Saturday, January 30, 2010

Parker Canyon Lake Shore Trail









What a beautiful day for a nice leisurely hike! It registered 38F at 6am and my truck's windshield was frozen over, but it turned into a mellow day with no wind.

It did look ominous at first, as we drove westward to the lake, across the post and through a low and thick fog bank. The snow-capped peaks of the Santa Ritas poked through the fog, but once on South AZ83 we were back on a clear ridge with the fog below.

There were six of us. Besides Kevin and I, Big Steve, Hannah, Paul and Eric showed up. It turns out that Eric's a big nature lover like me (we don't call ourselves birders since we don't watch out for exclusively birders but all animals). We even talked about coming back to the northern shore just to explore the cliffs, but that area may be private property. Eric, however, seemed delighted in the area and thanked me for showing him eagle habitat. He's been in Arizona for over ten years and never knew that bald eagles nested every winter at Parker Canyon Lake.

We started our hike at 8:30am, from the Marina Store walking clockwise. I like going this direction because it gives us two plus miles of easy hiking before we can take time out to look for bald eagles on the north shore. I walked in the rear so that my photography wouldn't slow down the others. I also stopped to pick up trash along the lake shore, trash that was mostly left behind by anglers and not Mexicans.

Kevin, however, spotted the first eagle while my eyes were focusing on the sky. The eagle was not in the sky, though, but perched on top of a dead tree. His yelling, however, convinced the bird to fly elsewhere. Rats!

The lake today was beautiful. The peaks reflected in the water. The water was calm, except for the parts where the coots chirped, the mallards quacked and herons flew overhead; each species claiming a different part of this man-made lake. And oh, how fresh the lake smelled! I hadn't enjoyed the cacophony of many birds since my days along the Texas shore, and before that, it was Sadam's Palace in Baghdad. (And that last one is a strange memory to have: the audio-visual image of fluty white-cheeked bubuls in date palm trees when incoming enemy rounds are trying to take us down will never leave my memory.)

"I haven't seen the water this high in years!" said Hannah as we crossed the spillway at the first mile. It had been too many years for me to remember the last water level, so I had nothing to compare it to. The trail, despite the recent snow and rains, wasn't muddy; any mud was mostly along the lake shore. A few felled trees were quickly pushed out of the way by the guys. The only snow around was the snow in the peaks. The lake shore was free of any ice or snow.

Eric and I at one point almost walked off the trail along the northern drainage creek and toward the red cliffs to get a closer look at the eagles, but the trail faded fast and we rejoined the others. The northern drainage creeks were wetter than usual, and the surrounding grasses were soggy. This was not a place to get lost or get wet.

When Eric and I made it back to the rest of the group, Kevin yelled out another eagle sighting. As a retired infantryman, he sure knows how to spot things! Without Kevin's help I doubt we would have been able to spot any eagles today. The others were impressed with Kevin's uncanny ability to spot the bird hidden in the tree.

We made it passed the northern fingers of this lake and were now in the central-eastern part of the lake when we finally spotted our first eagle. This eagle perched high in a tall pine tree. Its head was silhouetted against the light-grey sky. Without the binos I would not have been able to see the bird as it was well camouflaged. Without the binos the bird just looked like a dark blob in the tree.

We all stood there facing the north shore, in awe of this bird. Hannah, Eric and I were delighted to spot our first bald eagle of the year. Eric, like me, who's seen these beauties in Texas and Mid Atlantic states, wasn't quite so ecstatic, but was delighted nonetheless as this was his first Arizona sighting of a bald eagle.

The scenery from our vantage point was beautiful, too: the lake fingered north and east, with high ground in both directions. The water reflected calmly the peaks around us. Tall, dead reeds stood out from immediately in front of us. The water was clear as it flowed calmly from this northern drainage creek southward. And if you looked closely, you could spot new green growth from the perennial plants along the trail. I don't remember this man-made lake so beautiful. There was something serene about this vista. Absolutely lovely.

We had achieved our mission with spotting our eagle. I don't know how long we stood there, but I was glad to move on to warm up again. More anglers appeared along the southeastern shore, along with kids and small dogs and even a few rafters. This is where most of the trash floated along the mucky shore: plastic night crawler cups, beer bottles, plastic wrapping and beer cans. If anglers can drag their beer bottles to the shore fully loaded, why can't they also take their trash back out completely empty? I really have zero tolerance for environmental polluters. Luckily Hannah and then Eric helped pick up trash, and I was able to drop off the bag of stuff at the Marina Store.

Brenda, Gordon and her cousin Darian met us a mile from the marina walking counter-clockwise. They didn't want to hike as early as we so they went to the lake on their own. We chatted some more, got cold again, and finished off our five-mile hike by 1pm.

The Marina Store was now open and I got to meet the owner, Scott Kurr (or Kerr? I can't remember how he spelled it now!), a tall, square-jowled man with knit cap over his head who bought this marina last February. He didn't get a vending license until last July. The store is only open on the weekends 8-5pm but he will extend the hours come summer. The entire building is heated by solar panels, and the beams and doors are all from recycled materials. He is still working on the store's interior, which, despite his improvements, is still rather spartan. Scott was so thankful that we helped clean the lake shore that he gave me a free Diet Coke, which I greatly appreciated.

"Most of the people who leave trash behind are from Sierra Vista" said Scott. "People from Tucson don't trash this place."
"Yeah, Sierra Vista is a rednecky town" I added. That may have been an understatement.

Then I spotted his wood-burning stove in the corner. "I got that from one of the old houses around here. The doors and windows are from recycled parts, too" and he proceded to show me around the small store. "There's no electricity anywhere around this lake" said Scott, who proudly posed by his wood-burning stove. He's an avid kayaker and bought this property so he could stay in shape and earn enough money to take kayakers on trips to South America. "Business is good" he said, and the boaters, kayakers and anglers along the marina could attest to that claim.

We chatted about several hiking areas. "I was hiking right there (pointing to the Huachucas)last week and we were in three feet of snow!" said Scott. Why did I think of Bill when he said that? (Because Bill would have found snow even deeper!)

"Whenever you guys come back here to pick up trash, let me know. We'll even give you trash bags. Just leave the bags along the shore and we'll kayak out there to pick it up!" He was quite serious. "I normally have the Boy Scouts pick up trash several times a year, but any volunteers are always appreciated." Since our hiking club is responsible for the Arizona Trail from the Mexican border to Parker Canyon Lake, I should have volunteered our club's volunteer work group to help clear up any downed trees along the trail, but I didn't think of that until tonight.

