Down Around Ajo Way

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Sunrise in Ajo, Arizona

A slow day in the Desert Southwest started with the sun pouring into our east-facing window. Like an alarm clock hammering at our ears, the light of day insists that sleep is over. Into the morning we go.

After using those supplies of the hygienic type we secured last night, we started our journey south. Ajo, though it means garlic in Spanish, is no place for culinary delights by a long shot. Just getting breakfast is a chore. Likely due to the carnage of two years of pandemic, Google and the business listings of Ajo are out of sync. Luckily, we found Oasis Coffee at the main square, where we were able to get some decent coffee, a bagel for Caroline, and a bacon egg panini for me. Behind the wife was a gaggle of Brits that we learned were also heading down to the national monument; we were determined to beat the crowd, so it was time to drop the pen, go find some water, and point the car towards the trail. That was until Caroline thinks “bathroom” but finds half a dozen of those gray-haired people of English descent already in line ahead of her; she’ll just have to pull up a tree or cactus somewhere south of here.

Catholic Church in Ajo, Arizona

Starting our drive south of Ajo, I was wondering why a place would be named after a herbaceous bulb related to the onion that doesn’t seem to be related to this town in any way. Wikipedia came to the rescue by informing us that Ajo might have gotten its name from the similar-sounding Tohono O’odham word for paint (oʼoho). As for Tohono O’odham, they are the original dwellers on these lands, and their name means Desert People.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

Search out the extraordinary and be prepared to be surprised. Here we are at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument down in a tiny corner of Southern Arizona, but that is deceiving as it turns out that this desert outpost with very few roads is more than 12 times bigger than Paris and almost 4.5 times bigger than Munich. Yep, it’s that big! There are about 101 miles (162km) of dirt roads through the monument; of those, we’ll only be able to visit 21 (34km) today.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

The one paved road through the park is an artery traveling between Mexico to the south and Why, Arizona, and points beyond to the north. Our first stop will be the visitor center to pick up the Junior Ranger booklet so Caroline can nab a badge from this park. As it turned out, my wife was going to have to step up to adulting as this national monument offers a “Desert Ranger” program for non-kids.

Cristate Cactus at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

The first question has Caroline wishing for the Junior Ranger booklet where she can draw cute pictures and write poetry because asking her to describe and diagram the genetic mutation that leads to cristate cactus formations has her stumped. That is until I offered her the explanation that this is a defect in the apical meristem and as far as the diagram was concerned, she was on her own.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

Our wish during this visit to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument was to make our way over the 41-mile-long Puerto Blanco Drive that would have brought us past Quitobaquito Springs (closed for restoration work), but the ranger informed us that there are sandy parts of the road and that at a certain point, we will be limited to one-way traffic so turning around becomes impossible should we hit a part of the road we’re not comfortable negotiating.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

Instead, we are heading up the popular Ajo Mountain Drive.

Caroline Wise at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

What was the lesson learned from visiting this particular organ pipe cactus that was a short walk away from the gravel road? For me, it was I should have worn my hiking boots as random unidentifiable cactus needles are able to penetrate the rubber soles of my walking shoes, and while I didn’t need pliers to remove them, it’s a rude moment when a needle meets flesh.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

I would like to imagine that nearly anyone looking at this image would be able to figure out the reference to organ pipes.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

After a good stretch of washboard dusty dirt road, we run into some paved sections that are always delightful as, for a couple of minutes, our car is turned into the greatest luxury ride ever.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

Guess how many cars have passed us at this point? Mind you that we’ve already been crawling around out here at a snail’s pace for a good hour. Well? The answer is NONE!

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

E-bike rentals here at the park would be ideal as the 21 miles of this road are too much to walk, but the car is allowing us to drive too fast. Being realistic, the argument against e-bikes could easily be made that most visitors are only interested in getting a glimpse of things the quickest way possible.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

The Desert Ranger booklet points out that standing right here should be the largest organ pipe cactus easily accessible to those driving by, but all we found were these whale-like looking skeletal remains of what once was the said cactus.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

The ocotillos are in bloom, and why it took me so many years to learn the details of this semi-succulent plant is beyond me. First of all, the name is Spanish for Little Torch, which should be obvious enough from the color and shape of the flowers. This plant that is able to live for nearly 60 years is related to the boojum tree. Finally, the fresh flowers are edible and can be used in salads; when dried, they can be used as herbal tea.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

We’ve reached Arch Canyon, and the one and only hike we’ll do out here today. Look closely at the big blue spot in the rocks, and just above that is a minuscule, fragile-looking second arch. I’ll just go ahead and tell you now: the trail that would have taken us up close and personal with the arches eventually would get too hairy for me, so this will be the best photo of it that I was able to take, but we wouldn’t know that until we got deeper into the canyon.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

So, we started our pleasant hike over a well-groomed trail thriving on the exquisite beauty and solitude out here.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

Looking back on the way we came.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

It was just around this corner where a steepish ascent up some slick rock marked by cairns would have taken us up the mountain for a more intimate encounter with the arches, but like I said…

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

As we turned around just beyond those signs, one of them warning us about immigrants and traffickers, I spotted the smallest arch I’d ever seen. About 25 feet overhead was this tiny opening I don’t believe a hand could have fit through.

