other way, I don’t have any money. So he tells me he can take $60 and then I see what’s going on here. So I say what about letting me off with a warning and I will never do it again (which is true, I never plan on driving in to Sonoyta again). He then says he can take $40. All I had on me was $40, Jon offered to pitch in $20 and I said it’s okay, I just want to get out of here. So I gave the Highway Robber, I mean, Police Officer the $40 and got the hell out of there. Jon said he was very impressed with my negotiation skills.

Got back to camp and regaled the story around the campfire. Everyone was joking about what could have happened but all in all we were pretty lucky. It’s not going to go against my driving record, my insurance isn’t going to go up, and Mr Police Oficer probably got off duty and got with his other crook cop buddies to compare their hauls for the night. Also, if he would have searched the car he would have found my camping hatchet in the trunk and I would still be in jail down there instead of blogging about it.

One of the guys at camp said that I was in the No Hassle Zone which means that I didn’t have to stop, I could have just kept going. I questioned this and so did Jon. So when I got home I googled it and that is not what that means AT ALL. It means you do not need a permit to drive in that particular area. Between Sonoyta and Rocky point is a hassle free zone. When we go to San Carlo we stop at the 20-click mark and pick up a permit because we are going further into Mexico and you need a permit. So if I would have taken his advise (which was after the fact) and blown through like Thelma and Louise, I, again, would still be in jail down there.

Until next time, your Friendo Bandito,

The Scuba Jedi

Reavis Ranch from Trail 109 North – Apache Lake

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I think that women who have more than one child go through a denial phase where they forgot the pain and suffering they went through the first time and decide to do it again. This is what I think I experienced when  I decided to take my annual Reavis Ranch Birthday Backpack this year from trail 109 the North trailhead.  I had blotted out all the areas that were unpleasant and just too hard to do and enjoy.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret anything, the views were spectacular, my hiking companions were terrific, and it’s just fun to camp out.

The weather was warmer than what I was hoping for, but still not too bad and the fact that we were going to be at a higher elevation would mean that it was cooler than home. Being the middle of October my fine friends up north are saying what?? Camp out in October?

The trailhead for Reavis 109 North is located off the Apache Trail. This is an improved unpaved road that takes you from Apache junction to Roosevelt Lake. I have only driven the road once in 1992 with my mother in a Pontiac Grand Am. I thought if I got out of there alive I was never going back. For someone coming from the flats of Florida to a steep unpaved narrow road through canyons with very high and immediate drop off’s it was scary.  But for the trail head, you go past a little group of buildings called Tortilla Flat and there is a sign for the trailhead. Then you get on an even narrower road with a few whoop-de-doos and roundabouts and viola, you are there. You do get a nice view of Apache lake and there is ample parking for cars, trucks and horse trailers. It is a popular trail for Chevaliers, Caballeros, and Cowboys.

GeorgeTH

George at the trailhead. Photo courtesy of Nunya.

 

So we parked and hoisted our packs on. Once again, my pack was way too heavy. I don’t know why, water is the heaviest thing you carry and I only brought my one bag of water thinking, I never use the whole thing on one day hike and this is only 6 miles in. I never looked up the trail stats before this hike because I did it before, and the way in from the south is 6 miles and frankly, I was just negligent in my research and too cavalier in the idea that I remembered the trail.

It was me, my friends George, Nunya and George’s friend Nate. I later discovered that I knew Nate, but I’m getting ahead of my story. We started in about 9:30 am. George and Nate quickly got ahead because these two guys are trail monsters and get out and hike all the time. Nunya I know lagged with me simply to stay with me as I have gotten so out of shape for hiking and was struggling early on.

The trail has basically six segments, all of which I made up during this trip as to remember it all rather than the fun stuff. The first leg is what I call the approach to the Gap of Rohan. This is a gradual uphill trail to a small pass between some large boulders that I named the Gap of Rohan, as I am a Lord of the Rings fan. The trail, I might add, follows and old road bed that was laid down in I believe 1910. I can’t believe cars would have ever been able to drive on this, but I am sure the terrain has changed sine the ranch was abandoned and vehicles no longer go there.

Resting at The Gap of Rohan. Photo courtesy of Nunya.

