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Published on October 16, 2010, by admin in Adventure.

On Friday 10/15/10, Daryl and I traveled to Tucson. I was hoping to revive some memories of my youth and maybe bring back some of the feelings I had while growing up in Flowing Wells. It would be interesting to see what I recognized from over 40 years of absence. It seemed like such a long time ago, and amazingly still only just yesterday.

Most of the buildings I remember as a boy had been torn down and replaced with something else. Our house was no longer there, instead an apartment building with paved driveways. Daryl and I drove around the parking lot and tried to imagine where the shop and pool once were. Many hours were spent shooting at the basketball rim on the shop, and grass out front of the house would never grow because of our play. I thought about all the circles we made on motorcycles around the driveway before we had licensees.

Even Kilburn road seemed different – more rundown and strange. I thought I remembered more grass in front of houses and less trash scattered about. Maybe I just wanted to think that.

Some of the classrooms at Flowing Wells High School were as I remember them but that was about all. The football field was in the same place and I found the old cafeteria, understandably now used for something else. The parking lot was different and there were new buildings jutting from all sides. I had a desire to look inside some of the buildings and browse through the trophy cases, but in this day and age it is not a good idea for strangers to wander around a school. Donna later told us that school was probably closed because of a winter break and it might have been OK to ask if we could look around.

One thing that seems to stay the same is the names of roads. It was reassuring to know that most of the roads still went where they used to, or you still took this road to get here, or we could find something by going down this road. Oracle Road Rent All was still a business although the building is much larger. We drove out to see the area where Shamrock Dairy was and still is in business – an area where I loved to play, collecting wax to make melted hands and riding bicycles with my friend Wayne.

Before we left, Daryl drove across town to Davis Monthan AFB. One of my favorite things to do in Tucson was drive along the fence by the base and look at all the stored aircraft. You used to be able to drive for miles and view row upon row of obsolete airplanes abandoned to the ‘bone-yard’ of the dry Arizona desert. There were a few places where we saw planes but mostly now they keep you back and away from them. We did however find one spot by the fence, along an off road, maintenance path, and Daryl tried out his 4WD SUV.

It was a good nostalgic trip. Daryl and I did a lot of reminiscing and I want to thank him very much for taking me there. Maybe someday I’ll go back, but for now I’ll leave the past behind and try something new.

 
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On the second day of our hike, I realized that this was going to be way harder, way harder than anything I had ever done before. The path led up through the mountains into the rarefied air of increasing altitude, over granite boulders arranged for erosion control in a cruel stairway with treads knee-high, switch-backing ever steeper to the top of Glen’s Pass. As I approached the pass, I had to will myself… no, force myself to keep climbing – I had little will left. My lungs gasped for air and my body cried out to stop this torture. The mountain was kicking my butt. Every step was a struggle.

All I wanted was to lie down and be at rest for a very long time. Unfortunately, to lie down meant that I would have to return to my feet, hoist a 40-pound pack to my shoulders, and conjure up the energy to move forward again. And so I trudged on with all my agony, unable to stop and little will to go on, coping with altitude sickness and extreme weariness, ignoring the aches and pains and the pounding in my head.

The irony of all this is that with all the work and discomfort of backpacking the Sierra Mountains, there are few places on earth more beautiful. Unless you’ve seen it up close it’s hard to describe how gorgeous it is: Mountains soaring into the sky for as far as you can see; pristine, mountain lakes like mirrors set into the landscape; cascading waterfalls through ravines of woods lined with giant pine trees. It’s a neat thing to know that only a few people, relatively speaking, get to see the backcountry in this way, and it feels good to know that I’ve gone to a place not many 62 year olds would even attempt.

After almost a year of planning, Daryl, Karen and I completed a 45-mile, four-day hike through the Sierra Nevada Mountains. At times we were skeptical that it would even happen: I couldn’t commit to a time because of complications at work and travel details; Karen had to schedule flights and arrange her work schedule; Daryl was nursing an injured knee. The trip was pushed back so that it would be into early October before we could start and that put us dangerously close to the winter weather in the High Sierra. And then to top it all off, we realized it would be over 600 miles of driving just to get to Kings Canyon National Park where the hike started. I really didn’t want to cancel the Sierra adventure, but I wrote Karen that we should plan something else. She must have sensed my disappointment because she wrote back: “What could be better? Backpacking and spending time with my Dad and Uncle on a road trip.”

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After ten hours of driving from Phoenix, a restless night in a rundown cabin/motel, we are all set to go on a chilly fall day. The date was Oct. 7, 2010.

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Karen took most of the pictures so there are more of Daryl and I than of her. The hike was easier for Karen (although she said it was the hardest hike she has ever been on) so I delegated her head photographer as I fought the demons of altitude sickness. Daryl also had more energy and less affects from the altitude than I did.

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This was our campsite on the second night – a place called Rae Lakes. We awoke to a beautiful but cold morning of 25 degrees that made it hard to crawl out of our snug and toasty sleeping bags. The altitude here was 10,500 feet and I was already feeling nauseous, woozy, and no appetite. It would have been nice to build a fire to warm up but fires are not allowed above 10,000 feet. We had to get in our bags when it got dark and start hiking as soon as we broke camp in the morning.

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Daryl and I climbing switchbacks above Rae Lakes.

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The sky was dark blue in the rarefied air.

