Poppies In Rockhound

We pointed Goldie East, a direction she's not familiar with, put Chiricahua in the rearview mirror and motored Interstate 10 into New Mexico. I know, I know… but there's no other way to get there (sigh). 

Black Canyon Blues

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison, "Big enough to be overwhelming…  intimate enough to feel the pulse of time." Sometimes words can't be improved on. Henry David Thoreau couldn't have said it better. 

My Bigoted, Myopic View From The Center Of A Recreational Universe

"I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center."  Kurt Vonnegut

As The Earth Shrinks: On The Intersection of Random Circles in Chiricahua

It's our M. O., after all—to arrive at Chiricahua National Monument late one afternoon and without campground reservations. Recall the gist of one of my sacred, but oft abused, 10 RV Commandants: The fork in the road is excuse, means, and reason enough to tweak one's trajectory. It's a random Universe, what have we got to lose? Look, itineraries are fine for business trips, but leisure travel? The best way to keep Miss Sara N. Dipity in a box is to make grandiose plans and reservations, then soldier on—rank and file, nuts to butts, follow the leader down the Yellow Brick Road...

Ghost Towns In The Dragoons

On the eve of the sacred fourteenth day, Mr Ranger Sir sayeth unto us, "Your fortnight of coolness and shade in Madera Canyon expires tomorrow. Go, and Godspeed." Egads, man. So, in the midst of a prolonged heatwave, Bobbie and I descended the Mount. Outgunned by a calendar and thermometer, I grumbled that it was time to bid Arid-zona farewell and pointed Goldie homeward… sort of.

Box Canyon Rides Box Canyon, Back to the 1890's

Come March, when unseasonable heat gripped Tucson, Camp Madera Canyon became our go-to cool spot, a shady oasis of babbling brooks and birds. With Gilbert Ray temps forecasted to to top out over 80, moving 30 miles to 5200 feet of elevation subtracted 10 to 12 degrees, not to mention an agreeable change of scene. We have come to appreciate the variety of recreational choices available from Camp Madera—bird watching to hiking to summiting to mountain biking endless backroads… one of which is "Box Canyon."

Proof of Life

As we become more experientially enlightened (get older) we realize that nothing in life comes easy, that if we want to get "somewhere" it often requires pushing limits. Being experientially enlightened means that we have long realized that Life isn't fair. Life is like the mountain, in that regard, it doesn't give a lick if you fall to your death. 

More Madera, Color Blinded in Tubac, and the "Whether" Back Home

I read a rather spooky thought from my bedside companion, Friedrich Nietzsche, last night: "If you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." Now I know why I always feel like someone's watching, and relieved that it's not God.

Camp Madera Canyon

A´ la Paul Simon, "there must be 50 ways to" climb a mountain. But summits are singular, thus memorable—a lofty opportunity to un-shoulder a pack and fathom a new external perspective, not to mention the one that lies within.

On Whims

"Whether you succeed or not is irrelevant, there is no such thing. Making your unknown known is the important thing—keeping the unknown always beyond." Georgia O'keeffe

Somewhere in the sun beaten, God forsaken, barren Land of Disenchantment: This is what comes of last-second whims—a sudden brainstorm to throw a stick in the spokes of routine.