Resting at The Gap of Rohan. Photo courtesy of Nunya.

Once past the Gap of Rohan you are in the Riddermark, as you would expect. I call it this because it, well, looks like the Riddermark  in The Two Towers. Here is where you can really see where it is you have to go and here is when you start saying “Fuck Me!”.

Photos of a hike to Reavis Ranch from the north in the Superstition Mountain Wilderness

But, you plough on. There is a side trail to what is Called Reavis Falls and it is marked by some cairns. The trail leads up to another gap where the terrain changes and the trail leads up to a place called Windy Pass. When I say up, I mean up. 3,700′ at Reavis Trailhead to 5,100′ at Windy Pass. Not sure of the mileage, I cannot find the stats. The approach to Windy Pass also had me mumbling foul words. It was on the segment when my legs decided to cramp up. This segment is also insidious in that you go around several corners where you are thinking is this the last one and we’ll see the pass? No. You go around one corner only to see more trail going up over what I like to call, ankle-twisters. These are rocks roughly the size of a baseball or softball and they are loose. Depending on what muscles are being stressed in my legs and feet, is how my legs cramp up. When I say cramp up I mean to the point where I cannot walk. I was way too dehydrated and my legs were seizing. I really mean seizing because you could see the muscles ripple.

Photos of a hike to Reavis Ranch from the north in the Superstition Mountain WildernessPhotos of a hike to Reavis Ranch from the north in the Superstition Mountain Wilderness

We caught up to George and Nate who were taking a break, but I am sure just waiting for us as they didn’t really need a break, ever, as it seemed. I took some Emergen-C, which is an electrolyte replacement but I was too late for that. You need to take that stuff before you start cramping up. The others started up again and I trundled on behind them. I stepped up on a rock at one point and could literally not move. I started hollering and Nate came back to see if I was all right. I was not, but I wasn’t going to let HIM know that! I struggled along and at one point I did actually collapse and George had to help me up. This was bad.

We made it to Windy pass where we had a bite to eat and I searched for my Gatorade which I conveniently left behind in my fridge. After this I remembered that it was all downhill and just led you into Reavis Ranch. This is what I remembered but not what actually was. The boys had taken off and were far ahead. We went down the side of the hill from Windy Pass and I thought we’d be there soon. But that was not so. We passed a sign that pointed to a trail called Plow Saddle. I looked that up later and it sounded like an interesting trip, but we needed to forge on. The trail then went up onto what I called the Ridge Segment. By the time we got to the top, I was completely out of water. This has never happened to me before on a hike and I usually make fun of the people who do run out of water. Never underestimate your need for water. Nunya shared some of her water with me and that was enough to get to the campsite. It was after the ridge where it was all downhill or flat till you got tot he ranch area.

We knew we were getting close when we started seeing the apple orchard. From year to year, it varies on whether or not there will be apples, but this year must have been a good one. We saw lots of apples on the ground and in the trees, and judging from the size of the fresh bear scat we witnessed, the bears were enjoying the harvest as well.

Bear scat, photo courtesy of Nunya.

Bear scat, photo courtesy of Nunya.

We arrived and met up with the guys with just enough sunlight to pitch camp and pump water. The weather was good and not too cold at night. The next day we just repeated what we did the first day but going out the other way. I can honestly say this is a trail that is uphill both ways. I don’t think I’ll be taking this route again, but the views are spectacular and you can take a passenger car to the trailhead. The down side it the length of the trail and the exposure.

When we got back into Apache Junction we stopped at a place called The Hitching Post. It was a country-western themed restaurant/bar with really good wings.

Adventures at the Musee de la Truffe – Sourges France

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In 2003 I decided to take a trip to France. I planned it all out and rented a Gite in the Southwest of France, a region called The Perigord.  The Perigord is famous for it’s truffles, wines, and fois gras. About a week before I left I was chatting with my friend Kath and told her about the trip. She piped up and asked if she could go. Who was I to refuse, after all I was going alone and there was more than enough room in the cottage I rented so I said why not? So she booked and would arrive about two days after I got there.

