Adventure 563: Kral Cul de sac/Post A

Our new camp site: Kral Abode

Until Paul, Apostle of Christ introduced Christ, our Lord, the Greeks were happily polytheistic. Like many early cultures, they observed the world around them and translated meaning in the form of stories, or myths. Some of their myths seem phantasmagorical to us now, but some hold a remarkable grain of truth. Take the question of fate, a paradoxical conundrum befuddling mankind for ages. The Greeks personified the "fates" as three female figures: Clothos, who spun the web of life; Atropis, who manifested the twists and turns a life could take, and Lechesis, who cut the thread. The truth in the Greek view is that fate or luck or fortune does seem capricious. Why is it that some succeed while others fail? Why is it that some prosper while others wallow in poverty? Why do some enjoy good health while others suffer debilitating illness or early death. Thirty-two years ago, my Annie died suddenly of a brain aneurism. I've noticed over the years that my subconscious does not present its anguish on the actual day of her death (July 9, 1988). Rather, I start to "wig out" July 7th or so. The same is true for the day of her birth (January 24, 1951). I usually start my "wig out" the 22nd. Last night was the 22nd of January. I woke around 12:30 A.M. in a troubled sweat, thinking about the vagaries of fate. Not a day goes by I don't think of Annie. I seldom suffer nightmares after this much time, but I do wonder what she'd be like and how beautiful she would be. I also wonder which parts of my life would have turned out differently. Such is the conundrum of fate because I live like a king with another beautiful wife, and I've enjoyed a modicum of success over the years. For that I'm grateful, albeit a bit cautious, since I've personally experienced great loss. That said, few have a life better than mine. Fate aside, it might just be undeserved grace. Whatever it is, I live daily in the belief that life is good, especially today.

Selfie of the day: Philly Cheese Faces.

 We shared. Frankies, a popular place in Tucson for good reason, has the buns flown in from Philadelphia.

Our hosts, and good friends, David and Ginny Kral.

 San Xavier Mission was founded as a Catholic mission by Father Eusebio Kino in 1692. Construction of the current church began in 1783 and was completed in 1797.  In 1989, leaking walls forced an emergency restoration. In 1992, conservators began a 5-year rescue effort of the interior. Today, restoration continues as funds become available.

 The interior is a stunningly colorful mosaic of murals, statues, and ornate stone work.

 A likeness of Father Kino stands in one of the side altars.

Even raised Catholic, I'm not sure what these lion like structures are. They sit on either side of the main altar.

 A small chapel stands beside the main church. It has a walled courtyard filled with cactus genus of all kinds as well as a path following the stations of the cross.

The sanctuary by its very presence inspires the majesty of Our Lord.

Adventure 562: Catalina State Park/Post J

Poor Wiley, a sad sack today.

This morning the Wiley Cager made a valiant effort, scoring 42 points in three hands. Unfortunately, she came up one peg short and wallowed miserably in the "stink hole", as I, ever the humble victor sailed by for the win. The question remains: Why does winning feel so sublime, while defeat so deadening? It's not that a morning cribbage game means much of anything, yet the feelings for both the winner and the loser are the same as a World Series winner or a Super Bowl loser. Aren't we humans just the most curious beings? Speaking of undeniable reality, today was laundry day. We found, after some searching, a small laundromat ten minutes north in Catalina, Arizona. Located in the back of a small mini-mall, we missed it on the first pass. Undaunted, we performed a very common maneuver here in Arizona: the U-turn. After unloading our wash project, I wandered around to the front of the building to the Ranchero Market, which faced the highway in front of the mini-mall. So delighted by what I saw there, I immediately retrieved my Bunny so we could enjoy our second breakfast, an authentically delicious plate of huevos rancheros served with rice and beans. Simply scrumptious. After laundry and our second breakfast, we returned to the trailer, filled to the brim with pleasant surprise and nicely appointed Mexican vittles. After putting the clothes away, remaking the bed, and donning our bike clothes, we headed for another exploratory ride of the Tucson Bike Loop. Thankfully, the idiot light on the truck showed a low tire, so we stopped for air only to discover that we had picked up a nail somewhere along the way. Less than two hours later, completely repaired, we were on our way to our ride. The Tucson bike loop is superb; however, we've discovered that some local knowledge is required to remain on the main route. Today, we discovered two end points that require a little jog to stay on the trail. Anyone looking to ride this trail should either be prepared to learn "on the bike" or research extensively before arriving. Despite our backtracks, we enjoyed a nice two hour ride, which made our day complete. Tomorrow, we move to the culdesac of our friends, the Krals where we'll be the next three days. Our time at Catalina has been wonderful, although we're both amazed at how quickly the last ten days have passed by. Regardless, we're prepared to agree that life is good, especially today.

