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Ielah Pratt

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 02:18:04 GMT

Local White Mountain Artisan and Authur

By Anne Groebner

I met Ielah (pronounced ila) Pratt through Made in Greer artisan gift shop in Pinetop. I had just read the book “Winterdance,” by Gary Paulsen and mentioned it to her one day while I was shopping. Gary Paulsen’s book is a hilarious depiction of training for and runnning sled dogs in the Iditarod. It is by far one of my favorite books. It turned out that she was good friends with Paulsen when she lived in Bemidji, Minnesota. So we started talking about sled dog racing, and she told me a few stories.

For instance, she was hauling raw meat for Paulsen’s dogs, but not any kind of meat — frozen raw beaver. They were hauling them, in their station wagon, back to Bemidji, after they stopped in Superior, Wisconsin. The weather was cold when they left so they thought the meat would be fine.They stopped to eat, and after they ate they went shopping for stained glass. By the time they got back to the car, the temperature had warmed and the odor was pretty bad.They drove all the way to Bemidji with the windows down.

In her book of poems, titled “Raindrops,” she writes about a northern experience of running her dogs. “We traveled through an Ansel Adams landscape. Gliding over a pristine trail…”

Ielah finishes with,“I thought then, ‘this is as close as I will ever get to skiing.’ I think now that may have been as close as I will ever get to heaven.”

Her poems are amazing.

Ielah was born and raised in Topeka, Kansas, but she loves the mountains and lived in the Pikes Peak region of Colorado for many years. She works in leather and is an incredible beader, something she learned when she moved to Minnesota. She draws inspiration from her “great northern adventure” — the time she lived just outside Bemidji. It was there that she met and worked with artisans who helped her develop her lifelong passion and art form. She calls her time there “the days of the Frontier.” It was a time that changed her life.

She lived in Iowa for 13 years on the beautiful bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River. While she was there, she wrote and published three children’s books: “Trouble on the Trail,” “A Haircut for Henri,” and “Nana, Read It Again.” She credits her storytelling to her grandparents, whose stories she never tired of, and her illustrating from her mother, who was a wonderful sketch artist.

Some friends who lived in the White Mountains of Arizona invited Ielah to visit, and she fell in love with the area and has lived in Pinetop, now, for over 10 years. She loves everything about the mountains: hiking and the local history. She also loves spending time with her many good friends. “Finally,” she says, “she has found her forever home.”

You can see Ielah’s beautiful handiwork at Made in Greer in Pinetop, Arizona, at Times Square Plaza across from Charlie Clark’s.

Live Your Life to the Fullest

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 02:14:19 GMT

Are you the voice in your head? or something deeper...

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

The voice in your head is nonstop: I need to ______, I am ________, I should ________, I haven’t _________; I wish I had _________. The list seems never-ending; continuous and unbroken. It’s your own voice speaking in that monotonous, parental tone, driving you ever onward. If you finish one project, it seems two others take its place. You’re so busy moving into the future, you don’t even have time to give yourself a pat on the back.

It’s easy to mistake that voice for the real you. Too easy to be swallowed up by a never-ending flow of activity. To be connected and called to attention by a leash of electronic information. Too easy to move into that reactive state. I heard of a woman who described herself as a FOMA, or defined by a Fear Of Missing Out — always needing to be “in the know.”

Along that line, my computer died a few years back. It just quit on me. The screen slowly went black. And there I was. You know how it is, don’t you? Feelings of panic and loss overwhelmed me. Up to that point, I hadn’t realized how much time I’d spent with that machine. You might even say it was a constant companion. I had to order another one, and I was lost for a time. I was forced to taper off my chit-chat, my distractions. I also had an excuse to slow down my never-ending movement, the compelling urge to “do something.” Now, I’ll admit, gearing down wasn’t quick or easy, but my brain appreciated the break. I got in touch with myself. Rest and quiet were what I needed.

Live Unstuck

It’s the start of spring. Let’s shift gears. Who are you? The chatterbox in your head? Or are you something deeper? The quiet core inside you is your true nature, your authentic self. Without that real you, there’s no genuine perception, no original thoughts, and no true feelings.

But how to get there from here? Let me share a few suggestions I’ve gleaned from my life.

• Start small. Whether you’re hiking, sitting on your porch, simply be with Mother Nature. Notice your physical sensations: How your feet feel on the ground, the breeze gently moving on your face, the sensation of clothes on your body. You don’t need hours of meditation. Get to know the real you.

• Move away from electronics and television. Distractions can be tempting, shifting your focus to the next diversion and cluttering your mind even more. Turn off your phone. Step away from the computer. Put away the Kindle. Just be present for a while.

• Slow down, then silence the voice in your head. Ever noticed when you’re running around in circles with tasks in the future and the heaviness of the past, your inner voice speeds along almost without taking a breath? Take a disruptive sentence (I need to finish this project) and slow down the words. Or scatter the words into nonsense. Or toss them into the sky and watch them float away.

The voice that matters is the quiet, gentle voice of aliveness and awareness. Ready to explore a vast, peaceful, and serene place? Or are you satisfied with where you are now? Live unstuck.

Having over 35 years of experience, Joan Courtney, C.Ht., is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for Lil’ Toot, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

Arizona's History comes alive

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 02:09:16 GMT

The People Who Shaped Arizona's History

By Annemarie Eveland

Photos and Stories submitted by David Grassé, author, historian

Author David Grassé, while attending Arizona State University in Tucson, felt impressed as he learned about the people who shaped Arizona’s history. One was Commodore Perry Owens. He wrote about Commodore Perry Owens’ gunfight at Holbrook in his first book. This gunfight had impressive violence. Owens took down four men. Grassé was so intrigued that he wrote a biography of him, and his college instructor encouraged him to make it into a book. So, Grassé did a lot of thorough research, which took about three years to finish writing.

Perry, when young, was in a gang in Oklahoma and sold whiskey. Because of his lucrative venture, he served six months in jail. Then Perry came to Arizona and became a foreman at an established ranch. He didn’t care for politics, but he was especially good with a rifle. His reputation as a marksman with a rifle led him to be hired as the sheriff of Apache-Navajo County.

When the Pleasant Valley feud began, Graham turned state’s evidence against Tewkesbury for rustling; things escalated from there. After the Holbrook gunfight, Apache country authorities brought Owens before the Justice of the Peace. They determined he was right to shoot and kill as they came at him with guns, as told in The Bisbee Massacre.

We’ve likely all heard the legends surrounding the unrest during that time. Once, when five cowboys were robbing the general store, it escalated into deaths. Their method was to get into the store while two men stayed outside and shot anybody that came close to the store. The cowboys killed four people and wounded one. A man came out of the store and they shouted at him, “Go back in!” The man said, “I’m not going back in, I just came out.” So, they shot him too.

It was determined that it’d probably take a month to catch the guys who were robbing the store. Then someone remembered there was a man named John Heath, and he came into town with the guys who robbed the store and killed the people. So, they looked for him, caught him, and arrested him. They also caught the other five bandits. They were all tried separately.

John Heath, as a youngster, had masterminded several projects. He wanted to build businesses. As a man, he started a dance hall and a prostitution business. However, they arrested him. During his arrest, he claimed he was not with them. He explained he rode into town with them because of the threats of Apache raids on the route he took.

Grassé made the comment to me that, “The more I researched, the more I realized he was just erroneously assumed to be part of the gang who robbed the store.”

So, fortunately for John Heath, the citizens just put him in jail. Unfortunately, soon after, they went into that jail, dragged him outside and lynched him. (I guess that was the way of the wild west, in-justice?)

Grassé also wrote about Augustine Chacon who was a notorious Hispanic Arizona outlaw. Newspapers ran an article about his escape from jail. A court tried and convicted him for a murder he did not commit, but he escaped from the Solomonville jail and fled to Mexico, where he disappeared for almost five years. People blamed Chacon for all the bad stuff that happened in and around Arizona during that time, if the perpetrator was Hispanic. The stories of his bad deeds kept growing in colorful and outrageous tales. Once, Chacon went to Mexico for five years and joined the Mexican army. In 1903, Billy Stiles and Burt Alvord, former lawmen, made a deal with Chacon. Since a murder warrant was still out for him, they convinced Chacon to steal horses with them. They then capture Chacon, and he gets jailed again and then hung.

…..”AND WHAT ABOUT THE WOMEN OF THE WEST?” I asked.

In France there was an English actress named Edna Loftus. She was a very popular actress in French musical cabarets. (Grassé mentioned he had many picture postcards of her.) She married an American jockey while riding in France. But later, she divorced him and came to New York to restart her career. She meets Rheinstrom, a millionaire’s son, and his mother doesn’t like him marrying a Catholic girl. The son was philosophical, and his entire premise was “All we need is love!”

Edna and her husband started a chicken ranch. It sounds incredible, but it is no surprise when it fails within six months. The next misanthrope finds them in San Francisco. Rheinstrom goes around and begins taking drugs and drinking heavily. His family is sending stipends; but it is not enough. He gets arrested twice; his family sends a lawyer out to get him out of jail, and then he is committed to a mental institution, where he died.

To make matters worse, his wife, Edna, couldn’t get a job. She tried to kill herself twice and eventually ended up in a brothel, then got arrested for prostitution. The public blames her for all the stuff that had been happening. She had American citizenship, but unfortunately, she was still called an undesirable person and died in the county hospital. She was buried in Forest Lawn in Colma, California. Her “low-life” friends got her a casket and a plot in a Holy Hope cemetery, but there was no headstone for her.

About five or six years ago, when Grassé visited her grave site, he felt her life was so tragic, he bought her a headstone and had it placed on her grave.

The Red Light District of Tucson no longer exists. There is not even a plaque on the former streets. But there is the history of that whole era and the people who lived it are in Grassé’s new book, Red Light Districts of Tucson. For example, the “Maiden Lane” started in the 1860s; 1870 is where they found the first references. They were called Cribs. — it had a bed, a window and a door. Guys would knock on the door. It took place between 1870 and 1918.

In 1893, the businesses on the streets of Congress and Stone were legitimate businesses. They didn’t want bad business “in their face” and shooed them out. Prostitution and its subsidiaries rushed out to all parts of the city and disrupted all. In 1896, the City Council had a “Red Light District Gay Alley” (named for Joesph Gay, an early pioneer). There were the Cribs again; but on one end was a two-story brothel, owned by Eva Blanchard. Blanchard, who got herself a new name, had lived in Ohio with a family, went to a convent school in New York, then became a prostitute in Boston. Next, she disappears for ten years and then reappears in Arizona as a Madam; owning the only brothel in Tucson with six girls. Eva invested in property in Tucson.

She married as Annie Sullivan Wiley to Joe Wiley, a professional roulette gambler. She donated to both the church and the schools because she was Irish and born a Catholic and she donated a building to the Arizona Daily Star newspaper. Her gravestone in Holy Hope Cemetery reads “Annie Sullivan Wiley (A Pioneer).”

When they were rebuilding St. Augustine’s Church on Stone Avenue in 1897, she approached the Bishop and asked if she could put in “the name of my Sullivan family.” The Bishop said, “Absolutely NO!” Later, when the building funds were meager, he sent for Annie and said, “We will take the money.” This time she emphatically said, “NO!”

Grassé is the Creative Director for THE TERRITORIAL TROUPERS,who he started historial reenactments with while still living in Tucson. He was a state librarian for five years, then moved up to be at the Payson Library. The Territorial Troupers perform stunt work, reenactments, gun fights, and accurately writing scripts with historical accuracy depicting the Old West. He met Kenny, the head of the group, nine years ago. They meet regularly on the first Tuesday each month, at the library and the meetings are open to public. He added, “You can always reach me at the Payson library, and you are welcome to join our small, wonderful, and authentic group meetings— a place where our Arizona history comes alive.”

Grassé has five books out, including his newest, Red-Light District of Tucson.

Book titles by David Grasse:

The True, Untold Story of

Commodore Perry Owens

The Bisbee Massacre:Robbery,

Murder+Retribution in the AZ Territory, 1883-84

The True Story of the Notorious Arizona

Outlaw Augustine Chacon

From the Footlights to the Tenderloin:

The Tragic Life of Actress Edna Loftus

The Red Light Districts of Tucson,

1870-1918 (new book)

No Rock Unturned

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 02:03:11 GMT

The Amazing Story of Lichen

Article and photos

by Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

Spring is the season of change, and we celebrate the unveiling of new leaves, flowers that spring open from bare branches overnight, and the new blades of green grass that suddenly replace the old brown grass that was there just a few days ago. Easter celebrates the reawakening of life after a season of dormancy and…the other day I heard the zzzz of the first hummingbird of the season! Life is amazing, and it’s past the time to get out for a nature walk to appreciate the miraculous tapestry of life all around us.

Yes, there are plenty of obvious signs of new, shiny life surrounding us in spring, but you know what I appreciate and admire all year-round? Lichen. Yes, that immobile, crusty stuff found on rocks and tree bark and just about anything else that stays still for decades. Lichen is the definition of rock-steady in a changing world. Lichen is always there in its vibrant colors, ranging from reds and oranges to nearly black, to every shade of green imaginable, and even white. Lichens can also, but rarely, come in bright blue!

Every color in the visible and non-visible spectrum can be found in lichens across the world, and…did you know you can have some fun in the dark with a UV flashlight on lichen? Many lichens will exhibit phosphorescence when viewed with a UV light, and you might just find a phosphorescent scorpion, millipede or fungus glowing in the dark too. Lichen shows its true colors brilliantly after a rain or under snowmelt, as the fungal cell walls become more translucent, revealing the colorful algae or cyanobacteria within. Freezing temperatures, broiling sunlight absorbed by dark rocks, wind, rain, hail…you name it, lichen can withstand it, as it has for millions of years. What is special about lichen that allows it to come in so many hues and to survive so many conditions that would defeat most other organisms? Within lichen lies a tale of the very evolution of life on Earth, and it is fascinating to think about.

Lichen is not a plant, not a fungus, a protist, a bacterium, nor, of course, is it an animal. Lichen does not fit neatly into any of the five kingdoms of modern living things, into which we have divided life on Earth, and is a great example of what we might find as extraterrestrial life on other planets. In fact, lichen has been taken to space on the ISS, attached to the exterior of the space station for 18 months in a subzero vacuum and had no problem recovering and resuming photosynthesis when returned to Earth!

Lichen is an amazing symbiosis of cyanobacteria, algae and fungus, all dependent on one another for survival in a changing and often harsh world. Cyanobacteria were among the first living things to colonize the early Earth, arising in the prehistoric oceans over 3.5 billion years ago. Cyanobacteria evolved the chemical process of photosynthesis and could use nearly the entire light spectrum for this process. It dominated the upper layers of the marine environment where they could access sunlight and would have made the water appear purple because they commonly reflected red and blue light and could utilize green light.

Algae evolved from the endosymbiosis of cyanobacteria and eukaryotic cells; the cyanobacteria containing the photosynthetic energy-providing chloroplasts we see in all plants today. Algae were free-floating in the ocean, and their photosynthetic mechanism specialized in utilizing the wavelengths of light, blue and red, that were being reflected from and passed through the upper cyanobacteria layer. Modern plants are the variety of green hues we see in most plants today, purely because of prehistoric marine competition for light with the earlier cyanobacteria. Both cyanobacteria and algae are water-dependent, so how does this all fit together in the story of lichen, a living thing that most definitely is not a water-dependent species, in fact, a species that appears nearly water-independent, and can survive months with no water whatsoever? Well, we are getting to that part next.

At several points in time from between six and four million years ago, and locations across the evolving landscapes of life on earth, cyanobacteria and/or algae were living in cooperation with early fungi; the fungi surrounding the smaller organisms with a protective coating and the photosynthesizing organisms providing food for the heterotrophic fungi which previously had relied on decaying matter for sustenance. Modern lichen shows up commonly in the fossil record about four million years ago, quite a bit after modern plants colonized the terrestrial landscape.

Keeping the photosynthetic organisms captive provided the fungi with a reliable, steady food source and allowed them to colonize previously out-of-reach habitats such as exposed rock surfaces. It is debated whether the photosynthetic captives got much benefit from their relationship with fungi, but the prevailing theory says that the fungi provide protection and a survivable environment for the previously free-floating aquatic algae and bacteria and allowed them, too, to colonize previously unavailable niches in the environment.

Lichens release acids onto the rocks and literally etch themselves in place on rock surfaces. You can see how large colonies of lichen have begun at a central point in the colony and radiated outwards in nearly perfect circles as they reproduce and move equally in all directions from the original colonizing parent organism. I frequently lug especially nice lichen-covered rocks home from hikes and noticed that when sprayed with water, a brown powder runs out, floating on the water. This is not dirt, but instead packets called soredia, which contain microscopic fragments of both the fungus and its photosynthetic partner(s). The soredia are dispersed by wind or rain and help move the lichen to other areas. The mechanical spreading of lichen colonies across rock faces is accomplished by asexual reproduction, and lichen has at least a dozen other ways to reproduce itself that I needn’t describe here. Needless to say, lichen has no trouble reproducing itself in whatever environmental conditions it finds itself!

Lichen comes in three main growth forms depending on its stage of development on the surface it is colonizing. The most common form is the crustose growth stage, which looks like spray paint on whatever substrate surface, and is tightly bound to the rock surface and is nearly unremovable. The next growth form that develops after the lichen is well established on the surface is the foliose form, which looks like tiny flaky sections that are easy to peel away from their crustose bases (please don’t). These flakes are flat with upwardly curling edges and provide more surface area for photosynthesis. These loose flakes break off easily, and each can form a new colony if it lands in an appropriate location. The final form, which is exponentially more common on tree bark, is the fruticose lichen, which many call Spanish moss. It is three-dimensional and looks like hanging strands or hairs, each of which can break off and form new colonies.

I admire the tenacity of these tiny organisms and their ability to colonize around corners, past cracks in a rock, and across large expanses of exposed rock face. The only place you won’t find lichen on a rock is on the bottom of it because the lichen relies on sunlight to power its captive photosynthesizing algae and/or bacteria. So, when I’m out hiking, I keep an eye out for lichen, and if I see an overturned rock; I flip it back to its licheny upside. Why not? That lichen has been there progressing across that rock for thousands, if not millions of years, and if I can help it last another million years by simply flipping its rock back over, why wouldn’t I? We live in a tiny speck of time compared to a lichen, which can live over 10,000 years, with whole colonies quietly, slowly, dissolving rock for millions of years.

The progress of lichen over a rock during our lifetimes is agonizingly slow, but over centuries and millennia, the acids excreted by lichens can cause chemical weathering of rock and help the successionary process of a landscape moving from bare rock to soil to grasses and herbs and then the climax community of larger trees, returning rocks into the rock cycle as sediment in the process. Lichen is an amazing in-your-face example of the evolution of life on earth, the resiliency of life in the face of change, the ability of life to “find a way” no matter the conditions, and the blink-of-an-eye amount if time each one of us has here on Earth compared to the span of time that is the Earth’s existence. Admiring and trying to understand the little things is one way I celebrate the small time I have here, and I’m grateful that I live where there is so much to see and learn about.

Note: A fun activity for kids or kids at heart is to get a piece of lichen-covered bark and wet it down. Wait a few minutes and then look at it with a magnifying glass. The boring lichen will nearly immediately begin to plump up, and an amazing microscopic jungle environment will appear before your eyes with glossy green shoots springing up through the lichen and from between cracks in the bark. What is this amazing green growth? Well, it’s not lichen, but an entirely different organism living in symbiosis with the fungus, algae, and bacteria living together in the lichen.

Here’s a tip : If you hold that piece of wood in your hand, you have an example of every kingdom of living things on earth right there in that small space between your fingers. You’ll learn all about what this is and how it survives in an upcoming article this spring about the incredible environment we call home. Life is awesome; live it well. Happy Spring Everyone!

Peregrinations, New and Old

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 01:59:33 GMT

A New Journey with an Old Friend

Article and photos by Rob Bettaso

It was only a single day in early-March, but it lived up to the cliché meant for the entire month; you know the one, March coming in like a lion and leaving like a lamb. Before first light, I had listened to a fierce wind as it rattled the panes of glass in my bedroom windows. I wondered if, once the sun was up, I should call Kip, and suggest that instead of a hike, we meet at a local restaurant and enjoy a leisurely breakfast. But, by the time I had finished my morning coffee, the howling winds had died down to gusty breezes.

I prepared and ate a hearty breakfast, reasoning that I wasn’t sure how much time or effort Kip and I would expend on our hike, and I didn’t want to have to carry a lot of food in my daypack. I can be a lazy guy, and today I figured it was better to carry sustenance in my stomach and only haul water and snacks on my back. It was then that I realized that when I had spoken with Kip on the phone yesterday; I hadn’t mentioned how long we would be out or what to pack, so I decided that I had better call him after all. Having worked with Kip in the past, I knew he was an early riser but, then again, I hadn’t seen him much since we had both left the Philippines in 1990 and, obviously, in that span of time people’s habits can change.

Kip and I had both been volunteers with the U.S. Peace Corps (PC); I had served in Zaire and he in the Philippines. We didn’t meet until many years after our volunteer stints had ended, and each of us had held many different jobs before we each wound up taking paid positions with the PC in the Philippines. I had landed a contract as a “technical trainer” and Kip was an Assistant Director (a more lucrative job, but also one with much greater responsibility). We had both been working in the country for a few years without getting to know each other very well before extreme circumstances forced us to work as a team of two. The event that launched our union was the kidnapping of a PC volunteer by a well-known insurgency group. The PC Director, presumably working with U.S. State Department personnel, assigned some of his training staff to work with the Assistant Directors. These teams then headed out to all points of the country, making sure that volunteers at their posts were safely escorted back to Manila. The volunteers could then be flown back stateside.

Needless to say, it was a stressful job that took several weeks to pull off, and by the time it was done, Kip and I had gotten to know each other quite well. After all the volunteers, and eventually the staff, were sent home, the PC suspended operations in the Philippines, and I didn’t see Kip again for many years. For that matter, we only sporadically kept in touch by phone and email, but eventually we reunited, and it was right here in Pinetop. I had retired from the Arizona Game and Fish Department by that time, and Kip had retired from a slew of overseas jobs doing relief/development type of work. His duty-posts had included Cambodia, Angola, Sudan, and other formerly war-torn locales. When he retired to his hometown (south of Tucson), he let me know and, ever since, we have had the occasional get-together here in the White Mountains. When Kip visits me here, he opts to stay in a hotel, which he says is because he doesn’t want to impose, but in reality, I think it is because my place is a cluttered mess (see previous remark pertaining to laziness…).

Anyway, after picking Kip up at his hotel at 9:00 a.m. We headed to a spot north of town where there is some fairly open country. Our impromptu plan was to just ramble about; walking and talking and catching up on the events which had transpired in both our lives since Kip’s last visit this way, about a year ago. It wasn’t until we exited my pickup and stepped out into a habitat of widely spaced junipers I realized how much of the sky had filled with clouds. There was still plenty of blue in between the small, puffy, cumulous clouds, but they were building and they were also moving quickly and clearly carried enough moisture to tinge their undersides a darkish gray-blue.

As we set off at a swift clip, I said: “Hmm, typical mountain weather, eh Kip? You never know what it’s gonna do.” “Yeah,” he replied, “glad I brought my rain-jacket.” I added: “Have you re-adjusted to the arid climate with its occasional rains; as opposed to the humid tropics, where there is more rain than sun for much of the year?” “Well, when it comes to weather, I’m still fairly adaptable,” Kip said, and continued by expounding on how he could take fickle, and even extreme weather okay, but that he wasn’t as tolerant with people, especially Americans, and said that he had developed into something of a loner since his return to the U.S.

Before I could respond, I stubbed my boot on a lichen-encrusted rock, grunted, and we continued on silently. The countryside in which we were hiking was quite beautiful, but, since we weren’t hiking on a trail, you had to watch every step.

“How come you don’t travel much anymore?” Kip asked me. “I travel, just not very far.” After a pause, I continued: “The Four-Corner states have provided plenty of excitement for me these past several years, I guess. Besides, I did do that Patagonia, South America trip in 2019.” After some thought, I added: “But yeah, exotic travel just ain’t the same once you get to a certain age, I guess.” Kip retorted with a simple but emphatic “Bah!”

In a few minutes, we stopped to catch our breath and watch a flock of ravens as they played tag overhead; spinning and spiraling and looking like they were trying to pluck a few tail-feathers from their nearest partner. I continued my discourse on foreign travel: “You know how it is, we seem to more easily get sick, or turn an ankle, and it just takes so much longer to recover. Some of the stuff we used to eat in the Philippines, like ‘kinilaw,’ my stomach might not tolerate at this age.” Kip replied bluntly: “So you carry ‘Cipro,’ and you’re good to go. Hey, you gotta remember, all of life can’t be derring-do. But that doesn’t mean you have to join a gaggle of geezer tourists, knobby knee’ed in Bermuda shorts, with expensive cameras dangling ‘round your necks.”

I resumed hiking and was miffed by his simplification and said: “Look, overseas, especially in places with limited infrastructure and where I can’t speak the language, well, I just can’t afford to take too many risks anymore. Anyway, it’s not like we can still scale high peaks, swim in strong currents, or keep our eyes peeled for dicey critters as we’re picking our way through jungle terrain.” Kip stopped and pointed to a Sage Thrasher perched on a scrubby pine, identified it, and then said: “So, you trade those activities for more sedate levels of nature study, that’s your thing anyways, ain’t it?”

Pondering Kip’s rhetorical question, I stepped up our pace, and we hiked hard and refrained from talking for about a mile. When we arrived at the edge of a minor canyon, which was forested with more ponderosa than juniper and pinyon, I asked Kip if he wanted to explore. He did, so we slowly descended a rocky slope and hiked along a muddy creek for a while, remarking occasionally on some aspect of the local geology or biology. Eventually, we opted to climb out of the canyon and start heading back to my truck. The temperature had warmed considerably, and the sun was slightly less obscured by clouds. We were both hungry, so we headed back to town for lunch.

After sandwiches (which Kip washed down with a few beers, while I nursed an iced tea), I dropped Kip off at his hotel so he could rest up and I returned home to do the same. Later that afternoon, we drove out to a wetland and strolled around some marshy ponds while watching waterfowl, blackbirds, and some returning migrants. The sunset was of the orange, then red, then pink variety and we stayed out to enjoy the twilight and emerging stars in what was now a mostly clear sky; on a calm, temperate evening. We discussed many a topic during our visit to the wetlands — some relevant to our having arrived at a later stage of life; others, still full of youthful dreams and aspirations.

When we bid each other adieu back at the hotel, I revealed a couple of minor surprises I had held from Kip. The first being that I WAS, in fact, going to be taking a trip at the end of the month to a touristy but very exciting locale. Naturally, Kip wanted to know where, but I told him I didn’t want to jinx it by telling him the country’s name. I teased him a bit by stating that my destination was tropical and possessed one of the richest bird assemblages in the Western Hemisphere.

“Hopefully, you’ll be able to read all about it in my May article of the Outdoors Southwest,” I said, “which, by the way, leads me to my second low-key surprise: I might write-up today’s outing for the April edition, assuming you don’t mind?” His reply was symptomatic of his cagey nature: “Sure,” he said, “just don’t use my real name. In fact, give me the name of one of our favorite writers, like you gave yourself when you came up with your email handle.” “You bet,” I said, “and I’ll make it an abbreviation, like I did for my email, so that if anyone wants to figure it out, they’ll not only have to be somewhat well-read in the classics, but they will only have one syllable to work from.”

We parted ways, my day ended, and the following morning I wrote up this story. Next month I hope to have a bird-watcher’s travelogue to share with readers. In the meantime, you can take a guess at who is represented by the shorthanded pseudonyms of “Kip” and “Hem.”

The Art of Healing

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 01:54:10 GMT

Ancient and Modern Healing Methods

By Anne Groebner

There are times when I have to stop and take three deep breaths to calm my mind, change the direction of my thoughts, and find peace so I can take back control of my day. Driving is a huge stressor for me, as is counting down the seconds until I have to be somewhere. I hate to be rushed. When stress affects us, our body enters fight-or-flight mode, which was beneficial centuries ago. It’s still a good thing; however, too much stress isn’t good. Our bodies release the hormone cortisol, and too much of that can cause serious health issues. Fortunately, there are many ways to combat stress.

My favorite way to de-stress is to go hiking or paddling. Getting outside is beneficial in so many ways. When walking through a forest, whether you know it or not, trees provide many benefits. Trees give us oxygen, a feeling of calmness, and the sun gives us vitamin D. In Japan, they call it “Forest Bathing,” and it can rejuvenate a weary mind.

Kathleen Armstrong recommends you take off your shoes and go barefoot. She says that by having that connection to the earth, you are tuning into its gravity and natural energy. “Bringing up the earth’s energy through your feet and through your whole body,” she tells me, “can be very grounding.” Which is a good thing because she believes there are many people out there that aren’t grounded.

Kathleen Armstrong owns the Pinetop Gallery and designs and creates beautiful gemstone jewelry. However, the other day while we were talking, I found out that she is a holistic health practitioner. At one time, she worked at Torrance Memorial Hospital in California as a practitioner and teacher, offering reflexology, Reiki, acupressure, and aromatherapy. Most of her certifications are at the teaching level, although currently, she is focused on teaching Reflexology.

She taught programs at IPSB - Santa Monica in California for nine years; the Healing Arts College in Santa Monica, California for two years; ASIS Massage Education in Clarkdale, Arizona for five years, and has taught privately since 1996.

Armstrong also lectured to many groups, including: Oncology, scleroderma, and diabetes to name a few. The focus was to explain the benefits of combining medical and complementary therapies for enhanced wellness. “The Director of Rehabilitation sent many patients to me,” Armstrong says, “situations where physical therapy could be enhanced with another form of healing.” With donations, she opened a Healing Touch Clinic for Children. “I was blessed to have worked on some babies that were on the spectrum; with some returning to normalcy.”

“Reiki is an energy healing that is transmitted through a light touch of hands. It is a highly sacred process that promotes healing by balancing the body’s “life force energy.” Reiki is something Armstrong has worked with for over 30 years. In the beginning she did hundreds of Reiki initiations. However, it can’t be taught, because it’s an initiary process, so, she just practices Reiki and explains the benefits.