The group waited for me outside and sat in the sun enjoying their packed sandwiches. Even Sadie got a treat: a can of Mexican spiced sausages, which I found at the one lone Mexican campsite along the trail. The sausages looked like small red-colored hot dogs. Yuck. She ate it all and wanted more, though.

I was so proud of Kevin today. Not only because he was able to stay with our group pace--not that we were conducting Olympic pre-trials anyway--but also because he didn't complain and even mentioned how much fun he had. He is looking almost too thin now, down to 182 pounds...which is now a mere 48 pounds more than me! I remember when he weighed over 90 pounds more.

We drove back home the way we came. The valley fog had all burned up by now, but the Santa Rita peaks were still surrounded by grey clouds. We stopped at WalMart to get the industrial-sized bags of bird seed. Sadie waited in the truck, resting in the back seat. When I got back to the truck first (Kevin was inside shopping for new jeans that actually fit; he's down to a size 34 waist) I let Sadie out to pee across the wooded area in case she needed to go. She wasn't interested in peeing and wanted to lay down instead. So she bolted back to the truck, nearly getting hit by one super-sized pick-up and a second sedan in the process. I saw everything happen. Panicked, she darted toward the truck in fear, tumbling down as the leash was tangling up around her hind legs. Now we both were panicked. Three people came to her rescue but she refused their help. She didn't stop at the truck, though, but continued in her tangled mess toward the store. My heart was racing at a mile a minute before I could catch up to her and grab her leash and free her. She was immediately calmer once her legs were free and tried to lick me in gratitude.

This whole incident lasted no more than 30 seconds, I'm sure, but here I was panicking and running after her yelling "SADIE, SADIE!" with Sadie showing no interested in stopping for me. Perhaps the leash was tightening around her and that feeling of no control of her own body frightened her more than the cars coming toward her in both directions?

By the time Kevin got back to the truck we were all at peace again. After a quick stop at the feed store, we were all home by 2pm with two older dogs happy to see us again.

Unfortunately, when I got to the computer to download my prize-winning photographs, my memory card failed. All I got were five shots, three of which were of the full moon setting behind the Huachucas this morning. I can't believe I don't even have one decent shot of today's lake shore hike. the only photograph that I was able to download was the photo of Scott. He gave me permission to photograph him, so I hope he doesn't mind me posting his portrait here and giving a good plug for his store.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Another storm due in tonight

The dogs are home alone with the back porch open. Pache's in the garage so that he doesn't run outside and then find himself on the wrong side of the chain link fence again, like he did early this morning. He runs outside with the dogs every morning.

I didn't realize we were due in for yet another storm, but I'm rather excited. What I don't feel comfy about is the three-day blast of this thing. I have a hike due Saturday and if it's harsh weather I will either have no one show up or have to cancel the hike. I want to do the hike as it's around Parker Canyon Lake and the bald eagles are nesting there.

We had beautiful weather Monday and Tuesday. I was off yesterday and took the dogs up for a quick run up Hunter Canyon. It was around 3pm and I was toasty. It had reached near 70F! The dogs enjoyed sniffing the trail and running on the dirt road. I dropped them off at home and took off for my Tuesday classes.

The hospital bill arrived. For four days the bill totalled $15,645.20. The Progressive Care room was $2803 a day. An insulin shot went for $31, a nicotine patch $46. I went to the hospital this afternoon after my shift at the middle school and stopped by the billing office to request an itemized list. The personnel were courteous.

I hope Kevin learns his lesson. Had he taken care of his pre-diabetes a few years ago, or have his blood sugar tested last year as directed by his doctor, he wouldn't be paying his co-payment for this bill now.

But I will be nice. Today he told me he was stopping by the army clinic to attend a smoking cessation class. He needs that to qualify for the reduced-rate nictonine patch via the military pharmacy. He's also refrained from beer for several weeks, a first for him.

He's been serious about his diet, though, and his weight loss is amazing.

So anyway, it's overcast outside and cool. Soccer practice was cancelled at the middle school. I'm getting ready to start my US History II class and I have two long reading assignments I'll squeeze in tonight. Tomorrow I fill in for a Spanish class; I'm getting lots of requests to work lately so I need to get all my assignments in ahead of time. This weekend I'm working on my first English paper.

The dogs will be spending many afternoons home alone now that my semester's in full swing and the teachers are getting sick again.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

San Pedro River Trail to Boston Mills












It was a cold morning. The porch thermometer registered 32F at 6am. I felt it.

Today our hike lead us through the riparian valley between the Huachucas and Mule Mountains north of Charleston Road east of Tombstone. There was no snow on the ground here, but in all directions stood white-topped peaks that all seemed whiter than usual against a bright blue sky, a blue sky I haven't seen all week. The ground felt saturated but there was no water in the wash.

Susan led this easy and level (4300'+/-) hike. She had originally wanted to lead a hike along the AZT near Tucson (which I would have enjoyed) but changed plans after reading about snow along the trail.

Along with Susan came her neighbor Jeanne. Others included both Steves, Paul, Rod, and Kevin and me. We walked single-filed along the trail, and even Sadie knew her hiking etiquette: she stayed close to either Kevin or me.

We had never hiked on this trail. I didn't even know it was there! This was the official trail, not the rail trail but the actual desert trail that meandered around catclaw-studded hilltops, dry washes and old ranch trails. The contrast between desert ground and snow-capped mountains made for some nice landscape photography.

In the summer this would be a brutally hot trail with no shade or water. The two older dogs would have suffered on this water-less hike, but Sadie frolicked around with glee.

Some of the largest barrel cactus in the area grow here.

I enjoy this trail not so much for the panoramas, but for its history. This river was the primary lifeblood of the San Carlos Apache before they were forcefully removed in the 1870s to make way for white settlers. The Apache's presence still linger in the rock art one finds along the way. Rusted tin cans and broken porcelain also litter this river valley, left behind by miners and farmers who lived here in the 19th century. And, if one wants to go back further in history, this river bed is home to two ancient mammoth kill sites dating to 12,000 years ago. I am honored to live but a mere nine miles from so much history.

Despite the barren landscape immediately around us we still came across abandoned clothes and backpacks from illegals crossing over from Mexico. How far do these people walk before they get picked up? There is no civilization around for miles except old mine shacks and mill ruins.