 Today, Falcon waves "Hi."

 Very soon, this nice part of the loop dead ended at the bus plaza.

The Ranchero Market, also a taqueria and meat market, included a fine selection of Mexican food stuffs from fresh tortillas to an entire shelf of hot sauce choices.

 The market, clean and pleasant, provided a welcoming atmosphere.

Six or seven light fixtures provided a unique touch. Besides this cowboy hat, there was a coffee pot, a milk bucket, a woven basket, and colorful mixing bowl.

On our second to last day here, the recent rain gave way to Tucson's usual sunny weather.

In the meantime, we were privy to waterfront property.

Adventure 561: Catalina State Park/Post I

I battle the Wiley Cager most mornings.

Naturally, today's topic is justice. In part of his famous speech, Martin Luther King said, "Now is the time to make justice a reality for all God's children." He spoke of urgency, a spirit of unrest and "whirlwinds of revolt that would continue to shake the foundations of the nation until the bright days of justice emerge." Sadly, an assassin's bullet cut short his dream. And what is justice in this world so divided by race, so layered by privilege, and so obviously unequal? It's a complex question, but maybe not so, as Maya Angelou says, "If you know better, do better." Author and historian, Ibram  X. Kendi, a 2019 Guggenheim Fellow, suggests a way to do better in his book How to be an Antiracist. He dismisses the idea of the word racist as a pejorative-stereotyped bigots, Jim Crows, and Hooded terrorists. Instead, he speaks of racism as being driven by policy. He expounds on the notion that people of color have been labeled as somehow being the problem (lazy, violent, inferior, etc.), that poor people have something wrong with them. Kendi calls this the worst version of "black on black crime". The crime, as he sees it, is that the disenfranchised in this country have accepted the notion that they are helpless. They've accepted their plight as normal. They've lost any vision of MLK's dream. He sees this acceptance as the problem. He proposes, instead, that people should start acting as antiracists, which he says puts power in the hands of the people. He says, It's not what's wrong with the poor, the black, and the latino that's the problem. They are but modern slaves. They make no policy. Instead, he asks, "What's wrong with those in power that they would institute, regulate ,and manipulate policy in such ways as to create a permanent underclass?" Good question. Sometime back Kendi was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer. He uses this metaphor. "I could have denied I had cancer, but how effective a treatment is that?" In the same way, we can't cure racism in this country by denying it exists. The first step in solving a problem is acknowledging it. Just ask any AA successful member.

 We found these two "wintling" Saguaros on our hike this morning.

 Selfie of the day.

 Falcon, paraphrasing Bob Marley says, "There will be no peace without justice."

 This dead Saguaro shows clearly its skeletal structure

 This fellow is at least 75; just got his first arm.

"Welcome to the the desert."

Adventure 560: Catalina State Park/Post H

Looking good at 100+

It's time to talk about humility. We humans often think of ourselves in grand terms, but sometimes we're presented with a magnificence quite beyond even our most storied accomplishments. Such is the case with the glorious columnar arborescent monotypic cactus species-genus Carnegie-the Saguaro by any other name. Living to ages past 150 years, growing to heights over forty feet, weighing up to five thousand pounds, and spreading a root network designed to slurp any moisture the desert provides, these plants native to the Sonoran Desert, the Whipple Mountains, and the Imperial County areas of California present a living example of God's true brilliance. So revered is this cactus that its blossom is the state wildflower of Arizona. So prestigious is this cactus that its scientific name was given to honor the great philanthropist, Andrew Carnegie, and in 1994, the Saguaro National Park was established to protect the species. It's against the law to harm a Saguaro, though some wild cowboys shoot them in a sport they call "plugging". It requires a permit just to move them, and many construction projects have been forced to work around them. Amazingly, it takes 75 years or so for a Saguaro to grow a first arm. Some, called spears, never grow arms. The tallest ever seen was an armless species that grew to 78 feet near Cave Creek, Arizona where it lived happily until it met its demise at the whim of a violent wind storm. The largest living Saguaro grows in Maricopa County and measures 45.3 feet. Maybe one of the most amazing elements in a Saguaro are its ribs, a material so dense and strong the Native peoples used them as building material. The Saguaro may be tree like, but it would be unwise to attempt climb them. The razor sharp spines that protrude along the ribs can grow to a third of an inch. These spines, and the hollow nature of the plant make them perfect bird houses, bringing us back to the idea of humility and community. Nearly every living thing from humming birds, bees, to nocturnal bats help pollinate the Saguaro. If such a magnificent breed of life can help sustain others as well as itself, how is not possible that we so called "top of the food chain" humans not be able to  show a measure of compassion, cooperation, and community for our fellows?

 These cactus grow only in a relatively small footprint in the American Southwest.

