56.22 Arizona: Tonto National Forest: Tule and Gold Ridge trails, alone in the wilderness but for Javelina. 56.23 Gold Ridge Trail. 56.24 Vineyard Trail, a favorite.

In the distance, Roosevelt Lake.
On our return, we cross a wash and enjoy these prickly pairs.
A good reason to climb this steep trail—The Vineyard.
We have fascinating, strange and even silly conversations on the trails quite often. At times, it’s because we might misunderstand each other or one of the parties thinks the other is slacking while the slacker believes just the opposite. Most of our time is spent alone so we never have an arbiter close by although we are usually surrounded by arbors. 

 Fortunately, on most occasions we have a wonderful understanding of each other. For the record, one of the partners thinks the woman hiker is both brave and a delight to be with except for one occasion every three to four months when she is unfit and seems to have a slight hissy (as she calls it). Very seldom though. A hissy is defined as when Jenni has every right to be annoyed with her partner because as usual, he is in the wrong... (continues below). 

Jenni heading for a peak on the Tule Trail.
Tonto's High-dive ledge. On the dirt road, the equipment ready to lift a person from the water. One of the services provided by the National Parks and Forests...we can dream.
The cow and a few buddies followed us up part of the way. There's no accounting for taste...or perhaps, a very slow day.
Follow that river, Salty. Love the curve.
Okay, will do.
A Bridge Too Far—Roosevelt Dam.
Rising above it all, the phoenix an hour and a bit north of Phoenix.
A valuable lesson learned eventually. The sweater matches the water...thanks, Jen.
Gold Ridge Trail, the other side of Tonto Basin, across Highway 87. 

Jen on a formal trail, nice for a change.
Trying to elude the woman following me.
Distant view of Roosevelt Lake on a hazy day.
Back to the Vineyard.

An ideal place to build a home and settle down. We suppose it's lakeview property.
The 4 peaks from Vineyard, while overlooking the Salt River.
  Today, we were on a very steep, with loose gravel and therefore dangerous, path. We had intended to undergo a somewhat relaxed trail in Sara Park, Havasu but one thing led to another following the previous day's dangerous section and there we were—changing in midstream. Nothing unusual.  

  Anyway, Jen began explaining how she hates seeing snakes on the trails. It’s one of her pet peeves together with bears, wolves, wasps, the back of me from a distance, you get the idea. Unfortunately, I’m not the smartest guy around but I did suggest a way of avoiding confrontation with snakes. One method would be not to look for them. Another might be to walk around with your eyes closed, I suggested. After all, should you not wish to see something, don’t look at it or seek it. Seems to make sense to me. At times, I believe Jen tends to complicate life. 

  Of course, she replied, she looks under rocks and all similar places. No wonder you find them and then upset yourself. She reminded me on two recent occasions when I walked over a rock under which crawled a python, and in another place, in a crevice where a rattler…um rattled. She mentioned that I stepped over the two snakes, thereby disturbing them, thus causing them to vacate their resting places. Well, I had replied, my point exactly. I obviously did not want to meet, greet or to see the reptiles so I walked past or over them. I avoided them. You on the other hand, wishing to find them and know the whereabouts of each reptile on or near the trail, naturally find them. Seems obvious—seek and you shall find. Mind your own business and you will avoid seeing them. Makes sense to me.   

  

I suppose when a person is that smart, these things are obvious. Try explaining it to Jenni though—that’s another slippery slope. 

A soft spot for reflections.
Each day, each position, each moment, the lake sparkles in a unique fashion, complemented by its surroundings. I am biased.


Cheers, 

Jenni and Jeffrey