Month: January 2016

We’ve been travelling and camping close to the USA/Mexico border over the past week or so. The first sign that we weren’t in Kansas anymore came with the sign leading into Coronado Forest campground near Portal. It struck me as rather funny and kinda ridiculous, so we took this humorous picture. But the sense that something is ‘not quite right’ has grown the further east we’ve travelled.

Going from Sunny Flat to our next campsite in Columbus, NM took us along route #9; a secondary highway that paralleled the border. At times we were within 1 km of the great divide. While there was no big, scary wall, there was the overwhelming presence of US Border Patrol vehicles. We drove the 160 km road and saw a total of three other civilian vehicles, but about two dozen green & whites. This included a rather ominous unnamed barbed wired compound that housed many of these vehicles.

Floating high above the area was a stationary (tethered) blimp which I can only assume contained various sensors and cameras … probably infrared. And the whole roadway was lined with a barbed fence that had a dirt road running along it. At one point we watched as a green & white truck dragging huge tractor tires scarified the road. If anyone crossed this path they would leave footprints that, presumably, could be tracked.

Our visit to Palomas Mexico was a fun, interesting experience. But the border crossing was a tale of two countries. Coming up to the border we were faced with a compound on the American side, and virtually nothing on the other. A wall stretched from the crossing out for many kilometres, running east and west.

We walked into Mexico without even a single official asking to see our passports. Coming back to the USA though, we were faced with the friendly, but very serious face of US Homeland Security border agents. And they definitely checked our passports and went through the standard clearing-in procedure.

Palomas is a touristy town catering to the financial needs of rich Americans and Canadians. Cheap dental and eye care was available within a few steps of the border. The Pink Store was fun and culturally fascinating, but the touristy glitz soon petered out to very rough and dilapidated buildings.

While walking down a street we were also passed by a troop transport truck carrying at least a dozen fully camoed military people, all decked out in the firearm tools of their trade. A few smaller military vehicles drove past us over the few hours we were there, including one jeep with a very large mounted machine gun.

While in the Pink Store we talked with a staff person. She held dual US/Mex citizenship, and really seemed to open up once she knew we were Canadians. She got on a bit of rant about the hardships and profiling that she sees and experiences, and noted how things have changed since 9/11. She eventually stopped herself, and apologized for her outburst.

We walked back to the USA, easily clearing through customs using our passports and a smile. But I am left with an unsettled feeling about it all. I keep reminding myself that I know almost nothing about any of this. I am a northern visitor to this strange southern land. I don’t know what the right answers are, but when I hear the bombastic and vitriolic rantings of Republican candidates like Trump, I shudder for the future of this already damaged space.

ADDENDUM: We encountered our first citizenship checkstop on the highway while driving to Marfa, TX. All traffic was detoured through this customs-looking booth. We had to proceed one at a time, and when I got there the young, but serious US Border Guard asked me: “Are you a citizen sir?” I stammered, “Er, no. Canadian.” He gave me and my little bike a cursory glance and waved me on. I look very white … and despite the beard, pretty harmless. I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I was Latino.

I don’t understand how this kind of arbitrary stop is legal in the heart of the “free world.” The shades of Hollywood depictions of totalitarian countries, where you are constantly stopped and have to ‘show me your papers,’ felt all too real. But this is not my country, and I understand there is a real issue with illegal immigration. I don’t know what the answers are, but this feels wrong.

After recovering from the Double-IPA night in Bisbee we headed north toward the town of Portal. Laird and Shannon had told us about this great camping area in the Coronado Forest, and since it was cheap to free we decided to give it a look. What an incredible place it was.

There are a number of sites located in this National Forest area, and we initially planned to camp in the free area, but when we hit snow-covered roads we decided to stay a bit lower in altitude. Sunny Flat campground is located in a smallish valley and is surrounded by medium sized mountains all around. The mountain cliffs are incredibly beautiful, and the creek that runs through the campground made it an almost magical place. We had originally planned to stay only a couple of nights, but ended up being there for five.

    

The rock walls that encircle the canyon are also home to an amazing assortment of bird life — so much so that it is a known mecca for the strangest of all critters: the birder. Over our time there we saw dozens of these odd-ball creatures, scrambling around carrying their bazooka-like camera lenses. But it is also an area with a slightly nefarious history. Since we’re now quite close to the US/Mexican border we are seeing signs of immigration issues and the drug trade. Well, to be honest, the only signs are signs (and border patrol trucks).

Our time at Sunny Flat was one of the highlights (so far) of the journey. It’s beauty is hard to describe. But what was equally wonderful was all the great people we met. From the camp hosts with their dog and cat (both of whom were walked on leashes), to the great co-campers — it was very hard to leave.