Cristate Cactus at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

Another organ pipe cristate, also referred to as a crested cactus, was found, but the saguaro cristate described in the booklet couldn’t be found; maybe it is now gone.

Cristate Cactus at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

I can’t remember ever seeing this cristate mutation in the Phoenix area; I wonder if this is an environmental factor due to elevation, weather, or soil chemistry.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

Come to think about it, why don’t these organ pipe cacti call the desert up in Phoenix home? From Phoenix down to the Mexican border and beyond, these lands are all part of the Sonoran desert. As a matter of fact, the Sonoran desert extends 260 miles south to Guaymas, Mexico, and yet, saguaro cacti are only native to Arizona. Of course, the internet has all the right answers. It turns out that organ pipe cacti require predictable, warm-season rains and rocky soil, and the Phoenix area doesn’t meet those requirements.

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

Flowering jumping cholla, also known as teddy bear cholla, is what’s leaving the needles on the ground I’m stepping on; this is my best guess.

Caroline Wise at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Ajo, Arizona

After nearly 5 hours in the monument and some serious noodling to figure out the physics, chemistry, biological function, and symbiotic relationships between various plants and creatures, it was time to turn in the 40-page questionnaire that tested Caroline’s knowledge that might allow her to become a Desert Ranger and as you can see for yourself at her swearing-in ceremony, she is now a fully qualified Desert Ranger with distinction. She earned this extra title for explaining how cycles of the moon influence the hydrological function of organ pipe cactus and the volume of water exchanged with the environment during these transitional times. Yep, she’s that smart…O estoy tan lleno de mierda.

Ajo, Arizona

So, from the visitors center, we were supposed to head down to Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, but things didn’t work out that way. The proverbial confluence of events conspired against our inner Schweinehunds, and we headed north instead of our dreamed-of Pollos Sinaloa El Angel for lunch near the ocean. Giving up that grilled chicken had us feeling defeated as that really was the only reason for driving hundreds of miles into the desert at the cusp of summer, that and the Carne Asada we enjoyed yesterday.

Mining Museum in Ajo, Arizona

Seriously though, we were warned that passing through Sonoyta on the border carried risks of police trying to fleece tourists passing through for any perceived infraction; one anecdotal story from the ranger at the park of having his phone stolen down in Rocky Point by armed men, and then the admonition to be very aware of the U.S. side of the border closing at 8:00 p.m. and the heavy traffic on holiday weekends. Sonoyta hotels often sell out due to travelers after waiting hours in line being turned away when the border closes. Too much hassle in our book, so we returned to Ajo, sat down for lunch followed by a coffee back at Oasis, and then drove across the way to visit the closed Ajo Historical Society Museum.

Mining Museum in Ajo, Arizona

The rusting hulk of a Kilbourne & Jacobs Automatic Air Dumping Car is a relic of the mining industry made by a company that was founded in 1881 and went bankrupt by 1923. I think this logo plate weighs more than the bumper on our Kia.

Mining Museum in Ajo, Arizona

This is the train car from just above.

Mining Museum in Ajo, Arizona

I was considering the effort to restore that decaying train car, heck we see people on YouTube restoring anvils, lanterns, knives, planes, cars, etc., well restoring that car would be interesting to me. This got me thinking of restoring the 100-year-old wood cart this broken wheel is attached to, so I researched the world of wooden wheels used for these types of projects, and it turns out there’s a market out there. I’d imagine it is a small one, but for between $300 and $1000 apiece, people are able to acquire wood wheels for their covered wagons, carriages, cannon wagons, and vending carts that require an old-world appeal.

Mining Museum in Ajo, Arizona

Ajo was the site of the first open-pit copper mine in Arizona, for what that’s worth.

Ghost Figure by Val Uschuk of Ajo, Arizona

The Ghost Figures of Ajo are sculptures distributed around town by Val Uschuk, who seems to spend her time between Durango, Colorado, and out here in the remote desert. The pieces are worth seeking out, and when we are in Durango in August, we’ll be sure to keep our eyes open for the ones that are installed there.