Reflexology operates on the philosophy that the hands, feet, and ears, each contain a microcosm of the human body. This practice corresponds to organs and systems in the body. Some practitioners only do feet, but Armstrong believes by doing all three, you can hit every organ, every structure, and spinal reflexes three times over. “If you add Reiki and essential oils to that, you are flying!” She says.

Essential oils work on the physical body. By breathing them in or having them diffused nearby, they can shift your mood and enhance relaxation. Aura-Soma is applied in a person’s Aura to facilitate healing on an energetic level. “I tell people to put it behind their ears,” Armstrong states. “Because this is where it has more access to your cranial nerves and spinal column.” She reiterates that it gives you more bang for your buck.

Color therapy came out of England. It started with a pharmacist who was going blind. She started seeing visions of colors and combinations of colors. The philosophy is that you are the colors you choose and that through light and color; it balances physical, emotional, and mental energy. For instance, each color has a unique wavelength and frequency that, when applied to the body, can correct imbalances. Armstrong believes it is this type of therapy that saved her husband’s eye.

Acupressure is a traditional Chinese medicine technique that involves applying firm manual pressure (using fingers, hands, or devices) to specific bodily points to promote health, relieve pain, and reduce stress. It operates on the principle of stimulating energy flow along meridians, similar to acupuncture but without needles.

Sometimes, Armstrong does spontaneous healing at her gallery. The other day, a lady stopped in and told her she was dizzy and didn’t know why. Armstrong concluded the lady likely wasn’t grounded and worked with her. She started with some essential oils that initiated the process. Then she brought out her Aura-Soma red pomander, a grounding essential oil, rubbed some into her hands and waved the aroma into her aura field. She took it all the way down to her feet, and told her to breathe it in, while imagining roots growing into the earth. She felt much better.

These are ancient and modern healing methods that work by engaging the brain’s amazing healing ability through a variety of sensory receptions and energy meridians within our bodies.These techniques can change the way you process daily life and its stressors. Because they say stress is the silent killer. So, get outside into the solitude and pristine vibes of the forest, meditate, or head over to the Pinetop Gallery and talk to Kathleen about the amazing healing philosophies she offers (and is willing to teach) and live your life to the fullest.

T.L.C. For Trailers

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 01:49:39 GMT

Spring is a Good Time for Routine and Preventative Maintenance

By Allanna Jackson

As spring arrived in the White Mountains, the weather in March confused itself with May, bouncing over 50 degrees between overnight lows below freezing and daytime highs near 80. The dry weather was perfect for trail riding, but my horse trailer was out of service for most of the month, awaiting parts. The horses didn’t mind. They were content to stroll along the familiar trails close to home. Most years the weather in March isn’t suitable for hauling the horses anywhere, anyway. By the end of the month, my trailer was back in service, ready to take the horses on an outing at the next available opportunity.

When the weather hit 100 degrees down in the desert in the last week of March, we had a surge of visitors eager to escape to their favorite summer-time activities in the high country. The mountains were still in what we call “shoulder season” — the time of year when the permanent residents usually have the mountains to ourselves because there isn’t enough snow left for the winter sports, the highways and campgrounds are still closed for the season, and the Arizona Game and Fish Department (AZGFD) has not yet started stocking fish in the lakes. Spring is a good time to do the planning and preparation for the summer recreational season.

Today, much of our outdoor recreation involves trailers. We use trailers to haul many of our outdoor toys into the forest: boats, bicycles, camping gear, UTV and ATVs, horses, and RVs. Every day on White Mountain Boulevard you’ll see everything from single axle boat trailers to triple axle travel trailers as large and as expensive as a Tiny home or single-wide modular home, flat-bed trailers, stock trailers, horse trailers with living quarters and without, dump trailers, construction trailers, equipment haulers, specialized trailers, general-purpose trailers and more. It’s easy to take recreational trailers that are used only a few times a year for granted. After all, the lights worked the last time the trailer was used; the tires are so new they have no wear on the tread, and the wheel bearings were re-packed a few years ago.

Surprise! Trailer wiring is notorious for developing loose connections that are hard to find and harder to fix, even when rodents don’t use the wires for bedding or dinner while the trailer is in storage. Light bulbs fail randomly. The date coding on the sidewall of those “new” tires may reveal they are 10, 15, or more years old, which means a tire store will refuse to repair them if the invisible environmental degradation results in a flat. A few years too easily turn into a dozen years when relying on memory to keep track of when a trailer’s wheel bearings were serviced. Recommendations about how often trailer wheel bearings need to be serviced vary widely, so consult your favorite mechanic. Sitting parked is harder on trailer wiring, tires, and wheel bearings than continuous use.

The life-expectancy of trailer wheel bearings is not as predictable as we could wish. My first experience with a trailer wheel bearing failure occurred only two-and-a-half months and 2,500 miles after the trailer had been fully serviced in preparation for a trip from Arizona to Alberta, Canada. Back home, the shop that had done the trailer service three months earlier blamed the wheel-bearing failure on a microscopic manufacturing defect in the bearing. It’s also possible the southern Alberta “drought” that rained on me for the first six days and 700 miles of the return trip contributed to the bearing failure and a combination of cold water from mud puddles splashing on wheels that were warm from 200+ miles of travel on water-logged highways that day. Whatever the cause, the following year, and only 1,000 miles later, the damage from that initial wheel bearing failure destroyed another wheel bearing along with the trailer axle that had been damaged by the first wheel bearing failure. Déjà vu, my fear that this year’s trailer wheel bearing failure had damaged the axle again proved to be correct. A new wheel bearing barely survived the 13-mile trip to a local shop to replace the front axle that wheel bearing failures had again destroyed. It was a good thing I didn’t try taking the horses anywhere in March!

Boat trailers are especially prone to wheel bearing failure and axle damage when the grease in the wheel bearing, which has gotten nicely warm doing its job while rolling down the highway, is suddenly immersed in cold lake water when the boat is launched. Because this problem is so common, manufacturers now design special marine wheel bearing grease for boat trailer usage.

Trailers deceptively appear simple: they consist of a frame and hitch, axles, wheels and tires, brakes (on larger trailers), and wiring for lights to communicate with other drivers. A platform or box, suited to the trailer’s purpose, tops these components. This simplicity means that every component of a trailer is critical. A failure of any part easily renders the entire system inoperable. We can’t build a fail-proof trailer. Though preventative trailer maintenance isn’t a 100% guarantee, it reduces the risk of catastrophic failures in inconvenient or dangerous ways and places. A trailer that is basically in good shape is more likely to survive unpredictable problems with minimal damage. Spring is a good time to have routine and preventative maintenance done on trailers and all the other outdoor toys so they don’t leave us stranded, or worse, a long way from help. With the trailer ready to roll, a quick pre-trip inspection is all that is necessary when departure day comes for that carefully planned trip to the great outdoors.

Note: Keep chains from dragging to prevent a wildfire.

The Spirit of a Pine Needle

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 01:44:01 GMT

The Art of Decorating Gourds and Weaving Pine Needles

Article and Photos by Anne Groebner

Pine needles hold profound cultural significance worldwide, primarily symbolizing longevity, resilience, and purification. Greeks, Chinese, and Japanese people view pine trees as symbols of eternal life. Many Native American tribes view the pine tree as a symbol of wisdom and peace. Connie Cromwell knows there is something spiritual about the pine needle. She weaves them into baskets, allowing the energy to flow through her hands and create each piece, not knowing what the finish project will look like — and they are incredible.

Cromwell’s studio has a calming quality to it. Her drawings and handcrafted masks hang on one wall, and Navajo rugs on another. Music plays softly, radiating instrumentals by a Cornwall musician named Medwyn Goodall. Pine needle baskets and gourds, with pine needles woven into them, rest on a vintage dresser that is burnished with turquoise, and her drawing table, where she is creating another amazing piece of art, sits in front of the window. Each piece, whether gourd, basket, or drawing, is done with delicate detail. Some say Cromwell’s handicrafts look tedious, but she says that sitting in her studio, working and listening to music is a mindset that is far from being tedious. Stitching, weaving, painting, and drawing to create something beautiful — it’s her passion.

She started weaving pine needle baskets after finding one in a store in Pinetop that had quail feathers. The image of that basket never left her mind, and she regretted not buying it. Cromwell is retired, so when she was looking for something to do, some hobby, she remembered the basket and decided that was what she wanted to do. She had done needlework all her life, and a needle in her hand was very familiar. So, after she reseached crafting pine needle baskets, she collected needles and thread and got to work. “I made some mistakes,” she said, “and I threw away a lot of pine needles.” But she changed some things, like using just damp needles instead of sopping wet ones, and kept going.

She gets her pine needles anywhere she can; however, needles found in the forest are not the best. They sit outside so long that they get sunburned, weathered, and get black spots of mold on them. Fortunately, she has trees in her backyard, and her neighbors are happy to share their needles. Even the squirrels help her out by filing their teeth on branches until they fall. The twigs that the squirrels clip have green needles, unlike the brown ones already on the ground. Cromwell has made a few green baskets, but she has never held on to one very long because they sell fast. Although she shellacs them, she wonders if they eventually turn brown.

Cromwell spends many days outside looking for just the right needles. They have to be as long as possible. She places the needles she gathers in a bin in the shade on her deck to dry. Once she gets the bin full, she soaks them gently in soap and water for about an hour and then rinses them. After that, she soaks them in a hydrogen peroxide and water solution to remove any lingering bacteria or mold. Cromwell needs them cleaned well because she has asthma and works closely with the needles. After thoroughly cleaning them, she puts them back outside on a towel to dry. Sometimes she will cut the end caps off while they are still damp, but lately she has been leaving some of the end caps on for a uniquely styled basket.

Cromwell started using gourds because finding enough needles to last all year was difficult. With the gourds, she only uses needles as accents and trims. For Cromwell, it’s not just about the gourds; it’s about the pine needles and the artwork, paint, beadwork, and feathers, that make each finished project unique.

Last year, she decorated birdhouses made from gourds. She needed to find birdhouses that were clean and ready to be worked on. That’s when she found Martha, in coal country, Pennsylvania. Martha goes to gourd festivals and buys gourds, then takes them home and cuts, cleans, and drills them. Her work is impeccable. Cromwell will come up with an idea, sketch it out with specs, and Martha will jump on it and send her just what she needs.

When she needed a dreamcatcher for one of her projects, she went on Etsy and found Jasmine, and the dream catcher was perfect. Cromwell feels that through the years, the three of them, a creative triangle — Pennsylvania, Texas, and Arizona — have connected because of the humble pine needle.

Watching Cromwell stitch the needles was amazing. Her nimbleness comes from years of experience — placing the needle in the right spot so it comes out in the right place on the other side so you don’t break a needle. She likes to use waxed linen thread or artificial sinew because the thread holds onto the needle and keeps the baskets tight. She continually adds needles and funnels them through a copper gauge (she used a soda straw when she first started). “Basically,” she tells me, “you take a stitch and add a needle.” When she comes to the end of a needle, she clips the sharp, poky ends. Having fewer poky ends is the reason she uses such long needles — so you don’t have so many clipped edges.

Cromwell’s baskets are smooth, not prickly. When you pick them up, nothing sticks out. Pine needles have two sides: a rounded side and a concave side. To keep the baskets smooth, she places the round side to the back. She was told that to tell if a basket is well made; you look at how well the beginning weave looks. If it’s tight, it’s a well-made basket. Her customers rave about her baskets, and she sells just about everything she makes. Her husband Ric posts photos of them on Facebook, but she only sells them through Pinetop Woodworks/Jessey Jayne’s Handcrafts in Pinetop, located behind Wine Mountain. You can email her at

skinnerc333@aol.com .

Never Long Enough

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 01:39:27 GMT

Grieving the Loss of a Beloved Dog

By Jen Rinaldi

An Unthinkable Accident

The worst sound any dog owner can hear is a scream of pain. In those split seconds, the world seems to stop as you realize something irreversible has happened.

Our beloved Sully, always careful and never reckless, leapt from the top stair after an elk—something he had never done before. That single act, so out of character, would lead to his passing, and now we find ourselves living through the stages of grief.

I was in denial as I rushed down the stairs. He was already up but limping—I hoped he would just shake this off. I was angry that I hadn’t been fast enough to stop him. Then I bargained with myself. “It will disappear in a day if I let him rest.” I clung to the hope that he would be back to normal soon.

My heart sank at the reality of things as his condition only worsened. I made the appointment to have him seen immediately, knowing deep down that this was life-changing for us all.

Sage but Bitter Words

A few days later, when a second opinion was given, Sully had stopped even trying to walk around the house. He would stay on his mat, his eyes pleading with me to do something. It was decided that surgery—even though we had insurance—was simply not an option considering Sully’s injuries and his age. The veterinarian looked me in the eye and shared a difficult truth: “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” Her words carried wisdom, but they were hard to accept. It’s a reminder that sometimes the best decision is the hardest one, and even wise counsel can cut to the heart when it means letting go of someone you love.

Great times with a friend

From the time Sully was old enough, we walked together every day but Sunday—two to four miles, rain or shine. Those daily paths became our shared ritual, a rhythm that grounded both of us. I am a healthier person because of him. Lighter in pounds and in spirit. Those steps together changed me in ways that I am still discovering, leading me to patience and resolve that I never had before. He made me take time for myself.

Even though the thought of walking those routes alone feels unbearable. I live fondly in the steps of our years together and where it has brought us.

Some might say, “He’s just a dog,” but those who have loved a pet know that animals often share a deeper bond with us than many human friends. We were partners. Sully was more than a companion; he was a confidant, a source of unconditional love, as much a constant in my life as the tufts of fur that still linger under the bed where he loved to den. His wagging, curled tail and gentle eyes could lift my spirits on the darkest days, and his presence brought comfort that words will never fully capture.

Now, I feel as if I’ve lost my mojo — this final week of penance now complete.

The studio was our shared space; everything around me, from the leash hanging on the wall with my walking bag to the well-worn doorknob that led outside, reminds me of him. His absence is palpable, leaving an ache that seems to permeate every corner of home and heart.

Loss is a rollercoaster.

The stages of grieving are not linear; some days my husband and I find ourselves heartbroken at the unfairness, some days numb, others flooded with memories both sweet and sad.

It’s ironic this passing happened during the Lenten season, a season of solemn but hopeful rebirth. Because our time together reminds me of all I have gained. My health, my mind, and my heart have all improved with the wag of a tail.

During our walks, we met neighbors and hikers alike who would ask what kind of dog he was, and Sully was always patient while I explained. I grew confident in his ability to judge the character of the person I was speaking to; subtle shifts in his body language told me all I needed to know.

At shows, we met fellow dog show enthusiasts. The Canaan dog community always treated us like family, commenting on the pictures of Sully on social media. On market days, many who saw the portrait I painted of him on my table would inquire about him and order their own portraits.

As I look at the rally ribbons on the wall, I smile because even in the most sorrowful of moments, there were glimpses of beauty and humor. Sully, being a dog of his own mind, always had the judges and competitors laughing when he would, after completing a rally course, scoot out of the ring on his behind. Two different times he did this, there are videos! It was his way of saying thanks, but no thanks.

He turned nine this year, and before his last event, I told him it was fine to retire with a memorable farewell. Ever the obedient guy, he did not disappoint as he slid out with style—After all, three’s a charm. Well met, Sully, well met!

He kept bringing remarkable people into my life, even at the end. As journeys go, he has been a great tour director and breed ambassador. Thanks to Jane, a dear dog club friend, I found a compassionate vet, Cathy from White Mountain Animal Hospital, and a cremation provider, Sydney from Pawprints on the Woodlands, who came to our home and helped him find rest. I am at peace knowing he was able to be

at home.

He leaves behind not only John and me, but two cats who thought him their warden. Sully always made sure that no one scratched the furniture or played too rough. Now, even Elle and Zac sense the loss as they peek around the corners as if to say, “Hey ma, where is our brother?”

Grieving Together: The Importance of Sharing

Grief is a powerful emotion, and whether it stems from the loss of a loved one with two legs or four, it is an experience that is deeply real and should not be faced alone.

Anne, the editor of Outdoors SW, encouraged me to write about my experience while the loss was still fresh. Putting these feelings into words has been a helpful process, allowing me to heal and find comfort in expressing my emotions. For this support and encouragement, I am forever grateful.

It is important to talk about your grief. Sharing your story can ease the burden and remind you that you are not alone, no matter the form your loss takes. The White Mountains thankfully has several great counseling options.

There is no shortcut through loss, especially when it comes to a soul as gentle and loyal as Sully’s, so now as I write this, I dream of seeing him again. In the Robin Williams movie “What Dreams May Come,” there is a scene where Robin Williams makes it to heaven and the first creature he meets is his Dalmatian. He quips, “I must have really screwed up to be in dog heaven.” I wouldn’t mind starting in that heavenly space, surrounded by my beloved furry friends.

I know that in time, the pain will soften and the memories will bring comfort rather than pain. For now, though, it feels like it was never long enough—we never get enough time with those we love, whether or not they are human. Yet, the bond we shared is proof that love transcends time, and Sully’s spirit will remain with me in every footstep, even when it’s another dog that walks beside me.

It's the Season to Rediscover White Mountain Wildlife

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 01:36:10 GMT

All the White Mountain Wildlife Contribute something Positive

By Dan Groebner

With the pseudo-winter we experienced last year, our summer wildlife residents may make their appearance a little sooner this spring. Bats are already getting comfortable in temporarily vacant summer cabin attics, skunks are rousing from their winter sleep period with an appetite, birds are making nests on porches near doors, and snakes have chased the sluggish little rodents just emerging from hibernation.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a permanent resident or a summer visitor, we all have the opportunity to meet our native wildlife in our daily travels around the yard or hiking through the woods. If we’re prepared with a little knowledge, these encounters can turn into a memorable experience without a trip to the emergency room, an unexpected invoice from a pest control company, or an unnecessary and unfortunate outcome for the critters.

All of our White Mountain wildlife contribute something positive to our area, even though it may not be obvious to us, since much of their activity starts after the sun goes down. And many of their benefits are small and subtle in our perception, with many beneficial reasons to maintain wildlife populations still to be discovered. Nonetheless, there are situations where we can’t implement the multiple-use policy of our dwellings with wildlife, just because of health, safety, and sometimes nauseating, odiferous reasons (can you smell the skunk now?).

Since we have such a great diversity of animal species in the White Mountains, we could come across almost any kind of critter when we are out and about. Most wildlife try to avoid human contact, so if you run across a fox, raccoon, or squirrel that doesn’t yield to you, you might want to steer clear as it could be sick or just acclimated to people and not afraid to scratch or bite to get a treat. With AI available these days, you don’t need to get that photo petting the bear; just have the computer make it for you! But unfortunately, the people who try to get a photo with the bison in Yellowstone probably couldn’t figure out how to even turn on a computer.

So the first thing you need to pull out when encountering wildlife is your pocket full of common sense. Just giving the wildlife some room can successfully solve most encounters. This is the best approach when finding large snakes, except for maybe having a rattlesnake living under your house or in the garage. Here, if you know how to do it, you can capture and transport the snake in a large covered bucket or action packer using a hook on a pole or another long-handled implement. You can even place the bucket over the snake and then slip a flat piece of cardboard or wood under it to trap it.

Even if the snake is not venomous, most of them will bite when confronted or at least let loose with fresh, gooey excrement that they can sling with a quick whip of their tail end. Although a common garter snake is not venomous, its bite can become infected and make your finger swell up like a cucumber (almost). Most snakes are generalists in their diet, meaning you could translocate them almost anywhere in the White Mountains and they should be able to find enough food to survive. If you can safely photograph the snake, someone at Game and Fish might identify it.

The dry winter and spring so far are setting us up for another “year of the bears” in town, scrounging for food and water. Last summer was a record year for the number of bear calls and forced bear translocations, so more effort is being put into educating local residents on how to keep bears out of town this year. Even though they look photogenic from inside a house and everybody wants to show that they live in a “wild” area with bears, every once in a while we have to go outside and possibly encounter an acclimated bear, often with bad results, sometimes for both the human and the bear.

Bears risk coming into town primarily for our garbage and other food or water sources. If we can eliminate their access to those things, the bears will be forced to forage on natural foods in the woods and not in our backyards. A little planning with garbage cans locked or latched closed or in a garage, as well as clean bird feeders and secure chicken coops, will go a long way toward saving a few bears.

Having a fox, coyote, bat, skunk, or any other critter hang out in one spot for more than a day is usually not normal. Especially during the day, when they usually hide. So be careful if you try to scare it away as it could act abnormally, especially if it has distemper or rabies, which occur regularly in our area.

If someone is bitten or scratched by a wild animal, they need to seek medical attention as soon as possible to prevent any infections or diseases, including rabies. The animal does not have to be collected, but if it is dead, it can be tested or identified if it is a snake. A photo may be sufficient.

And don’t be surprised if you see more javelina, ringtails, coati, or roadrunners in the White Mountains as average temperatures are making it more hospitable for them and winters have been extremely mild. Roadrunners won’t cause any problems, but the others might like to root around in our gardens or take advantage of pet food left out on the back porch. That’s not really a problem until there is a dispute over the food with your pet some dark evening!

Bats really like some of the summer cabins in the area, as many are made of logs that are difficult to chink and seal completely. Even in conventional homes, bats can find cracks as small as a quarter-inch to get into attics and crawl spaces. You don’t want to seal any cracks on the outside of your home until you are sure the inside is completely sealed, including closets, crawl spaces, chimney edges, and especially the peaks of those sky scraping A-frames (which almost require oxygen to get to, so don’t be afraid to hire a contractor!). If bats are already being seen in the area, you don’t want to seal the outside of the home as you may trap them inside where they will die and stink up the place.

The time to seal your home is during the late fall and winter when all of our area bats migrate out of the area or find a roost in a cave or lava tube. It is probably too late now unless you can verify with a visual inspection that no bats are using the home before it is sealed. Although some bats are migrating through already, other bats won’t arrive for another month.

Now is a good time to seal off your porch from those birds nesting right above the door. You can prevent and discourage birds from nesting in an area that presents a human health and safety issue, but you can’t disturb an active nest once it has been started with eggs and chicks, even if they drop little white blob bombs on you as you scare them from the nest every time you use your own door!! So exclude them with hardware cloth, bird spikes, or close in their favorite area with wood before they get started.

One last word of caution is needed when you are live-trapping and translocating nuisance wildlife like skunks, raccoons, squirrels, etc. During the summer, many of the critters are mamas raising young, so if you trap and move her, you still have her offspring to deal with wandering around looking for her. The same is true for excluding bats from a house roost where they have left their young pups while out foraging at night.

So if you don’t want a smelly house from dead critters, or more naïve orphaned young critters causing problems, it may be best to hold off on control activities until the fall and then plan on sealing up any entrances they are using to get under or into your house.

The White Mountains’ diverse and abundant habitats, spread across its impressive elevational changes, bless us with a huge variety of wildlife, a rarity not found anywhere else in the US. We just have to remember that since we are surrounded by wildlife, interactions should be expected, but we can do things to coexist without significant conflict.

Blow Away Those Old Patterns!

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 19:20:22 GMT

Ending old patterns

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

When our March winds pick up, they can start with a gentle breeze. But they can also quickly turn up their energy. Powerfully. Strongly. Forcefully. At times, the gusts are over 50 miles an hour. The trees bend as this force of nature puts our towns on notice, “I’m here!” The temperature drops, and icy fingers of cold creep around doors and windows.

The Toot and I walk in the early morning. When the wind is strong, I have to bend almost double to keep going. I marvel at the power of the weather. When the wind stops, there’s a respite as I stand up tall and stride along with purpose.

End that old pattern

To me, the winds in March are like gathering energy to end an old pattern. When I realize something in my life is not working, I gear up. I become the power of the wind before the calm. Be it weight loss or exercise, over-investing in a shopping spree, or spending less time on my phone? I stop. And figure out: where did this habit come from?

For me, and perhaps you too, those habits stem from stress or boredom. And these behavioral patterns exist to serve a purpose and fill a need in some way. As a result, it’s difficult to simply eliminate them. “Just stop doing that” often brings up a lot of resistance, right?

Move past that old way…

How to get past that old way of doing and break that habit? Here are some tips:

• Start with awareness. It’s easy to get caught up in my feelings about those pesky habits that take me away from what’s really happening.

Instead, I focus on when the habit happens. How do I feel? Who am I with? Clarifying the activity will give me dozens of new ideas to stop it.

• Choose a substitute for that bad habit. Just as the wind’s intensity before a storm, I make a plan and gather energy for something new. For me, it needs to be just as attractive as the old habit, or it’s a no-go.

• Shift as many triggers as possible. For the wind to introduce my storm (the U-turn) to my life, I change my environment. I once worked with a woman to quit smoking. Instead of sitting in her favorite chair to smoke, she took a walk. Result? She dropped 25 pounds and stopped smoking. The outcome was attractive to her.

• Visualize yourself succeeding. When I geared up to start walking again after a major dust-up, I pictured myself slipping into my boots and walking out the door. The rest was easy.

• Use the word “yet” to overcome negative self-talk. One thing about negative self-talk is it’s easy to judge myself. Every time I slip up, I’m quick to tell myself I’ve failed again. Instead, replace “failed” with “yet” and notice how it feels. “I haven’t cleaned up that corner…yet.” What a difference.

• Plan for failure. Rather than beat myself up over a mistake, I plan for it. Sure, I can get off base. But I’ve noticed what separates top performers from the rest of us is: they get back on track quickly. Great mindset.

Be the powerful wind before the storm and end old patterns. Get unstuck.

Having over 35 years of experience, Joan Courtney, C.Ht .is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for Lil’ Toot, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

Wood Spirits

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 19:15:13 GMT

Carving spirts from Cottonwood

By Anne Groebner

Wood spirit carvings are mythical, wise, and sometimes mischievous faces carved into wood or bark, dating back hundreds of years — mythology rooted in European and Native American folklore. It’s believed that carvers of these faces release these spirits to bring good luck and ward off evil and to protect travelers. Ancient Celtic beliefs also consider wood spirits protectors of trees, and these beliefs state that trees provided not only earthly sustenance but spiritual blessings. With their roots stretching down to the Under-world and branches reaching to the Upper-world, they connect the powers above with the physical world.

Ric Cromwell is one of those carvers who releases spirits from pieces of bark from old cottonwood trees. He has been carving wood spirits for over 12 years. Meticulously carving each piece with hand tools, he is a perfectionist, working hours to get every whisker and each feature to his liking. Today there are over 281 of Ric’s carvings, and although he sells a lot of them, he has a hard time parting with some. When he first started, he carved so many that his wife, Connie, told him, “Ric, you need to start selling these; they’re all over the house!” He still has a few in his house that he will never sell.

Cromwell gets his cottonwood tree bark from British Columbia. After a cottonwood tree dies, it’s left alone for a year to slowly dry the bark, which is incredibly thick. Because it has split from a tree, it also has a curve to it. It’s important to only use bark off of cottonwood trees from cold climates. He tells me that in warmer climates; they dry too fast and will crack. He showed me the cracks in the piece he was working on. Not all pieces of wood are perfect, but once he starts a carving, he finishes it no matter what.

Ric served as a Marine in Vietnam and then went to work in a factory, and went to school at night to get his degree. After finishing college with a degree, Hyster Lift Truck Company promoted him to the purchasing department, where he worked as a professional buyer. From there, he went to work for Motorola in the two-way radio department, which eventually turned into the cellular division. After 10 years, he quit Motorola and started his own volleyball company called Sand Sports, which he sold after 15 years. The company is still in business today. He moved to Overgaard and bought the office supply store. In 2008, he started a furniture consignment business. He sold both, met and married Connie, and moved to Show Low.

Today, Cromwell is retired. He is a history buff, and his garage is full of vintage relics, including a vintage van called the “Scooby Van.” It’s a 1966 Chevy G10 Shosrty Van, with a 350 engine and four-speed, “is a kick to drive!” He also owned and sold a Willys Jeep Pickup Truck — only 16,251 made between 1957 and 1965 — very rare! Both vehicles won first place in car shows. It is an expensive but fun hobby. He says, “At 80 years old, your history is more important than your future. History is forever.”

Cromwell and his wife, Connie, love to go four-wheeling and enjoy the retired life in Show Low. Their house sits up on a hill, with a deck overlooking a mountain view — with early morning sun and afternoon shade. Although they aren’t going to an office to work, you’ll find both of them busy working on their art — Ric carving wood spirits and Connie creating pine needle and gourd baskets.

 You can find both creations at Pinetop Woodworks and Jessy Jane’s Handcrafts in Pinetop. Contact Ric at

(602) 762-6307or email: Highcountryric@gmail.com

The Bridge Across Forever

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 19:10:52 GMT

Tonto Natural Bridge

By Annemarie Eveland

Photos by Annemarie

and Courtesy of Katie Jordan

of Tonto Natural Bridge Park

I arrived early at the famous travertine bridge, even though the twisting downhill two-lane road wound tightly around the mountainside. I knew that driving slowly downhill was prudent. It was mid-morning, and some of nature was showing off a few colorful blooms and lush greenery already at the beginning of March. I wandered into the visitor center, named Goodfellow Lodge. The Goodfellow Lodge pleasantly organizes exhibits that showcase the bridge’s history, natural items of interest, as well as books relevant to the area.

I was eager to see the world’s largest natural travertine bridge and explore its tunnels, caves, and gigantic formations that belie an understanding of how they created themselves. But how it was formed was intriguing to me. Almost hidden for eons in this narrow canyon, it stands 185 feet high over a tunnel which is 150 feet wide and over 185 feet high, and boasts of a 400-foot-long tunnel. The road to the bridge is located 10 miles north of Payson and five miles south of Pine on Highway 87/260.

I learned that this Tonto Natural Travertine Bridge has quite a history. Early on, indigenous peoples used this area for over 11,000 years. Archeologists have discovered many remains here from 1000 to 4000 CE; groups of Apache used the area in the early 1500s but more so in the 1650s. The original name for this bridge was in Athabaskan, meaning “hole there."