We had a great trip but the subject of this particular post is the day we spent in Peregeaux  and Sorges. The cottage was a self-catering affair and we would typically buy food at a local market and settle in in the evenings and plan out the next day. This I liked this very much because we were not on a schedule like you would be on a properly planned out tour. We got along very well as traveling companions as we both subscribed to the philosophy of spontaneous fun. For example, we would be off driving on our daily excursion to or from the planed destination and go past a road that looked interesting and say, “Hey, let’s go see what’s down that way”, and off we’d go.

This day we decided to go to the Museum of the Mousterian in Peregeaux and the random and largely obscure Truffle Museum in a hamlet called Sourges. Kath dug that one up out of a travel book. The Truffle Museum ranks up there with The Cumberland Pencil Museum in the UK. We had a map and a rough idea of where to drive, but once we got to Peregeaux, we had no idea where the museum was and neither of us read French very well. It was my turn to drive and we had a Seat, which is a Spanish made car that looked a lot like something you would see a lot of clowns pouring out of in a circus tent. So there we were in Peregeaux which is roughly the size of Los Angeles. Not really, I exaggerate, it’s about like Austin, TX but without the music and bridge of bats. So we’re driving around aimlessly and decide to stop and get something to eat. Here I just want to say that if you find yourself in France and are hungry, you are in luck. We never had a bad meal anywhere no matter how ghetto (well, there were no ghetto diners in France) the place looked. The French know food.

As fate would have it, we parked on the street in an area that looked like a town square with something interesting at the center. Lo and behold it was the museum.

Mousterian is a name given by archaeologists to a style of predominantly flint tools (or industry) associated primarily with Homo neanderthalensis and dating to the Middle Paleolithic, the middle part of the Old Stone Age. The culture was named after the type site of Le Moustier, a rock shelter in the Dordogne region of France. Similar flintwork has been found all over unglaciated Europe and also the Near East and North Africa. Handaxes, racloirs and points constitute the industry; sometimes a Levallois technique or another prepared-core technique was employed in making the flint flakes. I read the entire Clan of the Cave Bear series and am a huge fan and that was what inspired me to visit this region of France. The Neanderthals never changed their technology and is a theory as to why they crapped out.

Then we were on to Sourges and to learn more than we could ever want to know about truffles.

We had no trouble finding the truffle museum as the town is very small, and there was a huge plastic black truffle sticking out of the side of the building, (see Picture). Luckily all the information about truffles was in French, English and German. After the tour through the museum, there was a footpath out back where you could stroll through a truffle “orchard”. Truffles grow on the roots of oak trees. They look rather like turds, especially the black ones, but they sell for hundreds of dollars in the markets. I don’t know why. They used to use pigs to dig them up but the pigs were too smart and would eat the truffles after they dug them up. So they started using dogs who are much more respectful and won’t eat the fungus unless told to do so. We stopped at a stand on the side of the road at one point to buy fois gras from a local farm. It was attended by a young girl who spoke English and told us that they used flies to find truffles. We thought her English must not be that good because she thought dogs were flies. After all, how could a fly dig up a truffle? But she clarified it by saying a certain type of fly will light on the ground under an oak that had truffles growing on it. Then they would set the dogs to work.

After the stroll we decided to head back. We drove out of town and I passed the turn where were would head back to Le Quatre Route, the town where our amazing Gite was. So, I go to make a U-Turn and mis-calculated the depth of the ditch on the other side of the road. There was tall grass growing in the ditch and it was very deceiving so to this day I say it was not my faux-pas. So gentle reader, you know what happened next. We ended up in the ditch. The car did not capsize but merely lay at a helpless angle. Kath got out to asses whether we could push the little car out ourselves or would we require assistance from the locals. I was afraid to get out as I think my weight was keeping the car from tumping over entirely.

The driver side rear tire was off the ground completely and so she decided to sit on the car and try and weigh it down. Kath is a robust woman but not robust enough. People starting coming around and since the situation pretty much spoke for itself we did not really need the universal translator, aka, English-French dictionary. I asked in my best French if someone could call the police, maybe they could help and arrest me for careless driving. No one spoke English and the best I could make out was that since it was after 5pm on Friday, the police were closed for the weekend. Wow. I don’t feel I need to even comment on that. Everyone that came by in or on a wheeled vehicle were either on a scooter, bicycle, or an even tinier car than we had. I was appalled. I mean, this is a farming community, didn’t anyone have a dad-burn tractor? Where I come from if you have a farm and no tractor you are in the hurt locker.