 I wonder how these two communicate? Surely such a magnificent "Ent" couldn't be mute.

The Saguaro grows arms in order to increase it reproductive possibilities. Anything to survive in this hostile world.

Adventure 559: Catalina State Park/Post G

Bill Ganz, Cowboy

Another day, another move so we decided to go for an early morning ride. We rode just over  23 miles, and when we returned our spot was nearly open. We moved, had lunch, did the form, and by then it was time to enjoy the free Mountain Music concert put on by a guy named Bill Ganz. He played cowboy music for a straight hour ranging from Rawhide to Big Iron to Yellow Rose of Texas to Adobe Waltz to Tennessee Stud to El Paso to I love you, Arizona. He ended with Happy Trails. His version of Wildfire brought me to tears. In all, it was an extremely pleasant hour spent as it was with a couple hundred folks who looked like us. I recognized nearly every song, and Bill Ganz palmed each with ease and excellence. He had a practiced chatter between songs, and he didn't offend me until he said he would take any request except Rap, which as he put it, "If you combine cowboy music with rap, you get CRAP. That racist trope aside, which he meant as a joke (Well received by his audience), his hour was simply enervating. Judy and I walked to and fro to the concert along the Bridal Trail. That alone was worth the price of admission. In all, we enjoyed another good day in the desert sun. Surely, life is good, especially today.

 Selfie of the day.

 Falcon of the day.

Saguaro of the day.

Adventure 558: Catalina Park/ Post F

B-2 Sunset

What a difference a day makes. Bright skies, bright attitude, and hopes for a brand new day. We're lost in our daily moves to new campsites. Yesterday, we lucked out. The folks in our spot left at 8:30 A.M. Today, we weren't as lucky. Today's folks decided to use their entire registered time. They left right at noon. No matter. We used the time to walk quite a ways out on the fifty mile trail. Because of last night's rain, the desert glistened, the birds chirped, the snakes kept their distance, and the javelinas skulked out of site. But the cacti rose up like Roman centurions, especially the saguaro (my favorite) which are native to this desert. We saw several mature fellows who raised their arms to their full majestic height of forty feet. Stunning. All told, I walked 21,894 steps totaling 8.3 miles. It was a good day. Part of our walk included a hike over to the local Walmart (Ugh, I hate patronizing the evil empire) because it is the only grocery store within walking distance. One drawback to moving sites every night is that we leave the truck/trailer hooked up, which means we have no vehicle. Actually, it's not hard to unhook, but it gives us an excuse to survive in this hard, hard world without an automobile...truly a first world problem. No worries. Life is still good, especially today.

 Falcon shot of the day: great-aunt crocheted sweater set 

 Tucson on the distance.

 Few things better than the desert in the morning.

 Miss Judy indulging.

 You guessed it: In and Out is what it's all about.

 I love to hear the Wiley Cager say, "Well, at least I didn't gt skunked."

I had a nice chat with this venerable fellow.

Adventure 557: Catalina State Park/ Post E

Old Site B-30

Maybe it's the rain, but I'm especially despondent today because each member of the senate signed their name certifying their pledge to impartiality.  Hard to swallow when the leader of the senate himself (among other sycophants) declared on national TV, "I'm not impartial at all." At the same time, the newest narrative Republicans are feeding unthinking regular Americans is that just because the Judiciary committee didn't finish its investigation, "It's not our fault". I guess the stonewalling of the subpoenas, the direct instruction from the White House not to cooperate, the refusal to turn over documents, and the lame alarms of senators like Romney and Collins don't count. Beware America. Us chickens are in grave danger if the weasel is allowed to run free in the hen house much longer. What, me worry?  OK, I've had my rant; back to the tour. We're safely ensconced in our trailer surrounded by people who look much like us. There wasn't much outdoor action since it rained all day. I spent part of the day deleting some of our 16,000 pictures from the computer. I also took a nap, watched a movie called Leaving Las Vegas (Which did nothing to improve my attitude), and I managed two victories over the Wiley Cager. To offset our lack of exercise, we've decided to extend  our "wintling" time to one minute, which allows for extended back scratching, gentle body rubbing, and the increased warmth of our love. It's so fun, we may extend the time further. Note: I highly recommend the practice with your own significant other. Because we're not hungry or tired, we'll be able to stay awake for the Zag game tonight which starts at nine. The weather is supposed to clear again tomorrow, so we'll lube the bike and ride some more of the hundred mile river trail. In all, we're still grateful that life is good, especially today.

 My Bunny spent the day watching Netflix while knitting a new something for Falcon.

 She found this buried in the fridge: Shades of Dorothy M.

 Selfie of the day.

 The weather outside, while not frightful, certainly didn't invite the faint hearted.

 Falcon shot of the day.

New site for the night: B-24.