The Tonto Apache used the area between 1600 and 1866.

The first white men to come into the Natural Bridge area were US Army Company E volunteers from what is now known as Fort Verde on July 11, 1866. They fired upon the rancheria, scattering the Apache residents and driving the Apache from the area. Then, around 1878, three prospectors, Irving House, W. Snow, and William Nelson, stumbled across the bridge and filed a squatter’s claim in 1880. Gowan from Scotland, who arrived in 1874 and served with the British Navy, helped found the community of Gisela. W. Snow offered his claim on the bridge to him to homestead before the claim expired. Gowan has been credited with its discovery.

One story about Gowen was that he fled up Pine Creek to the bridge to hide in a cavern for three days to escape the Apaches. He planted groves of walnut, apricot, peach, cherry, and pear trees, and built a small home. He grew gardens, hunted game, and prospected.

By 1882, Gowan met other settlers, and his discovery spread throughout the Arizona Territory. In the early 1890s, an English journalist wrote about his visit in the newspaper, and David Gowan Goodfellow read it, wrote to him, and the letter incredibly reached Gowan, who wanted to resume his nomadic lifestyle. So Gowan wrote back, offering him the site if he’d bring his family and permanently settle on the land.

The Goodfellows created six guest cabins and built a 10-room lodge with running water for 36 people between 1901 and 1908, though they registered 60 guests. Then, in 1948, Glen Randall asked to buy Goodfellow’s property, and they sold it to him. Randalls made ongoing improvements on the land and lived there for 21 years.

Then a series of land transfers occurred: the Wolkswinkles acquired the land in 1958, and in 1986, Tonto Bridge’s nomination and acceptance on August 21 led to the property’s listing in the National Register of Historic Places. October 12, 1990, the park sold the property to the Park’s Board, becoming Arizona’s 26th State Park.

They have made many improvements over the past years. I visited this historic treasure many years ago, and now its improvements and amenities impress me.

The lodge was a focal point for weddings, dances, and social events in the 20s and 30s. Meals were served ranch-style, with the dining room easily holding 50 to 80 guests. The walls feature old photos, and the flooring is still the sturdy strip oak from 1926. Upstairs there are 10 guest bedrooms (accommodating 24 guests in shared rooms), enclosed sleeping porches, and shared bathrooms. They used construction and furniture from various decades of the 20th century, including original cast-iron sinks. The accommodations include a General Crook Suite, the Goodfellow Suite, and the Beryle Goodfellow Suite, notable for its spacious porch capable of sleeping six. The Observation Room — the lodge’s renovation in 1987 gave it its current appearance — was originally a sewing room for the Goodfellows. It served as a bar and poolroom in 1948.

The park has four unique hiking trails: with viewpoints and scenic access trails. The Gowan Trail is steep, leads to an observation deck at the bottom of the creek, the Anna Mae Trail (500 feet) is steep and goes to the canyon bottom linking to the Pine Creek Trail; Pine Creek trail is about a half mile through the woods into a canyon and along a creek, and Waterfall Trail is 300 feet long down uneven stairs and undergrowth ending at waterfall cave. Hiking under the bridge is at least 10 degrees cooler. Starting in April this year, you can sign up for The Lodge Tour or Nature and Bird Walks. So, if you’d like to hike during the day and stay overnight at The Lodge, you can enjoy nice accommodations and friendly staff. For a couple, there is now a compliant ADA suite downstairs that rents for two people.

The Tonto Bridge facility has a functioning piano, and it is easy to imagine the rousing songs that qualified visitors can add to the volunteer piano playing. There is also an organ; David Gowan transported the organ and piano to their new home, pulling them up from the Pine Creek below via pulleys and hoisting, a daunting feat in itself. However, the organ is not playable; just a charming piece of their history.

The expansive dining room, with its lovely beams and windows that look out to natural surroundings, can accommodate about 80 guests for dinner. I was told they also provide wedding packages; the main kitchen contains all necessary cookware, and comfortable dressing rooms are available. There are two waterfalls from a spring source, offering an excellent source of water for drinking and cooking. The landscape is green even in the Arizona summer thanks to the underground water flow. However, visitors can enter the park only during its operating hours. Note: It’s best to contact the park for more information about weddings because of the limited spots available.

It was great to meet and talk with Park Manager Katie Jordan again, who has been with the park for eight years. Since I saw her in May 2018, she has a new husband and a daughter. Katie started in a seasonal position (March to November) and in November received her Ranger II status. Katie exudes a gentle charm and kindness while maintaining professionalism. I can see how she is a real asset to the worthwhile project of the still famous, forever Tonto Natural Bridge!

They estimate that this favorite Arizona State Park welcomed over 130,000 visitors in past years, which is not surprising. The property has picnic tables and ramadas, lots of easy parking spaces, and friendly, helpful staff to assist visitors. You can take a break from your cell phone except for taking photos, as there is no internet. The park entry fee is: $10/adults, $5/children ages 7 to13 and children ages up to 6 are free. Hours for the visitors’ center are 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., seven days a week, with last entry at 4:00 p.m. (hours are different during holidays). Trails close one hour before the park closes. The Tonto Bridge is located ten miles north of Payson on Highway 87.

Note: Dogs are not allowed on trails into the canyon.

It is always a good idea to check their website for any updates or reminders at azstateparks.com/tonto or call them at 928-476-4202.

A special event, “Taste at the Bridge,” happens Saturday, September 26th. For more information and tickets, visit tontonaturalbridge.org

“Knock onWood”*

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 19:06:09 GMT

Taking on more challenging activities

Article & Photos By Rob Bettaso

If, in your lifetime, you’ve worked and/or played hard enough, long enough, you might, unfortunately, eventually suffer from some kind of joint pain. As just one example, during my career as a fisheries biologist, I faced my share of occupational hazards; one of which came from routinely slipping and sliding on scummy stream bottoms while dragging seine nets and using other aquatic gear-types to study various fish populations. In my last year as a professional biologist, a doctor diagnosed minor meniscus damage in my right knee. He also added that I had osteoarthritis, which he felt compelled to mention was due to “having too many birthdays” (his clever way of telling me I was old).

The doc recommended arthroscopic surgery, which, for a variety of reasons, I wanted to avoid. At first, I opted to ask my supervisor (at that time; I was working a temporary contract with the Fish and Wildlife Service) if I could be the field data person so that I could let my sore knee rest. That helped a bit, but even as the data-taker, I still had to hike, and so when the season wound down, I decided not to renew my contract and instead, I settled into full-time retirement.

For a while, I stopped any unnecessary activity that might aggravate my knees. Once I felt better, I slowly and gently resumed hiking, but quickly realized that anytime I had to descend a steep and sustained grade, my right knee would rebel, and I would be laid-up again for a period of time. Desperate, I tried my own approach to physical therapy (PT). If hiking was tricky, I would get exercise and enjoy the outdoors by taking easy bike rides along the dirt roads around town. Perhaps because gravity plays less of a role in biking than in hiking (or, put another way, there is less of a pounding-type of impact to one’s legs), my knees did not object to cycling (I have road- and trail-biked most of my life anyway, and it has never caused any knee pains).

Because my initial positive results emboldened me, I wanted to diversify my PT regimen to include some type of activity that would be good for balance and flexibility. As such, I brought home a Tai Chi video from the library and began doing that in the evenings. That also seemed to help, even if I did feel rather foolish performing the various maneuvers.

As the warm season ended and the cold season began, biking became too chilly for my liking. Fortunately, by that time, I discovered I could hike moderate grades and distances if I was extra mindful of the terrain (e.g. rocks, roots, and unexpected dips/holes) — thereby avoiding stumbles and other sorts of missteps. When some snow finally fell, I was excited to see how cross-country skiing would affect my recovering knee. I was optimistic since, in the past, cross-country skiing had never caused me any joint pain. We had a decent amount of snowfall that year, and I got out skiing fairly often. The pushing/gliding nature of skiing not only didn’t bother my knees in any way, it also helped strengthen the supporting muscles, which may have accelerated my injured knee’s recovery.

Over the several years that have passed since those days, my self-designed PT seems to have proved sound,* and I have steadily taken more challenging hikes and basically engage in any other type of outdoor activity (keeping in mind, that as I approach 70, it’s not like I’m going to take-up something like sky-diving or power-lifting). I did, several years back, add to my PT a trick that I accidentally stumbled upon (so to speak), and that very much seems to have helped keep both knees in good working order: namely, I find that if I lay supine upon a level, flat surface (the floor of any room in my house, or even my bed), I can use the foot of my left leg to pin down and hold steady my right foot; then, if I slightly lift and partially rotate my right leg, I can get my right knee to resoundingly pop; next, I reverse the operation and achieve the same effect with my other knee. For me, I swear by this manipulation as it somehow seems to perform a vital adjustment to the knees that helps to relieve joint-compression. Besides, it simply feels (and even sounds) wonderful to have my knees make a loud “crack” as they slide into perfect alignment.

This winter (2025/2026), we’ve ridden a roller-coaster, weather-wise. One week we’ll have rain, another utter dryness, the following week we’ll get some snow. During all the scattered, small storms that have brought us sufficient snow, I have gotten out to go snow-hiking and cross-country skiing. When I wasn’t out solo, my most frequent snow hiking/skiing companion was my friend Anne. Both Anne and her husband Dan spent much of their lives in the upper Midwest, so they are no strangers to winter weather or winter sports. Unlike me, they seem impervious to the cold. Personally, I’ve never cared for temperatures below 70 degrees Fahrenheit, but I have always tried to make the best of frigid winters by playing in the snow (at least when it falls).

In mid- to late February of this year, we had several days that were suitable for fun in the snow. One spot that is a quick and easy place to get out in the snow is along a dirt Forest Service road which is closed to cars and trucks but open to snow-mobiles, skiers, and snow-hikers. Happily, this road is also near Anne and Dan’s house, so it made for a few quick and convenient jaunts on a few different occasions. And, while I don’t particularly wish to ski near loud and smelly snow-mobiles, I must say that for some snow conditions, it is much easier to ski in the tracks left by snow-mobiles.

Once the snow conditions deteriorated in town, we would head to elevations exceeding 8000 feet, where the snow lasts much longer, especially in the more deeply wooded areas where the sunshine makes less contact with the forest’s snowy floor. I guess because our season has mostly been a warm one; we didn’t encounter very many other people skiing in the high country; perhaps because they erroneously thought the conditions up high would become as sloppy as they had quickly become down lower.

I also wondered if wildlife were also sticking to the lower elevations, as it has seemed like both deer and elk have been noticeably more numerous in and around town this winter. On one particular outing, when I was out hiking in slushy snow along a quiet and seldom-used dirt road, I was especially thrilled to have an up-close and fairly prolonged look at a bobcat. I had been walking slowly and stopping frequently while observing the standard winter birds, when suddenly, I noticed not more than 30 paces ahead, a feline casually crossing the road while she faced into the sun and padded toward the Apache lands. Naturally, I stopped and stood stock-still while I slowly raised my binoculars to get a better look. Sure enough, it was a tawny/rufous colored bobcat complete with namesake bobbed tail, tufted jowl fur, and eye-spots on the backsides of her prick-up ears.

Since I don’t see bobcats very often, her image has stayed in my mind throughout these dwindling days of winter. And every time I’m immersed in the white world of our higher elevations, I keep hoping that by moving stealthily through the snow-muffled landscape, I (or preferably, we) will be lucky enough to closely (but safely) monitor some infrequently seen critter such as a lion, a wolf, or even an ermine. But then again, it is also quite gratifying to simply be outdoors enjoying the breath-taking winter scenery while also being in reasonably good health and with good friends. In fact, it kind of reminds me of a Bette Davis line from one of her many legendary films: “Why ask for the moon, when we already have

the stars….”

Get Your flow On... On a Bike!

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 19:02:19 GMT

Visualize your cycling adventures

Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

In these busy days, it’s easy to get distracted by the news, by the hundreds of small tasks that need to be done around the house, and by the next new shocking thing on social media. There are work things to do, there’s laundry to fold and finally put away, there are dogs wanting attention, and there’s an article to write. I get so easily distracted by little things that by the time I get around to deciding to do that relaxing thing I wanted to do; the time is gone and then there is another big thing I need to get to. There have been many studies that have shown that we are de-wiring our brains in real time and incredibly quickly evolution-wise because of keeping ourselves so occupied with multi-tasking. Studies have shown that the ability to enter a flow state strongly rewires positive neural connections and enhances learning and the enjoyment of life.

Flow state is a fancy way of saying that you are focusing on one task at a time and are doing it well and in a psychologically satisfying way. I think that many of us, especially our kids, do not know how to get themselves into the “flow state” that is necessary for long-term learning and overall mental health, leading to some of the poor performance and student burn-out we see in schools today. I believe that if we can teach ourselves and our kids how to get into their own personal flow states away from electronics, learning and enjoyment of life will increase exponentially. It is totally worth it to do some personal research on this phenomenon.

There have been several articles published in this magazine about flow state, so I am not writing another one, but I really believe that it is critical that we recognize what makes up flow state for each one of us. The components of flow state include having immediate feedback, creating a balance between challenge and current skill, eliminating outside distractions, and being able to focus on a single activity for its own sake. These factors allow our brains to relax and function at their peak performance level. For me, I get into a flow state when I’m outdoors doing an activity that takes some concentration and that removes me from regular life.

I take our dogs for a walk daily, early in the morning, and even though I’m often resistant to doing it, the eyes of my dogs force me to get up and go, and I’m always glad I did. What a great way to start a day: walking through a quiet wood, listening to the birds wake up and feeling the temperature gradients as I move around the hill. I’m forced to focus on one step at a time, and because I know my normal routes, I know exactly how much time I have and can wander off trail or not, depending on when I motivated myself to leave the house.

I also love to chop wood as it forces me to concentrate, one maul blow at a time, on the angle of the strike, the force needed to split the intended log but not my splitting stump and the satisfying crack of the wood when it finally splits: an excellent way to end a day and drain out whatever frustrations come my way. Writing articles or new curriculum early in the morning before anyone else is stirring is also a great way to achieve flow state for me and is a satisfying use of time, plus I often learn something new, like about how and why bark beetles dig their tunnels, about how important mitochondria are for improving our athletic lifespan or about the details of flow state research.

One of the simplest and most efficient ways to use the components of flow state is riding a bike. I’m going to admit here and now that on the weekend, when there is always so much to catch up on, I am often resistant to going on a bike ride. I feel the minutes ticking away until Monday and feel the pressure of “so much to do”, but with Mike and the dogs prompting me and the knowledge that I will love it five seconds into starting out, I go, and every single time, I’m grateful I did.

Bike riding is great because you need to focus in several directions in order to balance on a narrow, two-wheeled contraption, pedaling with alternating force side to side to move this object forward while balancing, and, once you start riding down a trail, it takes care and concentration to avoid whatever obstacles nature has put in your way. Riding a bike challenges you to improve to get faster, but punishes you if you don’t heed messages from your brain to stay within the appropriate safety parameters. Riding a bike, especially a mountain bike, allows your brain to work on all the physical riding requirements while also allowing it to process the world around you in a clearer way than you can by scrolling through screens on an electronic device.

So, let’s say you want to tap into this prime flow state activity and want to start cycling but do not know where to get started. Here are some suggestions for starting this adventure and succeeding in making it a part of your regular routine.

What’s your vision?

Mountain bikes: Do you love to go out and hike/wander in the woods? If you are an outdoor-focused person who loves wandering endless trails, loves exploring hidden elk trails, or just wants to challenge yourself over natural obstacles, then a mountain bike is probably the bike for you. Mountain bikes come in many styles, from “hardtail” with a solid frame and suspension fork or not, to “full suspension” with a rear shock and front suspension fork. Full suspension bikes are more forgiving to the rider and are easier to learn on. The suspension frame is designed to allow the bike to flex fore and aft as you move over obstacles, keeping both wheels firmly planted on the ground. A hardtail bike takes a little more skill and adaptability to move over obstacles in comfort, but is lighter and less expensive. I have several mountain bikes, from fully rigid hardtail (no suspension fork) to full suspension, and enjoy each for its own reasons, dependent on the trail surface and complexity. If the trail is smoother, a hardtail is the one I choose, but if there are rocks to maneuver through, a full suspension is much more desirable.

Neighborhood cruisers: Do you want to take a daily ride through Torreon or a similar neighborhood, where the roads aren’t too busy and you can explore safely on solid surfaces? A cruiser bike might be right for you. A cruiser has a much more upright posture and allows you to easily look around you without straining your neck. Many cruisers come in a low-step design so that you don’t have to kick over a seat to mount the bike. Put a basket in front or panniers in the back for a great way to have an excuse to take a ride down to the mailbox or over to the local store for some dinner components. Giving yourself a daily reason to get out and ride your bike is a great way to fool yourself into getting exercise and relaxing.

Gravel bikes: Do you love to challenge yourself to “go the distance” and love being out in the woods, but maybe not on a trail? Do you love the feeling of speed but hate the idea of riding on busy roads? Then a gravel bike is the perfect bike for you. Gravel bikes are visually similar to classic road bikes, but have a more relaxed and stockier frame with wider tires. They are surprisingly capable on various road surfaces and even on many single-track trails. Gravel bikes with some suspension can handle washboards and…duh.. gravel. These bikes require a little more aggressive riding position than a cruiser does, but also move faster and more easily. If your goal is to put in the miles to improve fitness fast, while enjoying the gorgeous area we live in, a gravel bike is for you.

Road bikes: If you have a place to ride safely and want to go even faster and farther than you would on a gravel bike, a road bike might be for you. Think carefully before you commit to a road bike to be sure that you have several clear, safe routes to ride. As we all know, traffic these days is not the friendliest, and it takes a lot of faith in humanity to put yourself in the position of riding a bike alongside vehicles. Road bikes certainly give you wings to fly fast and free, and you will cover long distances and increase fitness rapidly.

BMX bikes: Are you a kid or a kid at heart and want to zip around tight corners, hit big jumps and fly around a track? BMX bikes are great for really getting your freedom of expression going and getting a great workout off the seat. BMX bikes are not meant to go long distances and are more for areas where you have a bike park to play in.

E-Bikes: Are you someone who wants to get out there with friends, but doesn’t want to struggle or hold them back? Do you want to get out more often and go farther each time? Are you someone who needs to get in shape or recover from surgery or injury? Have you been riding all your life but are getting older and finding that the recovery time between rides is holding you back from riding more often? And you want to get out there and just have fun? Then there is an e-bike version of every bike mentioned above…even for the BMX bikes.

Before you get all defensive about “needing exercise” or “wanting to challenge yourself”, read one of my several articles about e-bikes to get the facts. E-bikes (not the ones with a throttle, those are e-motorcycles) let you get out more often with less recovery time and with modulated use of the e-factor, let you get just as much exercise as you would on a non-e-bike. In fact, the heart rate profile of an e-bike rider is often much more stable at a sustained optimal exercise rate than that of a non-ebike rider, with spikes in heart rate during climbs.

E-bikes are incredibly motivating because they offer exercise without having to struggle up that first hill and let you ride daily rather than weekly with a few days’ recovery in between. E-bikes put you on the fast-track path to fitness because you can start out each ride with assist until you warm up, and then you can shut down the assist to finish a ride with as much challenge as you like. Professional cycling athletes use e-bikes regularly as part of their training and fitness regimes because they can do repeated versions of something they want to improve on without exhausting themselves and can increase endurance and focus. I ride my e-bike every Sunday, and, like I mentioned, when there is the “too many things to do” excuse looming over my head every time, the e-bike tempts me out, lets me explore trail-less areas and is just plain fun.

Indoor exercise bike: Are you just so busy that you have a hard time getting out regularly but want to stay in shape for when you can get out? Then having an indoor exercise bike is important to include in your bike collection. I normally leave the house just as the sun is rising and return as it is setting. There are dogs to walk in the morning and dinner to fix in the evening, so how do I make time to get out and ride? Not as good for flow state, but close, the trainer bike and associated virtual world is there for me nearly every evening to keep in shape during the week and drain my energy battery before bed so that intruding and unnecessary thoughts don’t keep me up. A different bike for different reasons all year long.

So…happy spring! My flow state is calling, and I need to get outside. Socks can wait to be paired, windowsills can wait to be dusted, papers can wait to be graded, and there are a whole bunch of chickens wanting to be fed.

The Canvas and the Chronicle of Carol Sletten

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 18:57:01 GMT

Writer, artist and long time resident of the White Mountains

By Anne Groebner

The rustic Pinetop cabin of Carol Sletten and Eric Kramer was everything I expected it to be. The living room featured two walls of books encased by beautiful wooden built-in shelves — many vintage editions, some inherited from her grandfather and father — surrounded by framed artwork, cultural artifacts, and relics. Cozy leather couches rest on antique rugs that cover a beautiful wooden floor. Natural wildness filled the outer landscape — wildflowers’ stems and leaves that tried to survive winter, now waiting to bloom, and giant metal sculptures stood watch, waiting for spring. It was the home of both writers and creatives — both intellectual and humble.

Ginger, a dog they rescued from Tails of Love (a local dog and cat rescue), tentatively greeted me; however, after I had been there a while, she wandered over for some pets and to share the bowl of nuts that Carol had placed near me. Her independent demeanor and physical features reminded me of a coyote, and although she was cautious, she was very gentle.

Carol is a very gracious host and an amazing writer, artist, and photographer. She is originally from Minnesota; however, her father was a professor who spent years getting advanced degrees in science. She lived in several places and ended up attending college in Iowa, where she studied fine art and creative writing — two career paths she used her entire life. Her art focuses on nature, and her writing brings history to life. She has held a month-long residency at the Petrified Forest National Park, and Apache County has selected 10 of her paintings to use in their library to library event.

Carol has lived in the White Mountains since 1970, where she was married and had two girls. Before she met and married Eric, he was an editor for the Associated Press and a union vice-president, which won equal pay for women journalists. When they lived together near New York City, Eric was an editor for Dow Jones and then worked for Bell Labs. After nearly 10 years, they landed back in the White Mountains. During her early career, Carol worked as a reporter, a copywriter/designer for an ad agency, a writer/illustrator for a university information center, a teacher, and a gallery owner.

Both she and Eric wrote and published the “Story of the American West, Legends of Arizona,” a book that took 25 years to research. It starts two-hundred-eighty million years ago and covers a thoroughly detailed history of east-central Arizona up to World War II. They collected oral histories from both Native and non-Native sources and other historical resources in several locations — the result is a book filled with Arizona’s history, including the Pleasant Valley War, the Wild Bunch and other outlaws in the White Mountains, Arizona’s first capital, the lost Apaches, Zane Grey and many other fascinating stories of the wild west.

Carol also wrote and published Three Strong Western Women, which is based on a play she wrote and performed for years. It features stories about a Mormon handcart pioneer, a Lutheran missionary, and an Apache warrior woman — all healers. Each woman describes a life of struggle and overcoming tragedy in the early western days. The book includes a copy of the play, which has received critical acclaim, and 17 chapters of background history written by Eric. The covers for both books are Carol’s paintings, and she sketched all the illustrations.

Carol is currently working on a novel, “Apache Jesus,” about a powerful historical Apache leader, and Eric spends many nights in Fort Apache helping some of the most fluent Apache speakers create an Apache dictionary. It will be online and in print — something so advanced that the technology allows you to place your phone over the page to hear the words in both English and Apache.

After all these years, Carol is grateful for the help she was given throughout her career, and she says, “I’m at the stage where I would like to promote other people and help them. I believe that if we promote our region together and focus on what’s good about it, it benefits everybody.”

You will find Carol’s paintings and photographs at the Arts Alliance of the White Mountains in Show Low, the Heritage Center in Springerville and the Pinetop Gallery.

Horseback Riding The Springs Trail

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 18:52:23 GMT

Horseback riding the White Mountain Trail System, Arizona

Article and photos by Allanna Jackson

The warm, dry weather in the White Mountains continued into mid-February. The 12th of February was an unseasonably warm 60 degrees with sunshine and a light wind — a perfect day for a horseback ride, especially since the weather forecast predicted a stormy weekend.

Velvet got worriedly excited watching me hitch the horse trailer, not knowing what I was planning. She dashed around in circles in her corral, keeping a close eye on Cinnamon and me. Meanwhile, Cinnamon observed the trailer hitching from the far side of her corral. I did my usual pre-trip inspection of the truck’s fluid levels and the lights and tires on the whole rig.

Velvet eagerly met me at her gate. Cinnamon came to her gate more slowly. I gave both horses a quick grooming, then led them to the trailer. To my surprise, Velvet jumped in first! Cinnamon climbed in next. I finished securing everything for travel and took the horses up to Springs Trail.

There was one white SUV in the parking lot when we arrived. A couple returned from their hike just after I had unloaded the horses. They greeted me cheerfully and mentioned there were a few muddy spots on the trail. The man commented on my having two horses with me, wondering if one was a spare in case of a “flat tire”. I explained I was going to ride one and lead the other. After our friendly chat, they got into their vehicle and departed. Velvet, Cinnamon and I had the trailhead to ourselves.

I saddled and booted Cinnamon, and we set off leading Velvet. The new rollover bicycle gate is right beside the old horse gate, just beyond the trailhead kiosk. Cinnamon sidestepped to the horse gate to help me open it, then walked through. Velvet followed her. We turned around and Cinnamon helped me close the gate.

We found the first slightly muddy spot only a few feet down the trail, but it was only tacky on the surface. The horses walked briskly as we followed the trail down and around into the Thompson Creek Canyon between markers Springs Trail 1 and 2 (S1 and S2). Velvet carefully picked her way across the rocky creek crossing, not quite following Cinnamon’s route. Thompson Creek is just after S1. The trail climbs up and down the canyon wall, following the creek from S2 to S4. Cinnamon was cautious on the descents, but we still made good time on this portion of the trail. I was pleasantly surprised to see pools of water in the creek in all the usual places and concluded they must be fed by Thompson Spring. There was ice on the pools in the shadiest spots.

After climbing out of the canyon, for reasons known only to the horses, they slowed down on the smooth relatively flat section of trail between S4 and S6. Cinnamon looked up and down the power-line easement as we crossed it after S5. I nudged her along a little faster going toward the junction with Old Hatchery Trail and Pinetop Spring near S6. After several false alarms, my camera announced its battery was empty and quit.

Pinetop Spring was dry. It is identifiable by several broken and overturned concrete boxes, remnants of the long-defunct Pinetop Fish Hatchery, for which the Old Hatchery Trail is named.

After S6, the trail crosses Billy Creek, then follows the creek to S8. Velvet lagged a little in this section. I woke them up by asking Cinnamon to run walk along the smooth section of trail after S7. Velvet, who inherited 7 different gaits, shuffled around among several of them including a high-stepping trot as she followed Cinnamon or came up beside her.

Both horses carefully crossed the wooden bridges near S9. We followed the trail through the forest, where we found a few more slightly muddy spots. We descended into the canyon, crossed Billy Creek again, and climbed up the other side near S10. This section was rocky, so the horses slowed down to find the best footing. We strolled along through the forest back toward the trailhead.

I saw a white SUV in the trailhead parking lot as we approached S13. It looked quite similar to the vehicle we’d seen when we arrived, but I was sure it was a different car. After S13, we saw a couple with walking sticks slowly making their way back toward the trailhead from the direction of S1. They greeted us, and the lady offered to open the gate for my horses. I told her, “We can get it.” I stopped the horses. We waited for the other people to go through. After the man had carefully stepped across the bottom crossbar of the gate and gone on toward the kiosk, the lady continued holding the gate wide open. I thanked her as I rode the horses through. Cinnamon stepped neatly over the crossbar with all four feet. Velvet followed, dragging her hind toes on the bar with a slight ding. After we were all safely clear of the gate, the lady closed it. I thanked her again and rode the horses over to the trailer. The couple got into their white SUV and departed. I unsaddled and groomed the horses, loaded them into the trailer, and went home.

We were only a quarter mile from the house when I felt the trailer’s left front wheel-bearing seize. When I went to unload the horses, I caught a whiff of hot oil from that wheel. My horse trailer had to be repaired before it could be used again. Over the past 40 years, this trailer’s left front wheel bearings have repeatedly over-tightened themselves and destroyed two axles during normal use. This time I’ve asked the mechanics to figure out why because I’ve had no trouble with the other three wheels. A horse trailer that is not ready to hitch, load the horses, and go is useless for trail riding or an evacuation.

Spring Bird Migration

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 18:47:41 GMT

Birding Opportunities in the White Mountains of Arizona

By Dan Groebner

Is our winterless spring actually here? We’re going to need some well-timed storms in the next few months to keep us out of scary fire conditions, since we are running so far behind right now. But that scenario has happened in the past, so let’s cross our fingers and be “fire-wise” starting now.

If you spend any time outside, you have probably also noticed that the days are getting longer as summer approaches. And they are getting longer faster than at any other time of the year, and it has nothing to do with daylight savings time. In fact, we gain over an hour in March in the White Mountains, where in the northern U.S., like in Ely, Minnesota, they gain almost two hours during March. It all has to do with the tilt of the Earth and the angle at which sunlight reaches us during different seasons, with northern latitudes experiencing more extreme differences in angles from summer to winter. On the spring or vernal equinox, March 20, the length of the day and night is essentially the same throughout the globe, gradually becoming longer for us until the summer solstice on June 20.

Most biologists point toward day length as a primary cue for birds to start migrating back north again in the spring. Chasing the longer day lengths pays off in more time for feeding and higher productivity in prey species and plant growth, even if you have to expend a lot of energy doing that. Fortunately for us, that means the birds are parading through the area right now in front of us literally saving us the hassle and expense of traveling to see them in their northerly summer or exotic winter habitats.

The White Mountains of eastern Arizona support many different types of layover habitats for migrating birds and those who decide to hang out and make it their breeding territories. Since our area provides so many acres of high-quality habitat, wildlife agencies monitor populations from year to year to measure any changes in numbers to assist in conducting management activities or recommending changes. Some species being monitored include bald eagles, peregrine falcons, osprey, marsh birds, herons and cormorants and other birds nesting in rookeries, grebes, pinyon jays, yellow-billed cuckoos, bluebirds, mountain plovers, kestrels, and willow flycatchers.

