Just back from the US Southwest last night. It was even better than I had hoped. We camped the first seven nights and had only one hotel night - on the last night in Sedona.
Land travel always presents the transitions of the landscape as they flow past the window but one of the remarkable things about jet travel is that it just drops you into new and very different places with no transition at all. After landing in Phoenix, the 10 minute shuttle bus ride to the car rental "terminal" took us past Saguaro cactus set against the deep blue sky which we would quickly take for granted - along with other things like the good management and cleanliness of the state and national parks we visited and the consistent and genuine friendliness and generosity of the many Americans we met along the way.
After finding a very fortuitous alternative to what looked like a disastrous bottle neck at Fox Car Rental, we were soon on I 10 South toward Tucson and the beginning of our adventurous loop through southeastern and central Arizona and southwestern and central New Mexico. The route featured a much more diverse landscape than I had anticipated, from remnants of snow among the Ponderosa Pine in Hyde Memorial State Park above Santa Fe to the heat of the Tucson area.
Southeast Arizona is Sonoran desert country with huge Saguaro cactus, an amazing number of birds (including a certain one called a Roadrunner) and a parched, baked landscape of steep yet gentle mountains and wide sweeping valleys. We hiked for about 4 hours in Catalina State Park on our first full day and the Saguaro were both impressive and omnipresent - so much so that we agreed that their novelty would soon wear off - but we saw no more after that until the day we flew home.
We entered New Mexico and we were impressed with its landscape and its slower and more understated pace - which feels like it includes a richer and deeper mix of hispanic and Indian culture. After a brief stop at White Sands National Monument, a vast deposit of gypsum sand in the Talarusa Basin, we made our way to Oliver Lee State Park, south of Alamagordo. After camping on the edge of the wilderness at the foot of the full western slope of the Sacramento Mountains, we hiked Dog Canyon on a beautiful Monday morning. 4.5 miles one way and 3,000 feet of climbing to over 10,000 feet brought us to the top and a spectacular view of White Sands and the basin below.
We drove to Santa Fe with a notable stop at Villaneuva State Park, tucked beside the Pecos River and the sleepy village of the same name, along scenic NM road No. 3. After an hour or so in the vibrant old centre of the city, we changed our plans for a hotel night and instead headed northeast and up the hill into the Santa Fe National Forest and Hyde State Park where we had an excellent and vigourous hike, followed by a cold night in the tent. We weren't cold but it was zero celsius.
Back into Arizona then and a quick stop at Petrified Forest National Park before settling at a surreal desert campsite at Homolovi Ruins State Park. Up early and on to an outstanding breakfast at the refurbished and elegant La Posada Hotel in Winslow. It was one of the most luxurious hotels in the country during the golden age of rail travel and then as a roadside stopover on historic Route 66. But, after train travel declined and the interstate system was built, it closed in 1957 and stayed dormant for 40 years.
Continuing westward, we hiked to the top of Elden Lookout overlooking Flagstaff before camping at Pine Flats in the Coconino National Forest 10 miles north of Sedona. When we stay at hotels, we like to check in early but we set a new standard this time with our 9am check-in at Orchards Inn of Sedona. We were committed to more hiking on this our last full day so we stopped by the local UPS Store to ship the kitchen box on the way to 2 different hills in the red rocks, both overlooking the picturesque but somewhat yuppified and overly "branded" little town. The drive to Phoenix was downhill most of the way and the Saguaros re-appeared lower in the valley. All logistics were problem free on this tour in every respect.
Despite missing the Grand Canyon, the nuclear stuff at Los Alomos, the Hoover Dam, southern Utah and Las Vegas, all of which we considered to be possible destinations, we had a thoroughly enjoyable, rejuvenating and memorable visit to this part of the United States. Next time (and there will be a next time), we'll get to some of those places - and others too. Dragonboat paddling begins this week on Lake Ontario and the ice will be off Clear Lake by next weekend (if it isn't already) so we will have jump-started the spring/summer season in style.
And, finally, the Bills traded Jason Peters to the Eagles for the 28th pick in this weekend's NFL draft and, with it, landed OL Eric Wood from Louisville after taking DE Aaron Maybin from Penn State 11th overall. Let's hope they can help. And this year's Toronto game is a Prime Time Thursday night match-up against the Jets which is as good an opportunity for this game to succeed as it's going to get - and it will if they are still contending in early December.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
I've never had a near death experience - not one involving my own life at least - but, this past Thursday evening, I experienced one which involved the life our little dog, Poppy. I rescued her from a hole in the ice on our lake. She's fine. We came very close to losing her though.