The Long Way Round – Trip 7

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

John Wise and Caroline Wise at King Coffee Roastery in Phoenix, Arizona

Happy Good Friday, and it is. I’d forgotten that Caroline would be off today, so last night, I was surprised for the second time to find out that we’d be able to leave for our weekend getaway whenever we chose. But this opened up a dilemma for which I wasn’t exactly ready. You see, all week, I’d been working on details regarding other trips by moving some days around, adding activities, deciding that we’d head out over the 4th of July into the Wasatch mountain range east of Salt Lake City, adding the Zuni reservation to the mix by nixing something else, and booking a night in a hogan in Monument Valley for the second time in 14 years. After juggling these hundreds of threads, I had to turn my attention to working out in greater detail just what we’d be doing this weekend.

We already knew that we were heading to Ajo, Arizona (garlic in Spanish) and then down to Organ Pipe National Monument for some hiking, but that was it. With a brain already fixated on travel plans, I brought up the map and knew almost immediately that we should simply go the wrong way. Instead of driving west, we’d go east. Ninety minutes east of Phoenix is Miami, and in Miami is Guayo’s El Rey, and at Guayo’s El Rey we’ll be stopping for lunch. A lunch of carne asada at my favorite place for just that.

After eating, will we backtrack? Heck no. We’ll drive another 10 miles east before turning south to make the long detour around Tucson before finally taking a quiet road to Ajo, where we are booked for the next two nights. But don’t go thinking that this was all I could come up with tomorrow; we’ll be having lunch at a grilled chicken stand in Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, on the Gulf of California, though those details and the rest of today will have to wait for us to get underway. At the moment, we are sitting at King Coffee Roastery down the street from home while I’m starting today’s post, and Caroline is knitting away to finish the new pair of socks that she’s promising I’ll be wearing before the weekend is out.

No, seriously, I typically hate any food photos I shoot; well, the donuts a couple of weeks ago turned out okay, but I have no eye for shooting meat. But then I thought, maybe this is like nature images where nothing I capture ever even remotely is as appealing as what we experienced with all of our senses tuned to wonder, and that years from now, when for one reason or other, I can no longer enjoy the worlds best carne asada, I’ll be able to look back at this one and remember the sense of yummy it offered me, though the image of it was less than appealing.

The signs around town mention the poppies, but had we ever been in Miami to see them in bloom? Had we simply overlooked them, or were we so uninspired that day that we couldn’t be bothered? I do have to admit no small amount of annoyance after driving the road between Superior and Miami as speeding lunkheads plow aggressively over the winding roads as they impatiently need to arrive somewhere that always seems to be dictated by some kind of emergency if their driving is any indicator. It’s hard to stop and smell the flowers when survival and stress are wearing you down.

Today, with the decision to let time be damned, we took the long way around by going well out of our way to turn a 2.5-hour drive into a nearly 8-hour tour east, south, west, and a little bit north just so we could get out and smell the nearly scentless wildflowers of the Arizona Desert on a spring day.

I’ve never seen a thistle I didn’t like, though the same cannot be said after touching one of these spiny plants.

We’re on Arizona road number 77, traveling south; the astute might notice I’m looking north for this photo.

Oh, more wildflowers, we must pull over, or how else will we use all that time between lunch and the setting sun to occupy ourselves when today’s destination doesn’t hold a ton of things to do?

The reminder that the drive wasn’t all about grand vistas and flowers but included a good deal of brown, tan, lifeless, dull dirt, leafless plants, and desert stuff that isn’t always amazing in its repetition. Hmmm, that sounds cynical and like the words of someone failing to appreciate the complexity of what a desert embodies. I should never give in and take the world around me for granted; I, better than most, have a pretty good idea of the formation of our planet, the upheaval, and the chemistry that has been working over millennia to form every bit of organic everythingness that must be here for me to begin to make even the smallest of observations. So let me reframe this: wow, just look at this spectacular dirt being eroded right next to the road for everyone who passes to witness just one more bit of nature at work on our behalf.

Then the Santa Catalina range of mountains screams at me, “You even care a lick about that little bit of dirt roadside when this kind of majesty is here to astound you?”

After negotiating our way through the chaos of Tucson (Little Phoenix in its boringness), we were on the quiet and scenic Arizona Route 86 for the rest of our drive southwest through Sells before turning northwest on our way to Ajo.

And this is why you turn a 127-mile (205km) trip into a 341-mile (558km) meander, a great lunch, colorful wildflowers, terrific mountains, and a fantastic sunset.

