Growing up in a country outside the United States exposed one to some of the culture of the latter via movies. The cowboys of the western states made an impression upon a boy, certainly this one. I became a ‘violent youth’ who armed himself with a revolver (parental provided plastic), sometimes a lasso which I was unable to use through lack of dexterity, often a knife (rubber) while searching for crooks and in those days, Red Indians, too. Of course, today the correct terminology would be Native Americans and I suppose cowboys would be fitted with a derogatory term, in keeping with apparently 'progressive' thinking. Jen and I have simple minds. We do discriminate. However, we try to limit it between decent and indecent people, a term espoused by Viktor Frankel, a holocaust survivor.
After that somewhat long introduction, we arrived in the Tonto National Forest to enjoy our fourth stay in less than that many years. When we find a place we love, we try to tire ourselves out so that it makes departing easier than otherwise. We think this region is yet another hidden treasure. Understandably, one has to be fond of nature while covering the mountains and countryside with one’s feet to appreciate the impact of this wonderland, not forgetting the magnificent Roosevelt Lake, the Salt River, the mountainous region and then the lower surrounds...continues below.
A time to reflect.
To seek a better vantage point.
...but not always to seek the gap.
To hit the road, Jen...mind the traffic.
There's always time for a song...'Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two...Lord I'm 500 miles away from home'.
As long as you have one friend, it's sufficient.
Jen appears to be in two minds.
On our return from a hike, we noticed many flags were attached to poles outside homes, most of them, in fact. Also, they were flying at half-mast. We wondered whether some tragedy had occurred while we were in the bush. We asked whether something bad had occurred and remembered it was a memorial-day in respect of the sailors/soldiers killed following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. We liked the show of support and respect from the community. It made a nice change.
To seek a better vantage point.
...but not always to seek the gap.
To hit the road, Jen...mind the traffic.
There's always time for a song...'Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two...Lord I'm 500 miles away from home'.
As long as you have one friend, it's sufficient.
Jen appears to be in two minds.
On our return from a hike, we noticed many flags were attached to poles outside homes, most of them, in fact. Also, they were flying at half-mast. We wondered whether some tragedy had occurred while we were in the bush. We asked whether something bad had occurred and remembered it was a memorial-day in respect of the sailors/soldiers killed following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. We liked the show of support and respect from the community. It made a nice change.
We were walking along a dirt road, #71, heading north to discover the wilderness in a region we’d never visited before. After a couple of miles, we heard gunshots. Jen was a little nervous. When the shots continued rapidly, she became even more fretful—she understands potential danger. ‘How about walking behind me?” I suggested. She was not happy; I thought she mumbled something like who made you Superman? Anyway, we continued onwards. After all, the previous week we confronted a federal armed guard, so we were becoming quite adept at dealing with potential danger.
While talking with our landlord on his big, beautiful patio, I noticed lying on the table a semi-automatic rifle. He assured me he used it mostly for Javelinas. That provided a degree of comfort. Two weeks later, we came across a group of these pig-type animals. Expecting some hostile action, we prepared ourselves. I reached for the camera but only managed to get off two quick shots, capturing the back of the animals. They weren’t that tough after all or maybe, we are too intimidating, particularly Jenni. Probably, they just cannot handle the human odor.
Let’s return to Highway 71, a dirt road that leads deep into the bush. The firing continued. Then we noticed a fellow aiming his pistol away from us but firing rapidly. He obviously had purchased quite a horde of bullets. I approached slowly while Jen stopped to smell the roses. I offered him a greeting and considered adding a few bucks to the gesture. Heck, who could afford to shoot so much ammunition in these days of high inflation. The young man, who shares a name with our grandson, Casey, looked familiar. Why would I know a sharpshooter out in the middle of nowhere?
'Howdy! This here is Casey. We interrupted his target shooting'. Appears we are about to enter into a duel.
‘Aha’, I exclaimed, ‘I bumped into you at the supermarket yesterday.’ I remembered. He worked behind the counter at the butchery section. No, not yet. We have not renounced vegetarianism…we were passing by the counter to reach the Pepsis…but you probably knew that. Casey and his girlfriend hale from Ohio. They live in a caravan along the 71. The following week we touched base again with Casey and shared wisdom. Good to have met the young man. We found him to be a straight-shooter...in more than one way.
A nice feature of living in the town is that at least most greet each other. Any pedestrian gets and gives a wave from/to motorists and often, an offer of a ride. We got two offers when walking toward the creek that crosses the road—that was indeed decent. Unlike the chicken, we did not want to get to the other side…yet. The creek is a major issue in the town—village is a more apt term although that may not be correct in a macho western state. The problem is that when it rains, the creek forms into a river. As the only way to get in-and-out the area where we reside is by crossing the creek, danger exists and increases as the water level rises. So much so that people die from time-to-time trapped in their vehicles.
Up the creek.
Testing the water on a slow-flow day.
On a couple of occasions, the force of water created quite a level of fear within us—it’s intimidating. Fortunately for the locals, construction of a major bridge commenced recently. The other downside for us is that we may have the only sedan in the town, maybe even Arizona. That’s not ideal for local conditions, particularly the creek and the many challenging roads. City people have very little in the way of challenges in negotiating driving within their towns or on the open road. Their problem arises from fellow inhabitants. The more one travels in the rural districts and forests, the more one realizes that one of the great contributions of civilizations is the roadway system. It is true luxury and a manifestation of both ingenuity and determination.
We mentioned that we had no intention to visit Tonto Basin this period following our stay in February. The temptation became too great and so we reserved a bungalow with the Steele’s for seven days following a visit to Page. After 7-days, we could not leave so the stay became extended for a further 7-days. We had originally decided to spend fourteen days in Page and thirty in Tucson. It was part of the plan to allow for recuperation. Therefore, we reduced Tucson’s duration by 7 days followed by a further seven with sixteen remaining.
We still could not think of departing from Tonto. We extended for another six days which reduced Tucson to ten. We still had to visit and enjoy Lake Havasu, initially for another 7 days, leaving 3 remaining for Tucson. Too little remaining for Havasu so we increased that to ten. Before we knew it, we had no availability for Tucson…how sad. We ran out of time.
In the end we spent too little time in Page, too little in Tonto and once again, not enough in Lake Havasu. Fortunately, we got the correct amount for Tucson. By the way, we have always enjoyed our visits to Tucson.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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