The Apache Trail

On our day off, Terry and I inched our way through morning commuter traffic on the  first outing of our month in Phoenix.  Our destination was Apache Junction, the starting point of a former stagecoach route, the oldest highway in the United States. The Apache Trail winds 40 miles (64 km) through the Superstition Mountains north east of Phoenix.
 

At the visitors' centre we armed ourselves with information and maps, and headed towards the mountains

First we stopped at a touristy ghost town, Goldfield.  "Do you want to ride the train?" asked Terry. I thought we might as well get into the mood, so we  took a twenty minute ride around the town made up of reconstructed buildings, listening to the engineer's drawled commentary.

On the periphery of Goldfield

A train pulling mining cars

We took a quick look around. It was much like other ghost towns.

Next stop, the Lost Dutchman State Park.  Should we hike first, or have our picnic?  I settled for an apple and a granola bar for the time being, and we set off on the marked trails between the cacti.  An hour and a half later, were had made a loop and were back at our starting point.

The area is dotted with the Saguaro Cactus, the state plant of Arizona. The ones with arms are already more than a hundred years old. 

This measuring stick shows an annual growth of at least six inches.  

This one is nearing the end of its days

Eventually it splits apart . I'm not sure if this is decaying material, or material from a bird's nest. It's packed in there like filling in a cavity.

I like to document flowers.  This is the brittlebush, common in the desert.  Terry and his work partner cleared  clumps of these low bushes from around the fence surrounding the football field last month.  He said its stems were dry and brittle and snapped into pieces easily.  The yellow flowers added a splash of colour to the otherwise greenish- grey of the desert. 

Chuparosa- hummingbird flower

The creosote bush conserves moisture by its small, waxy leaves.  Before it rains, it sends forth a creosote-like smell ; also if you crush its leaves.  Its flower is a small fuzzy globe like a round pussy willow.

Prickly pear cactus has small red fruit in the summer.
At Pusch Ridge Christian Academy last month, the Grade Six class harvested the fruit with tongs, and their teacher and volunteer mothers made prickly pear jelly to sell.  This would fund their annual field trip to the Grand Canyon.  A bit tart, but flavourful!

Terry likes to photograph birds with his zoom lens.  This is an American Kestrel, a summer bird in Alberta, magnified 200 times.

The best bird of the day, though, was this black-throated sparrow, seen very rarely in Alberta, but common in the desert.  Terry thinks he may have seen it once at home. Many of them flitted on the ground as we walked along the trail through low shrubs. 




Finally we had our picnic!  Terry had brought his own fire wood from Canada, knowing most places no longer supply it; you're not even allowed to collect dead wood on site.  Of course he brought lumber, scavenged from old pallets at Canadian Tire, and from the collection in Nick's garage, because you can't bring wood with bark on it across the border.  This was our first barbecue of the "winter" season, and very satisfying, if not a bit sterile looking!  The child in me loves wiener roasts.

Our nitrite free wieners cooked quickly

Having lunch in the warm sun

 Past the state park, the road wound further through the mountains.  The first lake was Canyon Lake.  The next was Apache Lake.  Between them, the famous town of Tortilla Flat--population 6!  We didn't get any pictures, as the sun was beginning to sink below the mountains.  My interior picture of the ice-cream parlour didn't turn out--the walls and ceiling plastered with autographed dollar bills, some from other countries. We did tour a tiny museum which was supposed to be the size of the former one room school house.

We travelled twenty-two miles of winding gravel road which hugged the edge of the cliff with no railings. It was a good thing there was no one else on the road, as some parts were only one lane wide. Terry had had a lot of practice from our New Denver days, before they improved the highway high above Slocan Lake.  Eventually we came across  the Roosevelt Dam, finished in 1911. 

Roosevelt Lake

After this, there was only one site left to see in the Tonto National Monument, but they were just closing.  Terry had wanted to see the cliff dwellings, but it was too late.  We completed the loop and went home the long way in the gathering dark.  A wonderful day!

You are worthy, O Lord our God, to receive glory and honour and power.
For you created all things, and they exist because you created what you pleased.   Revelation 4:11

Visit to Houston, TX

Between SOWER projects, Terry and I had a free week.  We decided to visit our friend Bongwol.  Delta Airlines had given us travel vouchers back in April when we made the dental trip, which almost paid for the flight.  I should say flights, as we had to first fly to Minneapolis, MN before connecting to Houston, TX, where Bongwol lives.
The adventure began with an unexpected chance to walk on snow and ice, as we missed our connection.  We'd had to wait  for an hour and a half in Tucson for the brakes of the plane to cool off.  So we spent the night in Minneapolis at Delta's expense.

Here are Bongwol and Terry in a similar pose to a picture I took in Switzerland two years ago.

We always like to take pictures of food!  This pizza with tomato slices, loads of spinach, and feta cheese was delicious!

This was the boat we rode in the Houston harbour, although we actually went at 6:00 pm when it was already dark.

It was great to see real trees and leaves after the
stark landscape of the desert.

I wish I knew what these berries were.

Fresh oranges from the tree!

Most houses are made of brick and not wood.  This is Bongwol's house, part of a beautiful neighbourhood lined with huge live oak trees.

Visit to the George Ranch Historical Park, which portrayed several generations of families' lives. The first was a log cabin from the 1830s.

 This interpreter explained about life in the log cabin

Holly helps her dad make cornbread.  She puts the scoop of flour into into the oval wooden bowl and mixes in the baking powder and egg.  It goes into a cast iron pot covered with hot coals. 

Holly grinds corn for the cornbread. This scenario was so realistic, it had me believing the story told to the visiting school children, that they actually lived in the log cabin.

