They Call the Wind Mariah

The wind picked up, so to speak, knocking me around the highway while I nosed the bago north out of Kingman. I was disturbed in that funny way that means I don’t know why I’m disturbed. Usually wind means cleaner air, but here it means heavy dust and sand – sometimes it makes me feel slightly nauseous or drunk or sick. Today, the sun is shining, the dust is still dusty and there is a cool little restaurant at the campground next door where the dogs and I can sit on the balcony overlooking Lake Havasu.
Getting here involved driving through the Arizona State Joshua Tree Forest – neat-o – we loved it. This photo was taken in a canyon off the highway – I would have walked all the way in, but the dogs gave out on me. I think they are getting foot sore – at least thorn sore. This was one of the prettiest hikes I’ve taken all winter just because it was so remote and this outstanding fortress of rock was in front of me – I brought many rocks back with me.
We left Bob’s front yard and the parrot Herm and the 2 doggies. I saw some of the prettiest antique glass on the planet. What a fantastic person Bob is and interesting. He was born in Phoenix as was his father. None of them saw the northern Scottsdale development coming or they would have bought that land for a few dollars an acre!
I finally finished the new Elizabeth George – not up to her standards – a good read but way way way too many unnecessary details of set. I started speed reading just to get through it. I’ve started a new author, for me: Julian Barnes – more philosophical and less plot driven than George.
Now it’s on to Nevada.

If a cactus falls do the thorns stay on?

I am listening to Santa Lucia on the Italian station, it’s 80 outside, I’ve had a shower, the dogs are dead out; I’m waiting for Godot here. Actually, we’re going to dinner at a cowboy bar later (oh be still my heart), and I may have to take the dogs for another walk and really lift the rock I want and drag it back to the bago.
We’re camped in Cave Creek, on top of Phoenix. The hiking is more marginal here as off trail is a mine field of stickers and thorns. I took Lucy’s off with a pair of pliers. Anna is foot sore and lays down a lot if I’m climbing uphill; she has remarkable recovery skills if a bunny bops by – she is less eager by the day – they are fast – coyotes all over the place. I go to sleep at night to their yips and calls. I would gush over the sunrises and sunsets, but hey, this is Arizona after all. What else is there to gush over?
I’ve also landed in cactus wren heaven – I watched a male display today – hey, I said to myself – ya need to brush up on the ballroom moves. I saw my first black-throated sparrow today – now there is a handsome dude. He knew how to play hard to get.
The new Elizabeth George is getting me through this week – what a fabulous series she created. I always feel like I’m standing in front of her characters.

Next week we visit Bob and the parrot Herman again – always a good thing – then off to Tucson for a few days. Barb and Ron are hosting their daughter and her new sweetheart in Sedona after that and if I could make up my mind I would know where I’m going.
Love and hugs from clueless in Arizona

If Rock Moves, Don't Touch It

I have finally given myself over to a higher power – Barb Swartwoudt is now in charge – We are still in Arizona – in the Cottonwood, Jerome, Sedona area – touring the ruins left behind by the old ones – circa 1400. This started for me while hiking around Chaco last spring, in the state next door. It’s difficult for me to even imagine driving back and forth between states – these ruins prove that the ancients moved in straight lines between places – no side trips to get a burger and shop at really bad thrift stores – The bago was massaged and had all its little filters changed by real diesel mechanics – now all I need to do is use the turtle wax on the huge scratch that covers one whole side – poor bago.
One of my favorite times of day is dawn; the next is the walking all over creation. It’s that time of life when dreaming is allowed, exercise is tops and life depends on kindness of strangers and I’ve met many. They have aroused in me the range of emotions from pity to awe. An 88 year old woman told me when I was 25 that the search is never over – the feelings never change.

I have discovered that combing the desert for rocks is as much fun as beachcombing. As Auntie Anna once said, “I never met a rock I didn’t like.” I’ve seen baby desert turtles with faces that look like their ancestors. I hear coyotes all day long. Everywhere there are hundreds of white-crowned sparrows. Yesterday a prairie falcon flew by. A camp raven cooed at me so I left her an orange. Tall-eared jack rabbits out run Anna; Lucy digs for rats. The only river here is the Verte and it is tough shape. A man told me that they’ve measured one 67 year drought. We know the old ones traveled away from drought and war. Some things never change.

I’ve met a parrot who sings The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music. He is owned by an antique dealer. Remember….
The road we travel on
The eagle flies with the dove
If you can’t be with the one you love
Love the one you’re with
De de de de de de de de

Hey Lady can I fix your sewer for ya?

Hello my faithful 5 blogging friends. May the Goddess bless you in this season of commercial but friendly gift giving. I'm going to quit blogging because you 5 seem to be the only ones who can figure this out. Go figure. I'll be on facebook.

I've gone to ground at Pismo Beach -- south of San Luis O. and north of S. Barbara. It's a funky little beach town with lots of RVers. I'm here so I don't have to drive around for a while and they have the POOL OF MY DREAMS.

Peace, love, and vegetables.