We had a break near a prehistoric rock art mound where Rod said his GPS read 3.35 miles. We were still another mile to the Boston Mills site. Both Kevin, having never been to the actual Boston Mills site, were interested in seeing it. "There isn't much there!" said Susan in defense of those wanting to turn around at this point. We walked down to the rail trail, which at this point was a mere 50 feet away and walked back this route, making a loop hike of just under six miles. The consensus was to turn around here as some of the guys wanted to get back and "watch the game" ("I want to see the Colts beat the Jets!" said Little Steve) We never did make it to the old Boston Mills site. That will have to wait another time.

From here on the route was familiar. This was the same trail Kevin walked in early January. I took Sadie down to the River, but the muddy banks were still very treacherous. The water was brown-colored. Sadie went into the water but didn't stay in it for long. She didn't even seem interested in the white-tailed deer that raced passed me. The river area was too slippery and steep for me to want to walk far on, and opted to return to the railbed.

We made it to the cars by 1pm. Brenda had just pulled up with her dog Chalita. The two dogs would have enjoyed this hike together as they play well together (except Sadie sometimes forgets that she's quite a bit larger than her blue heeler friend) Brenda had been caving the day before and was too tired to meet up with the rest of us at 9am and was now walking the route we had just completed. We stayed to chat as a group for a few minutes, but then my back started getting cold from the sweat left behind by my backpack which I had placed in the truck.

Kevin was getting cranky because he was suffering from a nicotine fix. Yes, sadly, Kevin is back to smoking again. My hope that he had kicked the habit lasted not even five days, and my disappointment brought a silence to our conversation. This silence lasted for most of the drive back home, when Kevin, probably aware of my feelings about his smoking, broke that silence when he then added "Looks like the snow's melting from the mountains. Indeed the western slopes of the Mule Mountains around Bisbee were back to their brownish hues; they had been white earlier in the morning.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

My snow-covered mountains















We didn't get the two-to-three-inches of snow on the ground as predicted. From our vantage point it looks like snow stayed above 5000' overnight. Peaks further north, on the other hand, received more snow across the elevation ranges.

Kevin, I and the dogs took a few minutes in the early afternoon to walk around Ash Canyon Road, where snow seemed to pile up to the six-to-eight inches as we walked a little uphill. The trail itself was slushy; not ideal for my new EMU boots. The higher peaks were shrouded in fog; more light snow was coming.

The dogs loved the snow. Sara made dog angels, Sadie bit into the snow and Sammy left a pile in it. Everyone had fun.

There was even water in both Carr and Ash Creeks.

We had to drive around in a few canyons before we could find an isolated spot, as everyone was out in the snow, making snowboys, hunting, or ATVing in it. The Mule Mountains 20 miles to our East were also covered to what looks like the 4500' level. the wide valley in the middle, though, was snow-free.

Friday, January 22, 2010

The Grandfather of all Storms

That was one storm we had yesterday! It arrived here later than forecasted, but the high winds preceded the rain. Whenever the sky calmed down a double rainbow would pop up until the next deluge.

Creeks in the greater Tucson area reached flood level. It rained here all day, the first hard rain I can remember in a year.

Winds were so high the college closed early last night and I had to drive home in those near-hurricane winds. Traffic and construction signs off Highway92 were at a 45-degree angle; some were completely overturned from the wind.

We don't have any large trees around our house, but it sounded like something was banging against the south wall. It's too dark right now to see any damage, but I will take off early to get to the high school on time.

I'm picking up Pache after work today. For two nights we had the back porch door open for the dogs so they could pee at will. It was nice not having Sadie whine about going outside, or of having a cat attack us in the kitchen for the latest left-overs. Kevin was able to cook dinner in peace for two evenings.

Now KVOA says another storm is due overnight. This will be a milder one. I may hike around the AZT tomorrow to see if there are any sections that need our maintenance attention. Hope no one was caught overnight in this storm; I don't want to read about illegals frozen in the mountains nearby.

http://www.azstarnet.com/news/local/article_5c806fc8-e0fa-56dc-8e6a-d84775e5c1c5.html

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Back on the illegal trail












It finally began to drizzle last night during my American history class. Winds were strong driving home and have persisted overnight. It's still howling outside and raining.

We needed this rain! I don't care how violent this storm gets, I want to see the forest saturated with rain. We can't become another California.

I took the dogs on the same illegal trail yesterday that they were on a few days before. They were excited about getting out again. Sara even took the initiative and sat in the front passenger seat, right paw over the arm rest as she sat upright, staring at the road in front of us. Normally she's pushed to the rear of the truck by the two alpha dogs.

They all remembered the trail and walked on ahead of me. This time I made it to the edge of Ramsey Canyon, owned by the Nature Conservancy. The trash I saw along the way got more voluminous the closer I approached Ramsey Canyon.So much of it had been there for so worn, the weather-worn debris simply faded with terrain.

I was now on a northern slope, a wet, damp slope where the oaks were covered in lichen and the red manzanitas arched downhill from the unstable mountain slope. I had entered a micro climate of coldness. It even smelled of a damp forest much like Washington state's western forest. The dogs loved that part of the slope and frolicked in the sand along the way.

We could hear the residents below us; we were near their property lines. How many times do these people get harassed by the illegals coming through?

I was out longer than expected. I policed up some trash on my way back to the truck, and noticed that the USFS had not picked up the older bag I had left behind by the dumpster. The older bag was opened and the plastic trash dispersed across the picnic area. Again I policed all that up and placed it in and around the dumpster. Trash inside the dumpster was overfilling by now, and there was more trash inside the dumpster that clearly had originated in Mexico.

Apache's vet called me on the way home. His neutering was still slated for tomorrow. I was able to drop him off last night since I have to work today. Poor guy had no clue what was happening to him as he sat up front with me in his carrier, meowing softly. The last two times I drove with a cat to the vet's office it only brought sad news with the deaths of Vinnie and Reina. This time all we are losing are Pache's nuts. I can live with that; I sure hope Pache can, too!

I was packed with my book bag and ready to drive to the campus from there, looping around Old Bisbee on my way to Sierra Vista. Snow still lingered in Old Bisbee's northern mountain slopes, but the roads were cleared from felled trees that had fallen earlier from the overnight winds.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Racing home before the storm











It was calm and mild this morning as I left for the high school, but dark clouds were rolling in from Tucson a few hours later. I had planned on staying in town to live out the storm and high winds, but now I had some free time with clear skies; the storm clouds hadn't reached our neighborhood yet and I had little time to spare.

