A couple Christmases ago, the dogs and I explored volcanic Saddle Mountain, near Tonopah, AZ. It worked out well to approach from the north, the green side. The rains have produced a lot of green "grass." It's not really grass, but looks like it from a distance. The spiny, stalky ocotillos are leafed out with dense, small, green leaves. They'd be perfect Christmas trees if they had their red blooms. Actually I didn't expect to see any green today.
It takes effort to give up this notion that lichen belongs in alpine settings being licked by a mountain goat, rather than in the desert. It is surprising how lush and thick it can be here, on the desert floor at 1000 foot altitude. You really could do some rough orienteering on a cloudy day just by noticing the green (or yellow or orange) fuzz on the north side.
As easy as it is to enjoy the Sonoran Desert in the winter, I sometimes wonder what I'm missing by not experiencing it at other times of the year. Maybe I should reread The Desert Year, by Joseph Wood Krutch. He was a great author who doesn't get read as much as he should. His later years were lived in Tucson. The over-rated Edward Abbey gets read in his place. Certainly the desert in summer would be repulsive, and yet...
Recall that scene at the beginning of the movie, Lawrence of Arabia, when Lawrence lets the match burn down to his fingertips. Another soldier takes up the dare, yells out in pain, and asks, "What's the secret?" Lawrence says, "The secret is in not minding that it hurts." And then you switch to David Lean's magnificent cinematography of a desert sunrise.
Occasionally I would walk by trees, usually along arroyos, that were large enough to produce sacred shade, sombra. At least it would seem sacred if you were here in summer. You might die a horrible death on the desert floor if you couldn't reach this shade.
By only experiencing the Sonoran Desert in winter I miss the monsoons. For years I've fantasized what it would be like to experience them in August, especially a flash flood.
It takes effort to give up this notion that lichen belongs in alpine settings being licked by a mountain goat, rather than in the desert. It is surprising how lush and thick it can be here, on the desert floor at 1000 foot altitude. You really could do some rough orienteering on a cloudy day just by noticing the green (or yellow or orange) fuzz on the north side.
As easy as it is to enjoy the Sonoran Desert in the winter, I sometimes wonder what I'm missing by not experiencing it at other times of the year. Maybe I should reread The Desert Year, by Joseph Wood Krutch. He was a great author who doesn't get read as much as he should. His later years were lived in Tucson. The over-rated Edward Abbey gets read in his place. Certainly the desert in summer would be repulsive, and yet...
Recall that scene at the beginning of the movie, Lawrence of Arabia, when Lawrence lets the match burn down to his fingertips. Another soldier takes up the dare, yells out in pain, and asks, "What's the secret?" Lawrence says, "The secret is in not minding that it hurts." And then you switch to David Lean's magnificent cinematography of a desert sunrise.
Occasionally I would walk by trees, usually along arroyos, that were large enough to produce sacred shade, sombra. At least it would seem sacred if you were here in summer. You might die a horrible death on the desert floor if you couldn't reach this shade.
By only experiencing the Sonoran Desert in winter I miss the monsoons. For years I've fantasized what it would be like to experience them in August, especially a flash flood.
Comments
I grew up in central and southern arizona and even as a child could and did appreciate their raw violence and show. I remember standing in warm rain clad only in shorts... after the thunder and lightning had passed, of course. The "gullies" would be charged with torrents of water for an hour or so, and minor highways became parking lots where people got out and chatted at the edge of a flash flooded road. Eventually some fool would try to cross before the water dropped enough and would be stranded... or worse. It was a great spectator sport.
I will go back some day in august and relive the beautiful violence of Monsoon season.