The heat is on for the next five days. The next three months will only get hotter and no relief will be in sight until the monsoon kicks in. These are the worst months for me, as I can't handle the stifling heat and neither can the dogs. Most of my hikes will be relegated to higher elevation or along the shaded river.
I slept in, finally getting some much-needed rest. I got up just before sunrise, but didn't walk the dogs because I wanted to save my energy for the walk later in Bisbee with the Muleteam hikers, the town's own hiking group. John, a local historian and a native Bisbeeite, was leading an exploratory hike up Zacatecas Canyon and the old toll road. The old toll road, I discovered, is now part of the Bisbee Loop trail. I had last discovered this five years ago with Sadie, Minnie and Zeke.
I knew the heat would slow us down or even make the group change its plans. It was 74F at 9am. We started out with 13 hikers at the start, but two quickly dropped out and two more, Carole and Larry, dog parents to 13-year-old Sheila, dropped out when we rested at the saddle two miles into the hike. The town was quiet, rather unusual for a Saturday when tourists roam the old parts. Most businesses were shuttered due to the pandemic and the "stay home" orders by the Governor, and it was already warm, but orange poppies and purple verbena dotted the road side and trail.
We became a strong group of nine: Leader John, Elizabeth, Vermonter Deb (who has spent her quarantine in Bisbee these last six weeks), Mollie, Tagan, George, Eric, Paul and I.
I got to the meetup late, arriving as the group was ready to get going. I had miscalculated the time it took to get my recyclables ready for drop off. I had plenty of cardboard to break down. "Go on ahead, I'll catch up with you!" I said as I got Zeke ready. But it took me almost a mile to catch up with the group in Brewery Gulch because John led the group via some lesser-used side roads. They came down to the Gulch via the stairs by the City Park while I came in via the south. I was able to catch up with Eric and Paul who were in the rear.
I like this group of people. It's only my second time hiking with them, but I appreciate the diverse group. Most are locals who have hiked and traveled around the Southwest and northern Mexico all their lives. A few are transplanters and every now and then there's a snowbird. They are an older bunch, but an enjoyable group to hike with. "We stop whenever someone needs to rest!" said John, and we stuck to that rule. The 6.1 mile out-and-back hike took us five hours, as we stopped under every shade tree, especially on the return hike.
The old road off of Wildcat saddle is much rockier now from what I remember from five years ago. It's all single track off the saddle for 3/4 mile, then ends at a cattle grazing area. Catclaw, dried grass, agave, prickly pear and cholla line the path, with a few mesquite and oaks. I wore jeans to protect my legs from the catclaw, but the jeans were also very warm for me. The oaks provide some shade and are usually near water sources. Everything looked dry. From there we followed a cattle trail down into a shaded wash where we rested, had our lunch, and went back on our return hike.
John entertained us with his experiences all over the Southwest talking with Native Americans, their social time at water points, and their cultural differences to conversation. He also shared with us his experiences while in Phoenix on the metro. Because he wears a wide-brimmed straw hat and usually wears a long beard on his tall, lean frame, he's perceived as a homeless man. "I got carded [sic: checked for his metro pass] three times in one day!" because metro cops thought he was homeless.
I remembered stopping at the old trough the last time I was here. It still had water in it, but today the water was algaeic. I picked Zeke up and plopped him in the trough to cool off. I had enough water for us both, but he was feeling hot from the sun and seemed to enjoy the refreshment. There were some fresh cow patties nearby, but no sign of any cattle. I don't blame them, as it was in the upper 80s by now. It was 89F when we finished. There was still some water in lower Zacatecas Canyon from February's rain. Zeke took advantage of that.
The town itself, though, was dead. All the places that make Bisbee unique and a fun place to visit were closed due to the pandemic. All the restaurants and bars in the Gulch were closed. St Elmo's bar was shuttered and so was the Old Bisbee Brewery. A sign on its door said the place was only open for growler refills between 5-6pm daily. The public parking area in the lower Brewery Gulch was near empty and void of the local drunks who usually hang out in front of St Elmo's and play hackysack.
John took us through an alley I had never been through before, right off Brewery Gulch. It's the Bisbee Broadway Stair Art Gallery, with the walls on both sides full of art donated by local artists or "curated from thrift stores," according to one informative sign. I had never been through this narrow alley before, and the art has been here, according to John, for at least five years.
The only place that was visibly open was the Bisbee Coffee Company, with its employees offering a street-side sales counter. Who wants to drink hot coffee when it's in the upper 80s? Eric and I both lamented the lack of any cold beer post-hike, a place where one can sit down with the hiking group and share a meal and some beers. There was none of that usual camaraderie today and we both missed that. Eric looked visibly exhausted from the heat and I was feeling thirsty by then, too. We had no place to sit back and rehydrate so our only option was to drive on home.
Our good-byes were quick. Most of the group had walked on ahead and drove off but I had stayed with John, Eric and Paul. It was nice to talk with Paul and Eric again, both members of the Huachuca Hiking Group, and John is such a hospitable host. I plan on going on more local hikes led by John.
I stopped by the recycling point off SR92 on my way back home. I noticed that two other recycling points had been closed and I had plenty of cardboard to drop off. The main recycling station was void of its usual orange-clad jail inmates who normally sorted all the stuff. A city employee, Alex, told me that the recycling point is now only open to Bisbee residents, as the residents had been paying for this station for years but county residents had been using it. Starting next month, the city will start charging a yearly fee to use this drop-off point. Alex told me to check online next month for the negotiated fees. "Lots of county residents want to recycle," said Alex " but it's not fair to the Bisbee residents to pay for it all. I agree. "Hippies want to recycle!" he added, and I smiled. I'm not a hippie but I support recycling 100%. It's the upper class snobs who seem to have something against reusing our natural resources. Alex was kind enough to let me drop off my cardboard one last time for free. My only options going forward is to save everything for my trips to Tucson, I pay the annual fee to Bisbee, or I change what I buy to reduce the need to recycle. That is hard to do when I buy most of my pet food from Chewy.com and feed my pets a lot of canned food. Cardboard, tin cans and aluminum beer cans are endless recyclables for me.
Kevin was briefly up when I got home at 3:30pm. The pups were exploring the back yard and the big dogs didn't mind. I'm very pleased with how the pack as accepted the pups. Little Hans acts like he's already in charge. Little Gretel has some catching up to do, but she will quickly learn to beat the shit out of her brother Hans.
One sad note for the night. As I was streaming through my Facebook page, I learned that Bruce Wertz, the reliable county photographer of sun rises, sun sets, lone trees and full moon rises in the area, posted a heartfelt message to all his followers. He was diagnosed with Lou Gehring's disease about six months ago. He lost 50 pounds, started having trouble with balance and stamina, and decided to move back to his home state of Ohio three months ago where one of his sons will take care of him in his extended home in Doylestown. I've always enjoyed talking to Bruce. We first met at a county get-together of photographers back in April 2014 in Fairbank and Susan and I would see him along the San Pedro River with his tripod and chat. Bruce is a retired Army LTC who worked for Arizona Workforce before retiring completely five years ago. Just last fall he confided that he got into photography years ago as a way of coping with his then 16-year-old son's suicide. We are all in the cycle of life, but it's always sad to say good-bye. I took the photo of Bruce off his Facebook page. He's already visibly much thinner than I remember him being.
***
Global cases: 2,921,789
Global deaths: 203,376
US cases: 958,641
US deaths: 54,020
Arizona cases: 6310 (36 in Cochise County)
Arizona deaths: 273
Bruce died June 6, 2021 from ALS
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