Finally a lady in a car stopped and Kath went over to her. She was filthy, had been picking walnuts all day and walnuts leave a black residue similar to when you’re picking tobacco. Don’t ask how I know this, maybe I’ll write a memoir of when I briefly worked in a tobacco field as a child. Kath came back and reported that either the lady was going to let her use her phone, or she was going to take her to where there was a phone, or take her to a garage with a tow truck. Any of the options were better than where we were now.

So Kath left with the Walnut Lady.  I sat there and had all kinds of visitors. It was Friday evening in a very small town, so the stupid fat American lady was as good of entertainment as any. After a bit, a large flat bed tow truck comes around the bend. I have no idea how Kath told him where to find me. Perhaps Walnuts told him. Either way, he way on the job. His name was Andre and he was cute. Did not speak English at all. He hooked the car up to a chain and pulled it out of the ditch and started loading it up on the truck. We tried to stop him but he told us as best he could that it was a requirement that the car get looked over for any damage. Who knows if that was true but who were we to argue. He had possession of the controls and therefore we really had no choice. Plus, this was getting fun. We got up front with him, me in the middle and Kath shotgun. We’re driving along in silence and finally I chimed up and said in French, “We’re Americans. On vacation!” He just nodded and sort of chuckled as if he were in the states he would have been thinking, “Yeah, y’alls stupid”.

He drove us to a garage where a little man with baked bean colored teeth was working as a mechanic. He was listing to Bono and Frank Sinatra and had a Yorkie dog names Attila. He put the car up on the hydraulic lift and about a metric ton of gravel and dirt came out the skid guard.  After he got through examining the car he brought it back down and started in on some paperwork. Finally I took a big breath and asked in French how much? He repeats, “Ah, combien, combien…”. Then he shows me the ticket and he had written down $180 in American dollars. WTF? Oh well, nothing we could do in a situation like this but pay it and luckily he took Amex.

After that he told us to pay attention to our driving. Then we were free to go. Kath fired me as driver.

The Platonic Friends Kiss of Death

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Every time I meet a guy I find myself attracted to, he is never interested in me. It is confusing and strange in that we’ll usually go out, they will pick up the dinner tab, drive, all the ingredients to a “date” then by the end of the “date” I get the old Platonic Friends Kiss of Death (hereinafter referred to as the PFKOD) but without an actual kiss. Somewhere in the course of our being together they decide they are not interested and give me the line that they don’t want to date right now because of Fill In The Blank. They just want to be friends. Then the next thing I know they are hitting on my friends and/or dating someone else. Oh, so it wasn’t that they aren’t interested in dating because of some tragic circumstance in their life, they just aren’t interested in dating me.
The line about just wanting to be friends is also a crock. My friends contact me out of the blue to see how I’m doing, they invite me to go places and see things with them, they come over, they invite me over, they lend me money, I lend them money, provide moral support in times of tragedy, and you know, act like friends. These guys, if I don’t contact them somehow, I will never, ever hear from them again after the PFKOD. So why do they even bother to offer friendship? These guys aren’t friends. They certainly don’t act like it. I know why they lie like that, because they don’t want to hurt our feelings, but let me tell you something, gentle readers, it hurts more to be strung along. So, my new rule (actually it was put into effect last year but failed recently), is that I require reciprocity, especially from men. If I find myself always doing the work, i.e. contacting them and they never contact me first, they are off my mailing list.
It’s that simple. It’s totally apparent that they have no interest in me in any way. It is baffling though. Especially in this age of the Information Superhighway, I can’t even find the on-ramp. I have experienced the weirdest behavior and I think it is condoned because of the anonymous nature of the Internet. I have had situations where a guy has responded to my online profile (back when I was even trying), we e-mail back and forth all day long as if we’re having a conversation (I worked in front of a computer all day, and I have a smart phone so I am always on e-mail) and close the conversation by saying talk to you tomorrow. Then I never, ever hear from them again. Ever. WTF is that? Is the rule that guys are mostly Flaksters? I will give them a chance the next day and lop an e-mail saying hello. Then, if I don’t hear back, and I almost never do, off the list they go and into the idumpster.
If they were called away to go fight evil in Afghanistan, or some other lamo excuse, the very least they could do would be to let me know. But they don’t. They just evaporate. Great disappearing act, Mr Magician! We know what that means, loud and clear. So, what I am trying to say and affirm is that I will not waste my precious time on anyone who doesn’t care about me.
You also know when you’re in Just Friends city when the guy refers to you as “Buddy” or “Kiddo”. Happy Birthday, Buddy! Hey there, Kiddo! Yeeaaach! Or if they “dude” you. That means they look at you as if you are another man.
I just want to be loved, is that so wrong?
Your Friendo Platonico,The ScubaJedi