Part of the joy of this area was the town of Portal. Well, “town” is too grandiose. It’s more like a tiny village, or hamlet even. But it is home to some amazingly interesting people. We ate lunch in the Portal Peak Cafe, which also doubles as a motel and the single place to buy basic groceries and booze. While there we struck up a conversation with a retired electrical/aeronautical engineer (or something like that) who had worked on Top Secret government projects, including laser cannons that could shoot down incoming missiles. He clearly wanted to talk about a lot of stuff, but said he couldn’t. He’d even been visited by trench-coated government agents a couple of years ago who had reminded him about his legal need to remain silent. I think he wasn’t joking.

Aside from having one of the highest concentrations of PhDs in the country (according to our camp hosts), Portal also has a great little library which we visited. Free wifi and a warm seat were welcome indeed.

One couple whom we connected with at Sunny Flat have turned into fast friends: Linda and Roger, and their cute dog Rascal. They are travelling a similar meandering and undefined path as ours, although doing it in the relative luxury of a camper van. We connected over good conversation and tea while at Sunny Flat, and then carried on our new found friendship at the next campsite in Columbus, New Mexico.

After a wonderful warm meal cooked by Linda — one that we ate inside their warm and toasty van — we agreed to venture across the border to Mexico. Columbus NM is right across the border from Puerto Palomas, Mexico. This is a touristy border town with no end of services and shops catering to people looking to save some bucks on dental work, eye glasses or Mexican goods. We were told to find The Pink Store, and that the first thing that would happen is that we’d be handed a free margarita. Sure, says I … but it was absolutely true!

The Pink Store is full of everything Mexican, from glassware and hand painted tiles to skeletal dolls and horny-decorated shot glasses (horny old men doing unspeakable things to the glasses). We had a wonderful lunch of authentic Mexican cuisine, which included more margaritas, then we stumbled our way out and headed back to the USA.

That night the temperatures dipped to their lowest we’ve seen so far; a brisk -5.1 ºC. We woke to frost on the tent and bikes, and frozen water outlets in the campsite. This temperature, while not unheard of, is very unusual down here. Luckily we stayed warm and cosy in our sleeping bags. But equally luckily, Linda and Roger invited us into their home/van for morning breakfast of eggs and bacon and cereal with real milk (Ann went gaga over this, of course). It sure makes you see the wisdom of a travel van, especially theirs which is so smartly decked out.

The campsite we’re in is the Pancho Villa State Park, which is named after the famed Mexican general who (apparently) led the last foreign incursion into the US in 1916. It resulted in a plenty of dead people (mostly Mexican raiders) and a six month retaliatory invasion by the US Army into Mexico to try and punish and capture Villa. They never did, and then many decades later they created this state park as an expression of peace.

The campground itself is a far cry from Sunny Flat, but like all things deserty, it has it’s own kind of beauty. Like most campsites, this one is almost exclusively geared to RVs, but we found a spot to pitch the tent. And the bonus is that we got water and electricity (to charge all our doo-dads) for $14/night. Pretty good deal.

Tomorrow (or perhaps the next day) we’re planning to head into Texas, aiming for the funky town of Marfa and then a park called Big Bend, both of which have come highly recommended. Marfa is reputed to be an interesting artsy town, and Big Bend sounds like another beautiful place to pitch our tent for a few days. So that’s the plans at this point. Who knows if they’ll pan out.

We spent the last couple of days at our campsite in the Sonoran desert doing some hikes, enjoying the birds and coyotes, and trying to stay warm over night. This desert definitely is growing on me. It’s starting to almost feel lush, if that can be said about a desert. The saguaros are big and green and almost human-like. And despite the fact that everything wants to stab you and poke you and grab you, I will miss leaving this place.

 

   

We finally did pack up our bags and bikes and headed into the big city to meet Laird and his family. Astonishingly, it’s been about 20 years since I last saw Laird. We have stayed in touch via email over the years, but I was a bit nervous as to how we would mesh after all this time. I needn’t have worried. From the first moment it felt like old times; hanging out together, yakin’ away, telling old stories, learning what each have been up to, and just feeling the warmth of an old friend. I think Ann and Shannon were amused (or bemused), and his kids Emmeline and Annabel were equal parts impressed and appalled at some of our childhood antics.

Laird was the consummate tour guide, taking us to the final standing ICBM (that’s InterContinental Ballistic Missile) site in the world just outside of Tucson. The Titan Missile Museum turned out to be an amazing romp through OUR history. The site is a testament to the insanity, and deadly logic, of MAD: Mutual Assured Destruction, which defined the tightrope stability of the Cold War.