Even though most of these monitoring activities are conducted by the Arizona Game and Fish Department, Tribal Wildlife Agencies, the US Forest Service, or the US Fish and Wildlife Service, there are many opportunities for the general public to learn more about their results and possibly get involved with helping collect data for these surveys.

One of these opportunities is the upcoming Arizona Bird Conservation Initiative meeting in Pinetop on Thursday, March 26, at the Arizona Game and Fish Regional Headquarters conference room from 10:00 to about 2:00 pm. The office is located at 2878 East White Mountain Boulevard, on Highway 260 in Pinetop. The meeting is open to the public.

This annual Bird Conservation meeting is usually attended by interested members of the general public and biologists from various wildlife management agencies. Annual status reports will be provided on various species and habitat improvement projects and outreach efforts.

The Important Bird Area program will be discussed, and nearby areas with this designation will be identified, allowing interested birders to focus on spots with a rich diversity of birds or the high likelihood of seeing specific groups of birds. The two closest areas are the Upper Little Colorado River Watershed and the Blue River, are important bird areas.

Another project that will be discussed at the meeting is the relatively new method of monitoring the long-range movements of even some of the smallest birds, called the Motus telemetry system. The miniature tag placed on the bird can be solar-powered, uses very little power, and is detected by any of thousands of automated Motus receiving stations distributed throughout the world. These stations are usually directly connected to the internet, allowing almost real-time notices of detections to the scientists who placed the Motus tag on the bird in the first place.

Are you looking for ways to help a little when you have time? There will be plenty of opportunities announced at this meeting to get involved with bird conservation in the White Mountains. This could range from something as easy as reporting a number on the neck of a banded goose on Rainbow Lake to setting up your own bluebird trail of a few nest boxes.

One of the easiest and most effective ways to help the local eagle, osprey, and waterfowl population is to help with a lake cleanup project aimed at removing the monofilament fishing line that can entangle both adult and young raptors. The Rim Lakes cleanup project will be held on April 29, 2026, and co-sponsored by the Arizona Game and Fish Department and Arizona Public Service. Volunteers will be needed to walk the shores of Willow Springs along with Woods and Bear Canyon Lakes. Wildlife managers Abigail Coleman and John McMahan are organizing the event. More details and free registration can be found at (928) 367-4281.

If you have the activity pattern more similar to a bat or an owl, there are also bird surveys that need to be done at night. And they are not for owls! The nightjar family of birds actively feed after dusk and before dawn and includes the common nighthawk that can be seen hunting moths under the lights at the football field on Friday nights. Some estimates show a significant decline in these species of birds, possibly because of their high dependence on abundant and healthy insect populations, which have been hurting lately with our extended drought.

Activities and field trips of the Arizona Field Ornithologists organization will also be announced, including some mountain plover surveys in the White Mountain areas. One of the annual counts they help coordinate with the eBird birding app is the Global Big Day on May 9, 2026. On this one day each year, people count as many birds and species as they can on routes and areas organized by county and report them to the eBird app for all to see and enjoy.

Even though it is still months away, planning for the 2027 High Country Hummingbird Festival on July 25, 2026, at the Sipe White Mountain Wildlife Area has begun. This year’s festival will provide many tips on photographing hummingbirds, involve the public in an “AI” Hummingbird Count (Annual Instantaneous, that is), and display what is purported to be the world’s largest (and possibly only) self-cleaning hummingbird feeder! Don’t miss it! The festival also needs volunteers, so please call (928) 532-2308 to sign up to help.

Looking Up

Thu, 19 Mar 2026 18:50:14 GMT

Article and photos by E. Alcumbrac

What do we see when we look up? In the White Mountains, we are surrounded by towering giants. We smaller creatures scurry between them. From our perspective, we observe only their legs — robust and steady — appearing still in contrast to the rapid pace of our lives. If we examine the lines on their trunks — like wrinkles formed over a lifespan much longer than our own — we can trace them up to the youngest branches. These extremities are flexible and animated, waving gently in the wind. The scene is a turquoise sky of dwindling branches reaching into the vivid blue expanse.

“The sky constantly changes, but the trees remain fixed to the same ground I stand. In this moment’s stillness, we are sharing the same sky — a scene that will never be exactly like

this ever again.”

— E. Alcumbrac

On any given day, I grab my pack and my camera, lace up my hiking boots, and head into the forest. I keep my eyes down — the terrain here can be perilous and demands focus. Resembling patina on copper, lichen adorns the jagged edges of basalt rock. Fallen pine needles blanket the ground; each step releases the earthy aroma of petrichor — a unique scent shaped by the relationship between minerals, detritivores, and the surrounding trees. While being careful not to twist an ankle or crush a young sapling, there is indeed beauty to behold while looking down.

Feeling the sun’s warmth on my face, watching clouds drift slowly across the sky, or searching for patterns among the stars — all these experiences inspire one simple gesture: looking up. It feels entirely human to look up at the heavens and lose myself in thought. It is an infinite direction, and with it, endless possibilities. When I gaze upwards, I cannot help but feel small, and the challenges I face in my day-to-day life become smaller with me. The sky constantly changes, but the trees remain fixed to the same ground I stand. In this moment’s stillness, we are sharing the same sky — a scene that will never be exactly like this ever again.

When I photograph a tree, I treat the experience less like nature documentation and more like a portrait. I try to capture personality emphasized by light and color. Taking a portrait of a human being from such a low angle would make for a very unflattering picture. However, I think it suits the trees quite well. The perspective is that of a child looking up at a parent. Under the bow of a tree I feel safe and protected by something much larger and greater than me. As a silent observer, I witness the slow conversations amongst these giants—they exist in a realm beyond my reach, and much of what they have to say, quite literally, goes over my head.

The personification of a tree can breathe life into what is too easily disregarded as an inanimate object. I choose to appreciate them, express my gratitude to them, or even go as far as to love them. When I wake up on a cold morning and look out my window, it is the glowing treetops bathed in first light of the sun that are the refuge for birds and squirrels trying to warm up after the long night. When I watch an Arizona sunset — which is, without a doubt, the most beautiful in the world — I wish I could grow as tall as the trees. Then I could see the sun in the tapestry of colors across the sky a moment longer, just like they do. The trees are far more than wood and leaves; they can be our teachers should we ever choose to look up and learn how these beings embody harmony with their surroundings.

Where Have All the Birds gone

Thu, 26 Feb 2026 06:27:54 GMT

The “Great Bird Depression of 2025-26” in the White Mountains.

By Dan Groebner

Most of the discussion in the White Mountains lately has centered on the lack of any significant snowstorms this winter. Since more than half of our precipitation and recharge moisture comes in the form of snowpack, we probably should talk about it. An honest discussion of why we continue to get drier and drier might not hurt either.

Some people have astutely noted a lack of many of their familiar feathered friends both at their feeders and on the area lakes. The Christmas Bird Count, conducted by the National Audubon Society and many dedicated volunteers, may have noted at least a small decrease in bird numbers locally. Duck hunters have only had a couple of storms during the season and haven’t seen the numbers of ducks like in previous years. And most people feeding birds have not been refilling the feeders like in years past.

These are not very scientific assessments of the local bird populations, but enough observations by locals can be very convincing, even without any kind of strategic sampling strategy or complex statistical voodoo formulas.

Some reasons for these perceived drops in bird numbers could be obvious, while others are more subtle and nearly invisible. Much of the western US has had a relatively mild winter, like we are experiencing in Arizona. Since migration is very energy intensive and exposes travelling birds to unfamiliar risks and higher mortality, most birds will only migrate as far as they need to, if they even need to!

Northern states have long been trying to keep waterfowl in their states as long as possible through food plantings and raising water levels in marshes temporarily, but harsh winter storms have been very effective in convincing the birds to fly south to a more favorable latitude. This year’s weather, along with the accommodations already prepared for wintering birds, have probably been enough to convince even the most traditionalist bird migrator to stick around areas like Great Salt Lake or other northerly lakes and reservoirs.

Without snow covering the ground, many seed-eating birds are enjoying the all-you-can-eat wild smorgasbord by dining solitarily, instead of at the hyper-social backyard bird feeders. Feeding alone in areas with lots of shrub cover discourages hawks and falcons from preying on the smaller birds, so many of the smaller birds will spend much more time in these wild areas instead of at a feeder in a nicely manicured lawn or backyard. During most winters, this food source is buried under a couple feet of snow for at least a month or two, and many birds find it easier to forage at feeders.

We might also see a delayed response from the ongoing drought conditions in the area through a depressed overall reproductive rate and year-round survival of new bird recruits. Many young chicks rely on high-protein and energy-rich insects as some of their first foods. Insects require relatively high humidity for their various life stages to mature, which rarely happens in drought-stricken habitats. The smaller number of insects might only have a subtle effect on a local batch of bird chicks, but if there was a lack of these food sources over a wider range, it could be a reason for some of the bird population declines we are perceiving.

Drought conditions during the summer obviously affect the growth and maturation of grasses and their nutritious seed heads. If birds that feed primarily on seeds cannot find enough, they will have to move on to other areas, giving us the impression that their population is declining.

Even though avian bird flu is certainly present in Arizona, there have been no reports of large-scale die-offs of any type of bird species, so this disease probably isn’t the reason for seeing fewer birds this year. And you might see more YouTube videos these days of hawks taking advantage of backyard bird feeders for an easy meal with the proliferation of motion-detecting Ring cameras, but predation by itself can not explain why we are seeing fewer birds this winter.

Undoubtedly, some of you may fill your feeders just as much, or maybe even more, than you have been in previous years. Lucky birder!! You may have started feeding before any of your neighbors, or you may have caught a noisy flock of juncos that attracted a few loudmouth black-capped chickadees who then did the bulk of the advertising for your feeder. Or do you offer water as well? This is probably more effective in attracting birds, considering our current conditions.

Even if your feeder is not bringing in any birds now, it might be a good idea to maintain it until the spring green-up. A sudden snowstorm will blanket the ground and bury the seeds that birds have had no trouble finding until now. You might also provide a nutritious meal for migrating birds, who can use any easy to get calories they can find.

Whatever the cause, or causes, for our collective observations of fewer birds in the area this winter, it could just be a one-winter phenomenon, with numbers rebounding next year if we are fortunate with more precipitation. Recent studies in New Mexico by university researchers showed an immediate response by nesting birds to even small-scale increases in moisture.

Since there are so many variables that shape the size and breeding success of bird populations, we may never know what caused the “Great Bird Depression of 2025-26” in the White Mountains. But if you all would go out and do your best snow dance, we might eliminate one of the suspects!!!

Wondering how to learn more about birds in the White Mountains??

Interested in helping with some simple bird surveys? Want to get involved with possibly saving the life of a local eagle or osprey? Curious about the status of the eagle nests in the White Mountains? Wondering why some geese on the area lakes are wearing neck bands with numbers? How about conducting a bird survey from the comfort of your vehicle with guaranteed sightings of your target species?

You can learn more about these opportunities and many more by attending the Annual All Birds Conservation Initiative meeting at the Pinetop Game and Fish Headquarters during the week of March 23, with the exact date to be determined. To get more information, email dgroebner@azgfd.gov or call (928) 532-2308.

This meeting is open to anyone interested in local birds. Many citizen-scientist type projects will be introduced. In addition, federal and state wildlife agency biologists will provide reports on local bird populations and training opportunities.

Mighty Mitochondria

Thu, 26 Feb 2026 06:22:59 GMT

Think smaller about exercise … way smaller!

By Carol Godwin, Cyclemania

Bio 101: The “powerhouse of the cell” and how we depend on it to stay healthy and strong.

Round and round we go; back once again to spring and wondering where winter went and if it came at all. I’ve been out in shorts all December and January, and now in February, it’s in the 60s in the afternoons and almost no trace of the white stuff left in sight. Not great news for our thirsty trees and wildlife, but on the bright side, there’s hardly been a break in the hiking/riding season around here. Trails are mostly dry, and when I go out to ride lately, I come back confused, thinking it’s still fall, with golden leaves strewn across the ground, light cool breezes on my face, and day lengths getting longer each day.

Trail surfaces are perfect for maintenance right now, but honestly, with zero runoff, there’s not much to do but smooth out a few ruts made by over-eager riders. Weird and disconcerting times, but here’s hoping there’s a late wet snowy winter storm track or an early spring gentle rain to rehydrate our forest floor. Hoping…waiting…thinking.

Besides a couple of fat bike rides on limited snow, I’ve been spending most of the winter riding the bright sunny trails of Watopia in spring. I’ve been enjoying the blooming flowers and green grass of this virtual world as I wait for the real one to spring back to life; sweating inside instead of freezing outside. Why take the time to keep riding, virtually or in real life, all winter? Why not take a break and hibernate with a sleeve of Thin Mints and endless episodes of Judge Judy while I wait for the calendar to tell me to get back outdoors? Here’s why. It’s science. It’s heart health. It’s aging. Its mental stability, and it’s preventing vital cellular mitochondria from trying to leave on vacation from disuse.

Let’s take a virtual field trip back to high school biology class to brush up on why you need to keep on moving, want to or not. Primarily, they’re the mitochondria. We all learned that the mitochondrion is the “powerhouse of the cell” in our biology classes, but there is so much more to learn and understand.

The mitochondria began as primitive prokaryotic (bacterial) cells billions of years ago before any of our eukaryotic cells even existed and before oxygen was readily present on our planet. These primitive cells could take stored chemical energy from the environment and release that energy to give them the power to move, grow, and reproduce. Mitochondria have their own unique bacteria-style DNA, can reproduce on their own (mitochondrial bio-genesis) and can produce their own proteins.

Mitochondria also play an important function in keeping calcium balanced in the blood, which is essential for muscle contraction and bone health. Mitochondrial dysfunction is a key factor in the development of osteoporosis and the ability of bones to repair themselves after injury. They are responsible for our body’s energy, muscle contraction, stamina, bone strength, heart and brain health, and our ability to recover from illness and injury. Mitochondria are the reason your first fertilized cell could divide and differentiate, making you a human being.

Mitochondria are the basis of our entire existence and greatly influence the probable length of our time as living multicellular beings…who knew? Note: It has been a little terrifying and eye-opening to research this article. The number of rabbit holes that information about mitochondria has led me down is mind-boggling…

About 2 billion years ago, a primitive mitochondrion was absorbed into another primitive cell in a process called endosymbiosis, and thus began one of the two most important biological interactions of all time; the other being photosynthesis, but that’s a story for another time.

Mitochondria within an eukaryotic (modern) cell allowed that cell to have almost unlimited energy pumped out by their tiny internal invader, and these cells could use that unlimited energy to grow, specialize, and eventually become part of a human bike rider. The tiny mitochondria benefited from having a safe, cozy, larger cell to live in and also from that larger cell providing them with the raw ingredients needed to create this unlimited energy for the bigger cell.

An interesting point is that the inner working membranes of mitochondria were themselves once independent proteobacterial cells, which now work in a crazy nesting doll scenario over billions of years of endosymbiosis; each less primitive cell benefiting from its internal predecessor. Increased energy for cells and coordination between cells eventually resulted in the complex multicellular organisms we know today.

Modern eukaryotic cells that used significant energy demanded a lot from each mitochondrion, and those mitochondria, being able to reproduce by themselves (bio-genesis), reproduced and filled these cells with multiple copies of themselves, often connected in complex energy-producing networks. Human egg cells have up to 600,000 mitochondria to power embryo formation; nerve cells have about two million mitochondria apiece to send and receive messages, and brain cells have 1,000-2,500 mitochondria depending on demand. Muscle cells have thousands of mitochondria, many more mitochondria than skin cells have, and exercised muscle cells have more than twice as many mitochondria than sedentary ones…you see where this is leading, I’m sure.

Cycling is a great way to keep your muscles, both heart and skeletal, demanding increased mitochondrial density and survival. Because of mitochondrial bio-genesis, mitochondrial density is not dependent on the host cell’s reproduction, meaning that you do not need bigger muscles to build mitochondrial density in each individual cell. Your heart replaces cells continually, but it does not add to the total number of cells present in the heart.

As you exercise, the heart cells gain more mitochondria per cell, each containing 5,000-8,000 per cell, and become more efficient at their job of circulating your blood and using inhaled oxygen to do so. Mitochondria use oxygen to produce the ATP energy they create, so aerobic efficiency is directly related to the density of mitochondria in the muscle and heart tissue, and increased oxygen intake has no effect unless there are sufficient mitochondria to use that increased oxygen.

Studies have shown that understanding and focusing on mitochondrial health can reduce chronic heart issues, increase metabolic efficiency, increase muscle stamina and strength, decrease the need for anaerobic lactic acid formation and the resulting muscle soreness. Mitochondrial health has been shown to lower hypertension and slow atherosclerosis. Increased metabolic efficiency has been shown to help prevent type 2 diabetes and cardiovascular disease. Mitochondrial health, density, and efficiency naturally decrease with age, so focusing on building and maintaining a strong mitochondrial base is essential to slow the rapid muscle fatigue which becomes more prevalent as a body ages, and delay the eventual and inevitable end of our lives. How do we encourage and improve mitochondrial health?

• Regular physical activity is the primary factor in boosting mitochondrial health: cycling, hiking, brisk walking, and swimming. When we take an extended break in the winter, we lose most of the gains we had during summer, and this is readily apparent when we do the first rides of the season with riders tiring easily and complaining of being “out of shape”. Not only are they “out of shape”, they have decreased their skeletal and cardiac muscle mitochondrial density to the point where an increased breathing rate has no effect on muscle function. If the mitochondria aren’t there to use that inhaled oxygen to provide energy to the muscle cells, no amount of increased oxygen flow will help.

Mitochondria have a roughly two-and- a -half-week life, which means without stimulation, half of the mitochondria in a cell will age out, dissolve, and be removed from the cell as waste. Another two weeks and you end up having approximately 25% of the original mitochondrial density. Therefore, continuous exercise is vital to “staying in shape” (this includes your brain!). Use it or lose it…unfortunately. On the flip side, mitochondrial density responds fairly quickly to increased exercise demands and shows significant increases over two to six weeks of consistent training, with maximum density being achieved at around eight to twelve weeks. Not good news for weekend warriors, but great news for those who keep on keeping on all winter.

• High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT) is great for improving mitochondrial density and function. Sprint/recovery and climbs/downhills are easy to accomplish on a bike. Varied single track trails with strenuous climbs are totally worth doing-no pain,

no gain!

• Heart rate monitoring is an efficient way to vary exercise intensity and increase cardiac muscle mitochondrial density, allowing your heart to more efficiently use oxygen and reduce strain on these muscles. Learn what your heart is telling you and focus on maintaining and understanding your most efficient rates to maximize endurance.

-Resistance/load-bearing activities like weight lifting or carrying/pushing heavy loads are great ways to push your muscles to the max and have them demand mitochondrial bio-genesis.

• A diet consisting of antioxidant and magnesium-rich foods like leafy greens, foods rich in omega-3 fatty acids like salmon or other fatty fish help support mitochondrial membrane integrity, foods rich in coenzyme Q10 like nuts and seeds support enzyme activity and reduce cellular aging and electrolyte drinks can provide the sodium, magnesium and potassium essential to building the potential energy gradients across both the mitochondrial and muscle cell membranes needed to both produce ATP energy and initiate muscle contraction.

• Avoid unnecessary antibiotics. Why? Remember back to the introduction where I reminded you that mitochondria started out as independent prokaryotic cells (bacteria)? Antibiotics target bacteria. Studies have shown that extended antibiotic use can actually damage our mitochondria to the point where they are less efficient in providing the vital energy our bodies need to fight infection. Disruption of mitochondrial ATP synthesis can lead to elevated oxidizing compound levels, which have been shown to cause genetic cellular mutations (cancer). Follow doctor’s orders: don’t take antibiotics for viruses, don’t take antibiotics not prescribed for you (duh…), and follow up antibiotic regimes with a strongly mitochondrial-healthy diet of antioxidants. Monitor the use of antibacterial creams on injuries because not only do they kill possible invading bacteria initially (a good thing), they can damage the cell’s ability to heal the injury if they are used long term because of compromised mitochondrial function. Soap and water are usually the best bet for minor cuts and scrapes and will let your cells get on with the process of healing more quickly.

Ding! Science class is over. In summary, in order to maintain your physical health, you need to consider your mitochondrial health. Regular exercise increases mitochondrial density and muscle efficiency. Your heart is a muscle; treat it as such and get it out exercising too. Vary the intensity of your exercise and keep it regular. Your brain isn’t a muscle, but it uses 20% of the energy demanded by your body, thus is mitochondria-rich, needing stimulation to maintain mitochondrial health. Diseases like Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and Huntington’s are related to mitochondrial defects, so keeping your mitochondria healthy is a win/win situation for the entire body.

Beyond mitochondrial health, exercise, especially the outdoor kind, keeps you mentally engaged, levels mood swings, and has shown to provide physiological benefits long past the duration of the exercise. Get out there, or stay inside and exercise, but just do it! Your body will thank you in immeasurable ways…your mighty mitochondria will thank you too.

Extra credit: Overall aging and the resultant eventual death of multicellular organisms are thought to originate in the mitochondria. Over time, the mitochondrial DNA is susceptible to damage from various sources, and inevitably, it eventually becomes less efficient at energy production. Without energy, body cells slow their functions, lose their ability to replace themselves, and will eventually cease their essential functions…resulting in the death of the multicellular organism they are a part of. If that isn’t motivation to keep the mitochondria healthy and avoid potentially damaging oxidative agents, I don’t know what is!

One more cool fact …Every mitochondrion in your body comes from your mother (Why? Because the male DNA is the only contribution to a fertilized egg, not his mitochondria or other cell parts) and her mother before her and her mother before that, going back 150,000 years ago to the “Mitochondrial Eve” whose mitochondrial DNA footprint is seen in every modern living human being!

Enjoy this amazing life we have and think about the tiny billions-year-old machines providing our cells with energy since before the dawn of man. Awesome, right?

Knockin' About Around Town

Thu, 26 Feb 2026 06:18:56 GMT

A day that was very pleasant, indeed!

Article and photos by Rob Bettaso

Some days begin poorly but end well. A recent example involves my finicky furnace, which was old and unreliable when I bought my house back in 2005. The “beast” (the name I gave it early on) burns natural gas, which it blows noisily and inefficiently through portions of the house using an electrically powered fan. Despite the fact that I ritualistically lower the beast’s thermostat to 60 degrees Fahrenheit for my sleeping hours, it nonetheless frequently roars to life throughout our cold winter nights. Because I typically fall into a dead sleep for the first five hours of the night, I am usually not troubled by its machinations, but by 3:00 to 4:00 a.m. (when my deep sleep is replaced by REM sleep) the beast’s bellowing will often disrupt my slumbers.

The rumbling of the beast and its inefficient distribution of heat are not its only faults. No, the beast also has the occasional habit of having its pilot light mysteriously extinguish at some point in the night. Naturally, when the pilot goes out, there is no way for the gas to be ignited, and the beast lays dormant through whatever remains of the night – while the house steadily gets colder and colder. Then, when I awake around 5:00 a.m. (often fully rested, since my sleep had not been interrupted by the beast’s nocturnal fury) I have to spring from beneath the warmth of my heavy blankets and make a mad dash to the main room so that I can open the furnace grates, reignite the pilot, and re-start the beast so that frostbite doesn’t set in before I make the morning’s coffee.

Various HVAC technicians have attempted to fix the beast over the years (replacing the thermo-coupler a few times and tinkering with fuel-jets and the wiring on other visits) but to no avail. So, I live with the problem; primarily since the beast works most of the time, I am reluctant to replace it (keep in mind that I’m a former Peace Corps volunteer and I long ago learned to live in the face of discomfort).

So, back to that recent day that I alluded to earlier; the day that had begun poorly. When I awoke, it was obvious that the pilot had gone out during the night, and soon I saw that the temperature in the kitchen was a brisk 50 degrees Fahrenheit. After re-starting the beast and making my morning coffee, I retired to my den and fired-up another heat source I have there: a pot-bellied stove that also runs on natural gas and which really only effectively heats the immediate area around it. There, while sitting in an old rocking chair and drinking my coffee, I opened and read through the previous day’s mail (mostly junk, but also including a few bills, which I still pay the old-fashioned way with a check). It was then that I realized that my day was off to a bad start. Yes, two of the bills were delinquent: one to a local utility company, the other to my dentist. In both cases, I would need to jump on the situation before things worsened.

After my coffee, I decided I would warm up faster and also burn off some frustration if, instead of rocking by the pot-belly, I set off into the dark morning and hiked up a steep hill along a dirt road near my house. Given our recent rains and snows, I knew the route would be a mess, so I wore my mud-boots. Because I felt so good when I returned from my vigorous hill-walk, I kept the hike going and made several turns through the hood in what was now a brightening day. I returned home much warmer and a tad happier.

After breakfast, I gave the dentist’s office a call. I have only been going to this particular dentist, over in the town of Taylor, for a couple of years; but I have very much been impressed by everybody in the office (clerical staff, hygienists, and the dentist). They have always been friendly, supremely skilled, and very efficient. I explained to the staffer who had answered the phone that I had paid my dental bill at the time of my last visit and I was confused why I was now receiving a bill with a balance of $500 due. She astutely realized that the discrepancy was likely one stemming from my insurance coverage and transferred me to the person who serves as the expert go-between for patients and their insurance companies. Reassuringly, that person (Elaine) said that she would see what she could do and would call me later in the day to offer an update. Mission partially accomplished, I decided I would next go to the utility company to address that dilemma face-to-face, since I hoped the personal touch would help. Sure enough, I was met there by a most helpful billing clerk who resolved the issue quickly and satisfactorily.

With my mood continuing on its upward trajectory, I ran several errands before finally making a stop at the library to return a DVD (I had been on a John Huston kick lately and was returning The Treasure of the Sierra Madre) and a book (I was also on a Gothic Horror kick and was returning Bram Stoker’s Dracula). After checking emails on one of the libraries’ computers (much of my home-technology still resides in the mid-20th Century) I picked out a few more DVDs (including another Huston: the Misfits) and some more horror (R. L. Stevenson’s Jekyll and Hyde) and headed home. As is often the case, I couldn’t resist pulling into the parking lot near a local duck pond and hiking to the pond and then up and around a local creek (before leaving home I had tossed my mud boots into the bed of my truck, as I had suspected that I might do another local jaunt).

Once home, I had a late lunch and took a long nap, from which I awoke rejuvenated. After reading for a while, I headed out for an end-of-day walk. I made my way along our local quiet streets and on over to a local park, where, since I was now wearing decent hiking boots, I stayed on a paved path. The first half-lap around the park was serene. On the second half, I had to take a detour as I had noticed up in the distance a person I had seen before, walking her cranky old Rottweiler and, since said dog had given me a menacing growl on a previous encounter, I left the path and walked far around the formidable hound. Over the past several weeks I had seen other folks forced to do the same thing as most of us have realized that the elderly person who walks the Rottie just doesn’t look like she has the strength to restrain the dog should he decide to make a lunge for somebody’s thigh. I can certainly think of several ways I would rather go than by bleeding-out in the park after having my femoral artery ripped open by sharp teeth. I hasten to add that this particular Rottie is an outlier, as there are many folks who walk their dogs along the path and, invariably, the other dogs are friendly fellows who generally just want to frolic.

As I hiked the last portion of the trail before leaving the park to return home, I came across a relatively new friend named David. He was playing with his dog (Oscar), and while David and I took turns throwing a stick to amuse Oscar; we caught up on the latest haps. David is a former teacher and has an educator’s broad knowledge of the world around us. He knows I’m a bird-watcher, so asked me what I had seen on my stroll. I listed several species, stopping at one point to make the sound of a killdeer I had spooked up from the ground while on my walk. As I made the plaintive killdeer call, David took on a far-away look and eventually sighed and said the call of a killdeer always reminded him of his boyhood days growing up in Colorado. We looked at each other briefly and knew that we now shared a new and wordless bond.

But dusk was approaching, so soon I took my leave and headed back through the neighborhoods to my home. There, I was greeted by a phone message from the dentist’s office telling me that the billing issue had been sorted out and the result was in my favor. As it was now dark and the dentist’s office would be closed, I would have to wait until tomorrow to return the call and thank Elaine profusely for being such a kind and diligent advocate on her patient’s behalf.

The day wound down with dinner, a flick, and a couple of chapters of Stevenson read while in bed. I was just beginning to fall asleep when the furnace kicked-in and nudged me back into semi-consciousness. But I was very tired, and I soon fell into such a deep sleep that the racket of the furnace didn’t faze me again until about five in the morning; when I awoke happy knowing that in a few hours I was meeting a friend to go cross-country skiing up in the high country. And on that particular day, both its beginning and its ending were very pleasant indeed.

Scott Reservoir on Horseback

Thu, 26 Feb 2026 06:12:43 GMT

Horseback Riding the White Mountain Trail System

By Allanna Jackson

January 31, 2026, was exceptionally warm with a light north breeze. The sunny portions of the trail were mostly dry, while remnants of last week’s two inches of snow quietly melted into mud in the shadiest patches. My day didn’t go as planned, so it was mid-afternoon before I had time to ride. I saddled Cinnamon, haltered Velvet, and rode and led them over to the Scott Reservoir Recreation Area.

We strolled down to Porter Creek where we saw a young lady standing beside a palomino horse. The palomino blew loudly at us, which is the equine alarm signal, and pranced a few steps in place. My horses stopped and stared at the palomino, wondering what was dangerous. Velvet pranced a little herself. I greeted the handler and commented, “I didn’t know we were that exciting.” She replied, “He’s a young horse having a young horse moment, so we’re just standing here.” I replied, “Yeah, and what do you do with a 25-year-old who’s having a young horse moment? Come on, Velvet, you’re 25 and ought to know better.” We wished each other a good day. Velvet pranced flirtatiously as we passed the palomino, though I thought she was too old for that.

We crossed Porter Creek and started up the Ice Cave trail, where we met two lady hikers who stepped off the trail to let us pass. We exchanged greetings about the lovely weather for hiking or riding and continued in our separate directions.