I rushed home to get a quick walk in with the dogs, who were excited to see me. I knew what they wanted and didn't hesitate; within a few minutes I had changed into my hiking clothes and got the dogs into the SUV for our drive to the nearby foothills. Clouds were now over town and rolling eastward. The southern Huachucas, however, were still clear and the peaks quite visible.

I powerwalked as fast as I could to our usual turn-around point, where a large group of shooters were yesterday. They had left the area trashed with a shot-up large TV console and shotgun cartridges. Broken glass and plastic components were strewn about. This kind of blatant and wanton destruction and littering of our forests is what really grates on me. The illegals crossing our borders are mostly to blame, but the avid gun nuts around here are no worse.

I lingered here a bit but then it began to drizzle. I called the dogs back and they knew: they had to beat feet (paws!) back to the truck or else they risk getting very wet. By the time I got back to the truck my hair was wet and my red fleece damp, but we had escaped the wrath of the storm.

The storm, however, never came. Once I got back on the highway the dark clouds had passed far to the east. The sun came out and the birds in our front yard were twittering with delight when they saw me back at the house by 11:15am. Perhaps they expected me to feed them another hefty serving of birdseed?

So what happened to the storm that was supposed to reck havoc over our skies for the rest of the week? Instead of getting hit hard with soaking rains, we barely got pissed on!

Monday, January 18, 2010

A mean storm is due in












Kevin was due to get discharged this afternoon so I took the dogs out to Hunter Canyon for a quick romp. A small shooting party had gathered near our usual turn-around place so I went toward the old silver mine to get out of the way. I always find a few goodies there without breaking any rocks open. I made sure I kept within cell phone reception the entire time.

Weather was warm and calm. Hard to believe a Monster of a Storm is due later tonight, a storm that could bring potential damage to coastal California and floodings here. It's actually a combination of storms, a 1-2-3 combo that will keep us wet the rest of the week. Some of the nearby dirt roads may get flooded and some trees uprooted, but our immediate area should be OK. It's the driving to and fro I won't like much.

I joined Kevin at the hospital after the short walk. His Mexican roommate, Juantel, is so severely dehydrated with internal injuries that the agent told us he would spend another night in bed. A new agent was standing guard when I came by, a young blond man from California who loves to hike.

"If I hadn't been called in today I would have been hiking around Parker Canyon Lake" he told us. He's been at the Sonoita station for seven months and has lost 15 pounds hiking the back roads chasing after hikers, he added, and Parker Canyon lake is a new through-area for smugglers and trespassers. He hikes the mountains everyday.

We exchanged a few good California hikes. We both have bagged Half Dome in Yosemite, with its 500' vertical climb. "That hike to this day was the most butt-kicking hike I've ever done!" I admitted. It was one of my last California hikes before leaving California in 2000. The elevation and terrain alone took ten hours to complete, and wore me out so much that on the way down I found me a warm boulder and napped near the stream for a few hours before resuming my hike back to my pick-up. Big Sur was my stomping ground during my California days. Talking to him made me want to add Mount Tam (north of San Francisco) during my Oregon venture this summer.

Sitting in the hospital guarding Juantel was therefore agony for him. "I don't know how the other agents like sitting here all day!" The only magazine he had to read was an old Vogue magazine, something that even I don't read.

At one point Kevin used the bathroom and stunk up the place so badly that the agent got up to close the bathroom door. The smell wouldn't disipate, so the agent politely left for a while. "Must be the vitamin pills" said Kevin with a sarcastic smile. Fifteen minutes later the bathroom still smelled badly, and the agent made sure the bathroom door remained closed. The poor guy at least had a good sense of humor about the silent gas attack, and so did Kevin. The agent used that opportunity to walk around the hospital ward.

But what about Juantel? "He's unconscious again!" I retorted. Indeed the poor guy didn't look much better than he did yesterday when he was brought in. He lay in a fetal position in bed the entire time we were there.

By 2pm we were finally out of the hospital. Our first stop was at the medical supply place to get Kevin's glucometer. We were home an hour later as the wind began to pick up. Once home, I felt fatigue overtake me, after three days of sleepless nights.

We are now under severe thunderstorm watch although for right now the sky looks OK; it's evenly grey across the sky.

It's back to work for me tomorrow. Heavy rain is due here by then, and if driving conditions get too bad, I'll just stay in town until my second class is over. For now, I'm glad I have Kevin back, who's taking his new health care quite seriously. He made a low-salt soup for dinner. Since I've never liked salty dinners anyway (sometimes his soups were too salty for me) I had to tell him that this soup was much better than the soups he had made before.

He's even talking about joining me on a few hikes soon. He may join me for that 30 January hike around Parker Canyon Lake. It's an easy 5-mile loop hike. My interest would be in looking for nesting bald eagles; a few nest there ever winter on the north shore.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

A quick hike up a short trail













I told Kevin that I wouldn't come by the hospital until later in the afternoon because I wanted to take the dogs on a short hike, for their sake and mine. Weather was still cold in the morning, but by 11pm the thermostat reached 60F. I drove up Carr Canyon road (the road to the peak was closed) but parked in the first parking lot on the right. A small ATV convention was getting started, but the dogs and I walked unmolested on the illegal trail.

I hadn't been on this trail for a good ten months. Several diseased oaks had fallen over the trail. Sara and Sammy seemed to remember this trai, as Sara, as usual, kept her nose close to the ground. I chose this area because it's a short trail and I would be within cell phone range the entire time.

This is a popular illegal trail, as border crossers come down from the Crest Trail into Ramsey Canyon and follow a well-trodden trail through manzanitas and scrub oaks to Carr Canyon a few miles south. This is where they get picked up and taken quickly out of the forest to points north. Ranch homes are within view from this trail. The trail didn't look too badly trashed until I made it over the first ridge and approached Ramsey canyon.

And then I hit my first pile of discarded backpacks, weather-worn plastic bottles, and sunbleached clothes that faded into the terrain. The dogs wanted to hike on, but I stopped at the first trash mound, picked up three small backpacks of trash and called for the dogs to come back and return back to the car. We may have gone 2.5 miles total.

Snow melt was already trickling down the intermittent Carr waterfall. Sunlight reflected brilliantly in the water. I dropped off the trash at the USFS trashbins. We were back home a little over an hour later. This was enough for the dogs as they came back panting and wanting water.