But the museum is definitely what us hip people would call “Cool!” We got the full tour, from how crews entered the silo site, and then the underground infrastructure, all the way to how to receive and launch the missile. The whole site is protected from a near-blast, and is geophysically isolated from the surrounding area. All this is to ensure that if those evil Soviets should launch a first-strike, that “we” could still devastate the other half of the planet. The tour was impressive from a technological and logistical sense, and there was the occasional joke tossed in, but I kept returning to the idea that we were sitting at ground-zero of global destruction. Cool … and deeply disturbing.

 

On the way home from the Missile Museum we were feeling a bit peckish from all that global destruction contemplation, so Laird took us on a slight detour to the Mission San Xavier del Bac, which is a Christian church built (or started) in 1864 for the Native population of the area. The cathedral’s interior is all hand-carved and hand-painted. It’s beautifully grotesque and stunningly ornate without any European pretence.

They also sold some pretty tasty Native fry bread 😉

The following day Annabel decided that Ann, me, and Laird were going to visit the Desert Museum just outside of town. I’d already pooh-pooed the idea earlier, but Annabel is not to be ignored or dissuaded. So we all piled into the car and headed off to the desert. The museum turned out to be an absolutely stunning attraction; a mix of zoo, wildlife habitat and natural science museum. It was great! So thanks Annabel!

From the mountain lion that was trying to eat the two toddlers, and the ferocious hummingbird enclosure, all the way to the snakes, spiders and bat cave, it was just great. The afternoon culminated with a raptor show which saw trained birds swooping and hunting right over top of the gathered crowds. The Harris’ hawks in particular were truly amazing, hunting in packs as they do. 

Our final day was spent relaxing, doing laundry, listening to poetry-by-Emmeline, and trying to be helpful around the house. A final dinner of curry and fine wine, and it was over … all too soon. We packed our bikes, said our goodbyes, and headed off again.

We’re aiming to camp for the next few days at a cheap/free site right on the border of Arizona and New Mexico. To get there though we first drove through Tombstone — yes, THAT Tombstone. We had to stop, and were greeted with what you’d expect from a goofy tourist trap. But it was still kinda neat. We had lunch at Big Nose Kate’s Saloon, and then headed off to the little mountain town of Bisbee.

Shannon had highly recommended we stop, and she was right. The place is a former mining town turned artsy community. The shops are quaint and interesting, and the whole town is neat to wonder around in. We drove through, and stopped in front of this old Inn attached to a saloon. Without much hope we inquired about the rates, and they weren’t crazy, so we said the heck with the budget, and checked in.

That night there was live music in the saloon, and copious amounts of good local beer. Three pints in I was wondering why the world kept spinning … only then did the bartender tell me it was actually a DOUBLE-IPA, which basically means it has twice the booze. Ann suffered a whee bit that night, but has lived to tell the tale.

   

After a great breakfast we packed up with plans to camp for the next few days. There is snow up at this elevation right now, but the forecast looks acceptable. Hopefully the cold means only crazy people will be tenting, which is good b/c the campsite only has a few places. We’ll see how it goes…

 

We arrived safe and sound back to our desert friends in Black  Canyon City. Cheryl & Pat have been incredibly kind to us, playing host three times now. It sure has been a joy spending all this time with them … OK, mostly it was for Harper (their cute little dog) 😉

Our days at BCC, deep in the heart of the dry Sonoran Desert, were  anything but dry. Just like our luck with the Canadian dollar (which continues its lemming dance off the cliff), our luck with  weather has been equally dismal. Our whole journey has been colder and wetter than seasonal norms, so it’s no surprise the Sonoran was getting some pretty hard rains during our visit. Washes were actually washing, roads were closed,  and we were house-bound for days.

Luckily out hosts had the cure for what ailed us: beer … a solution Ann took to heart when we visited a local tavern. The place had great food, even better beer. As is common for many businesses around here, they are civilized  enough to ask that you leave your guns at the door. For some reason they think copious amounts of booze and firearms aren’t a good idea?!?

After one more night at BCC, that included a killer game of crokinole (Ann and Cheryl lost, and I pretty much just watched as my partner Pat won the game for us), we packed up and said goodbye.

Actually, we almost didn’t get out of there b/c Ann discovered her bike battery had been drained over the two-weeks+ that we’d been in Alberta. Turns out an LED does use power. Pat came to our rescue by tracking down a charger, and luckily the battery came back  to life after a few hours.

We packed up and headed on our way south, aiming for Tucson. B/C of the late start we only made it 1/2 way, stopping in a small town and yet another cheap motel.

Our plans are to stay in Tucson through the rest of the week so we can get our bikes serviced, and then visit with my oldest friend Laird. The servicing went great. Scoot Over is a shop that specializes in all things scooter. They knew both our bikes intimately, and were duly impressed with our journey so far. Unfortunately we both needed new rear tires (my second one of this journey), but other than that the bikes appear to be in good shape.

