Views of the bridge from various positions of height has proved to be a highlight for us.
Heading to the peak beyond those in view.
The hike from below the cemetery, along Thompson trail, followed by our rough scramble to a peak proved to be a reasonable test until our return. We struggled to find a way down to the trail below which we had left to reach the top. On the last occasion we were in Tonto (love that name), the grass and other plants had taken a beating because of fire damage. This time, they had ‘fattened’ up and were giving as good as we gave.
Getting higher.
Nature handles fires and other disasters much more efficiently than humans anticipate. As sad as destruction is, it amounts to a clearing followed by a period of renewal. It often reminds me of when we reach the peak of a volcano and look down and outward toward the land below. It’s always in a period of growth. Some of it appears barren while other parts look to be recovering and yet sections are green and healthy. We humans have a finite period on earth, 3 score and ten, a little more for most. We don’t have the luxury of spending hundreds of years regenerating ourselves and enjoying lengthy lives while accomplishing goals. That’s the difference between a limited period for us, an infinite one for much of nature. Where we see destruction, we read it as death. Nature takes it in its stride; it’s part of a process...
All good and well. Nature can be pretty tough and rough, too. You don’t get to survive for thousands of years without a struggle. Where’s this leading? Give me a couple of seconds and my failing memory might recover. (continues below).
The 'drive-in screen' from Thompson side.
'Drive-in screen' from close to our usual commencement point. Try taking a vehicle up to it.
That's why, I suppose, the fortunate have reasonable limbs. Approaching the 'screen' on Vineyard trail.
Returning home...victory, I hope.
Blue water, white...
'Drive-in screen' from close to our usual commencement point. Try taking a vehicle up to it.
That's why, I suppose, the fortunate have reasonable limbs. Approaching the 'screen' on Vineyard trail.
Returning home...victory, I hope.
Blue water, white...
Ah! Yes. On the return from the peak without a path, we sought some form of trail that could make the descent possible and also to negate the potential danger of the cacti-covered slopes. As the pictures attest during this period in Arizona, there are many cacti covering the land. After thirty minutes of careful negotiation of the slopes, always seeking a path that appeared possible to follow in a sense, I noticed the downed arm of a cactus. I remember saying out loud, “Sorry fella but it’s you or me so I’m going to tread upon your broken arm otherwise I’ll be tumbling down the slope.”
Cheers,
I don’t know what followed or why it occurred but as I stepped upon it, I slid and dropped toward the cactus. This was a first for me. I noticed the main section of the needle-covered trunk looming from the left and quickly. I tried to fall toward the right side hoping there might not be a mate on it’s other side. In that respect I was correct. However, the left side of my body, including chest landed in the plant. It released at least a hundred spikes into my body. So much so that I abandoned my sweater on return to the room.
Unfortunately, the skin on my forearm was sliced for a length of about 4 inches. Why I mention this is that I have never witnessed such a clean, perfect slice that actually only removed a part, a single layer or two of the skin. Surgically perfect, practically, a pain in the butt in a manner of speaking but it stung unpleasantly.
Fortunately, Jenni helped me remove the spikes, a sizeable portion of them but not all. This process continued all the way down as it’s only possible to detect the hidden ones once a person feels the prick during movement. In fact, until at least 5 days later, we were still de-lousing, I mean de-spiking, me. It was quite an ordeal, one I would not like to repeat...ever.
Cheers, Jenni and Jeffrey
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