But the sunset wasn’t over yet, with the shifting high clouds and the evolving glow of the horizon offering us a thousand beautiful views that changed with the curve of the road, the cactus in the foreground, and which part of the sky was capturing particular spectra of color.

Our motel is on the sketchy side, with the amenities not what they might have been at one time. With no soap or shampoo in the room, we had to track that down. Stepping back out of our room, we heard a commotion around the corner from the housekeeper and the girl from the front desk: they were dealing with a snake. It turned out to be a non-venomous western ground snake, a pretty reptile with its orange and black bands. It slithered away after we caught a glimpse of its snakeness, heading for a hiding place behind our room.

After we were done hunting snakes, we informed the ladies that we needed some supplies of the hygiene type and were offered the basics. What they couldn’t help with was the musty old smell of our room, but we don’t pay $77 a night on a weekend with high expectations anymore; after all, it’s no longer 2005.

With the A/C on and a window open, we took a walk out along the road under the full moon, the peaceful quiet of the desert broken by the sound of giant truck tires barreling down the road as the partiers were approaching the hour that the border into Mexico closes for the night. Trying to keep an eye open for snakes that might look for warmth out on the highway while being aware of speeding vehicles that might not see us, we strode along, enjoying the pleasant evening.

Back in our room, still too warm and funky, I turned to blog chores as Caroline tucked into the Kindle and her reread of Tracks by Robyn Davidson. None of this lasted very long, as we were tired following our marathon drive.

And so this was how trip number 7 of the year started out as we ventured into the desert for a mini-vacation close to home.

A Note Regarding the Mundane

JWise Moments, Photo of the Day

Palo Verde tree in bloom Phoenix, Arizona

It’s allergy season, tax season, the approach of summer, and the space between those things and our travels. It’s easy to write about a trip somewhere as there’s a kind of excitement of going places, but what of these days when routine happens on a regular basis? Every day, we head out early in the morning, typically before 6:00 a.m., for a walk, and we suffer from the allergens that fill the air at this time of year. Every day, I think about doing the taxes, but I have until the 18th, so there is time. The air-conditioning is now on every day as temperatures have consistently been in the mid-90s here in Phoenix. It’ll likely stay this way, only much hotter, for the next four and a half months. Nearly every day, I find myself at a coffee shop at one point or other, typically first thing after dropping Caroline at her office.

I finished working out a two-week meal plan as we focus on the older things in our pantry and freezer that need to be eaten instead of thrown away; rarely do we ever throw food away. Writing about the once-a-week ritual of washing clothes is definitely of no interest for a blog post, but that kind of mundane thing is part of the mundane human maintenance usually glossed over. Gas is supposedly more expensive, and I guess it is, but that seems inconsequential in the scheme of things, considering I’m paying $45 a gallon for iced soy lattes at Starbucks in the afternoon on top of the $37-a-gallon Americanos I drink in the morning. But these details are just boring, maybe even hackneyed.

If I’m adequately busy and productive during the day, I’ll “reward” myself with mindless entertainment in the evening. This is either had by reading or trying to find something of some minor value on YouTube; the latter is typically a failure, with me plumbing the depths of stupidity and probably contributing to the rot accumulating somewhere in my brain that will show itself the older I get.

This quick burst of the mundane already needs to come to an end as here at 5:00 p.m.; it’s about time to go pick up Caroline and deal with the traffic of getting home. Our dinner of crockpot beans is finished, so there’s no real culinary excitement going on there unless you are a bean aficionado like we are, in which case we are dining on Lina Sisco’s Bird Egg beans cooked long and slow with bacon and onion. So, maybe not everything is exactly mundane today.

International Travel

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

At Sky Harbor Airport Phoenix, Arizona

It’s Friday, the day before we leave for Mexico City down south in Mexico. I’m sitting in Starbucks having a coffee while Caroline is at her office enjoying happy hour with her co-workers. I couldn’t check in with our flight, which was likely due to needing to present our passports to the ticketing window. I bought pesos earlier in the week and scheduled our Uber to the airport an hour ago.

Things are mostly packed but more importantly, the deep cleaning of everything is done. From the shelves of the refrigerator to under the stove, baseboards in the bathroom, and every surface that could be cleaned in that room is super tidy. All laundry is done, as is our bedding, so when we get back home, nothing needs to be tended to aside from possibly turning on the A/C, depending on what the weather looks like when we return. This ritual of housekeeping takes on greater importance the longer we’re away, as when vacation extends beyond a few days, I want to come home knowing that aside from fetching some fresh food and doing our stinking travel laundry, I’m free to bask in the glow of another wonderful vacation.

