I'm not sure where...

I belong. But I'm pretty sure it isn't right here. I don't seem to really jibe with the people around here anymore. And I find this city I once loved to be cloying and much, much too big. There are places I get along. And people I get along with.

They're just not here.

Maybe someplace north of here. Maybe sooner than later.

Stay tuned.

Return to Sky Island!!

I went back to Madera Canyon last weekend. Another great hike. Got there early enough, the whole place was deserted. At one point, I had all the names of these mountains committed to memory. That was some time ago. Ahem. In any case, what does it matter? I had a great time!

Again, there was a lot of snow on the ground. Right around here, I ran into three old guys. Had to be around seventy at least, maybe older. Just out enjoying the woods together. They asked where I was headed, I told them, and we spent a few pleasant moments chatting. I admire guys that age who aren't afraid of the woods. Hope I'm like that when I'm that age.









This is Josephine Saddle, where all the major trails in Madera eventually converge. Near here, in a freak snowstorm, three Boy Scouts lost their lives. I'd like to say I paused and reflected. In reality, I was way too freaking cold to think of anything but the jacket I'd left in the car. (Spot the irony, win a dollar!)




A little farther along the trail. Note the change in elevation from the first pic to this one. These are basically the same mountains. Left me a little breathless. The snow in this portion of the trail was thick and trackless. Not a soul around. Nice. The wind eventually was blocked by the mountains in front of me. Even nicer.





Those far off mountains are in Mexico.








A view back along the trail. You can probably spot it. Again, there was a lot of snow. At this point however, I was no longer cold.







This was another trip where I saw tracks and heard noise, but didn't see much in the way of wildlife. You could feel it out there though. I saw more cougar tracks too. Some bobcat. Raccoon. Etc.






Observatories on Mt. Hopkins. At least I remembered that name!







This is a grove of quaking aspen about three miles from the end of the hike. Beautiful trees. A nice thing to see on the way out. A beautiful day. Will I be back? You betcha. With a jacket!

The walk that made me sick....

I didn't feel so hot when I woke up last Saturday. But damn it, I'd been planning this hike for two weeks and I wasn't going to let a case of the sniffles stop me!

In retrospect, I am an ass. But it was still a great walk. I went to the Pajarita Wilderness. It's a spot near Nogales. I decided to walk Sycamore Canyon, about a five mile hike that leads right to the Mexican Border.

There are signs all over the place warning you about smugglers and illegal immigration. I think National Parks should also have signs that say "Warning! You may encounter morons on your walk! Proceed with caution!" Anyway, let's get to the hike!

This is about the start of the hike. As you can see, there's a lot of water in the canyon. Sycamore Creek is one of the only perennial streams in Baja Arizona. By the way, there are probably a hundred canyons in Arizona named Sycamore Canyon. Probably because in such a dry land such huge trees are startling. And also because the blessed people at the Park Service aren't real long on imagination. That's why you get such great names as Big Rock and Sandy Wash. Oh well. You usually get what's advertised. In an case, note that the level of the water is just about where the "path" is.

The path is really more of a suggestion. It's hard to get lost in a slot canyon. At least, that's how the thinking goes. Here's a picture of the "path" a little later on. Yeah, my feet got wet. More than once.





In parts, the canyon spreads out, and you get these great rock formations like one would see in the Chiricahuas. Very pretty. While I was taking this, a mule deer exploded from the brash to my right. For a moment, all my brain could register was a long tawny blur headed for me. I almost wet myself. Almost. I'm pretty tough after all.

There's a lot of great camping sites around here. And side canyons that beg to be explored. I'm definitely coming back.







This is another portion of the stream. There is great beauty here. Humbling beauty.






This is a pretty tough hike. Besides the water, there's a bunch of spots where the trail just sort of ends, and you have to do a bit of climbing. Right near here, there's a spot where you have to grab a rope that some Ranger helpfully attached to an eyebolt drilled into the cliff face. Very helpful. On the way in, I used it and forgot to move it into a spot where I could grab it from the other side. This led to what I'm sure was a very comical view of me, face pressed into the cliff, wildly flailing with my right arm to grab a rope I could not see. Did I fall? Nope. Did I think about falling? You bet!

On the way back, as always, I started to run into other hikers. Because they are often so very loud, I usually know that they are there before they know I'm around. Good thing. That way, I can hop off the trail and work around them without having to have that stupid hiking conversation:

Them: Hey!

Me: Hey.

Them: How far did you go!

Me: Unintelligible mumble.

Them: Nice day!

Me: Uh. Yup.

Then the money question.

Them: You, uh, out here by yourself?

This always creeps me out. I know they're probably harmless and just groping for something to say. But geez. I usually say, no, there are twenty-five friends of mine up the trail. And they're armed to the teeth. I'm not that into guns. But people like these make me want to carry one out here. Anyway, enough of the rant.

Anyway, on the way back, I ran into a guy here who just bawling from the depths of his soul. Real, racking sobs. I have no idea what was going on. Nor, I must admit, did I care all that much. Hey, life is tough. I told a friend about it that night. He rather sardonically suggested, "Maybe he lost his true love." Hey, maybe. But as everyone knows, the way you mourn that is in a dark room. With a bottle. An expensive bottle. Don't ruin my hike with your tears! It's a National Forest. It belongs to everyone you selfish bastard!!





More from the walk. This is another part of the "path". The nice thing though, is that the further you get in, the fewer people you see. It's pretty quiet out here.