I made it to the hospital by 3pm. His roommate, the dying man Walter, had been sent home to die as per his wishes. His bed had been sanitized. Two hours later a new roommate came in, a young illegal escorted by a US Border Patrol agent. The man had been found dehydrated and injured in the western Huachucas with two others who were in another room.

Kevin couldn't wait to tell a friend about "being under USBP guard." The agent never left the illegal's presence. We chatted a bit with the agent but I didn't want to distract him. The illegal ate a full meal with the agent. A look at the man seemed to reveal some bruises on his head. He didn't look to be in good spirits, and I didn't attempt to talk to the man. Our hospital bill is going to be high even for our share of the bill, and it's a bit disconcerting to know that the illegals in the hospital are being taken care of by the rest of us paying patients. (And this hospital repeatedly gets cited for overcharging patients). But what's the other option? Carrying dead Mexicans down the mountain trails? With two mean storms coming our way off the California coast, these three Mexicans are lucky to have been rescued in time.

Stabilization

I spent all day yesterday with Kevin. He was in good spirits. He even called me at 7:30am before nurses came by to prick and prod him some more. He couldn't sleep, he said, because of the hourly blood tests nurses gave him.

"How are the dogs?" he eventually asked. The dogs are fine, I replied, but anxious to go for a long walk again. They sit bored right next to my feet and eagerly await my movements:

Mom's getting up from her damn computer table. Keep an eye on her...
Oh look, she's putting her shoes on. Oh boy!
Now she's grabbing her Cool-Max hiking cap. Oh boy oh boy.
She's grabbing her keys...we're going outside. Ohboyohboyohboy...
And now she's grabbing her camera YIPPIE!!!

And by then the dogs are usually pushing each other out of the way to get to the front door. Sammy and Sadie always fight to be the first Alpha Dog outside.

Unfortunately, it hasn't been this exciting for them these last three days.

"Guys, I owe you a rain check" I keep telling them.

Kevin has been stabilized. I asked a doctor working on his stats if there was anything else wrong with him. He assured me there wasn't other than high blood pressure and high cholesterol. This is the news I was hoping to hear, and apparently this relieved Kevin as well. As soon as I came by he gave me a hug which he hasn't given me in a few years.

He was alert and interested in watching the Superbore Playoffs. (This is more exciting than listening to more news about last Tuesday's 7.0 earthquake in Haiti) Yesterday the Arizona Cardinals played against the New Orleans Saints. The Saints quickly took the upper hand and the Cards were never able to recover. Gary came by with his wife Jeanne shortly into the first quarter and said "The Cards aren't going to make it to the Superbowl. They need a good defense and they don't have defense!" His presence was like a bad omen, because when I left in the 3rd quarter the Cards were losing 14-34 and Kevin had lost interest in the game.

I left when the nurse was ready to bring by his dinner and do more tests. He was also getting tired, so by 5pm I was back home with three anxious dogs wanting to hit the trails. It was already getting dark and all I did was walk Sadie for the 2.2 miles around the neighborhood. I would have taken all three dogs but all three dogs together are too powerful for me to restrain should another dog appear menacing to them.

It was a moonless night, and the Milky Way seemed to streak across the sky, from Tucson in the northwest to Sonora in the southeast.

Another bad winter storm is due Monday night, with rains (5-10") in the Phoenix valleys that may stretch down our way. For us that normally means snow in the peaks.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Sometimes Life gets in the way of one's plans

My job for Friday got cancelled early in the morning, which gave me time to pack my truck: water bottles, fire wood, camping supplies. I started at sun rise. With the packing done for this weekend's car camp in central Arizona, I relaxed and read a little of my history assignment. I didn't have to leave until Kevin got back from work.

At 9:30am Kevin's cell phone rang in the kitchen. He had put the phone on the charger and forgotten it before going to work.

It was his doctor's office. He was to go to the hospital IMMEDIATELY because of severely high blood sugar. The sugar was off the charts.

Shit, I thought, Kevin is sometimes all over the post when he's working and the only contact would be his cell phone. I looked at his phone's contact list to find Tommy's number. Tommy said Kevin was at the "Q hut." Luckily Kevin had that number in his cell phone, too. I got through to him right away.

"Kevin, the doctor's office called. You have severely high blood sugar and need to go to the hospital right away."

He didn't fuss, he didn't fight. "I'm coming home" he replied.

I called Steve and cancelled my car camp for this weekend, hiding my emotions that, I could tell, had been slowly surfacing to my limits over the past five years.

"I need to be here for Kevin" I told Steve, and he understood right away.

Within an hour of that first dreadful phone call, Kevin and I were at the emergency room. Within 45 minutes he was on a gurney in a flimsy nightgown getting tested, placed on an insulin bag, and monitored. Several nurses and doctors came by. Kevin's heart rate went from 132/92 to 117/72 in the four hours we were there.

"I've never been in a hospital before" said Kevin, other than for visiting other people.

The doctor wanted Kevin admitted for a few days. A blood sugar level this high (973) was indicative of a long-term problem that his body had been slowly become accustomed to. He could have kidney or liver failure or coronary disease.

Or cancer. But this time it was "only" severe diabetes. The primary focus of the doctors was to get his blood sugar stabilized before other tests were conducted.

Kevin took it all well. He looked so passive on that bed, listening to the nurses and doctors and not replying with defensive counter attacks like he does with me. He was a model patient.

"I will listen to my doctors" he told me.

One doctor suggested Kevin be admitted to the ICU. As a newly-diagnosed diabetic he would need extra care, she explained. But Kevin and I agreed that he wasn't in immediate life danger to require ICU. It was an unnecessary cost. He ended up in the ward categorized just below ICU, the critical care ward.

Kevin looked so handsome in that bed, laying quietly, staring at the TV from time to time, taking short naps. His weight loss has been dramatic, but he is looking physically better now than just a few weeks ago. His skin tone looks better. He looks like he did ten years ago, albeit greyer and older. His rugged New England mountainman features have come back.

What was going through his head, though? I felt vindicated, I told him. After all those years of wanting him to quit his smoking and excessive drinking and knowing of his family history of cancer and diabetes, I knew that without some drastic intervention he was not going to live long. He was taking himself, and me in the process, to an early grave.

And for five years he didn't give a damn about my own emotional suffering. Men can be so selfish at times.

