March 16 2010 Leaving Santa Fe
This trip began dream-like, shrouded in the crystalline beauty of snow and the mind clutter of three halting car crashes. I left Santa Fe on the afternoon of March 16th almost a month after my new car had been put back together by “all the kings horses and all the kings men” for the sum of $10, 500. While my Honda was being made like “new” my computer lost all its logic. What can you do with a Logicboard that has no logic left to give? I drove nearly 500 miles with my iBook tucked safely in the backseat before I found a “new” body into which I could safely slip my hard drive. It love at first sight… all is well, at least for now.
You only turn fifty once in a lifetime. That happened to me late last May. I thought it might be fun to mark this occasion with a special celebration. At the time of my actual birthday I celebrated with a delightful get-a-way to Taos and dinner with friends. It was a pleasant way to begin the second half of life. There was even talk of a trip to Italy. But as we all know (and if you don’t I suggest you become a quick study) every moment, each special, should be savored to the fullest without expectation of the next. Don’t wait for tomorrow, embrace the now!
My life changed dramatically in the weeks and months following my birthday. Love walked away and my automobile contorted into a shape Toyota never intended, leaving me wondering which way was up. My car driven wearily, if not wildly, down an embankment was my greatest birthday gift of all. Alert and present I walked away, unscathed, from the topsy-turvy crush of steal, containing my upside down view, into the clear vision of right side up. This road trip is a celebration of life, beauty, and the divine; a journey without expectation, unfolding with each moment.
I tossed my snowshoes, the last items to be packed, into an already burdened car and waited for winter to release its grip on Santa Fe. Eight new inches of snow fell overnight. Monday's morning air sparkled as I drove away from the familiar sight of adobe homes nestled snug below the Sangre de Cristo range.
March 17
On Wednesday, the day of the Irish, I awoke to sporadic birdsong and the ancient sound of the Rio Grande flowing south to Mexico. But, I was not in Mexico. I was far enough North to have my tent coated with ice. I would not exactly call this winter camping (speaking from the experience of a woman who has spent eleven years living in Montana, and then there was that winter in the Arctic) but it was nippy and a morning worthy of wearing gloves when taking down the tent!
The day took its own course and I was drawn to an area that I had not visited in at least fifteen years, the tiny community of Portal, AZ. Portal cozies up to the eastern flanks of the Chiricahua Mountains in the Coronado National Forest. Tucked down in southeast Arizona this region is a birder’s paradise hosting a dizzying array of migrating and resident hummingbirds, in addition to stealthy birds that sneak across the border. It was prime birding season and all campsites were full. Not to worry, it was time to hike and enjoy the lush canyons and mountains, plunging snow clad, high above the arid flat basin.
There was still that camping issue to deal with after the hike. Yep, campgrounds were still full. After checking out a few dirt roads I could not find a place to spend the night. I drove out of the forest to the Portal General Store and asked the owners if they knew of somewhere I could pitch my tent. I have learned from past experience that the locals always know the hidden gems and if you are nice, polite, and perhaps pitiful enough they will share their secrets. The kind gent suggested that that I could sleep on some property that he had out back near a run down old adobe, and I should pay no mind to Roberto the hired man as he was shy and did not speak much English OR there was an isolated area along the road to Paradise that had a great view of the mountains. Tell me, are there any of you who would resist a trip to Paradise!? For my trouble, toil and patient negotiation of a rutted, dirt, twisty mountain road I was received into paradise. Moral of my story…always rely on the kindness of strangers or angels as they are, for a beautiful campsite. The birding was good and my time well spent. But this girl is on the move. Time to hike and then on to Bisbee.
March 18-19
The following night I tucked down a forest road not very far from the Mexican border. There were lots of border patrol cruising the main road and I hoped none of them would roust me out of my nest in the woods. I also hoped that I was not on a route of drug runners or illegals. Some nights are more restful than others. The highlight of this night was hearing a whiskered screech owl. Cold, cold morning. I headed north to Patagonia (this is the other Patagonia…Arizona) to bird at the Nature Conservancy Preserve. Arizona, like New Mexico has had a very wet winter. Everything very green. Lots of birds. I am smiling.
March 20
I am still on the Arizona birding trail as I am calling my travels in this part of the world. My friend Ann, who I am visiting in Tucson, has taken me to some absolutely stunning, expansive grasslands to find a couple of species of longspurs that sometimes spend the winter in this area. No luck with the longspurs. I did get to hear and watch a meadowlark singing from a fencepost, reminding me, with fondness, of my once upon Montana home. I guess you never really leave a place, or a person for that matter, no more than you could ever be separate from God. Happy, I delight in these last days of winter.
March 21
Remember those snowshoes? Well it is time to snowshoe the Lemmon! I had not intended on snowshoeing in Tucson but it is hard to pass up such an opportunity. Yes, Tucson is located in the desert, the Sonoran Desert chock full of cactus and other spiny plants adapted to a hot and dry climate. So how do you snowshoe in a land of spines? You get into the car and drive up the Catalina Highway. This magnificent drive takes you through life zones equal to driving from the desert of Mexico to the mountains of Canada. I found snow, wonderful snow, at the top of Mt. Lemmon. If you want to get away from weekend recreators in Tucson simply strap on your snowshoes and walk away…..
March 22
No snowshoes today, instead a steep climb with my friend Tina in the Catalinas. I am tired from the hike and warm weather. I realize I am still a bit out of shape from the recovery of a mildly tweaked back from the accident a few months back. The good news is that there is no more back pain!!
March 23
Quiet day of afternoon rain, contemplation and a stroll through a local park.
March 24
Birding south of Tucson along the San Pedro River near Tubac and Tumacocori. Peaceful. Birding is an activity that keeps me present and calms my spirit. It is a sacred meditation, a devotion to beauty. I am witness to color, shape, flight patterns, song and behavior. Everything that makes a bird a bird is watched intently for no purpose other than joy.
March 25
One of my favorite places in southern AZ is Madera Canyon...wonderful birding and wonderful hiking. I came here with the intention to bird and ended up hiking to the top of ridge until halted by snow!! I am so close to Mexico yet my feet think I am in the northern Rockies. Who says you can’t have it all? Along the way Painted Redstarts and Zone-tailed Hawks provide good company.
March 26
Today I picked up my hard drive in a new body. I am grateful for this piece of technology that allows me to store my thoughts. In the late late afternoon I visited Saguaro National Park (East). I walked out of the Visitor Center just as they were closing for the evening. A woman approached me eager to find out how to get to the scenic drive. I showed her my map and gave her directions. I said it was too bad the visitor center had just closed and she could not pick up her own brochure. “Oh, I thought you were a ranger.” I was standing before her in sandals, an old ball cap, tank top and shorts. I told her I was a ranger but not at Saguaro. Hummm, did the NPS change their uniform policy in the past few weeks? No one sent me the memo!
The beauty of this place blows me away again and again. The ocotillo, thick with foliage, are resplendent with dark greens leaves after rain. Where there is water there is life. I watched the sun skim the top of the hills as mountains light purple.