Hmm, this is mostly true; I’m out of granola and will have to deal with that the day after our return; we are also out of pickled ginger for our Burmese ginger salads, so after buying 10 pounds of fresh ginger, I’ll be occupied with that chore for a solid 5 or 6 hours. Our taxes haven’t been filed yet, and I need to find a new doctor soon after our return as I don’t trust my current one after two appointments where he proved too anxious to prescribe meds with crazy potential side effects when my conditions are relatively well maintained.

On the blogging front, I anticipate that I’ll shoot between 3,600 and 5,000 photos; if I were smart, I’d take less. Prepping the photos while in situ isn’t a problem, but staying current with writing about the day can be a challenge. Should I fall behind and need to work on things after our return, I’ll do that to the exclusion of everything else as I obsess about finishing before we leave for trip number 6 of the 25 planned for this year.

You think you are done preparing, and then after dinner, you realize there are still a dozen things you need to get done before you call it a night. That’s exactly what happened, but now it’s 10:00 pm, and my eyes are heavy. The computer is updated, the phone rebooted, Fitbit is fully charged, pesos are divided between us, documents photocopied, credit card numbers and their phone numbers are noted, plans for breakfast are made, nothing left to do but hope for a good night of sleep instead of a restless one like we’ll have tomorrow night in another strange bed.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Sky Harbor Airport Phoenix, Arizona

Good morning, Saturday, and the butterflies of going to a new place far away. Breakfast was out of the way, a mile walk was able to be fit in, and we had 10 minutes before our ride arrived. Time to power this stuff at home down, take out the trash, lock the door, and go. Next stop: Phoenix Sky Harbor airport.

Got some walking in at Terminal 4, verified that we’d get lunch on our flight, and now we’re sitting down near our gate where there are very few seats. We’ll start boarding in 15 minutes, though our flight isn’t leaving for another hour. By the way, I have a KTN or Known Traveler Number, but Caroline doesn’t; we need to rectify that as it sure is convenient to zip through security. This leg of the trip, I went to that line as with a CPAP, computer, camera, belt, phone, and shoes, it feels like a hassle to go through the regular line if I can avoid it. Next up, we are flying business class for the better part of this trip; this did allow Caroline to move through the Preferred Boarding security line; we board first, so there will be no issue of getting overhead bin space; we get that lunch I spoke of, and we’ll be at the front of the line for passport control when we land in Mexico.

Flying over Mexico

I was certain I’d see the border scar across the desert as we flew south but my vigilance wasn’t good enough. I did see a lot of desert and, on occasion, some canyon areas.

Flying over Mexico

Our three hours and some minutes turned into something less than three hours, allowing us to arrive early, but with immigration nearly a mile away from where we landed and the need to wait forever for a taxi, we were at the airport a good hour although we had no bags to claim. The great thing about our taxi ride was that it was a fixed price deal where you buy a coupon in the airport for your destination, so there’s no ambiguity, and at $14 or 280 Pesos, it was a terrific bargain.

Caroline Wise in Mexico City, Mexico

Ciudad de México or Mexico City to us foriegners, we are here. We lost an hour as we shifted timezones, lost that hour at the airport, and needed some time at the hotel to get checked in and figure out which way we wanted to go. The place for dinner I thought we’d go to closes at 6:00 for some strange reason, so instead of getting there 30 minutes before they shut the doors, we decided to go for a walk before grabbing our final meal of the day not too far from our hotel.

Mexico City, Mexico

We are in Bosque de Chapultepec Park, where the Museo Nacional de Antropología is also located. This corner of the park dedicated to the friendship between Mexico and Azerbaijan didn’t arrive without speedbumps, but the specifics are of little contemporary interest, so I’ll just leave this here without much comment.

Mexico City, Mexico

Hundreds of vendors line the wide paths through the park, and though the sun came and went as it was replaced with very occasional rain and cloud cover, the festive sense of a beautiful Saturday afternoon is in full effect. From furry monkeys on kids’ heads that squirt water from their tails to Lucha Libre masks celebrating Mexico’s renowned history of wrestlers, it seemed nothing cost much for than a dollar out here. Sadly, we are reluctant to try the various colorful snacks and fast food items along the way as too many Americans have squawked about the dangers to us visitors that will fall afoul of an intestinal bug if we aren’t careful. Somehow, I know they are full of BS, but their poisonous words and fears have infiltrated both of our brains.

Caroline Wise and John Wise in Mexico City, Mexico

There’s something I find peaceful about being somewhere I don’t speak the language, and that’s probably the fact that I can’t tell when people are talking from their butts. I want to assume they are all talking quantum physics, philosophy, or politics using a filter of high intellect. While I can be sure that if someone were translating the nearby conversations, I’d be aghast at the same level of stupidity I find elsewhere, that’s not the case now, and I can easily delude myself, thus making me happier. Happier makes for better smiles, so I gain that, too.