By 3pm I had to leave to take lunch. I stayed in town, got him some hygiene products at Target. My lunch was a quick jot down to Taco Bell. I was on my second burrito when Kevin called me back; he had been moved to a new room. Tommy, his best friend from work, was already in the room with Kevin. Thank god for Tommy.

Tommy's wife is a nurse. He told her what Kevin's blood sugar level was. "I don't want to tell you what she said" said Tommy, and I didn't want to hear it, either. I already knew.

"This may help me quit smoking too" said Tommy. He even added that perhaps Tommy and Kevin could both go on a health kick together, sharing healthy foods at work and going through smoking cessation together. It's at work when he does his most smoking.

"If you need anything, call Gary" said Kevin. I'll be fine. Gary is a former co-worker of Kevin's who retired in September. Gary is a proud patriot and admires me for my military service.

I stayed with Kevin until after his meal. Kevin's roommate, an elderly man named Walter, had been admitted with advanced colon-lung cancer that had spread to his brain, causing the man delirium. He was coughing loudly, and the monitor beeped intrusively ever five seconds. The noise added drama to the room which I didn't need. Two people were by Walter's side, either his children or a married couple related to him.

I could hear the doctor-family conversation in full, and it wasn't a conversation I really wanted to be a part of.

"He wants to die peacefully at home" said the woman, who was either the man's daughter or daughter-in-law. The man was divorced and the children were now his life executors. "He'd been smoking for many years, but quit around 2003" the woman added, and admitted that the man had other illnesses over the years, diabetes being one of them that he had been able to control.

I stayed with Kevin through his meal time (chicken noodle soup, vanilla pudding, apple juice, coffee). This was not a standard meal for a man who likes his steak and beer. I left when a nurse came in with a large portable laptop to do more tests. I didn't want to be in the way.

I went home to face my own demons. I couldn't concentrate well; I was emotionally drained. How am I going to get through all this without visible signs of mental or physical demise myself? Kevin and I have many changes ahead of us this year. I hope we both survive them all.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Back to school










We never did go on a hike Sunday. I was up at sunrise but Kevin lay in bed till 11am. He showed no interest in doing anything, and in fact he didn't do anything all day. I was worried he was suffering from high blood pressure again, something that tires him out in spats. I have been telling him for several years that his diagnosed prediabetes from 2005 probably has evolved into full diabetes now. His father had diabetes, but that man died from a heart attack associated with the chemotherapy he was getting for his late-stage lung cancer.

Was Kevin being passive-aggressive again and not wanting to tell me directly that he wasn't in a mood to hike up a mountain (because he wasn't feeling well)? It was noticeably cooler on Sunday, barely breaking the mid 40s, and taking a break from the mountains was OK with me as I had other things to do: like listen to more history podcasts and get mentally prepared for the new semester.

Kevin's health, however, has me worried. I don't normally see him in bed this long. We both tend to wake up at sunrise even on days off, and the sunrises and sunsets this winter have been spectacular. Was he suffering from low blood sugar, alcohol withdrawals or a hangover? His moods are easily affected by what he eats. He does not concern himself with his health. No, he said later, he's just not feeling good and hasn't had alcohol since Friday. It's Tuesday morning now and he says he hasn't had any beer since our trip to Applebee's Friday afternoon.

He wants to lose weight and I applaud him for that. The kitchen is full of fruits that I haven't seen him eat in years: cantaloupe, honeydew, bananas. Inside the frig is fruit yogurt. The cupboard is full of oat cereals. His diet has gotten me interested in weight loss as well and I'm playing along with this, although I have never seen Kevin stick to a diet longer than two weeks. This fad, I'm sure, will fade as well.

My sister Iris is also on a diet, wanting to lose weight and get back into size 8 jeans. When she's down to my weight I may just join her on her diet. Everyone around me is on a diet except the dogs!

Meanwhile, school is back in session. The campus is abuzz with life. The new student union is now open full-time. The college is starting to look like a respectable college. The new union is a nice place to mingle. The union has become a one-stop shopping place for registration, snacks, (overpriced)books and advising. When the landscaping is done later this spring the area is going to look nice, with the mountains in the distance and the sculptured walk-ways. The union may be my new hang-out if the library is closed.

Weather has been pleasant this week. Although I only took the dogs up Hunter Canyon Sunday and yesterday, it's still a nice work-out for me as I power walk against the slope. I don't feel I've gotten a work-out if I don't take the dogs up that canyon, but with school back in session daily walks there are slowly going to get more difficult to take as I know myself: I get obsessed with my studies/research.

All the dogs want are a few miles at a dog's pace to run up the forest road, sniff other dogs' poop, poop themselves and frolic in the dead leaves under the sycamores. I don't mind the task as that gets me out of the house and I don't have as much dog poop to pick up from the backyard as the dogs seem to hold their poop in until they hit the trail and literally let it all out once they are in the forest. If this is all my dogs want out of life besides food and belly rubs, I am fine with that as they protect me with their lives.

I had my first class last night: Digital Photography I. It's taught by locally-renowned photography John Buono, who promoted his website and Facebook page several times. "I want you to join my Facebook!" he claimed, so I did. Buono claims to have been a student of Ansel Adams, a nature photographer I admired when I was younger. Adams died in 1984, so Buono is definitely older than me. After listening to him talk for two hours I can see why his course filled up fast. He is a very passionate and animated man. Oh, how I adore passionate men!

"How many of you here want to be professional photographers?" he asked the class. A few men raised their hands. I didn't. "I'm going to be a little harsher on you, and believe me, I will be" he said to those aspiring photographers. "You are going to need harsh criticisms in this field, trust me." He also said that between class time, assignments and website tutorials, students are going to spend eight hours a week on his class. "I take two to five thousand pictures a day" he added. I think he's the only person I know who takes more photos than I do.

When I took a photojournalism class at IU years ago, the award-winning professor, Wilbur Counts, who helped the Louisville Courier-Journal win a Pulitzer Prize for feature photography in 1976, said that at best only ten percent of one's photographs are worth displaying. Last night Buono said the same thing.