The Ice Cave trail was dry around (Ice Cave) marker IC3, then muddy in patches approaching IC4. Downstream from the spring, the trail crossing is consistently muddy. Along the south shore of Scott Reservoir, where snow still covered the ground, the trail alternated between dry and muddy sections. When we reached the southeast corner of the reservoir, we turned left onto a trail that follows the eastern shoreline of the lake. This informal trail has been used by anglers, hikers, and horseback riders for at least 40 years, that I know of. We followed the shoreline trail around the west side of the peninsula, then continued north.

We passed a man-made shelter of branches piled against the base of one of the pine trees. This has been there for several years and has been gradually expanded and modified, though I’ve never caught anybody working on it. I don’t know what its purpose is in the mind of whoever is building it. I know it has the potential to be a fire ladder into the tree crowns if a fire ever got started in that area.

We followed the trail along the lake shore to a turnaround loop, which is directly opposite the day-use area on the west shore of the lake. This is the most northerly point accessible for a horse, though the foot trail continues to the mouth of Porter Creek canyon on the northeast corner of Scott Reservoir. The horses and I took the loop trail and backtracked south along the shoreline trail. This time we took the cut-off trail across the east side of the peninsula.

We continued along the shore back to the southeast corner of the reservoir where the Ice Cave trail climbs up to the gate, which was closed. The Porter Mountain Riding Stable trail turns west at the gate and roughly parallels the southern fence line of the Recreation Area. We turned right and followed that trail down the hill. Just as we began the descent, the horses alerted to two other horses being led on the private property on the south side of the fence. Both horses were saddled with canvas panniers over the saddles. They stopped. The horses stood watching my two horses while a man unloaded some firewood from the panniers and dropped it on the ground. After all four horses had silently acknowledged each other and the man hadn’t noticed us, we continued down the trail back to the spring and the Ice Cave Trail. Cinnamon picked a drier route across the spring. We joined the Ice Cave trail again just below IC4 and followed it to our route home. There is always something different to see, even on a familiar trail. You never know what you’ll find.

I Am Wild Horse

Thu, 26 Feb 2026 06:03:41 GMT

Wild Horses...they are American

Anne Groebner

Wild horses. “They are freedom. They are independence. They are the ragtag misfits defying incredible odds. They are the lowborn outsiders whose nobility springs from the adversity of living a simple life. In short, they are American. Or at least they are what we tell ourselves we are, and what we aspire to be.” This is a quote from the book Wild Horse Country: The History, Myth and Future of the Mustang, America’s Horse by David Philipps. I recently read it cover to cover, as well as other publications, so I could understand the release of the Heber Wild Horse Territory Management Plan, a plan that will reduce our local herds from an estimated 500 horses or more (from a 2017 survey which is different from the latest forest Service aerial survey, which says 27 within the territory and 274 along its borders) down to 104 or even 50, followed up with birth control. Without understanding the scope of this new plan, I and many wild horse lovers (or non-lovers) may not understand what it all means for our treasured symbol of the Wild West. So here is some information on their history, myths and future outlook.

Wild horses may not look like much, not in a purebred regal way, but they are in many ways the most capable of horses, if not the best. The wild has given them no other choice. What has emerged are animals that, according to the riders who have adopted them, have unparalleled intelligence, stamina, and overall resilience. The only insurance these creatures have had in the wild is natural selection. Competing stallions chose mares, and nature took care of the rest. . . until the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) became their wardens and a somewhat bureaucratic agency controlled their future. The problem now is that these animals are the misfits. Federal wildlife protection doesn’t cover them because agencies don’t consider them wildlife and they aren’t cattle. Some also claim they don’t belong here since they aren’t native. That is up for debate.

Recently, archaeologists discovered DNA from three tools at the Clovis hunter sites in Clovis, New Mexico, dating back to the Paleoindian period of North America, spanning around 13,050 to 12,750 years Before Present. Some of the DNA was from a camel, some from a sheep, and some from a horse. They found horse bones piled up next to Clovis hearths, all this proving horses lived here thousands, if not millions of years ago. They disappeared ten thousand years ago, but then they returned to their home range when the Europeans arrived and reintroduced them.

David Phillips claims that

A plant or animal is native when it exists in its natural range or ecosystem, as opposed to a species introduced by man. But it isn’t so simple. A species’ natural range is often considered static. We define it in North America as wherever the first European observers found it. Any subsequent changes are unnatural. However, animals and ecosystems have migrated thousands of miles over the millennia, gaining new ground and losing old. Oceans have risen and fallen. Entire continents have been covered in ice. Landmasses have drifted from the equator to the poles, burying jungles in ice. Mountains have become seas, and seas mountains. Isolated continents have slammed into each other, unleashing their own invasive species.

So, what is really native?” Philipps asks. “How long do migrants like the wild horse have to be here before they count? Certainly more than a hundred years, we would all likely agree. But what about a thousand? What about ten thousand? At some point, the label of being invasive must wear off. Philipps, David. Wild Horse Country: The History, Myth, and Future of the Mustang, America’s Horse (p. 4).

“It’s hard to give a concept like “native” much value when it comes to wild horses. Everything that was native to the horse has been lost and remade repeatedly in its evolution, including the horse itself. What matters is that it has lasted. Through its own roundabout history, the horse is still here.” Philipps also says:

People will say that there are no true mustangs left and that today’s modern horses are just a degenerate muddle of domestic strays. Part of that is true. But it’s also misleading. Almost all wild horses are a mix of different genetics, and some have little Spanish blood. But the Spanish, from whom the word mustang came, never used it to refer to their finest horses. Originally, Mustang came from the Spanish word mesteña — meaning stray livestock belonging to local herders, the mesta. Just like the wild horses today, these stray mesteña were an outcast mix of low and high stock — some domestic and some that had been living free for generations. In the 19th century, it became the English word mustang, and the preferred way to refer to the tough, little, wild-born, free-roaming horses, which often had Spanish blood, that populated the West. And yes, there has been evidence that they still test with Spanish blood. Philipps, David. Wild Horse Country: The History, Myth, and Future of the Mustang, America’s Horse (p. xxxv).

There is much controversy over the mustangs. Some want them eradicated, but I believe the vast majority of Americans want them here. They have suffered at the hands of man for decades, and during the 20th century, their numbers in the west, dwindled to under 17,000. They were hunted, killed, poisoned, rounded up and sold for slaughter — and then it changed in 1971. Velma Bronn Johnston (“Wild Horse Annie”) witnessed the monstrosities that the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) and its contractors had inflicted upon the horses during and after the roundups — a sight so disturbing that she stood and wept. Their desecration was her motivation to save them. As a highly qualified secretary, she created a movement. Her letter-writing skills, combined with her high intelligence, made her the perfect person to write and send letters all across the country. It was the wake-up call America needed, and its people responded in droves.

The International Society for the Protection of Mustangs and Burros (ISPMB) led the way in creating the first-ever wild horse adoption program in 1968, which led to the creation of the federal Adopt-A-Horse/Burro program operated by the Bureau of Land Management. In 1971, under the leadership of Velma Johnston, federal legislation was passed that gave protection from death and harassment to wild horses and burros on public lands.

That same year, the BLM documented where horses were found and drew lines, designating 303 herd management areas. Since then, it has eliminated over 100 areas and changed those area’s designation from Herd Management Areas, where the horses are protected, to Herd Areas, where the BLM has decided the horses shouldn’t be and were slated for eventual elimination. The areas that were taken away equal close to 13 million acres. The reason? Occasionally it was because of a lack of forage, or the horses interfered with oil and natural gas drilling. Sometimes it was because the locals didn’t want them there; according to most horse advocates, “People don’t have a horse problem, horses have a people problem.”

Even though they passed the Wild Horse and Burros Act, the BLM removed horses in ways not supported by the management plan. There have been many backdoor methods that sent thousands of these horses to slaughter (*See Del Rio). In the United States, there are no slaughterhouses left; Researcher Deb Stuart told me (Cambridge research program), “I actually stopped researching possible solutions due to the plummeting numbers. (The purpose of my research was to create models for reducing the numbers. However, the international forces had already done more than I could ever hope to do). The number of horses going to slaughter decreased after an EU ban on U.S. horse meat because of tainted meat. Then COVID-19 further caused the numbers to decrease.” — for now.

The BLM’s first record of horses dates back to 1938. Before the BLM, the United States Grazing Service tried unsuccessfully to remove all of them. But research shows that our wild horses go back, possibly, to the Crow and the Shoshone tribes. It was during the late 1600s and early 1700s that the Shoshone became especially skilled at hunting with horses, split from their old tribe, and became the Comanche. Philipps believes that it’s hard to imagine what the horses meant to the tribes — looking into a horse’s eyes, feeling its hot breath, and realizing its strength could be your strength, its speed your speed. For the tribes, it was everything. The distance and space in the West that had once been overwhelming became a source of power. Grasslands were turned into places where speed, wealth, and weapons of war, in the right hands, could turn bands of meager scroungers into a fighting force powerful enough to terrorize modern empires and keep both the Spanish and American armies at bay.

“Like winds and sunsets, wild things were taken for granted until progress began to do away with them. Now we face the question whether a still higher ‘standard of living’ is worth its cost in things natural, wild, and free.”

— Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac

The Apaches said the Creator made the horse, using lightning for its breath, rainbows for its hooves, the evening star for its eyes, crescent moons for its ears, and a whirlwind for its power and speed. The Navajo said that every day the sun god rode across the sky on a turquoise mustang issuing a joyous neigh. Because of the mustang, the Apaches transformed from a group of humble nomads into a feared fighting force

Horses became successful domestic companions because they are innately social animals. They have lived in family bands for millions of years, and they are wired to be attuned to the moods and signals of other members. We are also wired to be social animals. The urge to reach out and connect with animals is something so basic in our fabric that it is universal across cultures and occurs shortly after birth. We forge relationships with them that are in ways very human. We talk to them; we give them names. We connect. And when we do, we implicitly extend to them the social contract of humanity: fairness, kindness, honesty, trust. The word humane, which is how we are supposed to treat horses, comes from the word human.

So with that said, and honoring the Asian Year of the Horse, I hope that you new “Protectors of the Mustangs of Heber” keep your word and allow transparency in everything pertaining to our treasured and last true symbols of the Wild West, that you new wardens are honest and humble, because we, the vast number of horse lovers, have to put our trust in you. Additionally, recognize that numerous future paths exist for us, as American citizens, to ensure these animals receive proper care. Because the horse advocacy groups and animal protection groups that have helped keep these herds alive so far, and kept the agencies to their word, will always be around — watching.

I asked Doug and Rhonda Forsha to travel to Heber and capture the beauty of these wild animals with their cameras for this article. Unfortunately, as soon as the Heber Wild Horse Territory Management Plan was released, officials announced the roundups would take place soon. Many of the horses you see on these pages will be herded into corrals and shipped to holding pens, taking away the one thing that made them the truest testament of the wild west — their freedom and our wildness.

The Heber Wild Horse Territory Management Plan is now out and about to be implemented. There are many Heber Wild Horse pages on Facebook that will have updated information. OSW will have the Management plan PDFs on our website. Please read them.

NOTE: A few weeks ago, they discovered that someone had shot and killed nine horses in the Heber Wild Horse Management Territory. If anyone knows anything about these shootings, be human(e) and please contact the Black Mesa Forest District. I am sure that forest agencies will soon catch whoever is shooting these horses. (It’s not the first time.) History tells us they can’t hide forever.

David Philipps is a Pulitzer prize winning journalist and author.

*Del Rio : Slaughter Pipeline Scandal (1990s-2010s): Investigations revealed that the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) adoption program was funneling thousands of federally protected wild horses to contractors who then sent them to slaughterhouses in Mexico, violating U.S. law against domestic horse slaughter.

Del Rio Connection: Investigations into these practices involved entities and individuals in the Del Rio area, with allegations of falsified records and conspiracy to profit from these sales.

SIDE NOTE

In Philipps’ book, he speaks about the white stallion that is so elusive no man can catch him. The stallion is written about in fables and legends, in books such as “Wild Horse Mesa” by Zane Grey. No one ever captures the stallion, and he remains a symbol of freedom and the wildness of the West. However, Philipps’ book ends with the demise of the White Stallion. He visualizes the stallion being chased by men, as has happened throughout the eons, and the stallion is galloping through the desert. His only chance of survival is to head up into the forest and the high cliffs — but there lurks even more danger under the canopy of the pines. The men are still chasing him, so he heads into the pass and sees an opening on the other side. Right then, a mountain lion lands on his back from above — it was quick. Philipps states,

“The life of the horse had gone out, but he had not submitted to the thralldom of man.”

The wildness of nature ended the life of the great white stallion — as it should be.

It's Bird Feeding Season, Finally!

Sun, 04 Jan 2026 05:34:55 GMT

Now that the bears have settled down...

By Dan Groebner

After a spring, summer and fall of relentless bear assaults on our bird feeders, things are finally starting to settle down as the bruins can’t resist the urge to settle in for the winter. Local residents learn to remove their bird feeders or get them high enough out of a bear’s reach in the spring. But sometimes it takes a couple of unplanned disassembly of feeders for summer residents to figure out that bears are the culprit, not a mischievous raccoon or something less dangerous.

Fortunately, our small feathered friends usually have plenty to eat during the summer, so feeders are not needed or even used that much. The exception would be hummingbird feeders, but those can be placed high enough out of a bear’s reach and easily maintained with a long pole and a hook on the end to remove and replace the feeder from a nail on the house or a high loop around a tree branch. Just don’t use too large of a feeder or too small of a hook to hang it from.

Removing and cleaning hummingbird feeders can be as much a rite of fall passage as is getting your winter feeders ready to go. Using seed feeders during the summer months requires much more cleaning and maintenance to prevent diseases from spreading, so you’re safer to wait until it cools off in the fall to start seed feeding in earnest.

Even if not used during the summer, most feeders need some touching up before being deployed in the fall. Platform, tray, or shelf feeders need to have low upright sides to prevent seed from just falling off the platform onto the ground, and vertical tube feeders may need their outlets fixed or replaced. The feeder outlets are designed for different-sized seeds usually, so don’t use a thistle or nyjer seed feeder with the small outlets and buy the large oiled sunflower seeds. The birds won’t be able to pull the seeds through the small holes.

Sunflower seeds, as well as the mixed bags of different seeds, work well with platforms and tray feeders and the “mini-house” looking feeders that usually have clear sides with long gaps on the bottom. Sometimes they are called hopper feeders because you can fill their large hopper reservoirs from above.

The key to bird feeding is making sure the birdseed fits the feeder so the birds can freely get to the food and it doesn’t just all spill out on the ground. We’re lucky to have a large variety of winter birds that can feed on a range of seeds and even the suet cakes, which attract many types of woodpeckers. The stellar jays and larger birds love the sunflower seeds, while the smaller nuthatches and chickadees prefer the smaller bits.

Try to avoid the small bags of bird food that are made of a variety of different seeds, especially the small red seeds. These mixes are not very tasty for the birds, and you might only get one star on your Yelp review by the local birds.

There are good mixes of bird seed available; just look for ingredients like safflower and millet. Many people use corn and peanuts, but if these hit the ground, it can attract rodents, raccoons and even javelinas. Since the seeds are larger, they can also spoil sooner if they get wet.

Suet cakes are being offered in many recipes these days, many with small bits of fruit and nuts. These suet cakes are just the right size to fit in the rectangular cage feeders, which makes it easy to refill with a new cake from an opening on the top. The birds probably won’t miss the smorgasbord of flavors if you cut costs and just use plain lard or rendered fat in the feeder and maybe add your own little seed and fruit treats.

Placement of your feeders can make a big difference to the birds. A safe bet would be to use multiple feeders in different locations with different seeds to cover all your bases. Some birds prefer to feed on the platforms out in the open, while others will use the suet feeders that are mounted on tree trunks and the tube feeders near brushy cover high enough to be out of a cat’s reach.

Many people place their feeders where they can be comfortably observed from indoors, but try to make your windows as visible to the birds as possible with stickers, screens or maybe even a layer of White Mountain malapais dust. Window collisions are a leading cause of injury for birds in the urban environment.

Studies have shown that window collisions are minimized when the feeder is less than three feet and over 20 feet from windows. So they get used to it when the windows are close and they avoid them when the windows are further away. You can still position a telephoto camera, spotting scope or binoculars on a tripod pointing directly at the feeder so that it’s ready to go for that new bird that just showed up.

The biggest trick in mounting the feeder is trying to keep the local squirrels from making your seeds disappear in a day! They need to eat too, but they usually spill more seed on the ground than they eat. The birds provide enough spillage for the squirrels, so they rarely need the easy pickings of a hopper, tube or platform feeder.

Squirrel proofing can involve mounting your feeder on a pole with a large circular “skirt” around the pole to prevent squirrels from climbing it. The skirt or cone needs to be made of chew-proof material; otherwise, the ambitious rodents will find a way through. And the pole can’t be within the jumping distance of a large squirrel from a nearby tree branch. We don’t have real flying squirrels in the White Mountains, but there are a few who keep trying out for the role.

Hanging a feeder on a rope from a branch might work also, if you use an “umbrella” over the top of the feeder large enough to keep the critters from getting to the feeder. Many versions are sold, but you can also fashion one yourself.

As they say, “If you build it, they will come” certainly applies to bird feeders. It may take a week or so to get the local birds familiar with your new offerings, but they won’t forget if you keep the feeder well stocked and never run out of seeds. Then the fun starts in trying to identify all your new neighbors, which is easier than ever before.

There are many bird apps that help you identify unknown critters and provide a bunch of interesting life history information. The Merlin app from Cornell University is the best free one available, and it even includes the ability to identify birds by their calls. For more detailed information, you can use iBird Pro if you can afford the annual subscription.

You can also submit photos of birds for a Google search these days and get results that you might have to sift through, but are a good place to start. But the best tried and tested method for bird ID is the good old field guide, like the Peterson or Sibley Field Guide series of books. Believe it or not, they don’t need to be charged, and they work just fine without internet connectivity!

To learn even more about bird feeding and become involved with the global community of birders, log into programs such as

FeederWatch (https://feederwatch.org/),

eBird (https://eBird.org),

or iNaturalist (https://www.inaturalist.org/) .

These apps can also alert you to new birds in the area and help you keep track of the list of birds you have seen. They also leverage citizen scientists to make observations that add to our understanding of bird migrations and life histories.

The Audubon website also provides hours of information (https://Audubon.org) or

White Mountain Audubon

https://www.whitemountainaudubon.org

We’re lucky to live in the White Mountains, where we don’t have to travel very far to see a vast variety of wildlife. But if we set up our feeders right and maintain them, we can get the wildlife to come to us, right outside of our window!!

Ghost of the Coyote Trail

Sun, 04 Jan 2026 05:31:30 GMT

Horseback riding the White Mountain Trail System

Photos and article

by Allanna Jackson,

Several storms in the middle of November brought much-needed rain that left the trails too muddy to use for several days. Thanksgiving weekend was clear and sunny, with daytime highs in the upper 50s, and only a light breeze. Perfect weather for trail riding.

The trails west of Show Low have sandier soil that dries out faster than the clay soils in Pinetop-Lakeside. They are lower elevation, which makes them warmer in winter and hotter in summer. The Ghost of Coyote Trail on the northern edge of Linden is one that dries out quickly. The Friday after Thanksgiving, I trailered Cinnamon to the official Ghost of Coyote trailhead beside Burton Road. There were two trucks in the parking lot when we arrived, but no one around. I finished grooming Cinnamon, saddled up, and put her hoof boots on her. We set off a few minutes before 2:00 p.m.

The trailhead is between Burton Road and a wash, so the trail immediately descends into the wash and crosses it to reach the kiosk. The sand at the bottom of the wash was damp. After crossing the wash, the first mile of trail climbs, descends, and winds its way up, down, and around several hills. The trail surface is covered with loose rocks, so Cinnamon was happy to have her boots.

As we passed trail marker G1 (Ghost of Coyote), Cinnamon alerted to the sound of people talking somewhere in front of us. A moment later we rounded a turn in the trail. Two dogs suddenly charged at us, barking. Cinnamon merely slowed to watch the dogs, who were acting on their instinctive predatory urge to chase prey, in this case my horse.

There were four people and six dogs. Four of the dogs were leashed, as they should be. Two people called their loose dogs, and I stopped Cinnamon while they caught and leashed the dogs. They apologized with the explanation that they never see anybody on that trail. This is a very common excuse for ignoring the leash law notice posted at every trailhead kiosk. In 47 years of hiking and riding in the White Mountains, I’ve learned that I can expect to meet something or someone at any time, anywhere in the forest. It’s not predictable who or what it will be. Those loose dogs might have encountered a wild animal that would attack them. The dog owners were just lucky that what they unexpectedly met was an experienced mountain trail horse who has the highly desirable mental attribute of thinking before she runs, and that their aggressive dogs didn’t get close enough to provoke her into kicking or striking to defend herself. After catching their loose dogs, the hikers reported that the Ghost of Coyote Trail was dry enough to use. We continued on our separate ways. Cinnamon and I had the trail to ourselves for the rest of our ride.

Shortly after leaving the dogs and their people, we came to a trail junction that begins the loop. Cinnamon looked right toward the trail sign that lists the distance to Blue Tank, probably because that’s the direction we’ve gone most often. She was quite agreeable about going straight instead. I discovered we were going clockwise ascending the numbers.

Part of the reason the trail winds around the hills is to see the views in all directions. I took photos.

The climbing up and down hills soon had Cinnamon huffing and puffing, but she kept a steady walk. To the south, there were columns of smoke from some controlled fires that appeared to be on private property. I could see the fire lookout tower on Juniper Ridge on the other side of Highway 260. Behind us, I could see Show Low in the foreground with the White Mountains on the eastern horizon. There was snow visible on the highest peaks. As the trail curved around to the north, I could see the windmills between Snowflake and Holbrook.

Approaching marker G7, we heard some very unhappy cows. Some were angry, bellowing moos; other’s moos sounded like the cows were crying. Cinnamon listened sympathetically, but if she understood what the cows were upset about, she didn’t tell me. We spotted three black cows, but no calves downslope from us. They were quiet when I could see them. The distressed mooing resumed as we descended the slope where trees hid the cows from my sight.

The trail drops onto an old road and follows it up and around a hill before turning off to climb another hill, and then the descent down to Forest Road 9890F is steep and rocky. The walk-through gate and a new roll-over bicycle gate are at the bottom of the hill. Cinnamon stepped up to the horse gate so I could lift the bale, then pushed it open with her nose and walked through. I caught the gate, and Cinnamon side-passed and backed to help me close it and fasten the bale again.

From here, the trail crosses another small wash. The crossing is quite steep but short. Cinnamon carefully stepped her way down, then almost trotted up the far side. Signs informed us we were on the official shortcut or Loop One. The shortcut follows a road beside the west side of a barbed wire fence to its junction with Forest Road 9890G, where the non-motorized Ghost of Coyote Trail merges with the Maverick motorized trail near marker G40. Loop 2 of Ghost of Coyote continues north on the east side of the fence, while Loop 1 turns east toward the trailhead. There is a cattle guard in the road at this junction, with a stick and wire gate beside it. Cinnamon can’t help with that type of gate, so I dismounted, opened the gate and led her through, then closed the gate and mounted.

I asked Cinnamon to running walk along the road, which she did nicely. Around G41, the Maverick motorized trail takes a different road than the one marked for Ghost of Coyote. Cinnamon and I continued alternating between flat walk and running walk on the way to G44. The motorized and non-motorized trails overlap again briefly before diverging again.

Blue Tank had more water in it than I’ve seen in 30 years! After passing Blue Tank, I asked Cinnamon to lope a little on the left lead, then on the right lead. She got cookies for her efforts. We loped past marker G45 and stopped just before a mud puddle.

We walked along another old road around the toe of a hill and continued south on the single track that climbs up the hill to the trail junction just after G1. Then we backtracked to the trailhead. We’d been out one hour and 55 minutes on a six-mile route that my GPS says isn’t quite that long.

My rig was the only thing at the trailhead parking lot when we got back. I unsaddled Cinnamon, groomed her and offered her some water. She wasn’t interested. I loaded her into the trailer. We went home, arriving just in time to feed the horses and park the trailer before dark. It was a lovely ride on a lovely day. Happy Holidays!

First Snow

Sun, 04 Jan 2026 05:28:34 GMT

Snow on the mountain...

Article By Rob Bettaso

Photos By Doug Forsha

When my alarm sounded at 7 p.m., I had to think for a few seconds as to why I had set it. I turned off the shrill dinging noise and recalled that early evening was the time I had said that I would call Rhonda to discuss whether tomorrow’s weather looked promising for a hike. She and Doug would have been checking the radar and forecasts, so would have a reasonably good idea of what we might face tomorrow. Me, well, I’m both old and old-fashioned (in as much as I still don’t have a smartphone), so only know what the weather might be like when I look out a window and/or roughly gauge barometric changes based on the aches and pains I feel in my joints.

I made the call to Rhonda. When she picked up, I started off the conversation by setting the stage for cancelling the hike: “Well,” I opened, “given all the rain we’ve had lately I’m sure it is going to be impossible to find a trail anywhere near town that isn’t muddy; and, anything up higher in the mountains is probably going to start off icy and then turn to mud as the day warms.” Rhonda replied matter-of-factly that she and Doug had spent the afternoon up in the high country and that the precip was coming down in the form of snow and that it seemed likely to accumulate through this evening. She concluded by saying: “So, with the season’s first new snow, I think tomorrow morning sounds like a perfect time to take a hike.” I stammered for a few seconds, as I had expected her to agree with postponing our outing; but, I quickly re-grouped and said: “Ohh-kay, if you guys wanna try it then I’m game too.”

Uncharacteristically, my heart really wasn’t keen on tomorrow’s outing, as I truly had been doing some hikes lately in our cold, wet, and windy weather and my designated “mud-boots” were soaked through. But, I didn’t want to be a wimp and so I stepped outside, where I had left my muddy boots, whacked them together a few times, and then brought them inside where I set them down near the gas-burning heater I have in my den. Next, I made up a couple of sandwiches for tomorrow and then arranged the food, canteens, a GPS, and some basic survival gear into my largest daypack along with several layers of warm clothes I might need for our hike. With these simple actions, I felt my mood shift and, by the time my head hit the pillow later that evening, I was excited about tomorrow’s adventure.

When I awoke in the morning, it was still two hours until first light, so I passed the time by savoring coffee while reading Hampton Sides’ popular history about Kit Carson and the “Army of the West.” The ~600-page tome goes into amazing/horrifying details regarding the Polk-era doctrine of “manifest destiny.” The focus of the book, which I was about one-third of the way through, describes the westward expansion of Anglo-American into the vast, Mexican-held territories — still primarily occupied by indigenous tribes, including the Comanche, Kiowa, Navajo, Hopi, Utes, and Apaches — in what would eventually become the southwestern U.S. Since much of the historic action takes place in the lands between Santa Fe and Flagstaff (including significant portions pertaining to our very own White Mountains area), both the coffee and the reading material very much primed me for the day’s upcoming journey.

At 7 a.m. I met Doug and Rhonda, and we took their big F-150 to head the 30+ miles east of Pinetop. I was grateful to be surrounded by all that heavy Detroit steel as we cruised along Highway 260, because, while the roads in town were only wet with last night’s rain, once we reached McNary we were already encountering icy road conditions. Moreover, from McNary, we would continue climbing another couple of thousand feet in elevation before reaching our destination near Greer.

We stopped once en route, near the Sunrise turnoff. Until that point, the landscape had received only a dusting of snow, but there, it had fallen during the night to a depth of two inches and, because of the nocturnal winds, it had drifted into odd white waves and other rippling shapes. Additionally, because the rising sun was still fairly low, its rays illuminated portions of the terrain into snowy fields of sparkling diamonds while other portions of land lay in shadows of arctic-blue.

There was minimal traffic when we pulled slightly off the highway and stepped out of the vehicle. Doug went one direction with his professional-level camera gear, Rhonda went another with her camera, and I strolled camera-less and used my binos to pick out fluffed-up juncos foraging in the snow. I hoped that one of our uncommon winter raptors would appear, a Ferruginous or Rough-legged Hawk, since both species are known to hunt the open, rolling countryside in between the chunks of forested pockets and mountain slopes. Alas, the only large birds I saw were ravens, although, given the incredible charisma of that species, I am always happy to watch them in whatever business they are doing.

Soon, we finished up the final stretch of highway and arrived at our destination: a densely wooded area that surrounds a prominent knoll that is popular with cross-country skiers and snowshoed hikers. The snow wasn’t so deep that we would need either of those modes of locomotion, and, given how chilly it still was, I wondered if we might keep our hiking boots somewhat comfy, since the powdery snow might remain relatively dry for most of the morning. I also noted that last night’s storm must have really been blustery in these parts, as the deep grooves in the bark of the Doug-fir trees had been embedded with blowing snow.

We hadn’t planned our day with any route in mind and, as such, I took the lead and started off along a trail which initially remained along a level contour-line for about a mile before it began heading up the knoll. I hadn’t travelled this direction in a few years so I wasn’t at all clear in my mind how we would make our ascent, but, since all of us were out for the sheer joy of experiencing the season’s first snow, none of us really cared about such petty details as where we were going, when we would get there, or how we would get back….

Although there had been a lone set of human tracks in and around the parking lot, our entire morning’s hike took us through new and pristine snow, and it was exhilarating to know that we had the entire realm to ourselves. I wound up staying in the lead for the trek because Doug and Rhonda made frequent stops to take photographs. I have seen some of their shots of wildlife, including many amazing bird photos; but, I have been most impressed because they often focus their cameras on the micro-world, and have incredible images of colorful jumping spiders, bright but minuscule slime-molds, and obscure flowering orchids nestled deep within our untrammeled coniferous forests. Frequently, I would look back behind me and see one or both of them down on their knees in the snow, aiming their cameras at some soft swirl of snow as it gently feathered around a fallen sprig of spruce needles.