We drove up Thursday afternoon, fought through one of the busiest shopping days of the year and arrived around 7.30pm in fine clear weather. The road was in surprisingly good shape. We were set for a sunny long weekend. What could be better? We warmed up the cottage and ate around 9pm - our usual "Friday night" routine. I went out to prime the pump at the side of the cottage around 10.20pm. Siobhan let the 2 dogs out shortly afterward. Sally is terrified of the ice and will not go near it in uncertain conditions but Poppy, the 12 year old Westie, has no instinctive sense of danger about ice or about anything else. She usually does not venture far, and especially not in colder weather and especially not at night.
As I finished priming and turned on the pump to fill the water heater, I thought I heard splashing from the other side of the bay at our deep water dock but there are otters and ducks active as the ice melts away from the shore and then I saw Sally walk by me and she could easily have gone in the water as well but my radar sensed nothing out of the ordinary. Siobhan came out a minute or so later and asked if I had seen Poppy. Thinking that she was inside, I asked if she was sure that Poppy was outside. She has a remarkable ability to find little corners to hide in so she was probably inside. We did a quick search and saw no sign of her. I walked down to the dock to see if she was poking around underneath as she sometimes does and then I heard the noise. A grunting noise coming from across the bay but I could see nothing in the dark. I thought that it was an owl or another bird. There are lots of critters around. Siobhan heard it too. The first thing she said was "That's not Poppy". Later, she realized that she had never heard Poppy's distress noises. Westies are known for their ability to "talk" by using a variety of intonations in their voices as they "ask" for treats or a snuggle. This was a low pitched, plaintive sound - like no other we had ever heard from her.
After a bit more searching with a flashlight, I was getting concerned. Poppy is small, old and vulnerable and we are usually well aware of her whereabouts but she has nowhere to be seen. A subconscious instinct of some kind told me to run over toward the sound that this creature was making - if only to rule it out. I sprinted the 200 metres through the snow, made my way down onto the neighbours dock, shined the light out onto the lake and there she was with her front paws clinging to the ice and her little black eyes peering at me. She had fallen into a hole in the ice about 15 feet from the dock in deep water. The ice had melted, in the usual way, about 3 or 4 feet from the shore but she was another 10 feet beyond that - in a hole in the thicker ice - and she was barely hanging on. The grunting noise was very faint now as about 15 minutes had passed from when I first heard the splashing. I was convinced that she was only a minute or two from death. I yelled to Siobhan as I paced back and forth wondering how this rescue could be done without risking my own life. She arrived and screamed when she saw her precious little dog near death. I told her to calm down and hold the light. Wearing hiking shoes, sweat pants and a t-shirt, I went in. I could touch bottom for the first 4 feet or so, then it was deep water after that. I had to break a channel through the ice with my arms (and I've got the bruises and scrapes to show for it) to get to her. It was weak ice and broke away easily and I punched through in a few seconds. When I reached her, I pushed her back toward the shore as I struggled with the heavy clothing I was wearing. Her almost lifeless body was barely floating and her nose went beneath the water for a second. I got her to the dock and Siobhan grabbed her. I got out and took Poppy back. We wrapped Siobhan's jacket around her and ran back to the warm cottage. When I put her on the floor in front of the woodstove, she was completely seized up from the cold and could not stand. Siobhan wrapped her in a dry towel and held her there. For the next 45 minutes, she made the same grunting noise that she was making from the ice. With every breath she took, she breathed in and exhaled with that grunt until it got a little stronger and louder and then it finally stopped. It was two full hours until she was warm and dry. I recalled later that I didn't feel the cold at all. With the adrenaline rush, it just didn't register. I sat down and had 2 ounces of scotch. We stayed up until after 1am, reflecting, rejoicing and processing this event.
Dogs have memories. They recognize people they know. They remember places they have been and experiences they have had. I don't think that their brains are capable of reflection, however, because, as soon as Poppy was fully warmed up, she was absolutely normal in every respect. She ate a treat. She went out and peed. She curled up in front of the fire as she has done so may times before as the two of us regained our composure, recounted our luck and talked through the guilt of not having recognized the suffering sound earlier than we did. It was a close call. Very close. 15 minutes in the icy water with a body that small is about at the survival limit. Poppy, on the other had, seemed oblivious to the trauma she had just endured. Dogs live in the present. This is where I am right now. No point in wondering what might happen in the future or in looking back on events from the past - no matter how significant. We were still shaking. She was sound asleep.