Our campground is a 1/2 hour out of Tucson, on the other side of the smallish Tucson  Mountain range. The drive over was a bit reminiscent of some of the gnarly roads of California, so lots of fun. The campground we’re in has five dedicated tent sites (and probably 100+ RV spots). Our home for the five days was on the edge of a wash (very dry now), overlooking a cacti forest of saguaro and numerous other prickly plants.

BTW Monique, Ann loves her pink tiera:

We arrived in Calgary to warm hugs and warm coats from Donna. It was a bit of climate shock to go from
warm desert to freakin’ cold Canadian winter, but at least it looks like christmas. We spent the next few days preparing for the holidays, and trying to be helpful to Sam and Donna. OK, mostly I tried to stay out of the way, but it was great to be back with family.

In addition to babysitting Ann and I, and welcoming their youngest daughter back home for the holidays from Vancouver, Donna & Sam were also charged with looking after their grandchild: Walden, or Wally for short. Wally is a Nova Scotian tolling retriever, a rather high-strung, cute, fun and incredibly intelligent breed of dog. Wally’s mom (Monique) and dad (Chris) went off to BC to spend x-mas with Chris’ parents, so the gramps were asked to babysit. We all got to share in Wally’s exuberance and enthusiasm over the following week.

The big day came, and despite the clear message: NO PRESENTS, Jolly old St. Nick still visited us with a stocking full of goodies. In addition, Momma O’Reilly and sis Kathy surprised everyone with a mail-order basket of goodies. Very yummy. Thanks guys!

Peggy and her gang of wee little ones 😉 all came over for the big dinner, with everyone pitching in. OK, I didn’t really do much, but I was happy to help with the eating part. It was really wonderful to be with family, and to re-connect with everyone.

The next days were spent relaxing, getting some work done (I had a magazine article to write), exercising on the tread mill and stepper (OK, only Ann did that), and just hanging out with everyone. Ann also found a fun way to stay in shape by hiding under the kitchen table while wearing her funky and shiny exercise shorts.

The holiday season is special here, not just for a deity’s birth, but more importantly b/c both Natasha and Sam AND my sister Kathy were all born on Dec. 27th. And just this year there was an additional birthday added to this illustrious date: Phil’s new grandson, Theodore was born. So Ann and I got to celebrate two birthdays during our visit. This meant going out to some pretty fancy and yummy restaurants in town. We were forced to eat amazing food and great wine with fun people — it’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it 😉

The holidays are also a time to feel the pull of the Light Side, and sometimes the Dark … OK, cheesey way of saying we went to see the new Star Wars movie. It was a great romp. Lots of fun. And the 3D was pretty amazing. The next day we ended up at a pub to sample more good beer, good food, and good times.

 

New years’s eve we drove down to our cabin on Beauvais Lake … OK, technically it’s Donna & Sam’s cabin, but after spending much of September living there, arriving there felt like coming home. We were joined by Peggy and Phil, and later in the evening by cousins Kevin and Barb. The drive down was a bit snowy and blustery, but we all arrived safe and sound.

We rang in the new year with a cut-throat game of crokinole. After a round-robin and Page playoff the teams of Ann-Mike & Peggy-Phil brought up the rear while the teams of Barb-Kevin & Donna/Knuckles-Sam played for top honours. The results speak for themselves:

 

New Year’s Day was spent staying warm and writing (Mike), ice fishing (Sam) and skiing (Donna & Ann). Ann, who hasn’t been on skis for over a year, so naturally she decided to try downhilling with her cross-country skis. A visit to the Emergency was avoided … just barely.

We spent the last few days relaxing (Mike), recovering (Ann), and enjoying our time in Calgary. Ann’s going to miss the morning crosswords with Donna and Sam, and I’m already feeling the withdrawal from my constant discussions with Donna. We are ever so lucky to have such generous family. Donna and Sam once again opened their home, and their hearts, to us two wayward vagabonds. I am deeply appreciative.

We spent over two weeks in Calgary, then hopped a flight back to Phoenix. The flight was a a bit bumpy, but uneventful. We actually flew over Waterton Park . We arrived back in Arizona, and were generously greeted by Cheryl and Pat, who once again welcomed us back to their home in the desert. We arrived to cloudy skies and rainy conditions. True to the screwy weather we’ve had during our whole trip, Black Canyon City was doused with unseasonably heavy rain. Roads were flooded and closed, and “washes”, which are usually dry gullies, lived up to their name.

 

We’ve decided to head to Tucson to get our bikes serviced early next week, and to visit with my childhood friend. Until then we’ll hang out here in BCC.