Keet Seel 2011 Trip Report

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This year’s trip into Keet Seel canyon was the most memorable yet. I have a better description of the general area and more details of the trail on another blog found here.
We left Friday with 8 of us on the trip. We did all the usual, Kate’s Café at Tuba City, camped at the Visitor’s Center, then hiked in. The difference in this year’s journey was that I was tipped off on where a reliable fresh water spring was by three Navajo boys we ran into on last year’s trip. It was located fairly close to the campground near the ruin, but I have been sworn to secrecy as to the actual location. So that meant that we only had to carry in whatever we needed to drink for the hike to the campground! In other years we had to pack in all our water and that made for a very laborous hike in. Without all that extra weight we arrived at the campground about two full hours sooner than usual. We could go at a more comfortable yet faster pace without the super heavy packs.

When we got to the campground, we got the skookums camp spots near the bigger picnic table. There was another group of four from Flagstaff who got there after us.

So, my game plan was to go to the spring and fill up with that we needed for the evening, go tour the ruins, come back for dinner and laughs. Then in the morning, make another run to the spring for water for the trip out. Good plan, right?

We took our empty containers and headed to the spring. We got there and the glorious water was gushing out so pure and inviting. It was cold, clean, and fresh. We filled up, I rinsed my hair out as did Ann Marie. We headed back and I got the bright idea to take the upper trail back. So we got to where we would descend back down to the river then back up the trail to the campground and we saw Ranger Steve heading away from us toward the ranger shack. We waited thinking we were hiding in the trees, we didn’t really want him to see us because technically we weren’t supposed to know where the spring was. When we thought he was far enough away we started down the hill. Then he turned around and was heading toward us in a very deliberate manner. When he got to us he was very serious and asked us if we had been to the spring. Busted!!! What could I say? We were all there without packs and just full water containers standing guilty as charged without having to say anything. I said yessir, we had been and he proceeded to hand us our butts. He told us he could kick us out and make us walk all the way back, that the spring was owned by a Navajo family who made it clear that no one was to go back there and use the spring except the rangers (I think the boys who gave me permission were part of that family). Ranger Steve told us we were putting the whole place in jeopardy by digressing from the trail we had permits for and going back there and getting water. I tried to explain that the boys told us we could use the spring but Ranger Steve would have none of that. We apologized and said that the location of the spring would remain a secret.

He asked if we were going to tour the ruins, that the other group was already up there and he could take two more if they wanted to come now. Steve (one of my group, not the Ranger) and Robert said they would go. The rest of us walked in shame back to camp. We tried to figure out how he knew what we were up to and still haven’t figured it out. I said there must be a webcam back there or something. There was some concern as a couple of the guys didn’t get enough water for the next day as they thought we would be making another spring run in the morning. Eric said we should make a midnight run like a bunch of Ninjas.



But, as fate would have it, I had discovered yet another spring coming out of the rocks right on the trail a little further down about a mile. It was a smaller spring and we would have to use a filter to siphon the water up as you couldn’t put a bottle or platypus in to collect the water, the hole is too small. I actually scouted four additional springs along the way where fresh water could be filtered and collected. The spring by the campground is the only secret one as it is the easiest to get the water out of and you don’t need to use a filter. It is now known as “Forbidden Spring”. The real reason they don’t want its location known is because people have gone back there and trashed it in the past, leaving shampoo bottles and other debris scattered around. The rest of the springs feeding the nasty creek along the way are fair game. So I am still never going to carry a heavy pack in there again. Water is available. Most people hiking out there would never notice the feeder springs, but I made it a point to memorize where they are.