California Dreamin'

I drove the Big Sur coastline – high winds dying down that grabbed the bago and made her sway – I had to slow down then, pull over to let the little cars go by – absolutely the end of the earth in the most beautiful way. The magnificent crashing smashing Pacific from on high. If you have accomplished work at the Tassarra in S. F. then you could go to the Tassarra hot springs – boo hoo; I’m not a Buddhist. Essalon (sp?) was closed to all but those with reservations. I was hoping for a least a peek as in the old days when you could sit in their hot tubs and look over the ocean. I’m really glad they fought Clint Eastwood from developing Big Sur into a convention center.
We are now out in the dry, oak, shrubby part of CA north of LAX. I like this country – full of snakes and ticks apparently – kind of like home. This country is big enough for cattle, a mens’ prison, a college town, and the national guard. Anna found Lucy hunting in a shrub patch near a gorgeous golf course – pretty area – north of San Luis Obispo. We walked on Morro beach today – that was fun – lots of dogs. I picked up a very pretty sandstone rock with colors on it. I was thinking: someone painted this and threw it into the ocean and it came back, or there is toxic waste attached to this rock – I stuck it in my pocket – it was so unusual. We met three women collecting rocks. Their mother is dying of cancer and they are building her a rock wall. I reached into my pocket and drew out the magic rock. They said, ahhhhh, in unison, so I gave it to them.
I “think” I saw a bristle-thighed curlew in with the whimbrels – my Sibley says it could have been. Some long-billed curlews gracefully hunted by. I saw marbled godwits, black bellied plovers, willets and one juvenile red-shouldered hawk sitting on a house, watching the whole beach.

We hiked in the H. Cowell Redwoods above Santa Cruz today – I’ve had enough of redwoods for a while. It gets dark down in them there hollows. I’m driving south on Thursday – I haven’t decided what I want to do next. I’m actually looking for a studio space to rent – one I can park beside, plug in and use the studio to finish working the final collection of dad’s negatives.
I got my ocean fix by driving from Santa Cruz north to San Francisco – some great beaches in that stretch of Highway 1. Jane Bailey found a RV park close to a spot they like to walk on – I had a fabulous visit with Jane and Rich while we walked. We ended our day at an Indian restaurant in the city – lovely.
Marcia and Earl Adams shared their family Thanksgiving with me. The food was great – as was the company. I really like the Santa Cruz area.
I’ve been reading Tracy Kidder’s new book about a school teacher. I could die of boredom reading this, so I’m casting about for new books. I’m looking forward to the biographies of the Medici wife and Katherine the Great.
Lucy gets off leash once a day. She finally disappears into the understory – full of thorns, rabbits, gophers, and all manner of leaves. There is no bush whacking in California. Anna is honing her skills as a tracker. I say – go – find Lucy, and eventually, she does. Sometimes it takes a half an hour or more but soon both dogs are digging away under a redwood tree. Lots of critters, not a lot of predators.
I have found more hummingbirds – lots of red-tailed hawks – I watched a kite working a field near Half Moon Bay – beautiful. When I do see a remote beach with a little herd of sandpipers they are usually sanderlings. The cliffs all have peregrines – yeay for the Peregrine Fund out of Boise! Maybe I should make finding a condor my next goal.

Driving the rig

If I’m on a big highway I get behind a big hauling truck and stay there, through thick and thin. There’s always his buddy truck behind me. It feels really safe and I can look around while I drive.
Sacramento was great. James Bowland was a kid the last time I saw him, now he’s a man with a family and a good education/job. I really enjoyed talking with both him and Gin. The kids were totally sweet. The whole house is decorated with the kids’ art and wonderful drawings of Gin’s. I forgot to take their photos and I’m so sorry – they looked great.
James gave me a good book to read: Nature Noir by Jordan Fisher Smith. He was a park ranger in the American River canyons. It’s a great read – how park rangers became law enforcement and the beauty of the land. I just finished driving that area and south into the Sacramento Valley.
I stayed at the San Luis Reservoir. I was the only RV in a campground designed to handle thousands of people through the summer. I saw several barn owls – one juvenile flew close to my face – lots of Montana birds hanging out with us: w. meadowlark, finches, white-crowned sparrows, kestrels all the way, same as ravens, turkey vultures, red-tailed hawks. Outside of Ione a ruby crowned kinglet chatted me up while I watched the fishermen in the boats trolling for cutbows and bass. Everywhere there wasn’t a boat a big fish would jump. Saw a cooper’s hanging over the off ramp driving to Bowland’s. I was too early for the sandhill cranes at Columnes. The ever present coot numbers in the thousands. A man once said, coots were the veritable chicken of the sea. Many sparrows flitting by. I don’t have my special sparrow book, but so far it’s mainly been song sparrows and white crowns that stand out, maybe a sage sparrow. I’ve seen buffle heads, ruddy ducks, pintails, mallards, a dark headed fly catcher – briefly – all the birds were easily shocked. I could tell people have been chasing them. Hummingbirds occasionally hum by, two northern shrikes, the white wing bar flash of mockingbird, and the very pretty scrub jay. I’ve seen one red-shouldered hawk, a plain titmouse – reading my bird book I learned that white-fronted geese fly in dynamic and artistic V formations like the ones I saw nf the Sacramento River. So I’m going to fantasize and say that’s what I saw. Great blue herons all the way, great white egrets and one of the smaller ones. Lots of west. Grebes all the way.
I’m camped back in the redwoods of Santa Cruz – the walks are wonderful. We walked into Fulton today and got groceries – Lucy did the whole thing on leash and seemed to almost appreciate it. I pick her up in traffic. Anna gives everyone crotch hugs. What can I say.
Tomorrow I face the quintessential American turkey laden table. At Chez Adams I will feast, plus meet her family.