Mexico City, Mexico

We are now on our way to the restaurant we’ll be eating at but first, we’ll have to backtrack a bit.

Mexico City, Mexico

There’s a comedy act going on nearby that has attracted about 100 onlookers who are, as they say, busting a gut, but we understand not a word (well, at least we got “pendejo”) and walk on to check out the spitting frog fountain where a bunch of scouts are standing around doing scout things.

Mexico City, Mexico

This bird of paradise just so happens to look like a flame is burning there or that maybe I over-enhanced the colors; well, it is what it is.

Caroline Wise at Carajillo Restaurant in Mexico City, Mexico

Dinner was Carajillo restaurant I’d learned of before leaving Phoenix and you should be able to see from Caroline’s face that we weren’t disappointed. Prior to getting to this opulent dessert that was nearly as expensive as both of our entrees, Caroline started with a margarita as I ordered a guacamole. We’ve never had a hot guac, but we have now; it even had some ginger in it, not your garden variety version of this popular dip. Our entrees were roast pork for me and encrusted salmon for Caroline.

Carajillo Restaurant in Mexico City, Mexico

Having limited Spanish skills comes with its perks; what Caroline thought she understood we were having for dessert was slightly off. We thought that the many tables receiving flaming towers of chocolate and gold leaf-covered strawberries with a small tower of deep-fried ice cream topped with berries and more gold leaf were celebrating birthdays or anniversaries; nope, this was the dessert option we unintentionally got too. Under the burning cone at the center was the fried ice cream. Do I need to mention that this dessert also involved dry ice and several servers clapping while another one provided light effects with his phone?

With the loud thumping music of this trendy hot spot, the boisterous, well-dressed crowd, and the extremely well-trained and good-looking staff, we were surprised at the sense of celebration going on here and how there’s nothing in the Phoenix, Arizona, area that comes close to matching any of it. Without a tip, the meal, including the appetizer, a mixed drink, sparkling water, two entrees, and this dessert, came to 1,500 pesos or $84. Muy elegante and a great start to this Mexican vacation.

The Race is on…Or is it?

JWise Photo of the Day

Caroline Wise in the surf in Santa Monica, California

Back on the weekend of January 7th Caroline and I drove from Phoenix, Arizona to Los Angeles, California as we embarked on the monumental personal challenge of attempting to travel somewhere away from home no less than 25 times this year. This was our first trip that included museums, a botanical garden, the ocean, and dinner on the ocean in San Pedro among other things.

Caroline Wise at Teakettle Junction on the Road to Racetrack Playa in Death Valley National Park, California

On January 21st we returned to California, except this time we were aiming for Death Valley well north of Los Angeles. Caroline is seen here posing at Tea Kettle Junction on our way to Racetrack Playa to see with our own eyes the rocks that sail across a dry lakebed. Now, while this second trip of the year qualified as just that, I’d like to point out that was actually our third consecutive trip following the idea of going somewhere every other week. Over Christmas, we were over in New Mexico at Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge for some birdwatching, 10’s of thousands of birds.

Caroline Wise at the Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona

February 4th seemed to come on fast but this time we were staying right here in our own state of Arizona. I’d booked us a couple of nights at Bright Angel Lodge and hoped that we wouldn’t encounter snowy roads on the way up. As you can see, we had great weather, great views, and consequently a great time here at the Grand Canyon.

Caroline Wise at Leslie Canyon National Wildlife Refuge in Cochise Country, Arizona

Maintaining the theme of trying to avoid snow in the wintertime, our travel plans had us going south on the weekend of February 18. We came down this way to revisit a hiking trail we’d visited nearly 17 years prior. Well, we didn’t make it there because we were distracted by news of a mass of sandhill cranes nearby, and even on the way there we got sidetracked by a quick visit and hike to the Leslie Canyon National Wildlife Refuge. So you can better understand just where we were on the map, Douglas, Arizona, is about 250 miles southeast of us right on the border of Mexico and about 20 miles west of New Mexico.

For the 5th trip away from home this year, which is coming up very soon, I’m now scrambling to finish a ton of details that I put off until the last minute. Because we are so familiar with traveling I need not worry too much about getting things perfect too far in advance. I believe Caroline and I have confidence that the flow of our travels, no matter how they unfold, always seem to have been well-planned and fortunate regardless of the situation once we’re there.