Anyway, after about 45 minutes, the others headed toward the ruin to wait for the first group to finish and then they would get their tour. I opted out as I hate the 70 foot ladder of extreme peril and I have been up there enough. I stayed behind and explored the campground area outside the fence and around the other gullies etc. I wasn’t as tired as usual because I didn’t have to schlep a heavy pack.

Robert and Navy Steve came back and we sat and chewed the fat for a while. They said that Ranger Steve was ultimately cool about our water pilferage. It really is because they want to keep the area natural and people do tend to trash it, sadly enough.

After a while, Diane came back looking a bit excited. She said when they were on their tour, Ranger Steve started getting some radio transmissions about a couple of lost hikers! She said Ranger Steve had to cut the tour short because he had to go look for the hikers. They were part of another Meet Up group and had not come back with the rest of the group. It was an older couple and their descriptions were given over the radio. So the gang were walking back in the stream and they saw an older woman wandering toward them, looking a little confused. They stopped to talk to her and she asked where Keet Seel was. They said right here. She said how did I get back here? I was trying to get back to my car. Turned out she was one of the missing hikers. So Ann Marie, Eric, Michael, and Darrell headed back to tell Ranger Steve they found one of the hikers, and Diane stayed with the woman. When Ranger Steve got to her, Diane and Ann Marie came back to camp, Darrell, Eric, and Michael said they would help out looking for her companion who was, according to her, in pretty bad shape. Neither of them had any water, they were dehydrated and had no food. It was getting dark about then so Ranger Steve handed out flashlights and the guys fanned out down the canyon searching for the lost man. Darrell carried the woman’s pack for her even though he has a bad back and had been schlepping a pack all day. Eric found the man who was passed out atop the second waterfall. There’s the waterfall near the campground, then another one a little further down then the Big Waterfall which is the last place where you can get a vehicle. There was a truck waiting with EMT’s by the Big Waterfall, which is around 2 miles from the ruins.

Eric, who is Chinese and has a very thick accent gets in the man’s face and asks “Do you need water? Do you need medicine? Do you need food?” He said the man’s eyes were just glazed over and he was shaking badly. He was in very bad shape and the guys were pretty confident that if they hadn’t found him when they did he would have died being out there all night. He had no way of getting warm, no water, no food, and was exhausted.

The other guys got there with the woman and Michael and Darrell carried packs, while Ranger Steve and Eric held on to the man and helped him along until they got to where the truck was waiting. Of course we were all back at the camp wondering what was transpiring and then the guys came back around 10:30pm. Ranger Steve comes up to me and gives me a hug and said we were all exonerated for the water incident with the help the guys lended on finding the missing hiker. Turned out the couple had hiked all the way to the base of the cliff, but instead of heading up, they kept walking up Long Canyon, which is one of three canyons all connecting at the base of the cliff. They walked a fairly long way up the wrong canyon until they came to a herd of sheep, thought they were lost and turned around to go back. Again, instead of finding the trail up the cliff (marked with a huge white post) they headed back down Keet Seel canyon! They got as far as the second waterfall and the man could no longer go. He stopped there and she kept going and ended up back at the ruins. She was a bit confused and couldn’t figure out how they got so turned around. I don’t know how they endured all that hiking. I would have keeled over a lot sooner myself. The woman was actually in really good physical condition.

The next day we all packed up and headed out. Ann Marie, Darrell, and Robert all said they needed more water and I said that I would wait for them by the other spring I knew of and we would get some.

Then on the way back up the Cliff of Insanity, I of course, was way behind because I just can’t handle steep uphill climbs very well, I trip on one of the railroad ties in the first set of switchbacks and fall on my face banging my left shin really badly. It started swelling up like a softball and I was really shaken up. Falling like that with a full pack is no joke. Ann Marie and Darrell were up a few levels from me and I yelled to them that I had fallen. They said they’d wait and when I got there Ann Marie had a cold pack and a sticky ace bandage and she packed up my leg. It really helped.