I saw a lot of animals. Heard more. Fish, frogs, the aforementioned deer, hawks, kestrels, etc. There were also a ton of jays that loudly complained of my presence each time I approached a canyon wall. I found this quite rude. It's a National Forest guys. It belongs to all of us! Jackasses.



The closer you get to the US-Mexico border, the more trash you start seeing. Cans of food. Clothing. Etc. Sort of ruins the "I am in the wilderness" mood. I have sympathy though. This can't be a good place to cross the border. While there's water here, you have quite a hike to get back to a real road. And it's really up and down terrain. And ungodly hot during the spring and summer. I feel for these people.


Anyway, that was the hike. A great one. I'll definitely be back. On the way out, I pushed it a little hard. I was feeling good. Had a good sweat going. Leaping from rock to rock. I got home and basically collapsed. Two days later, I'm still sniffling. Sniff!

Stupid. But worth it.

I wonder...

How in the world the administration and military expect us to believe that Iran has been running weaponry to Iraq after it is now indisputable that they lied about WMD in Iraq?

Do they really think we're that stupid?

Better question: Are we that stupid?

What quantifiable good has our presence in the region done? And I mean ever? We've managed to radicalize most of the region. What the fuck do we do now?

I'm starting to think that there's little left to do, and perhaps very few options other than a long-term, full-blown, military occupation of the region. I don't know what the alternative is now. And that makes me profoundly embarrassed.

I don't want to be a Roman.

Plug!

I've been doing yoga for about a year and a half. For those of us who ruined our joints during high school contact sports, it's a great way to strengthen core muscles and maintain flexibility. Also, it's something those of us with constraints on our time can do at home. In the morning or evening.

With that in mind, I would like to endorse the work of Rodney Yee. His DVDs have clear, concise instructions. Also, while he doesn't ignore the spiritual, quasi-religious side of yoga, he doesn't cram it down your throat. Instead, he urges you to concentrate, and relax.

All of his videos are pretty good. Some few are for people more flexible than I, and a few contain very intensive arm balances that might be out of reach for the casual practicioner.

I can however, without reservation endorse both Yoga Burn and Total Body Workout from the Power Yoga series.

Namaste.

Hmmmm....

Two court dates in a row.

I have pulled a rabbit from a hat.

I know too much to think I did it.

Even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes.

My little brother...

Turns thirty today!!!

Why does that make me feel old? Sheesh.

He's better looking too.

That sucks.

Like sands through the hourglass...

Geez, is it Wednesday already?

Where does the time go? Used to be, that the days dragged on and on. Now they going ripping by so fast. Work is good. Business is picking up. It's getting harder to keep track of every little thing.

Got letters to write today. Research to do. Clients to speak to.

I got my new camera in the mail. I'm so happy I could just squeak. It's supercool. Most of it is slightly above me too. I'm going to have a lot of fun with this thing I can tell. One more thing to learn about.

I'm trying to figure out where to take the girls this weekend My ex is off with her boyfriend, so I'll have them straight through until next Friday. Hmm. A short roadtrip would seem to be in order. But it's so freaking cold! Maybe we'll go to Nogales or something. Bah. Who knows?

Pima Canyon, Super Bowl Sunday

Pima Canyon is part of the Pusch Ridge Wilderness. As you will see, it's very close to Tucson, but if you get there early and hike far enough in, you'll forget all about the city. Until the way back that is when all the yuppies are puffing up the trail.



This is at the start. The cross in the foreground is for a young soldier, presumably killed in Iraq. Sad.








This is the view over your shoulder about a half mile into the hike.









About a mile and a half in, you'll cross the streambed a bunch of times. It's easy to lose the trail in here. I did about fifty times. There was a lot of water in the canyon, we've had a lot of rain. Plenty of tracks around the pools; coues deer, coyotes, raccoons, etc.






I don't know what it is about nests that I like so much. Maybe just looking at a carefully built home. And the promise and excitement of new life, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.






I know. I like dead trees too much. So sue me. Something so old and imposing has a majesty in death. And they look cool too!



I couldn't keep this shoe tied. It was driving me nuts. Then, I tied it so tight, I couldn't get it untied at home. Arrggghhh!!!!







This is one of a series of metates in the canyon, spots where women ground corn. Back in the day, this must have been a magical place to live. I like lingering at spots like this. I like to imagine a lingering good energy around the area.





Soon after this, the trail goes up an hugs the east wall of the canyon. If you go far enough, you go up to the top of Mount Kimball and then back down Finger Rock trail. About two and half miles from where I stopped is the habitat of a herd of bighorn sheep. I was running out of time though. Maybe next trip. This is what you see if you look back over your shoulder.



I ate lunch on the trail, about three hundred feet above the canyon floor. I think the carrot cake is a really good flavor of Clif bar. I really like Clif bars. I walked into the canyon with two bottles of water, two apples and a Clif bar. On the way back I ran into a ton of people who weren't going to walk nearly as far as I did who were just dripping with equipment. Walking poles, weird hats, specialized water delivery systems. Christ, you would have thought they were preparing to assault K2, not take a leisurely dayhike. And they all looked so deathly serious. Whatever.

I sometimes forget how beautiful the desert can be.

A good hike. And not a bad way to spend the first half of Super Sunday.

I don't like being human.

I fucked something up the other day. Through carelessness really.

Not irrecoverable. But I hate myself for having done it.

I feel like a jackass. I know some people probably think I am a jackass. But I'm not really.

Just arrogant. And too sure of myself at times.

Anyway. I'll get over it.

The most frightening thing you will ever do...

Is to let a woman truly know you.

Most of us can only do it once.