I'm going to enjoy the challenge this semester. This coming weekend I'm joining a few hiking club members for a weekend car-camp in the Maricopa Mountains near Phoenix. I have no doubt I will be able to take some very nice photographs there.

http://www.svherald.com/content/jd-rottweiler/2010/01/18/cochise-college-excited-about-new-facilities

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Forest Road 61















I loved the scenery off this road the first time I drove on this dirt road years ago. The steep southern slopes of the Huachucas welcome northbound immigrants as they climb up the terrain. From high points one can see Mexican ranches in the distance. The towering Sierra Madres loom far in the south. Between the Huachuca mountains and the Sierra Madres of Mexico is this wide, expansive valley that FR61 travels across. It's a scenic valley as one drives across the grass prairie, but there's also a danger to this area; I wouldn't want to travel through it at night. Signs warning hikers of "illegal activities" mark the road.

The Coronado party marched through this valley in 1539 as the first Europeans in this area. There is a small monument for Fray Marcos de Niza in the border hamlet of Lochiel further to the west. Few people come here to check this area out, as it's in the middle of a popular drug smuggling route. Cattle graze off the road and in the alluvial plains. Raptors fly overhead. USBP vans hide behind tall grasses. Isolated ranches and a few mansions hide in hillsides. In some ways this area is like a Nomansland, and there's a certain attraction for me because of it.

Forest Road 61 ends just north of Nogales at the western terminus, 60 miles and two hours from the eastern terminus. It starts at Montezuma's Pass. There's a lot to see along this route for anyone who cares about local history: abandoned mining towns dot the landscape of the southern Huachucas.

There is something about this area that fascinates me, like an energy vortex that takes my breath away regardless of how many times I drive this scenic route. I could park my truck on a hilltop off the road and gaze southward for hours, if it weren't so dangerous with drug smugglers always getting picked up along the border. The sky here always looks so blue and big, bigger than the sky I remember from Montana, and the sun shines much longer in this expansive valley.

Many small shacks or cabins nestle in shallow canyons north of this road, belonging to ranchers in the area. A few times Kevin and I have driven on these unmarked side roads only to come into a hidden ranch or farm and surprised a few cows chewing on their cud. I really ought to entice him to come back here again.

I left the Scotia Canyon area shortly before 4pm and drove east on FR61. There was little traffic in either direction. There was also little trash in the gutters of this road. I didn't have to stop too often to police the plastic gallon jugs that illegals toss along the trail. If there was any activity coming across the border, I missed it all.

When I got to the Montezuma Pass (6575') I parked the truck and walked what turned out to be an illegal trail going around Coronado Peak. This was my last mini-hike of the day. This trail starts just behind the restroom and stops at an overhang. I turned around there at the overlook. (I thought at first this was a loop trail to the peak) The US-MEX border was clearly visible below. A Border Patrol agent hid low behind a boulder looking at the border through binoculars. He looked rather ominous crouching low behind a rock, but at least he was a Good Guy. He waved at me and asked me "Not to put that (the photograph of him) on YouTube" He had no fear, as I made sure his face was not visible. He was in radio contact with his partner down below in the valley; I could see the other USBP van reflect in the sunlight.

The southern route to Scotia Canyon was exactly as long as the northern route back home: 50 miles in a loop around the Huachuca Mountains. I made it to Highway 92 at sunset, and now I was in the shadows of the setting sun. I made it back home by 5:30pm and Kevin was already in bed. Was he still interested in hiking up Miller Peak tomorrow, I asked him.

"Ask me tomorrow morning" he answered. "I want to hike but I don't think I could handle the altitude."

"OK, so how about Sandy Bob Canyon in the Mule Mountains?" Kevin wouldn't commit, so I guess I'll have to wait till tomorrow.


http://www.fs.fed.us/r3/coronado/forest/recreation/scenic_drives/border_rd_61.shtml

AZT Trail Maintenance












Today's trail work turned out to be more fun than expected. The military volunteers (Lieutenants at Fort Huachuca taking the Officer Basic Course) were a good bunch of people and the weather turned out to be near perfect. We got a lot done. I brought Sadie along, who played with Chalita (and sometimes played roughly)but who generally stayed near me as I went up and down and around the trail area cutting off dead or protruding branches.


The hiking club is responsible for the most southern segment of the Arizona Trail, a 800-mile long-distance trail that starts at the Mexican border and ends at the Utah border. Once a quarter we try to get some work on a section of the trail that needs help with trail work, litter pick-up or removing snags. We hadn't done much work earlier last year (I take the blame for that). We were overdue to help the Forest Service.

Our Forest Service ranger for today was Craig, who came along with his brindle boxer. I told him about the hunters and shooters shooting forest service signs in Ash Canyon and leaving trash along the way. Every time one of those drunken shooters shoots out a sign, he is vandalising government property, property that gets paid out of our tax dollars. I had found a newly-erected "Ash Canyon" sign in the dry creek bed, shot up with bullet holes and bent beyond saving just earlier last week.

We met on post and then carpooled to Scotia Canyon, a 25-mile drive on mostly dirt roads. It was chilly for the first two hours, but by 11am I had taken off my red fleece jacket.

Our focus was a quarter-mile section that needed to be rerouted after several monsoon season that created ravines on the mail trail. I hiked that part of the trail and agree: it had turned into a boulder-cluttered steep ankle-busting section that could prove fatal for horses, careless hikers, and the drug smugglers coming up from Mexico.

I was one of the loppers, going up and down the trail and cutting off branches or twigs that protruded into the trail. As a Master Gardener I was more into the pruning mode, cutting or breaking off branches that were diseased with lichen. So many oaks along that short section were infested with a green lichen that had weakened the trees, so breaking off the dead stuff was easy, even with the larger branches.

Others worked on widening the trail, digging holes for new trail signs, or setting in water breaks. Of the 20 people today, we were able to get a lot of work done, and by 2pm we started slowing down. Most of the lieutenants left then, so it was just us HHC members, and we continued on north along the trail to scout out the next section for the next quarter. We concluded that the next section was easier: the big focus would be to set new cairns along the trail (an old jeep trail) and even out the ruts. This is an exposed section that we should probably get done before the heat of the spring sets in, so before April.

Border Patrol vans and trucks drove past us from both directions all day long. "Wouldn't it be funny if we all just dropped all our stuff and ran?"
asked one young lieutenant after seeing a small convoy of USBP vans drive by.

"We're not dressed in dark enough clothing. Besides, we have dogs with us!" I replied. A helicopter flew low overhead as we worked. Had we alarmed the nearby USBP field office?

The last of us left the area at 4pm. I decided to drive home via the southern route. Instead of driving through Fort Huachuca again, with their many speed traps, I decided to drive along Forest Road 61 along the border. It's a pretty drive I haven't done in a while. I had just enough daylight to make that journey...