So, that ended the most eventful Keet Seel trip yet! Even though I will not use Forbidden Spring again, I know where to get water on the trail, so still, no more heavy packs!

Next up – Adventures in Curaçao

The Scuba Jedi

The Online Dating Adventure

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The Scuba Jedi is tired of always having to do everything alone. Well, I do have a large circle of regulars that I hang out with and do things with, but I think you all get my meaning when I say being alone kinda sucks. So where do you go to meet a decent man? I’m asking you gentle readers, because I really don’t know. I joined a singles activity club and have met some really great single women. It is actually a lot of fun and I have met some good friends and done some cool things like traveled to Bonaire and Peru with the group.

I’ve tried the speed dating thing (see The Dating Adventure ) and that was fun but unfruitful. Now I am trying the online dating thing. I have actually tried this on and off for several years, and as I am still single, it doesn’t seem to be working either. Lately, however, I have been going on a lot of first dates. In the past I got nothing, not even an electronic wink, but maybe my pictures look better this time around. Also, something else I’m trying differently this time is I have dumbed down my description a lot. I don’t mention that I am The Scuba Jedi, or that I am a Sierra Club Wilderness Guide, or that I have traveled to 11 different countries, play musical instruments by ear, speak French, make art, used to drive a motorcycle, can make my own clothes, make pottery, work for Microsoft, have a graduate degree in Forensic Psychology, am a voracious reader, and dress up for Renaissance Fair. Men don’t give a crap about any of that, I have figured out. As a matter of fact, this all goes to work against me. All they think about is sex, and all they care about is if they think you’re hot looking. So I have a couple of portrait pictures and a couple of paragraphs about how nice I am, would like to meet someone who can make me laugh (all guys think they’re hilarious), and that I like to cook and wouldn’t it be great to have someone to cook for…giggle giggle giggle. Excuse me, I have to go throw up right now, when I’m done I’ll finish the blog…..

One might wonder why I even want a man if I think so little of them? Well, let me tell you. I have met and know some pretty terrific guys. They are mostly all married, and understandably so. So this gives me hope that there might be one out there for me. The dumbed down profile isn’t a lie, it’s just not disclosing all my information at once. I think this is what was killing me in the past. I put it all out there and it was overwhelming. So I just reeled it back in a smidgen and will dole out the rest of me in little pellets like from a Pez dispenser.

So I have had a lot of first dates. Here’s the drill: They answer my online personal ad and we e-mail back and forth for a couple of days. Then they give me their phone number and I will usually text them so they have my phone number, because I won’t call a man to start off with. Nor will I let them trick me into asking THEM out. I read “He’s Just Not That Into You”, I know the game. Then we’ll either keep texting or he’ll call me. We set up a time and place to meet and then we meet. We’ll have a nice chat, a couple of drinks, or a coffee, and say so long. Then one of two things happens. I will either never hear from them again, or they will contact me a couple of days later about seeing each other again. And here’s the thing, my amazing blog readers, it’s always to GO OVER TO HIS HO– USE! Can you say “Booty Call”? Not only am I not interested in a booty call buddy, but that is just creepy and makes me uncomfortable. I am a fairly good judge of character and I know these guys are mostly harmless, but the one time I judge poorly I am going to regain consciousness and find myself in a hole in some guys basement hearing “It puts the lotion on its skin, or it gets the hose again”. No thanks, Buffalo Bill, I am not coming over after only meeting you in person one time. When they find out I’m not coming over, they dump me. One time a guy actually took me out three times before abandonment. He wanted a bed buddy for an upcoming weekend in Sedona. When I told him I was doing a camp out that weekend and couldn’t go, he disappeared.

All in all it should really be discouraging. But it has actually toughened me up and I am using this as educational material. The trick is to have no expectation. Then when you’re treated like this, you aren’t surprised or hurt. I am very grateful that these guys show their true colors right in the beginning and I don’t get dragged into a mess that will lead to hurt later. I am truly blessed.

And so, I will persevere.

Until the next adventure, your Friendo Platonico,
The Scuba Jedi