Wet Beaver Creek, AZ

On my ramblings with John and Susun we did the Gilligan's Island style "three hour tour" out in the Verde Valley/Montezuma Well area. It was another blue bird day in Arizona so we headed out in our trusty steed to climb up to Sacred Mountain, a pueblo ruin of significance that once likely housed several hundred people. The views of the entire Valley and the San Francisco peaks were wonderful. Susun and I could actually see where we'd hiked the previous day in Red Rock Wilderness. Along the way that day we also stopped and hiked at the V Bar V to visit some outstanding petroglyphs, then it was on to Wet Beaver Creek, a lovely creek that most folks don't bother hiking along unless they are camped in the USFS Campground nearby. Their loss was our gain as we had the place mostly to ourselves, though upon arriving we disturbed a couple sun bathing. Wet Beaver definitely looks boatable in a creek kayak at the right flows with some possible undercuts and nasty spots you wouldn't want to get sieved in. Still, it could be a class III and IV depending on where you were, though I didn't hike the entire thing to check. But Johnny says it is run by some. So, that's really all there is to say. Enjoy the photos and the sounds of Wet Beaver Creek.

Coffee, please?

Coffee, please? are two magic words that have proven to be "text" worthy. Every morning while I visited 2nd Chance Ranch, I would wake up as the sun started to stream in from the Mogollon Rim into the Skamper pop-up trailer. Next on the agenda was texting those two magic words to Johnny Montezuma and the reply text "Two minutes". Voila! A thermal carafe of coffee with a small pitcher of cream and a coffee cup would appear at my door and a cheerful "morning, Spudboater, how'd you sleep?" from Johnny. Wow, if only I could clone this behavior to occur at my house. Alas, I only have a snarky 14 year old or my wild Welsh Terrier to carry out such a fete. Guess I'll have to wait until my next visit with Mr. Montezuma and company.

Red Rock Wilderness Hiking

Susun and I spent Sunday hiking in the Red Rock Wilderness outside Sedona. It was a beautiful with lovely light and shadows, blue bird skies, and calm breezes. Locoweed and rock cress were blooming and plenty of lizards were scurrying amongst the rocks. After our 2 1/2 hour jaunt we stopped by this new place called "JohnofGod" or something like that to see what it was. Some Brazillian guy who has a big following in the kind of way that always reminds me of Jonestown and kool-aid. This guy probably isn't evil, but it was annoying to see someone like that get a stronghold into Sedona. But then, there are a virtual plethora of New Age wannabees lining up on the block to capture the essence of Sedona and Red Rock country and sell its spirituality to the needy and unwary. Susan and I had good laugh about the place. We don't need a building to get our "religion" or find it. I find mine in the solace of the red rocks and the whitewater.

Verde River Canoe Challenge-The Kayak Version

Some of you may be aware that I decided to enter the Verde River Canoe Challenge at the urging of my friend Johnny Montezuma, seen here in front of his Nissan pickup with the outstanding 4 meter vessel we borrowed. This is a canoe and kayak race organized each March with a new maximum of 200 participants. More on that at Mr. Montezuma's blog. Just click.
Suffice to say that this turn of events was haphazard karma that involved perceived registration, no registration, obtaining a kayak for me to paddle, getting accepted into the race late after much whining and phone calling to the organizers, having a spray skirt that would better be used as a coffee filter it let in so much water into my boat, and deciding I should run in the competitive class because folks would be pissed off if I'd beaten them by 30 minutes or more, which I did.
For this old gal in her borrowed 1980 Phoenix Cascade fiberglass, mint condition boat, courtesy of our friend Gary (seen above with me celebrating the win), this race chickie would not have been able to revel or share in the glory of being the 2nd oldest gal in the race, and placing second in the competitive kayak class. So to all my helpers and support crew who made it possible, I am grateful and glad that the 1 hour 42 minutes paddle of 10 miles is over with for this year. But it sure was and will be a good story to tell. And here's to Gary for keeping that boat hanging in his garage/shed for all these years out of the harmful rays of the sun. What a sweet little boat, though it really was tough on my butt!

