The Telegraph Hill pass is just outside Yuma on the east. I-8 meanders through this rocky pass as it snakes east-west. Dry brown hills are on either side. It's a very popular hike for Yumans, as I discovered, because at 8:30am more people were coming back from the hike when I was just starting. The large parking lot was rather full. Oh boy. Would Mattie be ok in the car alone, with the windows open?
I parked the Honda against the rising sun. I didn't think she would be able to jump out. She was in the shade. The morning air was cool and there was a refreshing breeze. That breeze kept me cool on this hike as well.
I followed the crowd. There are no trail markers here but the trail is obvious. The first mile is a singletrack through low foothills, before the trail merges with a paved maintenance road at the 1.4-mile mark at the gate. From the gate up it's very steep for that final mile. Shade still cooled the route, but that shade was gone on the return hike.
People of all ages were doing this hike, from white-haired retirees to young families and uniformed Marines in full battle rattle. I had to stop briefly a few times to catch my breath, but I was enjoying the physical challenge. This may be a paved road but it kicks your butt! There was a poster on the gate warning hikers of a Crocodile Monitor Lizard in the area, a lizard that was most likely once a pet and then released when it got too big. There was no date on that poster.
For the first time all week, I took my sweater off. It was 66F when I started the hike.
Most people just make it to the first radio tower. Even here one can see the green agricultural fields outside Yuma, the endless rows of white RVs along the Colorado River, and the small homes of the field workers on the south side. The hills here resemble piles of brown rocks. I remember describing these as "god's dumping ground" when Tim and I first drove through here in 1986 on our way to Fort Huachuca with six-month-old baby Erin. I'm now finally exploring these rocks!
The morning haze dampened the colors. Arizona was clearly dryer than California, but there was an aroma here I didn't smell in California: the smell of damp creosote. The creosote was already blooming.
I walked to the farthest radio tower, adding .8 miles r/t to the mileage. It was a 5.5-mile hike I'm so glad I did! I will do this hike again when in the area.
Little Mattie was napping when we got back to the Honda. She jumped with joy at hearing my voice, the side window now even more snotty than before. There were fewer cars now in the lot, but people were still starting the hike as the temperature slowly creeped up. I sat in the Honda with the windows open, feeling quite comfortable since we were still in the shade. It was now time to finish the drive. I was ready.
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There is nothing in Arizona for 90 miles as one travels east of Yuma on I-8. All one sees are low, treeless hills with saguaros, cholla and creosote. Gila Bend is the first big town along the way, with a few restaurants and fast food joints. To the south is the Organ Pipe National Park, a place I've yet to see, and a popular smuggling route for drug runners. I normally just drive across this region, focused on my destination. I didn't stop for a date shake. I drove quietly while listening to the analysis of the Mueller Report which was released on Friday, and continuing news of the Christchurch mosque killings in New Zealand the Friday before. Both topics were non-stop on all the news channels I listen to. Even I got tired of the same old rhetoric. It was time to shut that off and switch to classic rock while I reminisced about the great week that I had traveling through California, spending time with an old friend, and seeing my son Eric again.
Wildflowers finally appeared as I neared Casa Grande. I turned off I-8 and went south via I-10. Now I saw more flowers, even poppies. My one stop was at the Catalina Brewing Company, a small brewery off Ina Road, but due to construction off I-10 hard to get to.
I walked in and was greeted by New Jersey Gal Maria. "Hi, are you a mountain biker?" Did I look like a mountain biker, I thought, but then realized that mountain biking is this brewery's theme. Anyone who comes in dressed like a mountain biker gets a 10% discount. I certainly didn't look like a mountain biker. I looked more like someone who had slept in her car with two dogs and who had sweated up a storm hiking a dry hill. I hadn't even combed my hair yet.
I got the 10% military discount instead. I can't complain! And the wheat beers I tried were both very good. I stayed long enough to chat with Maria, saw mountain bikers come in with their colorful jerseys and helmets, thanked her and promised to come back, and resumed my drive home. It was mid afternoon and for the first time this month, felt the temperature reach 80 degrees. Spring was finally here.
I got home at 8pm. I was too tired to walk the dogs, but promised them tomorrow instead. Kevin was already asleep but I'm used to these quiet homecomings. I spend several hours looking through Lost Dog ads in California, and even posted Found Dog ads on the same websites. There was nothing for lost Maltese in King City. It didn't look too promising for Little Mattie, who spent her first night in the guest bathroom. I was too tired to set up the kennel. She barked a few times but quickly settled in.
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