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The scenery was awesome here in the Sierra.

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Everything seems to grow big in the mountains.

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This was the end of the loop. It was only two miles from the parking area and a short drive to showers and restaurants. It feels good to take off your pack and relax into the car seat, but it feels like your 100 years old when you sit for a couple hours and then try to walk into a restaurant.

 
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Published on October 2, 2010, by admin in Adventure.

On Friday, October 1, after six days of travel, I finally arrived at Daryl’s home in Phoenix, Arizona. It was a shock to drive down from the White Mountains and be met with 100-degree temperatures. Only a few hours before, at a place called Datil, New Mexico, I awoke to a chilly 40 degrees at my pre-dawn campsite. As I descended through Salt River Canyon to lower altitudes, I kept thinking it was a good thing my van has A/C.

I did a lot of sightseeing on Thursday and Friday. A short detour below Amarillo, Texas brought me to Palo Duro State Park, a place of stark contrast to the flat plains and endless grasslands of the Texas Panhandle. Palo Duro is like a mini Grand Canyon carved over the years by the Red River. There is a scenic roadway all the way to the bottom that was built in the 1930s by the CCC. I stopped to enjoy many fine views and read about the history of the park.

Then it was on to New Mexico where I enjoyed the scenery as the flat plains gave way to hills and magnificent rock formations. I entered Albuquerque, NM just before rush-hour and thought once of calling Dick for directions to the house he built. I would have liked to see it, but the traffic was about all I could handle, and I lamented into just getting through. As it turned out, minutes after I turned south on I25 and headed out of the city, all the interstate highways both coming into and going out of the city were closed, snarling traffic for hours. It seems that VP Biden was in town campaigning and now was leaving for the airport. A few minutes later and I would still be stuck in Albuquerque.

Then it was on to Rt.60, a beautiful highway running through the mountains from Soccoro, NM to Show Low, AZ. I passed the VLA (Very Large Array of radio telescopes) and continued on to a cute little campground run by the Bureau of Land Management and spent the night for a mere $5. With a Golden Pass the price would have been $2.50. It was getting late so I decided to find a campsite and return the next morning to the VLA. The campground even had free firewood for the campers, something I had never seen at any of the campgrounds back east.

I awoke before dawn, made coffee, and took a stroll around the campground. A sign announced that the Datil Well in this area was used as one of the watering stops for cattle drives through the mountain pass in the 1800’s. A thermometer on the office building read 40 degrees, and I thought of Mom when she said to ‘soak up’ all the cool weather before descending into the Phoenix area. Before I did though, I headed back to visit the VLA.

I could see the giant dishes for 15 miles before I arrived. The remoteness of their location, along with the altitude – over 7000 feet – make this a perfect spot for interference free signals from space. There are 27 dishes, each about the size of a baseball diamond, arraigned in a “Y” formation. All the antenna’s signals can be synchronized so that they act like a single antenna, reading images millions of light-years into space. I watched a short film and then did a walking tour to see the antennas up close. One of the neatest facts about the VLA is that in 1997, a large part of the film “Contact”, staring Jodie Foster, was shot there.

The rest of the drive into Arizona would take me through the Salt River Canyon and 60 degrees of rising temperatures. I remember the stories of Salt River Canyon and the truckers who lost their brakes coming down the steep grades. I was glad that I have good brakes on the van, and also glad I was behind the U-Haul truck that gave off the odor of burning, brake pads all the way to the bottom. Some of the views from the pullouts were really breathtaking.

Last night, Mom, Donna, Daryl, Gisele, Derek and I went out to eat. It was good to see everyone again and spend some time together. Today, Daryl and I did some shopping for our backpack adventure next week. The weather in the Sierra’s looks kind of cold and rainy for the start of our hike, but what do you expect when you’re hiking with the Soggy Shoe Hikers?

 
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I took it pretty easy today. I’m already stopped at a park by Lake Mcclellan in Texas. I only drove about 100 miles today. It would be nice to have that Golden Pass, I could have saved some money.

I thought it would be a good choice to stay at that city park last
night, but it turned out to be kind of a sleepless night. There were kid squeeling their tires and thumping base of their radio kept me awake, and then about midnight, their was a knock on my door and two State Troopers wanted to know what I was doing. I explained that I was looking for the National Grasslands campground and when I couldn’t find it, pulled in here to sleep for a few hours. They said that it was perfectly all right and were just making sure I was ok. Well, I didn’t get back to sleep for a while after that.

This morning I visited a historic battlefield called Washita Historic Site. It is one of many places that Custer was sent to wipe out Indians. They attacked in the dead of winter, killing 40 warriors, women, and children. Then Custer had his men burn everything

 
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I’m still in Oklahoma. This is a honken big state! I’m starting to feel the heat as I get further west but at least I didn’t have to go through Kansas. There are more hills and green on I40 than I70.

I took Mom’s advice and stopped at the Ok City Memorial. It was quite interesting and so very tragic. I left right at rush hour and that was quite a nightmare, especially with all the construction in the city.

I also stopped at a rest area that had a mini-museum about Will Rogers who was born and lived near here. One fact I learned about him was that he was a very bad speller and I liked that very much.

I’m at a city park by Big Kettle National Grassland which I will
look at tomorrow and then to Texas to visit the place Dick suggested.

 

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