Because our progress was wonderfully slow, we could maintain our bodies at a nearly perfect temperature, even as we made our way up the steep and heavily wooded slope of the knoll. We occasionally had a view of the surrounding countryside, but for the most part, we were content to be immersed in pines, firs, spruce, and aspen. While Rhonda and Doug would stop to study the details of both upright, living trees and the dead and downed trees that were in various stages of decay, I focused my attention on trying to identify and read the stories of various animal tracks in the snow and look and listen for birds, which, for whatever reason, were in short supply on this particular day.

We made it to the top of the 9,700-foot knoll about noon and stayed quite a while on the broad and sprawling “summit.” As we ate our lunches, I thought about how so many of our White Mountain area peaks are often not really peaks at all; not, at least, in the sense of the craggy tops you see in other mountain ranges of the world. Even our Arizona desert mountains generally seem to have more in the way of spires, pinnacles, and ramparts than our high elevations ranges. Oh well, I suppose if, as the legendary alpineer Mallory said, we climb mountains “because they are there,” then it is also just fine if we scale them whether they are smooth hills, steep summits, or any other type of prominence. After all, for some of us, it is not about the shape or height of the mountain, but about the view you get from the top. For that matter, plenty of us have had many a fantastic trip just futzing around on the slopes, without ever feeling compelled to reach a mountain’s highest point.

Because all of us had things we needed to attend to back in town, in the early afternoon we started back down the slope. We made a few stops along the way because the steepness of the knoll, combined with the snow-slick substrate, was treacherous; but, thankfully, things went smoothly. On the quiet drive home, we each dwelt in our own inner thoughts, and I recalled a slice of simple verse penned by John Updike: “First snow! The flakes, so few, so light, remake the world in solid white.” That had proved very true on this, our first snow of the season.

Staying Cool in the Cold

Sun, 04 Jan 2026 05:24:29 GMT

Don't sweat it!

Photos and article

by Carol Godwin

The temps have finally dropped out of “unseasonably warm” fall temps into the “seasonably cool” temperatures we expect in winter. I just finished listening to a PBS meteorologist try to explain the difference between astronomical winter and meteorological winter, and even he got confused listening to himself!

Meteorological winter includes the months of December, January and February, while astronomical winter includes the months between the winter solstice on December 21st and goes until the spring equinox on March 21st. The reason for the difference in the dates is that it takes a while for world temperatures and weather patterns to respond to the changing angle of the sun and corresponding amount of solar radiation available to hit the Earth.

The fall equinox on September 22 is the time when day and night lengths are nearly exactly equal over most parts of the world. In the northern hemisphere this is when our temps begin to cool through October and November and finally settle into the reliable “seasonally cool” pattern in December and throughout January and February until the day lengths out-compete the nights, ending with the spring equinox.

The astronomical winter begins after the changing angle of the sun’s rays has already affected the daily temperatures and when day-length is at its shortest point, well after temps have fallen significantly. Whichever method you use to determine when fall ends and winter begins, the reality is when it’s cold, it’s cold, and cold means winter to most of us! Now’s the time to think carefully about how to spend time outdoors without exposing yourself to the danger of hypothermia, the often-lethal drop in core body temperature.

As daylight gets increasingly shorter, we are forced to squeeze outdoor activities into shorter and shorter periods of daylight before and after work. Eventually, there is no daylight time between getting up and leaving for work or between leaving work and getting home. What’s a person to do to stay sane? Options can include using an indoor exercise regime such as an indoor bike trainer, elliptical machine or whatever other device you prefer, and while this method is great, there is something about being outdoors that makes a huge difference in overall sanity and mental health.

In my opinion, if you are going to do outdoor activities in the dark, it is much safer to do them in the morning hours when you are assured that the temperatures and light levels will increase during your activity. Evening activities seem much more dangerous because if something were to happen, you might be stuck in conditions that are guaranteed to only get colder and darker for an extended number of hours.

I have written previously about things that you should carry with you on winter expeditions including fire starter, communication devices with plenty of power, exothermic warming packets and lights. I want to talk about the most efficient way I have found to dress when going out on early morning excursions when it’s blackout dark and in the teens or 20s. I’ll admit, it’s hard to leave a warm fire and artificial light to answer the call of those begging dog eyes asking for a walk, but once you learn to dress appropriately for your body’s metabolism and know what to expect, it’s a great start to any day.

Here are some things I have learned about my ideal way to reasonably combat the cold and dark of winter mornings and relatively safely go out into a pitch-black frozen forest for a daily dog walk.

Lighting: I have small bike lights strapped to my hiking sticks to provide about an eight-foot circle of light around me, which feels like a safe light bubble to travel in. I have two lights on the sticks and a spare flashlight in my hip pack plus the phone light if all other light sources go out. Headlamps also work well to light your way, but be sure you have a backup source of light. As silly as it might sound, my dogs wear lighted collars, which both keeps them visible to me and gives them some increased trail visibility of their own.

Sound: Although sneaking through a dark forest on silent feet sounds amazing and exhilarating, the probability of startling a big game animal or predator makes this not such a romantic idea. I have trail bells on my sticks and try to make a bit of a racket as I move along, warning whatever living being that might be out there that we are coming. This also keeps the dogs from startling small animals and disappearing on the chase into the dark.

Protection: the best form of protection is having a dog or two…or three, paying attention for you, but you need to stay alert to their body language. They will alert to a danger well before vocalizing with growls and barks. Pay attention, protect them and yourself by calling them close when they alert and remain cognizant of small sounds that could indicate other animals moving. My dogs have been so focused on reading “pee-mail” that they miss entire herds of elk moving near and silently past. All of my dogs know that the yip of a coyote is automatically a signal to draw close to me. I carry bear spray on my belt, but if you are not alert to signs of what might be going on around you, it might be too late to deploy the spray if you startle something. Winter feels a little safer because our bears are not normally out wandering around after hibernation begins, but still…

Clothing: I remember that Bear Grylls, the British adventurer and survivalist, said that the one thing that you should NEVER do in the cold is to allow yourself to sweat. He reiterated this over and over, and it has stuck in my mind ever since. NEVER allow yourself to get sweaty in the cold. Cold sweat is a death sentence because the act of sweating is the body’s way of reducing cellular body heat and maintaining homeostasis.

Your muscle cells obviously require energy to function, and part of processing that energy is heat production. Built-up heat triggers your body to react by producing sweat with the goal of that sweat releasing heat through the process of evaporating from your skin surface. It takes energy input to change liquid water into evaporated gas, and it’s that heat energy your body is trying to shed. If you are wearing too many/too thick layers of clothing, the sweat travels into your clothing by capillary action rather than evaporation and soaks the clothing fibers rather than releasing the body heat. Continued exertion puts you into a cycle of overheating, sweating and soaking your clothing.

When you eventually realize that you are too hot and try to cool yourself in other ways or eventually stop exerting yourself, you are locked into wet clothing that cannot keep you warm, and you involuntarily begin to cool with no way of reversing this. NEVER allow yourself to get sweaty in the cold. I have found that a moisture-wicking underlay paired with a heat-reflecting outer shell is more than sufficient on days when the temps are in the 20s or 30s. When the temperature is in the teens, I wear a relatively thin neoprene jacket and a slightly heavier underlayer. I cannot do any kind of physical exertion in a giant puffy jacket because of overheating.

If you are wearing a thick jacket that is causing too much heat to build up, it is much better to take the jacket off and carry it until it is needed rather than continue to sweat under it. When you are adding wind chill as when biking or skiing or on a windy day, the most important thing is to have a layer that will completely block the wind from taking body heat away from you.

Taking it off: It’s interesting that the thing to be most aware of in the cold is the increase of your core body temperature. I have found that it is best to wear clothing that you can easily remove or open to monitor heat. I pay close attention to my body heat to avoid sweating (NEVER sweat in the cold). This may mean annoying repeated opening and closing of clothing articles, but keeping a stable temperature for your body is a primary responsibility of the operator. I have gloves that have finger and thumb covers that open up, and I am constantly monitoring body heat by opening and closing the gloves-your hands release a lot of body heat. Your outer layer(s) should have zipper or snap openings so that you can easily open and close them as needed. A few minutes of heat release makes a huge difference.

You lose a lot of heat through your neck and head, so having a covering that can easily be removed or adjusted is critical. I use a thermal headband that will protect my ears and prevent too much heat loss, but that can also be moved down to my neck if I need to release heat. I love neoprene leg and arm warmers that can really hold in heat when needed but can also be rolled off if you need to release heat.

I am especially aware of the parts of the body that allow heat loss because I had a great student in the past who was missing the lower parts of her arms and had a difficult time with overheating because she was missing all of that arm and hand skin area normally available to allow the body to cool itself. This is why being able to expose your hands, arms and legs to dump heat is critical, and vests or arm/leg warmers do that well. It is also very important that you keep your hands and feet warm. Your body will begin to restrict blood-flow to your extremities if it senses that your core temperature is getting too low, and your hands and feet will be the first to experience this.

Make sure you have well-insulated boots and good thick moisture-wicking socks. Wool is great for this purpose and will maintain a decent amount of heat around your feet and toes. I already mentioned the gloves I like that allow me to cover and uncover my fingers to release heat, but of course you will not take boots on and off, so a good insulated boot is critical.

It’s funny that as I was writing this, there was an ad on TV with a super buff tough guy trying to sell a “micro-fleece tactical hoodie…” blah blah. I have found that hoodies are terrible for being out exerting yourself because there is no escape from the built-up heat. No zipper to open, no way to free your arms, no way to use it to control body temperature. Sure, they are great for sitting around drinking a beer around a campfire, but be careful of hoodies or slip-over sweaters when exercising.

An interesting side note is that while we see actors doing winter scenes in thick coats or commercials showing happy families playing in the snow in adorable parkas, encouraging us to purchase these things, in reality, they need special accommodations on the set to wear these jackets and not overheat during a shoot! I found out that actors often wear special cooling vests under the jackets, have refrigerated furniture/props to cool themselves or have fans blown on them during breaks in order not to overheat.

Don’t believe the hype. Learn how your own body operates and act accordingly. Just make sure that you are prepared to stay warm if you are incapacitated by an injury and you can’t continue to produce the body heat you were previously trying to shed. This is where the DON’T ALLOW YOURSELF TO GET SWEATY part becomes especially important. You will quickly reach hypothermia if you are in wet clothing and cannot produce body heat through exertion.

Dry clothing is much better able to retain body heat. I have learned from experience that I can comfortably shovel snow in freezing weather wearing just a long-sleeved T-shirt and good gloves — anything thicker just makes me overheat in minutes and involves a wardrobe change.

Feed the furnace: My advice on keeping warm and toasty while out adventuring is to monitor clothing, keep the furnaces burning by staying active and feed the fire with added calories. Snacking on higher calorie foods when operating in cold weather will allow your body to continue to keep producing the body heat that is keeping you alive. We operate on a narrow knife’s edge of acceptable body temperature. Like Goldilocks found out, too hot (100 and higher) isn’t good (hyperthermia), too cold (96 and lower) isn’t good (hypothermia) and just right (97-99) is hard to maintain when you are out in the cold producing excess body heat.

As I move along, I constantly stay aware of my internal body temperature and keep it stable by opening and closing whatever clothing is appropriate. It takes longer to build heat than release it, so being aware of the trends in your body’s heating and cooling is a critical responsibility. If you are climbing a hill and will soon descend, it’s fine to store up some extra heat, but if you are already hot before you start climbing, you might want to open things up to prepare for climbing body temperatures. Have fun out there and stay cool in the cold.

Celebrating The Route 66 Centennial

Sun, 04 Jan 2026 05:20:45 GMT

Roger Naylor's newest book about the Mother Road!

By Roger Naylor

It’s hard to believe because she looks so young and vibrant with seductive curves and bright neon smile, but the Mother Road is turning 100.

Route 66 sprang to life on November 11, 1926. The highway stretched from Chicago to Los Angeles, over 2,400 miles, while passing through eight states. Its meandering diagonal route was intentional, linking hundreds of rural communities. This earned Route 66 a well-deserved nickname as the “Main Street of America.”

During the Great Depression, the Mother Road was a lifeline for emigrants escaping the Dust Bowl. When America went to war, it became a vital corridor for the construction of military bases, and the movement of men and munitions. In the post-war era, Route 66 hit its heyday, launching a boom of automobile tourism. The modern road trip was born.

The highway grew into a pop culture legend, symbolizing freedom and a sense of adventure, immortalized in novels, movies, songs, and television. Route 66 connected us as a nation and defined roadside culture. This twisting road became the neon-lit pathway to the American Dream — one that happened to be lined with teepee-shaped motel rooms and juicy burgers sizzling on a flattop.

Sadly, with the rise of the interstate system, the old road became a relic. In 1985, US 66 was officially decommissioned. All signs were taken down, and it was removed from maps. America had lost its Main Street. Yet we’re still celebrating it today, and that’s due to the vision and hard work of a few Arizonans. We’re the state that saved Route 66. How cool is that?

The Guardian Angel

I got interested in Route 66 years ago when I stopped for a burger. I pulled off I-40 to eat in Seligman, a small town on the high grasslands of northern Arizona. A sign declared Seligman to be the Birthplace of Historic Route 66. But what caught my eye were four tour buses parked downtown.

It was a Tuesday morning in the middle of nowhere, yet tour groups from France, Germany, and Japan were unloading. As I stood there, a group of motorcycle riders from Belgium roared up. Everyone streamed towards a small barbershop. Crowds that couldn’t squeeze inside stood on the sidewalk snapping photos.

“Holy cow,” I thought. “Just how good is this barber? Is Edward Scissorhands working?”

That was the day I met Angel Delgadillo, the small-town barber credited with leading the preservation movement that brought Route 66 back from the dead. Seligman, like so many towns bypassed by the new interstate, struggled to survive. Where once thousands of cars streamed through daily, they now hurtled past on I-40. Businesses shuttered, and residents fled.

In 1987, Angel Delgadillo organized a meeting of concerned business owners. They formed the Historic Route 66 Association of Arizona, the very first of its kind. They lobbied the state to designate Route 66 a historic highway and, lo-and-behold; they succeeded. That provided a blueprint for all other states to follow. Today, the ribbon of pavement is back, now known as Historic Route 66, and it’s about to turn 100 years old. There’s no better time to take a road trip. The most famous highway in the world slashes through our backyard.

My latest book

I wanted to celebrate all of that with my latest book, Arizona Route 66 Road Trip. While providing plenty of history, I focused on just how amazing the Mother Road is right now. I wanted this to be the ultimate Route 66 guide across our state, just in time for the centennial. The book is hyper-local, packed with more than 110 restaurants, 40 motels, and 90 activities and events. Arizona Route 66 Road Trip gives readers a chance to support local businesses while savoring spectacular scenery, in a journey back to simpler times.

Route 66 in Arizona crosses stark badlands, cloud-swept plateaus and a desert painted in scandalous hues. The road explores forests of tall pines and forests where trees have turned to stone. It brushes past volcanoes, craters, and the ruins of ancient civilizations. Amid the scenic splendor, the highway passes through small towns and the skeletons of towns. If the Grand Canyon is the beating heart of Arizona, then Route 66 is the main artery.

What to know

From the east, Route 66 enters the state on the Navajo Reservation at Lupton. It continues across the northern half of Arizona, passing through towns like Holbrook, Winslow, Flagstaff, Williams, Seligman, Kingman, Oatman, and finally Topock before continuing into California.

Most of the eastern half of Route 66 in Arizona is submerged beneath I-40, leaving orphaned segments at exits and towns. But don’t be discouraged. Arizona has over 250 miles of drivable Route 66, including the longest unbroken stretch of Mother Road in existence, 158 miles from west of Ash Fork (Crookton Road, I-40 Exit 139) to the California border.

In 2009, Historic Route 66 in Arizona was designated an All-American Road, the highest rating available, signifying a road that’s a destination unto itself.

A few favorite places (east to west)

Petrified Forest National Park — the only national park Route 66 crosses, features a roadside pullout commemorating 66 with plaques and the rusted hull of a ‘30s sedan. A string of weathered telephone poles traces the old alignment, a silent reminder of what once existed, like the chalk outline at a murder scene. 928-524-6228, www.nps.gov/pefo.

Jackrabbit Trading Post, Joseph City — yellow signs adorned with a swoop-eared hare once stretched across the country promoting this iconic stop. You’ll find a great selection of souvenirs and support a longstanding mom-and-pop business. Be sure to climb into the saddle of the giant jackrabbit for a memorable photo op. 928-288-3230, www.jackrabbittradingpost.com.

La Posada Hotel, Winslow — the last of the great Santa Fe Railroad hotels, and Mary Colter’s masterpiece of graceful design, has been exquisitely restored. The airy, romantic, hacienda-style building on the verge of demolition was saved by individuals. That’s very much the story of Route 66’s rebirth. While there, dine in the fantastic Turquoise Room. 928-289-4366, www.laposada.org.

Neon of Williams - Route 66 didn’t invent the neon sign, but it perfected it. Pull into this charming burg — the last Route 66 town bypassed by interstate — and you’ll find saloons, restaurants, motels and shops bathed in the liquid velvet of neon. Sidewalks are crowded with people, and music spills from every open doorway as traffic slow-rumbles along the Mother Road.

Seligman — pay a visit to the most famous small-town haircutter in the world. Angel Delgadillo, who will celebrate his 100th birthday a few months after Route 66 does, still holds court at the Original Route 66 Gift Shop. He signs autographs, poses for photos, and tells stories to a rapt audience. 928-422-3352, www.route66giftshop.com.

Keepers of the Wild — a non-profit rescue sanctuary in Valentine for abused, neglected and abandoned exotic animals. Tigers, lions, wolves, leopards, bears, and monkeys all lounge in roomy habitats. 928-769-1800, www.keepersofthewild.org.

Hackberry General Store — a store, museum, and shrine all rolled into one. Hackberry is a can’t-miss destination, just east of Kingman, overflowing with antiques, memorabilia, and vintage vehicles. Stop for a cold drink and spend an hour browsing the collection. 928-769-2605, www.hackberrygeneralstore.com.

Where to eat (east to west)

Cajian, Winslow — Cajun spice meets Asian rice in a fusion of cuisines. They’re known for ramen creations, poke bowls, and heaping mounds of fried rice. The char siu pork fried rice is a perennial favorite, using red seasoned pork marinated for 48 hours until it melts in your mouth. 122 E. Second St., 928-882-8681.

Tiki Grill, Flagstaff — tucked in a strip mall, unassuming Tiki Grill has a laid-back island feel and flavors so authentic you’ll swear you can smell an ocean breeze. Diners enjoy a delicious blend of scratch-made mainland and seafood dishes. Fish and shrimp tacos can be grilled, blackened, or fried. 1509 S. Milton Rd., 928-440-3693, www.tikigrill.live.

Diablo Burger, Flagstaff — in downtown Flag, Diablo Burger serves tender, delicious burgers made using open-range, antibiotic-free beef from local ranches. By using sustainable beef, they help preserve open spaces and restore healthy watersheds. The lean patty is cradled on a light, crisp English muffin. 120 N. Leroux St., 928-774-3274, www.diabloburger.com.

Westside Lilo’s, Seligman — opened in 1996, Westside Lilo’s quickly developed a reputation for scratch-made food in plate-draping portions. Along with German specialties, the eatery features cinnamon rolls as big as hubcaps, sinfully rich carrot cake, and cream pies made with mascarpone cheese. You can always diet tomorrow. 22855 Historic Route 66, 928-422-5456, www.westsideliloscafe.com.

Kingman Airport Café, Kingman — pilots can almost taxi up for a takeout order at Kingman Airport Café, which serves breakfast and lunch all day. Café walls are covered with historic photos. The airfield was established during World War II as an Aerial Gunnery Training Base for 35,000 airmen, including Charles Bronson and Clayton Moore. 6000 Flightline Dr., 928-757-4420, www.kingmanairportcafe.com.

The healing power of road trips

We live in strange times. Technology has upended our perceptions. Never have we been so far removed from the authentic world around us. Artificial intelligence, virtual reality, chatbot relationships—everything feels vague and blurred around the edges. You can’t make memories scrolling through other people’s memories. We need experiences of our own. Let’s put some skin back in the game. Let’s hit the road again.

A road trip gives us back our equilibrium. It reestablishes a sense of place for us. Ever since the hunter and gatherer days of yore, we have been a mobile species. Travel is etched into our DNA. Nothing relieves stress and worry like a long stretch of open road. We feel the curves and dips in our bones. The unhurried pace is a balm for cyber-scalded nerves. The road pulls us ever on, and the horizon throws wide its arms in welcome. When our windshields wear the splotchy dabs of insect shrapnel and our tires sing on the asphalt and the wind howls in jubilation past our open window, then we are truly free. Road trips remind us that life doesn’t always have to be complicated.

We ride toward the sunset. Or the sunrise. Or beneath a blanket of stars or wrapped in the pale shimmer of an Arizona moon. We ride toward the next town. Or the one after that. We ride like we are lost. We ride like we are found. We ride toward the middle of nowhere. Then we go a little farther.

In the end, we ride toward our youth.

Roger Naylor is the author of Arizona Route 66 Road Trip. The book is available in stores, on Amazon, and through his website, www.rogernaylor.com.

Woodland Lake Park Update

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 22:03:55 GMT

Save Our Park

By Dan Groebner

The Federal government may be shut down as this is being written, and the Town of Pinetop Lakeside may be undergoing some changes in personnel lately, but the Woodland Lake Park-focused organization, “Save Our Park” has been consistently meeting and accomplishing objectives with many of the original board members and some new enthusiastic participants.

The volunteer 501(c)(3) group Save Our Park (SOP) was previously known for bringing awareness to the risk of Woodland Lake Park being bought by developers and turned into housing and also for raising funds to purchase the Park so it could be donated to the Town of Pinetop/Lakeside and maintained as a community park. Fortunately for our community and visitors to the area, the Salter Family Foundation purchased the southern portion of the park with the lake and ball fields and donated it to the town.

The same generous benefactors have also offered to purchase and donate the rest of the park (minus the Big Springs Environmental Study Area because of its importance to local Native American tribes and its ecological significance). Federal actions that are this significant always take more time than expected, but slow progress on this latest gift was being made prior to the shutdown, and no unexpected hiccups have cropped up yet. Some typical steps in the process of a land transfer still need to be accomplished.

Immediately after the transfer from the Forest Service to the Town of the initial 100+ acres, Town park managers jumped right in with many improvements, including the paved and widened path around the lake, additional ramadas and parking, weed treatment in the lake, and vegetation management intended to reduce the risk of a catastrophic wildfire torching the Park and destroying all of this work.

Since the entire cost of the land transfer from the federal to the town government was covered by the couple’s gift, some of the Save Our Park Funds are being used to help defray the increased maintenance costs of the new acquisition for the town. This includes the purchase of over $300,000 in equipment.

SOP is also kicking off a new fundraising program that allows people to help maintain a small piece of the Park through an “Adopt An Acre” opportunity to help ensure the Park is around for generations to come. After the New Year, you’ll be able to pick out your favorite acre or acres in the Park and “adopt” it by helping pay for the management costs of that acre and others in the Park.

SOP presented the Adopt An Acre concept to the Pinetop/Lakeside Town Council on September 18 to show community support for the town’s acceptance of the generous gift by the Salter Family Foundation. The organization clearly recognizes the need to raise funds for the proper maintenance of the newly acquired acres without impacting current programs and services. Ongoing maintenance needs include basic things such as trail work and trash removal, police and EMS coverage, and vegetation management to reduce the risk of catastrophic wildfire.

The Adopt An Acre program will start with the developed southern portion of the Park currently managed by the Town. The additional 400+ acres of the Park that the generous foundation has also offered to purchase and transfer ownership to the Town is still in the works, so cannot be included yet.

Even though Park supporters can “adopt” an acre, they cannot actually make any changes to their acre as the adoption “rights” only include the opportunity to help pay for its maintenance. So no camping, fires, monuments, signs, or any other alterations to the acres will be allowed. Adopters can obviously visit their acres, but making new trails will not be allowed.

The hope is that if people can feel a sense of stewardship for a particular piece of land; they are more likely to support it long term. Donations will be set at $50, $200, and $500 per year, depending on the location and cost to maintain an acre. Multiple acres can be adopted for multiple years through a newly developed secure sign-up page on the SOP website after the New Year. Sponsorships will also be developed with businesses, organizations, and institutions.

An online map, as well as posters at the Park on large kiosks, will display the available acres for adoption and the names of people who have already adopted acres and their location, with permission of course. Adopters will also receive a certificate documenting their acre within the Park.

Adoption and sponsorship donations will be maintained in a restricted Adopt An Acre account at SOP to be used solely for park maintenance. SOP has committed to annual evaluations of the programs and transparent reporting.

The Save Our Park organization is also actively involved in helping make improvements within the park through regular volunteer work days. The past work day event, organized by Jeff Stearns and Cathy Purvis on September 20, installed and maintained trail signage, removed a few cinder blocks from an abandoned platform, made trails more user friendly, and located the submerged Big Springs outlet within the flooded beaver pond. Additional workdays will be planned.

So, if you adopt an acre of Woodland Lake Park, are you responsible for keeping it full? Of course not, as Mother Nature has the most impact on lake levels. The lake is again at very low levels because of the lack of moisture and runoff that normally fills and sometimes floods the system that fills the lake. The local irrigation district owns the lake water and originally built and maintained the dam, but in past years, they could fill the lake and still provide water to residents who have water rights. In addition, the Town of Pinetop/Lakeside helped increase the capacity of the lake by removing some of the bottom sediment about four years ago when the lake had to be drained to make repairs on the head-gate valves.

SOP is interested in helping maintain water levels in Woodland Lake as much as possible, but there is only so much that can be done with limited rainfall and snowpack.

If the Woodland Lake Park Adopt An Acre program is successful, there will be no need to draw maintenance costs from current Town of Pinetop/Lakeside budgets. Normal, expected services will not have to be reduced, and additional revenue-generating ventures, like a currently hypothetical campground, will not have to be developed to cover any additional costs.

Anybody wanting to learn more and possibly lend a helping hand can check out the Save Our Park website to get the latest information at “WoodlandLakePark.org.” You can also contact

Save Our Park President, Eric Kramer, at erickramer102@gmail.com or (201)230-3457.

The First Scream Halloween

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 22:00:01 GMT

A Spooktacular Success in the White Mountains

By Jen Rinaldi

What could be better than drawing folks out on a lovely Sunday afternoon to take part in a family friendly fall themed event? With the trees all ablaze in fall color, and fall-themed shopping opportunities, the stage was set for an experience not to be missed. The Merry Mountain Market hosted its very first Halloween Festival at the Arts Alliance of the White Mountains on October 26th, and it was an event to remember! As I walked around and asked folks how they had heard about the event, many guests said that they had never been to the Arts Alliance, and had never heard of the Merry Mountain Market. Some had seen the market’s advertising through the scarecrow contest or on social media, or from several local businesses. That the event brought unique visitors is certainly a win, win for both The Arts Alliance and The Market — showcasing hidden gems of the White Mountains. The Arts Alliance, with its many galleries open and inviting, and the market, providing local shopping and partnerships.

I was truly amazed at how many well-dressed spooks from our area haunted places, gathered to make the day special. Attendance tipped the scales, with over 180+ guests joining the celebration — many dressed in festive costumes that brought extra excitement to the day. Local businesses came out to lend a hand with the trunk or treat. Horne Jeep, Bagel Box, Churley Collision, the Chain Reaction Crew, and Apothecary Grand Mom, with the Chain Reaction Crew winning best decorated trunk. Outdoors SW had also run an ad that several visitors had also relied on. It just goes to show, when it comes to getting the word out about local events, it literally took a village!

The outdoor activities held the crowd’s attention, while the indoor vendors invited guests to relax and browse all the wonderful arts, crafts and baked goods on offer. Street Eats served their Jamaican menu to the delight of festival goers. Their mellow vibe added to the carnival-like atmosphere.

To drive customers to the market, Vice President Tina Butora created a scarecrow for Show Low’s Scarecrow contest. Entry #9, titled Seraph of Bone and Ash, made its debut on a cold and windy night, leaving Tina wondering if her seraph’s wings would carry it away. Her spine-tingling (ha, ha), skull-warping creation also invited viewers to join the Halloween celebration.

For those of you who are not familiar with Show Low’s Scarecrow Contest, scarecrows are lined up on the Bluff Trail walking path. Many local businesses and organizations take part, giving residents a tantalizing warmup to the holiday season.

From White Mountain Blvd, people could see Tina’s offering as it twisted and appeared to float within its boundaries. She describes her creation as a biblically accurate seraphim with a woodland vibe. Tina’s Scarecrow won the contest! — a great omen for the market made by a talented lady.

Other highlights of the festival included a variety of Halloween-themed games that kept the energy high and spirits soaring. A boo-full crafts table allowed kids to take home a smiling fall-themed project. Selfie stations for family scrapbooks and face painting were also available to those not already in costume.

Over twenty unique local artisans attended the market, which was bursting at the seams with vendors offering an impressive selection of items unique to the White Mountains. Visitors browsed both inside and out and were tempted by those who created handmade tinctures, artisanal soaps, beautiful glasswork, and seasonal crafts, all lovingly in the spirit of the mountains. The event made shopping locally more fun!

No Halloween festival would be complete without candy, and at this event every vendor delivered plenty for everyone to enjoy! Community Spirit was also in attendance – the atmosphere was buzzing with joy, laughter, and a sense of togetherness. Families, friends, and neighbors came together to celebrate the season, making memories and supporting local businesses in the process.

With such a successful turnout and positive feedback, the Merry Mountain Market looks forward to making the Halloween festival an annual tradition. The White Mountains community can’t wait for more spooky fun and creativity next year!

The Merry Mountain Market is open every Sunday from 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.