Friday, January 8, 2010

Bisbee's Brewery Gulch













I had another errand to run today, driving to the county school superintendent's office in Old Bisbee for my certificate notarization. I didn't go anywhere else in town but to this old high school office. This was one of those impromptu errands I decided to take care of this morning.

While in town with Sadie I decided to spend two hours hiking up Brewery Gulch, this time taking the left fork going north instead of the right fork going east which leads up to the cross. (I did that hike on Thanksgiving). This narrow canyon climbs steady up into the heights of the arid Mule Mountains. Old rock walls from Bisbee's flood days of 100 years ago were still visible.

This was a pleasant hike with just Sadie and me. She was at her best behavior, staying close to me. Weather was clear but cooler than yesterday.

We didn't go far, perhaps four miles tops. Lots of yuccas, agaves and hedgehog cacti lined the dry creek bed. The trail faded as we neared the summit. One of these days I'm going to attempt the alleged loop hike that circles Bisbee. There was no water in the creek.

We turned around at a half-summit where we could see the peaks of Mexico. We were back at the SUV at 2:15pm and made it to Applebee's, as planned at 3pm. Bill showed up later. The three of us chatted; we hadn't seen each other since before Kevin's flight to Boston.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Ash Creek Trail














Weather today was just too beautiful to ignore, and by 1pm I took all three dogs up Ash Creek, and opted to hike up the dry wash until I reached the spring 1.5 mile uphill. It was warm enough to leave my fleece sweater in the truck. I wore a long-sleeved cotton shirt and black jeans.

This was a pretty hike, and a trail I don't remember ever being on. I followed what looked like an old mining trail gently uphill, passing a prospector's camp (and their beer bottles and cans). The dry wash was narrow and filled with large boulders, and got narrower as I got uphill. Large oaks and sycamores, and smaller yuccas, chollas and agaves lined this pretty creek bed. The dogs enjoyed the shaded trail. We even hit a few icy banks along the north slopes.

The nice thing about today's little hike is that we heard and saw no hunters anywhere. We could hike in peace.

After the dogs had their water break, we returned the same way back down. Two USBP vans had driven up to the upper trail head; I waved at them. But as I approached my vehicle I came across two more agents coming from the lower trail head.

"Excuse, can I ask you what you are doing here?" asked me one man. This is the first time I've ever been asked what I was doing in the National Forest from a forest ranger or a border patrol agent. I had three plastic bags with me, one was full of trash, trash that I picked up from the prospector's camp. Most of the trash was local; it was not from Mexico, and the contents were clearly visible through the Target bag.

"I hiked up to the spring with my dogs, took photos and on my way down picked up this trash." This is exactly what I did today, this is what I do most days, except today's trash was a little more than usual. (Normally I pick up a few beer cans, crush them, and then stuff them in my backpack)

The agents seems surprised that I would pick up trash in the National Forest. There's plenty more where it all came from!

The agents thanked me for cleaning up the forest.

"We saw a few dudes earlier here and they were acting a bit squirrely" said one of the agents. When he said that I then remembered seeing an older dark van driving off as I was driving into the trail head. They had a boxer-type dog in their back seat barking at my dogs.

I hadn't seen anyone else anywhere on the trail, nor did the dogs act like there were illegals hiding behind the mesquites away from the trail. After a few more pleasantries we went our separate ways: they went uphill, and I resumed my hike downhill back to my SUV. I had hiked a tad over 1.6 miles each way along the creek bed.

When I got back to my SUV I saw six more people. Two of them were older men, one who wore an old army BDU jacket. Both men wore patches from the "Patriots Coalition" (PC) on their right chest pockets. The man with the black cowboy hat was taking photographs with an expensive dSLR and all look like they were assessing the area. And then I noticed two younger men, one, Patrick, with a press badge from the New York Times.

Patrick was working on a investigative report of this group that patrols the international border and also reports trash heaps to the local national forest offices. He's a Senior at the UA-Journalism school and this was his final project. The New York Times uses the best reports of graduating seniors in their main newspaper. (Oh uh...)

The photographer, who had the "Canon" trademark" taped over with black electrical tape to keep strangers from asking about his camera, took photos of the resting dogs through my SUV's open rear window. He even asked for their names and he wrote them down. Will their handsome snouts be in the NYTimes, too? They were following the PC members into these treacherous canyons and writing about their activities. Patrick was dressed in a dark-blue blazer and khaki pants, something that just doesn't suit these rugged mountains well.

Perhaps this is why the USBP agents were asking me what I was doing further up the trail: I, too had my Canon slung around my neck and the trash bags in my left hand. But I had nothing to do with these members of the Patriots Coalition. I prefer to hike alone because of the dogs.

The two agents came back, got into their vans (one was parked near my SUV) and went elsewhere. I stayed and chatted with the Patriots Coalition members. Lee, an army veteran sporting one tooth in his lower jaw, said he has been a member of the PC since 2005 and with other local members patrol these mountains for illegals and trash heaps. Dressed in a black cap and a dirty old army jacket, he looked more like a homeless man than a member of a border watch group.

"The worst part is along the southern foothills and the trails closer to the border" said Lee. That I could attest to. "When I patrol along there I always take my gun with me." We also mentioned other canyons that are prone to attract illegal border crossers: Brown, Hunter, Carr and Bear.

"You sound like my husband! If he had it his way he'd want me leaving the house with a pistol, a shotgun and a semi-automatic rifle. But I leave that stuff at home because I have my dogs."

Lee handed me a business card. "You can check out our website: patriotscoalition.com" I promised him I'd give it to Kevin who may be interested in checking this group out. I don't mind if he does, as long as he promises me not to do anything extreme.

We got back home at 3:30pm. My Foghorn Oregon Hiking guide had already arrived today! Now I just need the Benchmark gazetteer before I can make tentative plans for this summer.

Tomorrow will be a hikeless day, as I have errands to run in town. The local weather said it hit 70F today. After reading about the latest snowstorms across teh Midwest, and the week-long single-digit temperatures across Chicagoland, I am grateful I did not fly or drive back there over the holiday. I had planned on being back in Arizona by Friday.

http://www.azstarnet.com/sn/fromcomments/324243.php
http://www.post-trib.com/news/1977979,snow0107.article

http://www.chicagobreakingnews.com/2010/01/snow-begins-falling-over-chicago-area.html