A Visit with Goatherder

Mr. and Mrs. Goatherder aka Brad and Katie live over at Cornville just a hop, skip and a short drive away from Montezuma Well, where Mr. and Mrs. Montezuma reside. Goatherder does love his goats and his 23 or so chickens. And most importantly, he loves good beer and good wine, too! Thanks for the Boom Boom Syrah, 2008 from Washington State. It was mightly tasty.
Well, before getting ready for the downriver race on Saturday, I went over to the Goatherders place late Friday afternoon to commune with the goats and chickens. These Togenbergs (probably have the name not quite right) are dairy goats. They are big and sweet as can be with humans, though sometimes are proverbial butt heads with each other. They love having their heads and ears scratched and jump up or rub on you just like a favorite dog. They think they are people, actually. And there are all manner of chickens, too.
Goatherder just picked up an ancient Troybilt tiller for about $40 and is into it for about $80 with repairs. Perfectly sized though it has no reverse, making good planning to traverse corners rather critical. But it's small enough you don't feel like you are using a floor sander that mimics a VW bug dragging you through the dirt.
I really enjoyed my time at the Goatherder's place and look forward to future visits with Brad and Katie, who are awesome folks.

Day 5 at Second Chance Ranch

Well, it's been quite an amazing trip to 2CR. Who would have guessed I could get into so much fun? First, a little about the Ranch. Mr and Mrs Montezuma own this lovely spot right next door to a unit of the Park Service. No people on that side at all. They live at the end of the road that dead ends into a wash, that is washed out and no bridge any more. The mesquite trees are lovely and you can see the south end of the Mogollon Rim that runs through Colorado, Utah and Arizona. I'm living in their Skamper pop-up for the week. There is a nightly campfire that I've yet to take a photo of. Gary and often Robin, come over most evenings for the fire and to chat about all things lively and interesting. There are amazing stars with very little light pollution, so you can just be in total awe, each and every night. The mini bar is great set up by the ranch palapa. You can't want for much when you have the company of Johnny and Susan here at the Ranch. And their friends are awesome. They joined us post canoe/kayak race for a wonderful shindig.

My First Flight Experience

I grew up in Illinois and as a child of the 1960's took my first flight with my parents when I was about age 7. That flight on Ozark Airlines set in motion a lifetime love affair with flying off to farflung places around the world. But this very first flight was particularly memorable and some of what I learned then has served me well to this day.

The Stewardesses were beautiful, perky, polite. The Captain of the plane was like a god-like man who commanded everyone's attention and respect. Just like Peter Graves does in those silly movies with Leslie Neilson like "Airplane".
Out family flight was from Springfield, Illinois to Minneapolis, Minnesota, where my dad was to have some kind of pow wow with GM execs in charge car dealerships and financing through GMAC, the branch of GM that most middle class Americans for four decades used to finance their auto purchases through. I was going to get to fly on a huge prop jet, see the Land of Lakes and go to a Minnesota Twins baseball game. What could be better?
The Stewardess showed me the plane and let me hand out hard candies to the "guests". Wow, they actually called us guests then. She gave out chewing gum, too, so we could make our ears pop. And then there were the free drinks and a hot meal on the plane, too. Wow, this was really living. But the real coup d gras was when I got to meet the pilot and go into the cockpit. He gave me little airplane wings, something that to my knowledge only Southwest Airlines still does for kids.
I don't remember much about that baseball game, but I remember the flight coming and going. And I remember my dad asking me shortly after the trip home what I wanted to be when I grew up. I announced happily that I was going to be an Airline Stewardess and see the world. Well, I never put in for the flight attendant part, as they are now called, since men also do this job. But I have managed to jaunt around the world to countries as far flung as Scotland for college, Nepal, Thailand, Croatia, New Zealand, Fiji, Peru, Costa Rica, Guatemala and Canada among others.