Special events include a craft swap on November 23, Black Sunday on November 30th and a Market Christmas celebration on December 14th. The Market is located at The Arts Alliance, 251 Penrod Rd., Show Low, AZ. Hours are from 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. For more information, please contact them at www.merrymountianmarket@gmail.com or on Facebook @ https://www.facebook.com/merrymountainmarket

The Wonderful World of Color

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 21:56:49 GMT

The beautiful colors of the White Mountains

Photos and text

by Anne Groebner

If you missed seeing the changing colors of leaves this year, you probably think, “If you’ve seen them once, you’ve seen them all.” But it’s not true this year. The fiery oranges and golden yellows cast a beautiful and amazing golden hue that I hadn’t seen in years. Tunnels of color decked the sides of roads and trails, and the fallen leaves completed a perfect circular casing of color. Everywhere you looked, you saw the golden splendor of the trees. The orange-tipped aspens were especially amazing and the view from the top of the knolls was spectacular.

Originally, Rob Bettaso and I set off to find the Coyote fir tree that Tom Jernigan writes about in his book, “Silent Witness.” We searched the Green’s Peak area along Forest Road 117 and 117A, which is known for its geological background. The knolls you see were once active volcanoes. Green’s Peak is part of the Springerville volcanic field and is the best vantage point from which to view most of it. Green’s Peak and 400 other cinder cones and related features form the Springerville Volcanic Field. Eruptions began in the western part of the field about three million years ago and ended about 300,000 years ago. Green’s Peak, in the highest part of the Springerville Volcanic Field, was born of a series of violent eruptions that began 760,000 years ago (Guide to the Geology of the White Mountains and the Springerville Volcanic Field).

It was the first time I noticed they had fenced in the parcel of land surrounding St. Peter’s Dome. It’s a wildlife habitat area now, for elk, pronghorn, and mule deer, and is closed to all motorized vehicles. However, it is still open to non-motorized recreation such as hiking, horseback riding, mountain biking, wildlife viewing, photography, hunting and fishing. Its purpose is to provide a quiet area for wildlife and to protect habitat, including vegetation, soil and water. Officials are serious about keeping motorized vehicles out of this area, and they will prosecute violators. St. Peter’s Dome Wildlife Habitat is possible through a partnership with the Arizona Game and Fish, the U.S. Forest Service, Tread Lightly and the Arizona State Parks and Trails. We hiked through some areas just to see some of the terrain and discovered some great places to cross-country ski this winter (if we are lucky enough to get some snow).

We trucked along the boundary of St. Peter’s Dome on FR 117A and then turned onto County Road 1325 toward Carnero Lake. Carnero Lake is a high-elevation shallow lake built in 1979. The water levels were pretty low this year because of drought. A couple of years ago, we kayaked it, and it was beautiful. This time, we stood on the dried, cracked dirt that was once covered with water and aquatic plants.

We scoured a few sites along U.S. Route 60 on our way back to FR 117, but to no avail. Eventually, I found the tree, but I had to come back the following weekend after getting a map and directions. Fortunately, the leaves were still pretty spectacular.

To find Green’s Peak: From Pinetop take Hwy. 260 south towards Springerville to Forest Service (FR) 117 (just past the Rail Road Grade Trail) and follow it for 2.7 miles until you reach FR 61 to the base of Green’s Peak.

Kinishba Ruins On the Fort Apache Indian Reservation

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 21:52:08 GMT

Celebrating National Native American Heritage Month

Kinishba is the only historical site on the Fort Apache Indian Reservation that allows entry to non-tribal members. Admission fees and registration must be paid at the Fort Apache Historical Park’s Culture Center, located in Fort Apache just south of Whiteriver.

Upon paying admission, you’ll receive a visitor’s guide to Kinishba. The Visitor’s Guide to Kinishba includes information corresponding to the numbered posts you encounter along the main path. Each numbered post includes information about the part of the ruins you are observing and historical facts about the location. Encircling the rebuilt ruins, the path borders a deep ravine and crosses to the caretaker’s quarters.

The dirt and gravel path that guides you through the site is about a third of a mile long and fairly easy to walk. However, the path near the ravine on the east side of the ruins slopes slightly but evens out as the path leads towards the caretaker’s quarters. A cobblestone path leads around the caretaker’s quarters before becoming dirt and gravel near the guesthouse.

The ruins themselves are a sight to see, even right from the V-gate that separates the site and gravel parking lot. After miles of paved roads and communities that surround the highway leading to the Culture Center and Kinishba, it’s a wonder to see ancient ruins only miles from modern conveniences.

The mountains surrounding the valley with the ruins cut the endless fields from the sky, and they gradate from a deep blue in the visible ridges of the hills to a sage green where individual juniper trees are visible. Sunflowers and cacti line the path leading to the National Register Monument, which leads to the first numbered post - one of ten - detailing the history and size of Kinishba in its heyday.

Once home to the ancestors of today’s Zuni and Hopi Pueblo tribes, the ruins remain a reminder of days long past - though the lifestyle of the people who inhabit the area slightly echoes that of the previous inhabitants. The area remains a land fruitful to its native people, with local agriculture fields and livestock pens in the same valley where people have lived and thrived since approximately AD 800. Facts and historical information are given in the Visitor’s Guide and can be further researched in books available at the Culture Center. The experience is one not to be missed or forgotten, and paired with the trail guide and artifacts at the Culture Center, makes for a memorable day celebrating Native American Heritage Month.

NOTE: “Known in Hopi oral traditions as Mäi’povi (Place of Abundant Snakeweed) and to Apaches as kį dałbaa (brown house), Kinishba Ruins is the sprawling remains of a plaza-focused village where people lived from about A.D. 1200 into the 1400s. Located just west of Fort Apache and Whiteriver, on White Mountain Apache tribal land, the site sits in a grassy, conifer-fringed valley that drains into the White River, a principal tributary of the Salt River. ... local Apache workers excavated about 240 of Kinishba’s approximately 600 rooms. “

— Archeology Southwest Magazine

Portions of this article written by Sheena Hendricks

The Wisdom of a Douglas Fir

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 21:47:50 GMT

The Coyote fir by Green's Peak

Photos and text by Anne Groebner

“Trees don’t just grow; they remember.

Their roots weave ancient spells in the earth and their leaves whisper the old magic to the wind.

Sit beneath one long enough, and it will teach your soul what your mind has forgotten.” — Alice Oswald

There is an ancient Douglas fir at the base of Green’s Peak. Its “craggy” bark is thick with age (nearly six inches thick), its base scarred and burned from a fire that took place over 130 years ago, and yet its crown reaches over 120 feet into the air. Sap flows down its east side, and there are large holes where an acorn woodpecker spent time digging for bugs — all signs of aging. All these signs show that this giant fir has spent centuries standing firm in this one spot — long enough that the surrounding trees, out of respect, it seems, keep their distance, giving it space. I am told it is the patriarchal tree, but I feel it is the mother tree.

The first time I saw the giant fir was in 2019. Tom Jernigan, a local author and avid cross-country skier, took a group of TRACKS members there. Jernigan’s book “Silent Witness” is all about the events throughout our White Mountains’ history that took place under the Coyote fir’s angular branches. The first few pages tell about the tree’s humble beginnings starting October 14, 1463. It reads, “In the midst of one large group of the slumbering giants is a small clearing in which a little young one can be seen, illuminated by the stars…Offspring of strong parents and favored by location, it is destined to become one of the largest and perhaps wisest of its kind.”

He calls it the stately little Coyote Fir. The name of a Zuni Native, Coyote, that kills a deer by the fir tree. His arrow is broken by the deer’s fall, “He picks the arrow up, turns and lays it across branches close to the trunk of a symmetrical little Douglas fir tree that stands near the center of the clearing.” Those of us who have read Jernigan’s book continue to reference it as the Coyote Fir. We sense its wisdom from times gone by and are fortunate to stand by one so grand. On the first day that we stood under its branches, it took 16 of us, shoulder to shoulder, to circle its entire base.

This year I went back to find the tree. Six years had passed, and I could not find it. Tom Jernigan drew me a map, but I put it in such a safe place that it was safe from me as well. Fortunately, the fall colors were pretty spectacular, so the hours we spent looking for the tree were well worth the adventure (see page24). When I got home, however, I pulled Jernigan’s book down from my shelf and found the map within its pages. I also got step-by-step directions texted to me from Carol Axford, based on her recent trip with Jernigan.

I discovered that just mentioning something about finding an ancient, giant tree gathers attention pretty quickly, and soon I had a group of eight friends ready to join my tree-finding adventure — and it was a perfect day for a hike. There was little wind, and the temperature was in the upper 60s.

The “stately Coyote Fir” stood tall in all of its majestic splendor, just as I had remembered. There is something magical about old, wise trees. Something you can sense as you rub your hand against its thick, rough bark. The Coyote fir has stood here for a very long time — standing the test of time. Just the thought of living for centuries is an incredible and mystical feat. Maybe if we listen closely, it could teach us its secrets of longevity, and yet, I say words of protection for this peaceful giant. Words to keep it from harm in a modern world that may not feel the same way I do about its ancestral worth.

I am not going to write the directions to the Coyote Fir in this article. However, if you would like to find it, go to the White Mountain Nature Center at 425 S. Woodland Road in Lakeside (see their ad on the back cover), and buy Tom Jernigan’s book. It’s a pretty short read and well worth it. I would recommend reading the book before you visit the tree. I will also put detailed directions on our website at www.outdoorssw.com/ visit our featured stories.

From Carol Axford

Take 260 past Sunrise then take Forest Rd 117 to the left. When you reach base of Green's Peak where 61 splits from 117, Stay on 117 to the right. Go quite a way then you will go down a hill, past a cattle guard. Watch for a road on the left, there are three large cattle drinking tubs( some blue) where you turn left. As you wind back you will see brown sign marker #8674. Also will see a clearing on left with tipi made of branches. Go to end for large parking area. Circle around facing back out. When you get out of car you will notice a path to the right heading down into the forest. Short walk in and Big tree is in a clearing. 500 yrs old and 120 ft tall. Large canopy of green top.

The Buena Vista Trail Under Reconstruction

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 21:37:52 GMT

Horseback Riding the White Mountain Trail System

Photos and article

by Allanna Jackson

The Buena Vista Trail was quite popular on a Friday afternoon in late October. Just after turning onto Rim Road FR 300, I had to move as far to the right as I could so another truck towing a one-horse trailer could leave. There were two cars, a jeep, and another horse trailer at the trailhead. The jeep’s front tire was being inflated with a battery-powered pump. While I unloaded Cinnamon and prepared for our ride, the horse trailer, one car, and the jeep left. When I turned on my GPS, it announced, “Low Battery.” I ignored it and clipped it onto my belt, anyway.

Cinnamon and I had the trail to ourselves as we set off. There was a puddle on the trail at marker Buena Vista one (BV1). Hurricane Priscilla dumped four inches of rain in three days on the White Mountains the previous weekend, filling the pond just before BV2. As we approached, I noticed a lady sitting on a log watching the pond. She turned and greeted us. I returned her greeting, and we continued down the trail.

Last time I rode this trail, we went left up the numbered diamonds. This time we went right, and immediately came upon marker BV36. I knew from reading the TRACKS newsletter that the Buena Vista Trail is undergoing a major revision after a Forest Service land swap.

The Gambel’s Oak were turning yellow and gold mixed with the green, and the manzanitas were still green. A few scattered wildflowers were in bloom among the green grasses. Between markers BV34 and BV32, tire tracks showed somebody had driven a full-size vehicle almost half a mile on the non-motorized trail. Why do some people use motorized machines on the non-motorized trails when we have hundreds of miles of Forest Service roads and motorized trails to drive on?

The trail climbs up a slope, then rounds the shoulder of a hill where one of the original turquoise markers still stands sentinel over part of the original route. Near BV32, the trail loops back in the direction it came from and descends into a small canyon. After marker BV31, the markers showed the yellow dots of a shortcut trail. Two new markers clearly labeled Buena Vista Trail, and an arrow made the next junction quite clear. Suddenly we were at marker BV3, with a few purple flags on either side of the trail. We hadn’t been out for an hour yet, so we continued to the turn where the trail makes a sharp left back toward marker BV2. We went right along the single-lane dirt road instead, looking for where the Buena Vista Trail crosses it.

The sandy road is nice for doing faster gaits, so I asked Cinnamon to speed up so she trotted. I checked her back to a foxtrot, but she dropped to a walk. I asked her to speed up again, and she trotted again, and this time indicated she wanted to lope, so I let her. We loped along on the right lead, then stopped. Cinnamon got a horse cookie. We walked a short distance then trotted into a left lead lope, which Cinnamon did more easily than usual, earning another cookie. Loping quickly brought us to the junction I was looking for near marker BV6.

We turned right onto the Buena Vista Trail and climbed up the switchbacks to the top of the hill. Runoff from the hurricane had eroded a small portion of the trail partway up the slope. Somebody had already slightly re-routed it and filled the eroded place with branches and rocks. My camera suddenly complained about a low battery. When I turned it off, the camera informed me its GPS would continue tracking. That’s why the battery was so low! I usually keep the camera’s tracking function off, but the switch had somehow been flipped on. Turning off the tracking conserved enough battery that I could get a few photos of the views from the top of the trail near BV5.

Cinnamon was quite cautious about the steep descent around and down the granite rocks. I heard the distinctive sound of metal against rock in front of us. As we rounded a left turn, Cinnamon alerted to a man in a bright orange shirt. TRACKS volunteer Jason Moore was repairing the trail. He greeted us cheerfully. Jason petted Cinnamon and asked who she was. I told him he might have read about her in Outdoors SW magazine. Indeed, he had. Cinnamon nosed around in the manzanitas and gnawed on a dead stick while we talked. Jason confirmed my observation that the trail numbering system for Buena Vista is all mixed up because of the changes they are making to the trail. He assured me that when the alternative route is approved, they will completely re-number the entire trail. I told him TRACKS has been doing a great job on the trail system all these years.

Cinnamon found a few bites of grass to snatch as we continued down the trail after meeting Jason. We found his bicycle, with its packs for carrying tools, parked beside the trail. After BV4, I barely had room to duck under a tree that was leaning across the trail against another tree. Two more switchbacks and we arrived back at BV3, where we turned right. Cinnamon knew we’d been here only 20 minutes earlier, so she wanted to turn left onto one of the unmarked bicycle routes. I liked her idea. We had gone only a few yards when we both spotted a bicyclist coming toward us around a turn. I reined Cinnamon off the trail to let him pass. The cyclist thanked me.

Cinnamon cheerfully followed the bicycle trail through its squiggles into the forest, occasionally looking toward the Buena Vista Trail as if confirming our direction. We met another bicyclist, so Cinnamon stepped off the trail and stood snacking on some grass while he passed. The bicycle trail merged back onto the Buena Vista Trail only 100 yards from the trailhead. At the kiosk, we met a couple with two dogs. We greeted each other and continued our separate directions.

The trailhead parking lot was busy again, with two other vehicles already parked. Back at my trailer, my GPS said we’d gone 5.99 miles, so why the complaint about low battery one hour and 38 minutes earlier? Another truck arrived as I was unsaddling Cinnamon. The driver promptly set off down the trail on foot. The couple with the dogs returned a few minutes later and departed. I groomed Cinnamon and offered her some water, which she didn’t want. I loaded her into the trailer and went home.

Since this article was written, TRACKS volunteers have been working more on the Buena Vista trail.

Los Álamos Dorados Magnificos en Los Burros

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 21:34:27 GMT

The Magnificent Golden Aspens of the Burro

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

Fall is the perfect time of year to squeeze in that “last” ride or hike on Los Burros. Last year, the lack of snow allowed us to use Los Burros nearly all season, but around here, you never know. Maybe it’ll snow, maybe it’ll rain, maybe it’ll be warm, maybe frigid, maybe nothing and maybe it’ll be a combination of all the above. Last month, I talked about being prepared for winter outings, but today I’m celebrating the perfection of fall in the White Mountains on a crisp November morning, loving the breeze, feeling the freedom of a morning to ride and marveling at the sharp contrast of the golden glow of the aspen leaves quaking in the slightest breeze against the pristine blue of a clear Arizona sky. Awesome!

We started off at the Los Burros Vernon-McNary Road trailhead and began the ascent into Aspen territory. We climb up through rocky switchbacks, traversing the first grass-covered ridge leading towards Los Burros campground. This initial climb is an “invigorating” start to a ride, and at a 30-degree start temperature, the climb quickly builds body heat and the cold is soon forgotten, but don’t shed those layers yet! An exhilarating downhill leads to the two-track road behind the campground, and the speed-induced wind makes me grateful for that wind-jacket I was first debating removing after the climb. We pass through thick pines and bronze oaks, but no aspens just yet.

We reach the flats at the southern edge of the forest and can see a few antelope out in the golden grass of “Rez Flats”. They are unconcerned at our passage, but watch us go across the meadow on the dusty singletrack. If you’ve ridden Los Burros, you know what’s next, and removing the jacket is appropriate to prepare for the “Ice Cream” (I scream) Hill climb. TRACKS has done a great job clearing and improving the Ice Cream Hill climb-thank you- but it’s still famously exhausting, and there’s always a feeling of accomplishment when I reach the top without having to touch down. Where’s my ice cream though? You’d think…

Down and around, rocky singletrack that makes you pay attention but not so very technical that it’s handleable by anyone with a little experience. Another descent, another climb and another ascent. Los Burros keeps you entertained with something new around each corner and now we are solidly into thicker pines and at a rest stop with a view to Wishbone Mountain, we observe that there are no longer aspens here and recall that there was a nice grove here when we first started riding Los Burros years ago. Drought and grazing have xerified much of the aspen ecosystem here, and we need to climb yet higher to see the colors we came to see.

A unique characteristic of aspens is that a grove of aspens is actually one organism with the many trees as clones sharing the same root system. Aspens do flower and make seeds in the spring, but the probability that seeds will sprout and thrive outside of the grove area is slim, and most trees result from root propagation. The grove that was here and is now gone represents one individual that could no longer survive. A grove of aspens makes its own ecosystem by dropping leaves, which add nutrients to the soil, shading the ground to keep it cooler and moister, and actually communicating via pheromones in the mycelium connecting the intertwining root system. We discuss the sobering thought that reminds us that, like aspens; we are all one, depending on each other for survival, stronger together. We continue on to “Downhill Bomber”, one of the best descents on Los Burros and up “Lung Bleeder,” one more big climb…cool fall air so appreciated and any need for a jacket long gone.

We finally reach the correct altitude, the correct soil type and the correct moisture levels for aspens to thrive and are greeted with a blaze of the purest yellow against a backdrop of the most pristine blue sky possible. The contrast and beauty of the colors literally gives one pause and renews the feeling of strength and spirituality that experiencing nature brings to our short lives. The leaves tremble in the wind, and hundreds are constantly falling; floating gently through the air and onto the ground we pass over. We repeatedly stop and marvel at the sight and feel thankful that we are in this place at this time with these people we are riding with.

All the aspens in this grove are clones and come from the same base parent tree from centuries ago. The oldest known aspen grove is in Utah’s Fishlake National Forest and is close to 80,000 years old and 106 acres in size. Aspens in a grove all share the same root system and, being genetically identical, they turn colors nearly simultaneously. Color change is related to temperature and day length and is caused by the absorption of the green chlorophyll from the leaf blade into the branches to be stored until next year’s spring temperatures and day length trigger new growth to begin. A process called apoptosis is genetically pre-programmed cell death that occurs after the chlorophyll is safely stored away. The weakening of the cell walls of the dead cells at the base of the leaf petioles causes the leaves to snap off in the slightest breeze and make their zigzag fall to the ground. (This is the same process that causes hair to fall out during your pet’s shedding season, only much more glorious than that pile of old pet hair on the rug!) The spectacular display in this grove of aspens is worth every bead of sweat and the effort of repeated climbs to get here. We can’t help but stop and take pictures; looking through the gold leaves into the blue sky is awe-inspiring!

We are at the “Fuzzy Bunny” section, a fun technical tiptoe through a rock garden, which I enjoy because the rocks are firmly planted and give great purchase to the tires to get over them. Down to the 96 road (thx again, TRACKS! Great job on the Fuzzy Bunny descent!), through another aspen grove dropping shimmering golden leaves and over the whoop-dees on the “Fun Part” to “Collar Bone” (one more kudos to TRACKS), down the Wishbone switchbacks and around the meadow to the Vernon-McNary Road crossing.

Today, they were doing a prescribed burn here, and we got to ride through the familiar smell and slight eye-burn of fall smoke emanating continuously from smoldering ground cover and stump holes. The trail is a tan line through the black of charred pine needles, and it makes for a perfect post-Halloween spooky feel as the smoke drifts through the trees and still brightly flickering flames catch our attention. Then just one more climb and a rocky switchback descent to the “Backslider” run and back to the trailhead. 14 miles of fall splendor that will be on display a couple more weeks until the next season of bare oak and aspen branches and falling snowflakes (let’s hope for a wet winter!).

¡Los álamos dorados magnificos en Los Burros!

Immersed In The “Collective Unconscious”

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 21:30:27 GMT

On nature and the "Epistle"

By Rob Bettaso

If by chance you read my article from last month, you might recall that I was reluctant to say goodbye to our warm-season. As such, I summarized several of the fun outings I had made during our days of temperate weather that I hadn’t yet written about. I also promised that come the November edition of Outdoors SouthWest, I would step fully into the other half of our annual cycle — the cool and cold portion.

Well, last night, just before going to bed, I did as I do on many nights and went outside to gander at the night sky. I was happy to see that one of my snowbird neighbors must have made the trek south, as the blindingly bright porch-light he keeps on throughout the night had finally been turned off for the season. Without that light, the street I live on is very dark as there are, thankfully, no street lamps along our dirt road and most of the neighbors only turn on a low wattage outdoor light when they have a specific need for illumination.

The air was quite brisk, and somehow that seemed to highlight the inky blackness of the heavens above. Studded within that blackness, however, was the glitter of countless stars, and, as my eyes became accustomed to the dark, those stars increased in number. I was gazing toward the northwest when a brilliant shooting-star streaked across the sky and because it was so big, so sustained, and of such a dazzling yellow color, I thought it might qualify as a “bolide” (a fireball, in common parlance).

The nature of this meteor not only excited me, it also evoked a poem that I had been introduced to many years ago. Although I had never memorized the longish poem, several of the lines in it had lodged in my mind, and one gloomy partial stanza came to me: “Long since we passed the flares of Orion / Each man believes in his heart he will die."

Now, while I don’t consider myself to be an especially morbid type of person, I don’t shy away from the subject of mortality either; and, there was something about this night in particular that was slightly unsettling to me. I took a moment to reflect on my immediate environment; specifically, the contrast of the darkness, the stars, and the rare phenomenon of the fireball. I also noted how these three features combined with the frigid air, the change of seasons, and the conclusion of another day. Soon, I would go back inside my house and enter the mysterious realm of nightly slumber, but before I did, I had a bit more thinking to do.

Fifteen minutes later, my head was on the pillow, and I thought some more about the circumstances surrounding the poem that had entered my mind this evening. I for sure remembered the title and the author: “Epistle to be Left in the Earth” by Archibald MacLeish. I also had a battered copy of the poem somewhere in the house, and how I came by that copy of the poem is a story in its own right. Briefly though, when I was a mere 21 years old, right after graduating from college, I joined the U.S. Peace Corps and was sent to work as a fisheries biologist in the Congo. After several weeks of language and technical training, I was dropped off in a remote village deep in the heart of equatorial Africa. After a period of “culture shock,” I slowly grew used to the rhythms of village life and became fluent in the local language. There were no English speakers within many miles of my village, and I had to ride my Yamaha 125 for several hours on tricky, two-track roads to reach an American Mennonite mission where I could hear and speak my mother tongue. I would make the treacherous cycle ride every few months of my two-year term, and became good friends with one missionary at the mission. He was a teacher and also wrote both prose and poetry; and it was thanks to him I first read MacLeish.

As I continued to recall those long-ago days, my mind eventually became groggy and, slowly but surely, sleep took me under. I awoke slightly before first light and pondered where I might find my copy of the “Epistle.” After making coffee and bringing it back to bed to drink, I sat propped up against the pillows and mentally narrowed down the places in my house where I might find the MacLeish poem. I knew I had never bought any of his collected works but I was certain that I had hand written his “Epistle” on a sheet of paper that I suspected was probably stuck between the pages of some other volume of poems on one of the many bookshelves in various rooms of my house. After finishing a second mug of Java, I set about to look for the “Epistle” and, sure enough, I found it in a book of poems by Baudelaire (not that Baudelaire and MacLeish have much in common, but it just happened that way).

I stood by the window, and with the light of day increasing, I read the poem several times through and noted how that first stanza progressed — the one I had only partially remembered during last night’s stargazing. The stanza continues: “Many have written last thoughts and last letters / None knows if our deaths are now or forever / None know if this wandering earth will be found”. Since MacLeish wrote his “Epistle” during the interwar period, I wondered if one of his themes may have had something to do with the gruesomeness of the First World War (in which he saw action) and the alarming activities leading up to the Second. But, the poem also contains so much that is hopeful (and beautiful) that I refolded my copy, put it in my back pocket, and took it with me as I walked up a hill near my house; expecting that I would find it relevant to the glories of a new day.

Sure enough, the first sensation I experienced as I walked out my front door was the bite of the frosty autumn air and so I pulled the “Epistle” from my pocket to read its somewhat appropriate opening line, which, for whatever reason, MacLeish begins with ellipses, perhaps suggesting the eternal nature of Earth’s rotating seasons: “…It is colder now / there are many stars / we are drifting / North by the Great Bear / the leaves are falling / the water is stone in the scooped rock”. True, it was now day, and the lines were written about the night, but, as I would soon read, his “Epistle” next turned to daytime as he notes that: “the crows are / Slow on their crooked wings / the jays have left us”. And so, once again, I’m struck by the uncanny relevance since, within 100 feet from my front gravel drive, I hear the forlorn cawing of a couple of flying crows. I must confess though, what I heard next was the “shook, shook, shook” call of a Steller’s Jay, which, in our part of the world, sticks around all year long. But one can assume that at least parts of the “Epistle” are metaphorical and not literal.

Commencing my walk, I traversed several blocks of my neighborhood, then hiked uphill along the dirt Rim Road through scrubland, and finally ascended the steep hill up into pine and fir trees. When I reached the summit — often my destination for that first walk of the day - I was again struck by how the things I had experienced as I hiked had relevance with lines in the poem. I read from the “Epistle” noting that in one stanza, MacLeish enumerates some things we, humanity, have learned during our time on Earth: “The earth is round / there are springs under the orchards / The loam cuts with a blunt knife / beware of / Elms in thunder / the lights in the sky are stars / We think they do not see / we think also / The trees do not know nor the leaves of the grasses hear us / The birds too are ignorant."

As I read those words, all around me the grasses were swaying in the growing breeze; the chickadees and nuthatches were crying out their sweet calls; the Douglas-fir trees were exuding pleasing aromas from their boughs; and the lichen-covered boulders felt wonderfully gritty and enduring under my hands. And at that point, I decided it doesn’t really matter what MacLeish was getting at in his poem; it is enough that his poem simply IS. Come to think of it, that is what much of humanity’s most powerful artistic works do: they alert us of the commonplace miracles; the ones that surround us each and every day.

With winter rapidly approaching, I can’t help but quote one more line from the poem; and it is MacLeish’s last stanza in his “Epistle.” The poem concludes as follows: “It is very cold / there are strange stars near Arcturus / Voices are crying an unknown name in the sky."

Shades of the Season

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 21:22:40 GMT

Autumn brings not just our foliage changing colors,

 but celebrations!

Article and chosen photos

By Annemarie Eveland

Yesterday, a friend and I were discussing the Autumn Equinox. Because our Arizona weather felt like summer, I expected October for the true start of fall. But I was wrong. It turns out that for our Northern Hemisphere, it actually happened on September 22nd at 2:19 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time. That was when the sun was directly above the equator, causing the length of day and night to be the same. Farmers used this information to help with their planting times of crops. Esoteric groups used the Equinox to plan their ceremonies. Personally, I use it to be pleased that our cooling weather and colorful autumn are coming.

Autumn is my favorite season, painting the landscape with its garments of shimmering golds, old rust, fiery crimson reds, splashy yellows and deep earth browns. For those of us who are not graced with a scientific mind, it is enough to enjoy the artistic colors of this season. But there is a more pragmatic point to the changing of the leaves. It is because their green leaves are decreasing in chlorophyll, which gives them the traditional green leaves. And in the shorter days of fall, there is not as much warm sunlight, temperatures drop and the chlorophyll breaks down. The stunning array of oranges, yellows and reds, my favorites — is what remains.

And it depends upon what kind of tree it is for the colors it turns into. For example, our oak trees become browner. The maple trees may become showy with their bright reds or oranges. This symmetry of cascading colors makes incredible landscapes, and this beauty is often captured in photographic splendor or in artistic paintings.

And autumn brings not just our foliage changing colors, but celebrations in many cultures. We celebrate Thanksgiving as our traditional fall festival. Historically, it was a time when the early settlers would bring in their crops, express thanks and celebrate the harvest. I also attended Oktoberfest with German friends, and they were well known for enjoying a variety of beers, food, and lively dancing during their musical festivities for weeks. And I attended Diwali, which is from the India part of our world, called the Festival of Lights. It focused on joy-filled reflection time, floating lanterns on the water, and the “light” of colorful fireworks.

The animals also sense the changes of this season. The birds and other animals may migrate to other places. I’m impressed with the tiny hummingbirds that fly south — way south to Argentina — over 3,000 miles for the coming winter.

The surrounding trees shed their leaves, a little at a time, appearing like a gentle showering of bits of them floating down softly to rest on the earth. They can effortlessly then conserve their energy for the colder, harsher months that winter will bring them. That’s when we get out our winter coats to protect our limbs too!

I always think of pumpkins as a symbol of autumn too. For centuries, this sturdy gourd-like food source has been a staple in the fall. In my family, my brother, who was born on October 31st, Halloween, always asked for his birthday cake to be pumpkin pie with marshmallows holding his birthday candles. He loved letting the candles burn down before blowing them all out.

I also loved the yummy pumpkin pies that were served at our family Thanksgiving Day dinner. And in mentioning Thanksgiving, it has traditionally been a time for gathering loved ones, sharing bountiful food with them and prayerful intentions of appreciation for the goodness that we have been fortunate to receive in our lives.