What a spectacular weekend in Muskoka. Sunny every day. Good mountain biking and running. We took the ABS canoe to the Muskoka River on Saturday afternoon and paddled for the first time in 2009. We are thankful for so much. We are lucky to have our little dog still with us. Her time almost came.
We drove up Thursday afternoon, fought through one of the busiest shopping days of the year and arrived around 7.30pm in fine clear weather. The road was in surprisingly good shape. We were set for a sunny long weekend. What could be better? We warmed up the cottage and ate around 9pm - our usual "Friday night" routine. I went out to prime the pump at the side of the cottage around 10.20pm. Siobhan let the 2 dogs out shortly afterward. Sally is terrified of the ice and will not go near it in uncertain conditions but Poppy, the 12 year old Westie, has no instinctive sense of danger about ice or about anything else. She usually does not venture far, and especially not in colder weather and especially not at night.
As I finished priming and turned on the pump to fill the water heater, I thought I heard splashing from the other side of the bay at our deep water dock but there are otters and ducks active as the ice melts away from the shore and then I saw Sally walk by me and she could easily have gone in the water as well but my radar sensed nothing out of the ordinary. Siobhan came out a minute or so later and asked if I had seen Poppy. Thinking that she was inside, I asked if she was sure that Poppy was outside. She has a remarkable ability to find little corners to hide in so she was probably inside. We did a quick search and saw no sign of her. I walked down to the dock to see if she was poking around underneath as she sometimes does and then I heard the noise. A grunting noise coming from across the bay but I could see nothing in the dark. I thought that it was an owl or another bird. There are lots of critters around. Siobhan heard it too. The first thing she said was "That's not Poppy". Later, she realized that she had never heard Poppy's distress noises. Westies are known for their ability to "talk" by using a variety of intonations in their voices as they "ask" for treats or a snuggle. This was a low pitched, plaintive sound - like no other we had ever heard from her.
After a bit more searching with a flashlight, I was getting concerned. Poppy is small, old and vulnerable and we are usually well aware of her whereabouts but she has nowhere to be seen. A subconscious instinct of some kind told me to run over toward the sound that this creature was making - if only to rule it out. I sprinted the 200 metres through the snow, made my way down onto the neighbours dock, shined the light out onto the lake and there she was with her front paws clinging to the ice and her little black eyes peering at me. She had fallen into a hole in the ice about 15 feet from the dock in deep water. The ice had melted, in the usual way, about 3 or 4 feet from the shore but she was another 10 feet beyond that - in a hole in the thicker ice - and she was barely hanging on. The grunting noise was very faint now as about 15 minutes had passed from when I first heard the splashing. I was convinced that she was only a minute or two from death. I yelled to Siobhan as I paced back and forth wondering how this rescue could be done without risking my own life. She arrived and screamed when she saw her precious little dog near death. I told her to calm down and hold the light. Wearing hiking shoes, sweat pants and a t-shirt, I went in. I could touch bottom for the first 4 feet or so, then it was deep water after that. I had to break a channel through the ice with my arms (and I've got the bruises and scrapes to show for it) to get to her. It was weak ice and broke away easily and I punched through in a few seconds. When I reached her, I pushed her back toward the shore as I struggled with the heavy clothing I was wearing. Her almost lifeless body was barely floating and her nose went beneath the water for a second. I got her to the dock and Siobhan grabbed her. I got out and took Poppy back. We wrapped Siobhan's jacket around her and ran back to the warm cottage. When I put her on the floor in front of the woodstove, she was completely seized up from the cold and could not stand. Siobhan wrapped her in a dry towel and held her there. For the next 45 minutes, she made the same grunting noise that she was making from the ice. With every breath she took, she breathed in and exhaled with that grunt until it got a little stronger and louder and then it finally stopped. It was two full hours until she was warm and dry. I recalled later that I didn't feel the cold at all. With the adrenaline rush, it just didn't register. I sat down and had 2 ounces of scotch. We stayed up until after 1am, reflecting, rejoicing and processing this event.