It was entertaining to listen to an account of a cattle roundup in the old days.

Our visit ended with a meal at Taste of Texas, already beautifully decorated for "the holiday season".

The Feeding of the 500

Last week, Pusch Ridge Christian Academy where we were working served up a Thanksgiving Feast.  The students, from grades six to twelve, all got to have a free meal.  They were very excited.

Bev and I helped with setting out the pumpkin pies.

 I pried the boxes off the pies, and Bev cut them up and arranged them in perfect formation. 528 slices.

 They didn't stay in perfect formation once the students came to pick up their dessert, cutlery, cranberries, a bun, and a bottle of water. We helped them juggle all this and their plate of food by saying, "Tuck the water bottle under your arm." Along with the turkey their plates contained gravy, mashed potatooes, corn and green beans.  Most of them thanked us warmly, as if we were responsible for the whole meal.  Well, we did our part in true servant fashion. 

 These "hamburgers" were not part of the menu, but were specially crafted for the students' stage production which began that evening.  We see some interesting things outside the Art room, which is just across from our parking spot.

Shakespeare's The Merry Wives of Windsor was set in the fifties and very well done . We were thankful to be able to watch a real stage production!

The Holidays Begin

The parking lot was deserted.  Terry thought he would take me to Trader Joe's, a store I had somehow missed during the last three weeks here in Tucson.  He had to get gas anyway before we left in the morning.
"It's American Thanksgiving; I don't think it'll be open."  I said.
It wasn't.
"At least let's get some milk at Walmart; it's sure to be open."  We had just come back from a "holiday" so needed a few things for the fridge. 
On our way across the parking lot we noticed a few people sitting on folding chairs outside a store.
"What are they doing?" I wondered.
"It can't be!  Are they really waiting in line for the big Black Friday sale tomorrow?"  It was only
 4:00 pm!
I should have asked them, but I already knew the answer.   

Walmart was pretty deserted, but it was open. The air conditioning was on full blast, and the air around the dairy case raised goosebumps on my bare arms.  I should have worn my hoodie I thought.  It was November 27, and I could hear "...walking in a winter wonderland" over the sound system.  Here I was in shorts and a t-shirt. The next song was a real Christmas carol.  Already? I thought.  A perfectly white, fake tree hung with shiny green balls graced the produce section.   The occasional shopper appeared; Mom was in a dress and heels, the little girl also in her party dress.  At the bakery counter a couple of men consulted by phone over which pie to buy for dinner.  "See you soon!"  they sang out to their caller.
Terry had requested a pumpkin pie, so I got that as well as two tomatoes, a cucumber, some apples, and  the milk of course.  We were having turkey for dinner.  Turkey wieners, that is, and sauerkraut.  We'd already had our thanksgiving dinner more than a month ago in Canada.   
"Happy Holidays!" the cashier cheerily called out as I paid for my groceries.  I had always wondered why Americans used the term "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas".  Now I see that Thanksgiving is included and both holidays extend the season. Not to mention Hanukah during the same time frame.  It's a far cry from my childhood when Advent was celebrated as a preparation time for the coming of Christ, and Christmas didn't officially begin till December 25th. 
How things have changed!

Qualifications for the Job

Our first SOWER job of the season is Pusch Ridge Christian Academy in Tucson, AZ. On Monday morning my working partner, Bev, and I began our first task.  It was an interesting one--making pieces of paper look old, to be used in a class project as "WANTED" posters. I felt comfortable doing this, as I had once made pirate map invitations for a birthday party.

We actually worked outside, but forgot to take pictures the first time.

The heat gun we used was much more successful than burning the edges with a candle. The classroom teacher was thrilled.  Teachers appreciate someone else doing their time-consuming jobs.

Our next job was shredding.  We searched carefully through piles of resumes and applications of those not hired, to find certain reference letters that our supervisor wanted to keep.  As I flipped through them, I was struck by the applicants' extensive qualifications.  Pages and pages of awards, previous positions, degrees, and other experiences.  What hurt the most was shredding original transcripts, printed on heavy paper, and embossed with the seal of the university that issued them.  Yet they were not needed.  That degree meant nothing in this particular hiring process.  They appeared really impressive, yet these people were not hired.  There was always someone else, evidently, who met the requirements more exactly.  The official transcript ended up as a flash of pink  in the garbage bag of otherwise white shredded paper. By the way, someone in the staff room claimed the paper shreds for a craft project.
This morning made me think about the way we come to faith in God.  Our heavenly father accepts us at face value, through the death of Jesus Christ on the cross.  We don't have to have qualifications and lists of achievements; He accepts us just the way we are.  The only requirement is to come in faith, agree with Him that we need Him, change our direction, and He accepts us into His family. That is the Gospel--Good News.

He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of His mercy.  Titus 3:5a

Ghost town in the desert

At noon on a hot Nevada day, we found ourselves walking in the desert to explore a ghost town.  We have seen a few ghost towns in our day, but never one whose occupants were forced to leave because their homes were to be flooded in the name of progress.  St. Thomas, Nevada, originally grew up on the shores of the Muddy River, which flows into the Colorado.

In the 1930's, the Hoover dam was built, and as the waters rose to form Lake Mead the last citizens of the 500 person town reluctantly left.  By 1938, the whole town was 60 feet under water.  Only with the recent droughts and the receding waters are people able to explore what is left of St. Thomas.

                                                                      

                                                                  

Foundations of the old post office

Artifacts cabled together to prevent theft

Trees? or a fence?  or a boardwalk?       

                 

                                                                                                 

Interesting foundation

Mud transformed to hard baked clay         

   

Thanks, Terry,for the fabulous pictures!