So maybe this shouldn’t be considered a race at all but more a marathon because with 21 trips still ahead of us we need to pace nearly everything we do so we don’t burn out by feeling like we’re always on the run. This is where my preparations which occur in the background while Caroline is at the office should allow her a seamless move from working to being transported someplace where a real adventure in exploration, beauty, and fun can be woven together, allowing the high frequency of so many trips to remain exciting and not slip into feeling like chores. Oh yeah, the last thing, where are we going next? Ha, check back soon.

Leaving Tranquility

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Art Cars in Douglas, Arizona

We are back at Art Car World for a slow tour after Friday night’s quick tour. Our guide, Hunter Mann, unlocked the door and turned the lights on before we arrived. Hunter’s enthusiasm from Friday night is alive and well on this early Sunday morning as he starts sharing the vision of Harrod Blank, the person behind this effort, though Hunter is obviously integral to the operation and playing a key role in bringing Harrod’s vision to life.

Art Cars in Douglas, Arizona

There’s so much to the backstory of art cars and the personalities that endeavor to build these drivable works of art that whatever I might share here is of minor importance compared to others making a visit to Douglas, Arizona, to see these cars with one’s own eyes.

Art Cars in Douglas, Arizona

Both Harrod and Hunter come from a filmmaking background, though that would be too narrow a lens to focus on them. From our limited time here, it would seem that both are Rennaisance men who, from art, authorship, teaching, renovation, and even a bit of philosophy, are now trying their hands at revitalization as they tackle rebuilding a corner of a formerly prosperous mining town. Maybe the town and the timing are right to capture the need of people to get away and find experiences that are off the beaten path.

Art Cars in Douglas, Arizona

Caroline was responding to a decorative element on one of the cars, a wire sculpture of a woman at a spinning wheel, when Hunter grabbed a book by Harrod titled Art Cars: The Cars, the Artists, the Obsession, the Craft and opened to the pages that showcase the “Yarn Car.” We left with that book.

Art Cars in Douglas, Arizona

Behind the decorated snail is a windshield, and the snail itself rides on the hood of a car of a make, obscured by thousands of different pieces of jewelry, coins, and other things.

Art Cars in Douglas, Arizona

The facility in which these cars are being exhibited is a work in progress with a lot yet to be done, but the dust and construction yet to come are in no way detractors from the amazement the cars deliver to your senses. The wrought-iron transparent Beetle in the next room must be seen to be believed; the quote in the photo up above about “May you live as long as you want…” is from Harrod’s Oh My God Beetle, while this Beetle is fashioned with a layer of stained glass that has been painstakingly conformed to the shape of this iconic car.

Art Cars in Douglas, Arizona

Close-up detail of the “California Fantasy Van” built by Ernie Steingold in Burbank, California. The underlying vehicle is a  1975 GMC van that originally weighed 4,700 pounds, with two tons of brass and thousands of dollars in coins; it now weighs 10,000 pounds.

Gadsden Hotel in Douglas, Arizona

Awesome, got a decent photo of the exterior of the Gadsden Hotel. Caroline and I could easily see staying here again, although, with 21 more trips away from Phoenix scheduled for this year after completing the first four adventures, I don’t see us returning during 2022.

Graffiti in Douglas, Arizona

This weekend, we had the opportunity to meet entrepreneurs, students, and travelers, all making their contributions to this small desert outpost on the Mexican border. From Marina studying to be a firefighter, Cesar studying to be a nurse, Christian who understands he must move and grow to continue to improve his situation, to Cheryl who’s giving these young adults the opportunity that could allow them to reach their dreams. And then there’s Harrod and Hunter trying to inject culture and investment in the community; along the way are those of us down here looking for birds, rocks, and solitude, spending our dollars on lodging, food, gas, and souvenirs.

Arizona Highway 191 north of Douglas, Arizona

Sadly, I see a big, fat, ugly truth splayed out across this town and many small towns across America: if there isn’t a wealthy benefactor who picks up the slack of capital that is missing, these places are likely to continue to wither away. This equation suits the wealthy ruling class as it drags the undereducated out of these podunk towns and into the dead-end jobs required to make big cities go. In our rural decaying locales, there’s no justification for raising rents when houses go unsold and with jobs drying up as banks, grocery stores, and restaurants disappear, the opportunities of maintaining these places also go away. Unless the wealthy have decided that an old town holds promise to become an enclave for the rich, attrition will take it off the map. Such is the future of the populations that live out these ways, one of exploitation and servitude to debt traps.