Thank you Ozark Airlines for helping give me the life I've come to know. If only Airlines could inspire folks today in the way they did back then, this would be a better world for it.

Later this week I'm headed off to Airyzona to visit Johnny Montezuma and SusannaBanana. I bought my round trip Prescott Transit Authority shuttle bus ride to the Chevron Station about a half hour from their place and they'll pick me up there. Saves them a trip to Sky Harbor airport in Phoenix. And I'd rather they spent the gas money on good beer and wine, actually. I found it odd how Prescott Transit laid out their outgoing and return itinerary. It was counter intuitive for me, but I got it worked out and charged it and we’re good to go. I used Johnny's recommendations. The only possible glitch would be if the plane is late and I missed the 3:30 shuttle to Cordes Jct Chevron and had to take the 4:30 one, but if that is the case, they'll be getting the emergency "help" phone call.

So here’s story for you. As luck would have it, a guy I just recently met, and I do mean recently, like last Wednesday March 16th, invited me on a Grand Canyon trip that leaves late this week. He left March 18th from Boise to start driving to Airyzona. But of course, I had to tell him I couldn’t go because a) I’d be at Montezuma Well with Mr Montezuma and wife, and b) it was such short notice and being the stupidly responsible person that I am, that I probably couldn’t unload my kid on her dad on such short notice. Well, the real catch was I couldn’t actually go with him until Phantom Ranch and would need to hike in there when two other people came out. That really sounded enticing, because that would have been like April 2. Figuring how to get to Phantom Ranch and the Rim to hike in was just too much a brain taxing challenge for me, and it still would have meant cancelling my trip to visit Johnny and Susun. And then there was this saga of getting into the Verde River Canoe Challenge race on March 26.

So when it was all said and done, I said no, but my new friend and I started planning a Lower Salmon trip. Now here’s the other kicker. He grew up in Phoenix and went to U of A and got his hydrology and fisheries degrees there. He knew exactly where Montezuma was and asked me if my friends lived near Cornville. I mean, how many people would know that? He knew about the winery, too. And the Verde River race, which I told him I had planned to do, but due to unforeseen circumstances (whereby I told him the story of limited entries and how they shut down the registration early) I was not competing and would instead eat, drink and maybe go boating on Sunday after the race instead. This guy works for the Forest Service and was in Boise for a meeting I was putting on. Well, it was river love/kindred souls at first sight. Though supposedly he has a girlfriend, but I don’t think she’s very worthy since she's not going on the trip and is taking care of his dogs—tells me there is a flaw in that relationship from the get go. And he never mentioned her. Geez, anyways, we definitely connected big time, and I suspect we will get to be great friends. One thing about river people. It changes lives for a lifetime.

So, in the meantime, my good friend Mark came over for the weekend from Ketchum/Hailey to visit. He just returned from the Antarctic via Christchurch, where he was in town the day of the earthquake; and then Hawaii. He’s trying to find work for the spring and summer up in Moscow--Idaho, that is; and it’s not looking too good. The job he's had for some 20 years was made a full time job instead of seasonal and given to some non descript youngster who probably doesn't know weed sprayer from a weed whacker.

That’s all the news that’s fit to print before I head to land of cactus, red rocks and desert springtime. And as luck would have it, I get to kayak in the river race afterall. Between my email and phone calls to the USFS in Prescott, and whining to the Verde River Ranger and also to the race sponsor, they are letting me into the race. Ya hoo! Oh, and lastly, another one of my friends, named Mike Glasgow, put on the Grand March 17 and had the audacity to send me a photo to my facebook page from his cell phone from the put-in. Dirt Bag.

Sandy River Flood - Oregon (MLKing Holiday, 2011)

Sandy River Flood from alexandra erickson on Vimeo.