Dogs have memories. They recognize people they know. They remember places they have been and experiences they have had. I don't think that their brains are capable of reflection, however, because, as soon as Poppy was fully warmed up, she was absolutely normal in every respect. She ate a treat. She went out and peed. She curled up in front of the fire as she has done so may times before as the two of us regained our composure, recounted our luck and talked through the guilt of not having recognized the suffering sound earlier than we did. It was a close call. Very close. 15 minutes in the icy water with a body that small is about at the survival limit. Poppy, on the other had, seemed oblivious to the trauma she had just endured. Dogs live in the present. This is where I am right now. No point in wondering what might happen in the future or in looking back on events from the past - no matter how significant. We were still shaking. She was sound asleep.
What a spectacular weekend in Muskoka. Sunny every day. Good mountain biking and running. We took the ABS canoe to the Muskoka River on Saturday afternoon and paddled for the first time in 2009. We are thankful for so much. We are lucky to have our little dog still with us. Her time almost came.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
I had to go to a corporate event on Friday night which would have been much more difficult to endure if Steve Patterson had not been the MC. We made sure to listen to "The Debaters" on Saturday morning. I like his positive energy.
So, we left at 7.30am Saturday after heavy rains and winds but it looked benign enough, although that would change. It has felt like spring in Toronto on and off for a couple of weeks so we weren't looking forward to snow but that's what we got after the Holland Marsh. And, going through Barrie, there was heavy slush on the road in the left lane and the traffic was moving cautiously at 75km/hr - sort of like a cycling peloton - in the 2 right lanes which were slush free. But, of course, someone had to roar up on my left and spray so much slush on my windshield that I was driving blind for 4 or 5 seconds. It was terrifying but I'm sure that it was worth it for them to arrive a couple of minutes ahead of the rest of us.
The road was soft with holes but nothing bad enough to stop us. It's king of like rally driving where you need to maintain speed in places while searching for the sink holes and ruts. It started to snow steadily just after lunch with strong winds from the NW and that's what we got for the rest of the day. It felt like November except with daylight until 8pm.
The skiing is pretty much over. I'm sure that we could walk to the Clear Creek trail with our skis and do it but I'm also sure that we won't so it's on the next season's sports. I did 2 circuits of the lake on the mountain bike in driving snow and Siobhan walked/jogged. Peddling through 5cm of snow on top of soft sand or mud is tough going.
Spring is taking hold - even on what seemed like a winter day. The south facing shore has about 10 feet of open water and most of the snow is gone. The Black River is raging. We stopped at the Falls at Vankoughnet and it was as high as I've ever seen it. The road is underwater just downstream which cuts off about 10 houses.
We were able to get all of the camping equipment out in the car. I will ship the kitchen box by ground to Phoenix on Tuesday. We're heading back up to the cottage Good Friday morning.
So, we left at 7.30am Saturday after heavy rains and winds but it looked benign enough, although that would change. It has felt like spring in Toronto on and off for a couple of weeks so we weren't looking forward to snow but that's what we got after the Holland Marsh. And, going through Barrie, there was heavy slush on the road in the left lane and the traffic was moving cautiously at 75km/hr - sort of like a cycling peloton - in the 2 right lanes which were slush free. But, of course, someone had to roar up on my left and spray so much slush on my windshield that I was driving blind for 4 or 5 seconds. It was terrifying but I'm sure that it was worth it for them to arrive a couple of minutes ahead of the rest of us.
The road was soft with holes but nothing bad enough to stop us. It's king of like rally driving where you need to maintain speed in places while searching for the sink holes and ruts. It started to snow steadily just after lunch with strong winds from the NW and that's what we got for the rest of the day. It felt like November except with daylight until 8pm.
The skiing is pretty much over. I'm sure that we could walk to the Clear Creek trail with our skis and do it but I'm also sure that we won't so it's on the next season's sports. I did 2 circuits of the lake on the mountain bike in driving snow and Siobhan walked/jogged. Peddling through 5cm of snow on top of soft sand or mud is tough going.
Spring is taking hold - even on what seemed like a winter day. The south facing shore has about 10 feet of open water and most of the snow is gone. The Black River is raging. We stopped at the Falls at Vankoughnet and it was as high as I've ever seen it. The road is underwater just downstream which cuts off about 10 houses.
We were able to get all of the camping equipment out in the car. I will ship the kitchen box by ground to Phoenix on Tuesday. We're heading back up to the cottage Good Friday morning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)