Legs poking out of the ground in Elfrida, Arizona

Maybe it is the knowledge of the cultural-economic warfare that has our rural population heavily armed and ready for combat, but little do they understand that money is simultaneously patient and frenetic. Money must move in order for capitalism to thrive, but the minuscule amount of cash represented by 50,000 households scraping by on the margin of anger doesn’t really represent a threat to those waiting for these curmudgeons to grow old and their children to move away. The ironic thing about this photo is that I’m reminded of the Nancy Sinatra song These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ except look at those feet; not only is the person’s head planted deep in the ground, but those feet are broken, ain’t nobody walking away from their economic trap out here and feeling good about it.

Arizona Highway 191 north of Douglas, Arizona

These silos are likely filled with beans at the expense of the limited amount of groundwater flowing underfoot. It’s a good thing that while Caroline and I are out here finding enchantment with the sights and sounds, I put the thoughts of reality behind me and enjoy the moment. I wouldn’t be able to argue against the idea that by returning home and dragging my perception of the ills of society into my travel narrative, I effectively shit on my own memories, but I’d also argue that I must remind myself of the anger I’ve felt that people of greater intellectual powers than me appear to be empty of the ideas that would have us acting equitably and operating with a forward-thinking plan that would capitalize on the will of those of us who if the infrastructure supported us, we’d work remotely in these areas and bring prosperity back to smalltown America. That’s enough of the social justice ax-grinding for another minute as I’ll try to finish writing about the rest of the day without equating dry lake beds with economic or racial disparities.

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

We were warned at the visitor’s sign-in station that the last people who walked out on Willcox Playa found not a drop of water nor a single crane. Maybe we should have heeded that, especially as the last entry in the visitor list was from earlier this very day, but we didn’t require birds and water; we were happy to be out for a nice walk to the playa for the sake of it.

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

There are mountains nearly all around us, some still carrying snow, such as the Chiricahua Mountains to our southeast. These are not those mountains, as my photo of the snowcapped peaks was of poor quality.

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

It is obvious that there was once water here and maybe even recently. Nearby pumps suggest that people can turn this dry lakebed wet if they choose; I can only assume it’s not being pumped due to some level of depletion, with whatever remains being promised to the local bean and grape growers. Grape growers in the desert? Willcox has become well-known as a wine region because we are just that fucking stupid. Oops, I was getting off my soapbox, wasn’t I?

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

I love arid places where everything but scrub grass has ceased to exist. Without a sign of a bird, snake, lizard, javelina, or even an insect, I can rest assured that there are places to visit where I can celebrate the total annihilation of the environment that was exchanged for a bit of economic activity that arrives in air-conditioned homes in Phoenix, Scottsdale, Tucson, and Flagstaff that is as sweet as the blood that was drained from the lives we squeezed for our pleasure. Long live those kinds of incentives that make me proud to be (in)human.

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

Keep on walking, Caroline; the vintner is just over the horizon chanting his mantra that your bodily fluids are his soylent-profit; we are likely next after the weeds fail to offer value.

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

All snark aside, this playa is incredibly beautiful, and even without its blue reflective waters and the cacophony of thousands of migrating birds to fill the quiet, we couldn’t be happier to be out here right now, all by ourselves. Again, solitude makes an appearance, and we are the luckier to be on hand for it. Those are the Dos Cabezas Mountain in the distance, I think.

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

While difficult to see clearly in this photo, there’s a somewhat shiny patina of bronze crust overlaying the cracked mud, and while we don’t know what species of bird that feather came from, at least there’s evidence that at times they might be able to roost here.

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

There’s a thin black line interrupted by a tan space at the foot of the mountains out on the horizon; it’s a string of train cars traveling west. Between them and us, and difficult to see, is a mirage that looks a lot closer to us than it likely is. To the best of my calculating ability, the train is about 8 miles from us.

A great article up at a Northern Arizona University website reads, “Willcox Playa is an interior-draining basin—the largest in the state. Such “graben” valley landforms developed in the Southwest over the past 20 million years as the earth’s crust has been tectonically pulled apart. This same tectonic extensional process is occurring in East Africa’s Great Rift Valley.” Visit their website HERE to read more.

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

Signs of this being old ranch land and even relatively fresh cow patties where cattle have broken through the Arizona Game and Fish Department’s fencing are evidenced by images such as this.

Willcox Playa in Willcox, Arizona

The winds across the region are picking up, and we are good and hungry, so a stop in Willcox at a local Mexican restaurant was next up on our impromptu itinerary. While it’s still relatively early in the day, we can see the need for a coffee, and just before reaching Interstate 10, a Safeway promises revitalizing cups of Starbucks being available within. We feel obliged for the safety of other drivers to imbibe on that caffeine; we sure wish we’d also grabbed a couple of donuts, but the voice of reason (Caroline) insisted we didn’t need them. Not four hours later, we were already back in Phoenix after another great weekend exploring things other than the habits found at home.