At our family dinner, at our settings, we each had little white paper cups with three kernels of “candy corn.” I think an enterprising businessperson made candy corn to sell as dessert candy from corn grown during the early farm days. Mom would have us go around the table, and each kid would pick up one at a time and say three things they were thankful for. The sentiments shared were varied, depending on the age of the child!

I recently learned that the month’s word “November” actually comes from the Latin root word “Novem” which means “nine.” Puzzling, huh? But not when you learn that the early Roman calendar had ten months and began in March, making November the ninth month. The calendar went through several changes until finally it became the Gregorian calendar we use today, and November became the 11th month, even though it kept its “Novem.”

And finally, what about the words fall and autumn? Why does this season have two names? In brief, Fall is the considered usage in our United States, and Autumn is more of a British usage. But whichever name you choose to use, enjoy the colors of this season’s magic!

A Time for Giving Thanks

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 21:10:57 GMT

Thanksgiving is a time for gratitude...

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht. — Unstuck Living

Thanksgiving. A time for turkey and pumpkin pie. For stuffing and Mom’s special recipe that only she can make, and rolls and candied yams. For the leaves changing in a riot of color. But most of all, this is a time for gratitude, the magical warmth of the heart.

To me, this is the season of giving thanks. And it comes in many shapes. Years ago, Ken and I were RVing down in Baja California over Thanksgiving. He was an excellent cook, and I was the cleanup crew. Cinnamon was an essential ingredient for one of his dishes, so off I went to the little tienda in the center of town.

Another woman and I simultaneously reached for this spice, grabbing the only container on the shelf. Unable to talk to her and with the box in hand, I motioned her to the cashier, who, fortunately, was bilingual. I explained that both of us needed this spice. Did she have a plastic bag or container where we could split it? Voila! Mission accomplished. With the need fulfilled, all three of us smiled widely at each other. Grateful that the spice was on the shelf. Grateful for the helpful cashier. Grateful for the willingness to work it out.

But then?

Yikes! By the tail end of this August, I walked into stores putting up Halloween and Christmas décor. If Thanksgiving was there, it was a lone afterthought.

A sad situation.

Let’s change it up!

Let’s be grateful for all that we have. I am blessed in many ways. A few things on my list are:

• Readily available produce and products. Yes, there’s pre-planning in our little mountain towns. But between the grocery stores and Amazon, you can get all you need for a scrumptious meal. A true luxury!

• Family and friends. Although this holiday might feel different this year, I am thankful for those close to me. We may celebrate at home or through Zoom, but we still share the love and connection.

• Good health. For those of us who possess this precious asset, it remains an ongoing gift. For those still working on it, I appreciate your energy and effort to reach a better place.

• Those who provide services for us. Grocery clerks, postal workers, and mail drop folks. Essential hospital staff. Our armed forces here and abroad. And many others. I salute you!

• A big shout-out to my clients. This has been a challenging time for many of us small business owners. I am grateful for those who reach out to me for help in ending old patterns and getting unstuck. I appreciate your confidence in me and my work. It has been a pleasure and a privilege to work with each and every one of you. Thank you.

These are just a few items on my list, and I’m sure you have many others. During this time of year, I suggest you pause and take a moment to give thanks for what you have. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!

How to Stay Found & Get Un-lost in the White Mountains

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 23:36:54 GMT

Tips from professional search and rescue personnel

By Dan Groebner, AZGFD

Forest fire restrictions and area closures have been lifted in most areas of the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest in the White Mountains, so it’s time to get out into the backcountry! Whether you’re scouting for an upcoming hunt or you’re just trying to find that elusive natural mountain spring that could support some rare orchids in our otherwise parched landscape, you’ll enjoy your outing more and have a much higher chance of making it back to your vehicle or other form of civilization if you make a few preparations.

The key to staying found can be perfected by anybody with a little thought and common sense. For some of us lacking these skills, even temporarily, we need to revert to the science of getting unlost sometimes (but don’t always have to tell somebody if we figure it out quickly enough!).

Being prepared to “stay found” means different things, depending on your plans. Is it a group trip or solo? Afternoon walk or multi-day hike? Experienced hikers or newbies? Familiar trail or backwoods bushwhacking? Sketchy weather or a Chamber of Commerce sunny day?

So, each trip is unique, but the art of staying found can apply to almost all of them.

Staying Found

Know the area or study maps prior to departure and carry maps in the appropriate scale (not too magnified, but with enough detail to use for landmarks). A scale of 1:24,000, which is typical of topo maps, is good for day hiking. The Forest Service sells maps that are better for navigating in a vehicle, but they still show some trails. The White Mountain TRACKS organization has developed accurate and detailed maps of the trails they maintain in conjunction with the Forest Service (https://trackswhitemountains.org/). Fortunately, paper maps don’t need to be recharged like your phone maps; that’s why people like to stash some good ones in their packs so they always have one.

The quickest way to get rescued, if you need it, is to tell someone or leave a message of where you are going and when you expect to return. Don’t expect to be able to call someone after you’re in trouble. But remember that you can sometimes get a text message to send when the signal is too weak for a voice call. If your phone battery is almost dead, try switching to airplane mode to save battery in areas with a weak cell phone signal. Don’t forget to switch it off after charging or getting back into coverage.

When hiking with a sizeable group of people who have varied experience, especially children, make sure adult leaders are at both the front and back of the group and at all trail junctions to ensure no one takes a wrong turn. Try to keep the group together as much as possible, even though some will want to race. You can slow them down by pointing out cool rocks (sometimes petrified!), holes in trees or nests (who lives there?), or tracks in the sand and mud.

There has to be a parent or two out there who have secretly “seeded” the trail with a small antler shed just to get their kids in more of an observation and discovery mode than a talking one! Radio or phone communication between leaders at the front and back is ideal. Some radios don’t require licensing, but the more powerful ones do, so check the regulations.

Set a waypoint at your vehicle or the trailhead with your GPS before you depart so you can navigate back to it. And plan on your GPS breaking, so bring the backup map and compass and learn how to use them as well as estimating distance and direction.

The first step is to locate your starting point at the vehicle or trailhead on the map. If you’re not afraid of technology and want to purchase some peace of mind, you can invest in a satellite locator and communicator, like a Garmin InReach or Spot X. Monthly subscriptions are needed.

Always try to maintain a reference direction as you walk, which can be south if you are using the sun, or any direction if you know the bearing to a landmark that is always visible. Take time periodically to re-find yourself on a map or app if you lose sight of your reference (sun or other landmark). Of course, this is much easier with a GPS and compass!

Keep track of the total time spent walking, which can be easily converted to rough distances (or use your trip meter on your GPS to measure this). Obviously, you need to plan for the time getting back to your starting point if you are not hiking a loop. And sometimes it can take longer to get back since you’re tired, or it could be all uphill (at least it’s going to feel that way!).

Locate and remember mountain peaks, ridges, drainages, and other landmarks shown on the maps that you carry as you walk by them. Periodically look behind you to see what it will look like on your way back. Confirm the same features on your GPS if it has a detailed map.

Otherwise, you can learn to plot the coordinates of features on your paper map and compare that to the GPS coordinate readings. The numbers along the sides of good maps are the coordinates, sometimes expressed in different formats, like latitude/longitude and Universal Trans Mercator (UTM). Make sure your GPS is using the same coordinate system; otherwise, it will be really confusing.

Identify landmarks or topographical features on your map beforehand that will “box you in” if you wander off course temporarily. “Handrails” are topographical features like streams, roads, or ridges that you can use to travel along to find your destination.

Carry enough water, high-energy food, and wear appropriate clothing and boots for the conditions. A small first aid/survival kit with components designed for your area and trail conditions can be worth its weight in platinum. At a minimum, pack a flashlight with extra batteries, matches or a lighter, a whistle, and a knife or utility tool.

So what happens if you forget to heed the advice above and find yourself completely bewildered about how to get back to the vehicle? Or what advice should you give to group members before you depart in case they refuse to stay found? This can happen to anybody adventurous, so don’t be too proud to use the 911 system in an emergency if you have cell phone service, but don’t count on its availability everywhere in the White Mountains.

Getting Unlost

If the weather gets cold or wet, which can happen in an instant after a frigid summer monsoon downpour, seek shelter to stay warm and dry since hypothermia can be a more serious threat than dehydration or starvation. Avoid the tallest trees and ridgelines since lightning is deadly.

In most situations, you’ll want to keep your group together and stay in one spot to make a plan. Getting unlost many times means staying put and waiting for someone to find you.

Professional search and rescue personnel recommend the S.T.O.P. Principle:

S = Sit down and take a break to calm down; people don’t think clearly if stressed.

T = Think about how you got there by retracing steps and estimating your distance traveled.

O = Observe landmarks that could be hazards or may help you locate a way out, or listen for vehicles, etc.

P = Plan if you should try to keep walking or make a camp for the night.

Trying to hike at night without adequate lighting or even crossing a fast stream can be disastrous. You don’t want to make a critical situation even worse by getting injured with a twisted ankle, lacerated shin, or broken wrist from a common fall. The ugliest situations usually result from multiple consecutive poor decisions, but having bad karma also doesn’t help. A small headlamp with fresh batteries will make things so much easier.

If you’re lucky enough to have phone service, you can describe trail or road markers, landmarks, highway sounds or other cues to a 911 dispatcher if needed. Many trails are well marked, so be observant. The new phone services also include a level of emergency satellite service when out of range of a cell tower.

Many people carry an orange or neon-colored bandana to pull out and use for signaling help. Aircraft and drones can obviously see these colors easier, and searchers can also use software to review the hundreds of photos that can be taken of a search area. Only 1 pixel in the photos has to match the color or look abnormal to be highlighted and saved as a potential target to investigate.

Whistles are probably the most valuable survival tool for their weight as you can blow them in groups of 3 to signal an emergency for a lot longer than you can yell or bang logs or make other noises. Shooting guns in groups of 3 will certainly have a longer range, but eventually you’re going to run out of ammo.

With a little preparation and communication by telling someone where you’re taking a hike or going hunting, you can relax more and enjoy the area knowing that someone will come looking if you’re overdue. Enjoy the Outdoors!

Lakeside Memories

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 23:30:53 GMT

The nine-acre Lake at Green Valley Park

Article and Photos by Annemarie Eveland

It’s early morning-my favorite time. It’s quiet around this lovely nine-acre local lake at Green Valley Park. A blanket of sunshine has covered all, warming up the trees, making the waters sparkle brightly, revealing more to appreciate.

It’s a storybook lake even from its inception. Who would have thought that a water recycling plant built down the road could continue for many years to provide fresh, clean water for these three neighboring lakes? But the test of time has proved it true. And it is a living environment too. Things and places hold memories for us to revisit time and time again. Come walk with me and enjoy what I see.

I love the meandering, wide and level sidewalks that hug the lake’s sides. It makes it easy for a variety of users — from fast, devoted joggers to the easy-walking visitors pushing baby strollers with a small child or, more often, with their pampered pooches. And the dogs walking their owners. Yep, I get to greet the doggies first, and usually they respond to my cuddling. I have yet to meet an owner who wasn’t willing to admit that their dog is always leading them.

There are the sweethearts, holding hands and gazing lovingly at each other. They often linger sweetly on those dedicated benches that have metal-engraved names of someone’s loved one now in spirit.

I was told that one lady walks the lake three times around each day and during that time she prays continually. And I passed by one young gal on roller skates purposefully whizzing blissfully along with a smile.

I saw a dad with his two small children. He was happily showing them how to use their fishing rods and was talking about the fun of catching a fish. Their wide-open eyes showed hopefulness of catching the big one. I mentioned to Dad as I passed about the annual free fishing festival day for kids, usually in April. I think, “It’s good for youngsters to learn skills that get them outdoors in the fresh air and sunshine and water. Yes, Dad probably could use it too.”

The atmosphere of the lake differs from just one mile away down Main Street and the highway coming into our town. The bustling, congested highway coming through town groans with traffic, a sharp contrast to this serene, peaceful place that truly doesn’t know a discouraging word. People are gentle and respectfully circling the lake and enjoying the more important things at the moment.

I do not see specific age groups either. Visitors from toddlers to 80+ years old are visibly enjoying something that this lake offers — free! Some visitors even enjoy the beauty of the lake from their comfort of their own parked vehicles.

And the wildlife come to take advantage of what this lake offers — places to perch, food supply, and other birds to visit — from the eagle to the tiny songbirds. I have often seen the eagle, ever watchful, perched high in its huge lakeside tree. I watched as it watched the hopeful anglers on the shoreline. Then, when they caught a fish, landed it and unhooked it, they would throw it back into the lake. The moment they did, the eagle would swoop down instantly, dive into the water and come up…yes, you’re right…with that recycled fish. Their eyesight is very sharp. The eagle had a mate, but I haven’t seen it this year so far.

Also, occasionally I would see a turtle perched on a rock in the shade of some growing greenery at the lake. And what would a lakeside community also have but the chorus of frogs at eventide? On the lake, the little sailboats, powered by remote-controlled by wanna-be captains, gently glide around the lake and back. Standing patiently on the bank is the heron, statue-like and then, for unknown reasons, he flaps his wings and soars away. More predictable are the many gaggles of geese and the flocks of ducks that frequently dot the area. I am amused by the Canada geese. They are a show unto themselves! They strut slowly across the streets and all the traffic must wait (patiently or impatiently) for them to finish their crossings. And they are impervious to someone honking a car horn. And invariably there will be one or two who change their minds halfway across the street. Another opportunity for practicing patience and reminding us to slow down. But they are beautiful and entertaining.

And this little lake park has picnic tables under shade trees. People bring their picnics and make it a festive day outing. As I walked further around the lake, I noticed three teenage girls sitting on the grass at the edge of the lake. I was struck first with the happy giggling and laughter of their conversation. They were obviously oblivious of anything or anyone around them, so immersed in their private sharing.

On a large green knoll, with a sparkling blue water background, sometimes there will be a formally wedding-dressed lady with her black tuxedoed mate having their picture taken by our local photographer DJ Craig. Here on prom night, the young teens saunter and chatter in their formal attire. I have also seen a wedding ceremony on the launching deck (no motors allowed) where you can launch your own boat.

The well-placed arboretum-like willow trees gracefully sway in the gentle breezes, now fully dressed in their spring greens. They are the last to shed their leaves in the winter and the first to produce new leaves in the spring.

An exciting yet welcoming sight are hoofprints in the earth early in the day. Elk are our early risers and feed on any green morsels they can find. It has been tougher now since we have had little rain to grow the greenery for them outside the park. But they are tenacious, and I have seen them eat many surprising shrub-bits that don’t look very appetizing. In this community there is an understanding — the elk don’t bother us, we appreciate them. They munch and graze around the lake; we walk and watch them. It works out well.

Thanks for joining me on this little adventure around our lake. I have yet to meet a grumpy person. All who visit are of good nature or respond with appreciation as I wish them a happy day, and, of course, bend down to pet their doggy.

The sign says it all.

Breed Vs. Temperament in Dogs

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 23:25:17 GMT

How it affects the dog you choose...

An interview with Penelope Inan, AKC Judge Emeritus

By Jen Rinaldi

The world of dogs is as diverse as it is fascinating. Penny Inan, a judge for The American Kennel Club, has a unique insight into what makes a dog tick.

With her 50+ years involved in AKC shows, and many types of dogs, Penny is a tremendous resource for all things K-9. She tells me, “I bred Basenjis, a primitive barkless breed native to Africa, from 1974 until 1992. In 1992 while living in Istanbul, Turkey, I adopted an Istanbul street dog. Although not an “official” breed - Mark Twain wrote of them, and they have a section in the encyclopedic 1905 Dogs of All Nations.

She is currently “owned” by two Toy Xoloitzcuintli (Mexican Hairless) — one coated and one hairless — and became an AKC approved judge in 2002 and went Emeritus in 2022, approved to judge 28 breeds over five different groups. “I’ve studied dogs my entire life and read pretty much every dog book in print, including many historic and rare volumes.”

She adds that if there were a degree in dogs, she would be on the list!

From the tiny Chihuahua to the robust Saint Bernard, the notion of “breed” conjures up images of distinctive physical traits and, frequently, a set of personality characteristics. Penny adds that genetics in dogs are among the most plastic and malleable of any in the animal world.

Yet, the question remains: how much of a dog’s temperament is truly determined by its breed? Are Golden Retrievers inherently friendlier? Are pit bulls always vicious? Are Border Collies always overly energetic? Or does temperament arise from a more complex interplay of genetics, environment, and individual experience? In this article we will examine the relationship between breed and temperament in dogs, explore the science behind canine behavior, and discuss the implications for both dog owners and enthusiasts.

Understanding Dog Breeds

Dog breeds result from centuries of selective breeding, where humans have intentionally chosen genes for certain physical attributes, abilities, and, to some extent, behavioral tendencies. The American Kennel Club (AKC) recognizes nearly 200 breeds, each with its own standard description. Breeds often originated for specific purposes — herding, hunting, guarding, or companionship. These origins inform not only size and appearance but also preferred activities, energy levels, and reactions to new stimuli.

• Working breeds (e.g., Siberian Husky, Boxer): Bred for strength, stamina, and jobs like pulling sleds or guarding property.

• Herding breeds (e.g., Border Collie, Australian Shepherd): selected for their ability to control the movement of livestock.

• Sporting breeds (e.g., Labrador Retriever, Spaniels): developed for retrieving game and known for their sociability and energy.

• Toy breeds (e.g., Pomeranian, Shih Tzu): Bred primarily for companionship and often small in size but bold in spirit.

However, while breeds provide a framework for physical and, to an extent, behavioral expectations, individuality abounds.

Defining Temperament

Temperament refers to the set of behavioral tendencies that determine how a dog typically responds to people, other animals, and situations. It encompasses traits such as sociability, aggressiveness, shyness, boldness, trainability, and resilience to stress. Temperament is not a fixed trait, but a spectrum influenced by genetics, early socialization, environment, and ongoing experiences.

Common temperament descriptors in dogs include:

• Friendliness: willingness to approach and interact positively with people and other dogs.

• Aggression: inclination to display warning behaviors or bite under certain circumstances.

• Alertness: level of attentiveness to the environment, often valued in watchdogs.

• Anxiety: tendency to display nervousness or fearfulness in unfamiliar situations.

• Trainability: responsiveness to commands and ability to learn new tasks.

• Energy Level: the amount of activity a dog typically desires or sustains.

Genetic Influence

Genetics play a significant role in shaping behavior. Many breeds were created by selecting for specific behavioral traits—herding ability, hunting drive, or guarding instinct. For example, Border Collies were bred to be highly focused and responsive to subtle cues, making them natural herders. Retrievers were chosen for their soft mouths and willingness to work with humans. Pitbulls were bred to protect, fight and not let go of prey. Such genetic selection can indeed create population-level tendencies.

Environmental and Developmental Factors

Even with genetic predispositions, a dog’s temperament is powerfully shaped by its environment, especially during sensitive developmental periods. Early socialization, exposure to varied stimuli, and consistent positive training all have profound effects on how a dog grows up to relate to the world. For instance, a well-socialized pitty may be far more relaxed and tolerant than a poorly socialized golden retriever.

Rescue dogs or those from uncertain backgrounds may display temperamental quirks unrelated to their breed. Likewise, dogs raised in enriched, stable environments often display increased confidence and adaptability, regardless of breed.

Every dog is an individual. Within even the most predictable breeds, there are outliers—calm Border Collies, timid Rottweilers, laid-back Dalmatians. Genetics, while influential, do not operate in isolation; they interact dynamically with environment and experience.

The Science of Canine Behavior:

What the Research Says

Recent advances in canine research have untangled the genetic and environmental factors that shape temperament. Some key findings include:

• Genes associated with brain development and neurotransmitter regulation are linked to certain behavioral predispositions, but no single “aggression gene” or “friendliness gene” exists.

• Critical periods of socialization (3-14 weeks of age) are vital for well-adjusted adult temperaments. Some dogs isolated during this period often develop persistent fear or aggression, regardless of breed.

• Owner personality and training style have a measurable impact on a dog’s behavior. Positive reinforcement and consistency foster confidence and cooperation.

• Mixed-breed dogs display as much behavioral variety as purebreds, and sometimes may be less prone to inherited behavioral disorders.

Potential dog owners often look to breed guides to select a pet that matches their lifestyle, which can be helpful but should not be the sole criterion. Prospective owners must recognize that generalizations can lead to mismatches.

Bringing a dog home

If a rescue dog is in your future, listen to the shelter staff and don’t let your eyes shop first.

Penny warns all prospective dog owners. “Dogs are not human, and their actions are not necessarily a reflection of you.” She adds you need to pick the dog that connects with you, not the dog that speaks to your sense of shape and color.

Shelter workers have the inside view of a dog’s quirks and can be crucial in directing you to the appropriate animal for you. For example, you might think you want a younger dog to mold and train, but there may be a 5-year-old dog that would fit your family’s expectations and save you that time investment, allowing you all to bond quickly.

NEVER leave young children unattended with any dog! That Penny says is a recipe for disaster.

If you have other pets and toddlers, make sure the dog you select has a low prey drive. Ask the shelter to allow you to walk the dog you are considering around other dogs and cats. The dog should act disinterested and not lunge or chase.

And Penny warns that shelter dogs need time to acclimate. Often months. Once adopted, they need to decompress. A sad statistic from shelters speaks of families not allowing time for a dog to adjust.

She paints this image of a newly adopted dog from the dog’s perspective:

“Imagine you are in jail for reasons unknown to you, then suddenly you are released and taken to a new country where you don’t speak the language and do not know what is going to happen. You are expected to know when and where to defecate, eat, sleep, and accept all these new rules while you are trying to learn a new language.”

This is what it is like for your shelter dog.

Give them time with just you and your family before taking them out to meet new friends. Remember, kennels are not cages; they are dens — a safe place for your new family member to digest all that he/she has been exposed to. Using a kennel as a tool. It is not a punishment (never use them as punishment). Plan on taking time off so that you can give your new dog a daily pattern to adhere to. Once your dog has acclimated to your family’s pattern, training will be key!

The relationship between breed and temperament in dogs is intricate. While breeds offer broad guidelines, they are not guarantees. Genetics set the stage, but environment, socialization, and individual experience direct the play. With healthy safeguards, training and time, your pet will become an honored member of your family, whether purebred or mixed-breed.

For anyone seeking to share life with a dog, look beyond breed stereotypes and consider the unique personality of each animal. By doing so, we honor the tremendous diversity and adaptability that have made dogs humanity’s greatest companions for millennia.

America's Best National Parks for Star Gazing in 2025

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 23:15:53 GMT

Star Gazing at America's National Parks

Submitted by Andrea Anton, Kuhl; Outdoor Performance

Apparel

With astro-tourism emerging as a major travel trend for 2025, a new study reveals the best national parks across the U.S. for stargazing.

To determine the rankings, KÜHL analyzed five data points across U.S. national parks — stargazing event frequency, light pollution levels, Dark-Sky Park certification, maximum elevation, and campground availability — and revealed that:

• Great Basin National Park in Nevada is the best national park in the U.S. for stargazing

• Death Valley, Zion, Big Bend, and Capitol Reef round out the top five stargazing destinations

• Zion National Park hosts the highest number of night sky programs and events

• Denali National Park features the highest peak of all U.S. parks for high-elevation skywatching

• Isle Royale National Park has the most developed campgrounds among top parks for stargazing

Great Basin National Park ranks as the best national park for stargazing. Tucked away in a quiet corner of Nevada, it offers one of the darkest skies in the country—earning a pristine Bortle 1 rating and a IDA Dark-Sky Park certification. With 53 stargazing events a year and high-elevation views from Wheeler Peak (13,000+ ft), it’s a rare place where the night sky still feels ancient—and where you might just feel like you’ve left Earth behind.

Death Valley National Park comes in second with Bortle 1 skies and a Certified Dark-Sky Park status. Unlike others, it takes a self-guided approach—there are no formal stargazing events, but 12 developed campgrounds and endless open desert make it easy to find solitude under the stars or on the 11,049 feet peak.

Zion National Park ranks third overall and leads the nation in night sky programming, hosting 59 stargazing events between July and December. Though its skies are Bortle 2—not the darkest—they’re still impressively clear. With a Dark-Sky Park certification, three campgrounds, and peaks reaching 8,726 feet, Zion offers easy access to stellar views just beyond the canyon walls.

Big Bend and Capitol Reef National Parks—both certified Dark-Sky Parks—rank fourth and fifth respectively. Each provides remote, undeveloped terrain and Bortle 1 skies ideal for self-guided night sky exploration.

America’s 10 best national parks

for stargazing are:

1. Great Basin National Park, NV

2. Death Valley National Park, CA

3. Zion National Park, UT

4. Big Bend National Park, TX

5. Capitol Reef National Park, UT

6. Grand Canyon National Park, AZ

7. Glacier National Park, MT

8. Great Sand Dunes National Park, CO

9. Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, CO

10. Olympic National Park, WA

Several other parks stood out for specific strengths. Zion National Park leads the nation in public programming, offering 59 scheduled stargazing events in a single season. Denali National Park boasts the highest peak of all national parks (20,310 feet), providing optimal sky clarity and atmospheric conditions. Meanwhile, Isle Royale National Park offers the most campground options, with 36 developed sites—allowing more visitors to roll out of their tents and straight into starlit views.

Oded Gross, from KÜHL, comments, “As more travelers look to the night sky for awe and inspiration, our research helps find the parks where that connection is still possible. Stargazing is more than a pastime—it’s a return to something ancient and wild.”

Horseback Riding the Panorama Short Loop

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 23:07:55 GMT

Riding the White Mountain Trails System

Article and photos

by Allanna Jackson

Some rain finally arrived in mid-July, but everything was so dry the water immediately soaked in, with the deepest puddles lasting only a day or so. July 24 was dry and warm, with only a few scattered clouds and no rain, so mid-afternoon I trailered Cinnamon up to the Panorama trailhead to ride the short loop.

When we arrived, there was one truck at the trailhead. I parked behind it so that my trailer would be in the shade. I unloaded Cinnamon. While I was brushing the dust off her, a man walked in from the trail and began unloading his pack into the truck. He waved tiredly in acknowledgement of my greeting, then got into his vehicle and drove away. We had the parking lot to ourselves.

I finished saddling Cinnamon, and we set off up the trail. We’d barely passed the kiosk when she alerted to something on our right. A white-faced black cow was grazing well off the trail just before the first Panorama white diamond trail marker (P1). The cow briefly glanced at us, then resumed eating. Cinnamon continued down the trail. A day or two earlier, I’d seen a cloudburst somewhere east of Porter Mountain. This was the place. Pine needles, duff, and mud had washed across the trail. When we reached the junction at P2, Cinnamon again wanted to go left. This time I simply turned her right.

We passed the Shortcut junction and continued east up the numbers. The cloudburst filled the dirt stock tank beside the trail at P3, leaving more water in it than I’ve seen in several years. Between P3 and P4, there was fresh erosion beside the trail. The trail itself was intact.

At P4, the trail turns north and winds through a shady tunnel of ponderosa pines and Gambel oaks, then climbs the knoll as it doubles back west. At P5, the trail breaks into the open again, providing a full view of the east flank of Porter Mountain with its distinctive crown of antennas. The trail continues climbing around the west shoulder of the knoll, where it suddenly offers the first of many panoramic views to the north. The views expand as the trail rounds the shoulder of the knoll about half-way up the north face on its way to P6. This knoll consists primarily of cinders. Most of the trees are Gambel oaks, with only a few pines. The bear grass plants looked quite happy, though none of them were blooming yet.

Approaching P7, the trail turns eastward as it rounds the knoll, offering a view of another mountain. From here, the trail gradually descends the east side of the knoll. It makes a left turn as it drops onto an old single-lane road just before P8. The road continues northward for a quarter mile, then narrows to a wide single-track approaching P9. A blue arrow points left where the trail turns west as it abruptly becomes a true single-track through the forest to P10. After P10, the trail parallels P7 to P8 but lower down the slope and going the opposite direction, so if you missed the views the first time you might see them again over the tops of the oaks and pines. An old turquoise diamond, one of the original trail markers, points the way around an S-shaped switchback down the slope and across a small wash to P11.

The trail again drops into a forest of junipers, oaks, and pines as it wanders westward past P12 to the Shortcut just before P13. Cinnamon looked off down the trail toward P13, expecting to continue that way. She seemed surprised when I turned her up the Shortcut. We’d gone in the other direction of the Shortcut last month, so this was familiar terrain.

The wash was dry, but flowing water from the recent rainstorm had left fresh erosion and changed the debris piles. I missed seeing the thistles at P35. We went down the numbers while climbing up a gradual slope from P37 to P34, where we rejoined the main trail just before P3. Turning right, we retraced our steps to the trailhead. We had the trail to ourselves the entire trip. At P1, the white-faced black cow stood at attention staring at us, then turned tail and resumed browsing.

There was a white car in the parking lot when we arrived. A minute later, the lady who owned it arrived, put her dog inside and prepared to leave. I unsaddled Cinnamon. Just then, the white-faced black cow mooed loudly from the east side of the parking lot. The lady in the white car chuckled. I told the cow, “If you say so.” The cow mooed twice more as she marched purposefully west across the trailhead toward the sign about elk recovery. A black calf appeared from somewhere behind the sign. A moment later, a second black calf appeared. The lady got in the white car and drove away.

While brushing Cinnamon, I wondered if the black cow had twins when another loud moo announced a very large red cow on the north side of the parking lot. One calf dutifully went to the red cow and followed her a few feet into the brush, but then turned back to the parking lot to rejoin its playmate. Cinnamon kept a watchful eye on the cattle while I brushed her.

One calf had an ear tag number 35; the other was tagged 24. Thirty-five began sneaking up on us. Cinnamon suddenly turned and looked over her shoulder at 35. Thirty-five stopped, turned its head and began licking its own right shoulder.

The white-faced black cow wandered north across the parking lot, sniffing a small pile of hay left by some other horse. Thirty-five turned around to follow her and stopped to take several bites of the spilled hay.

Calf 24 wandered over to the trailhead kiosk and carefully looked it over as if reading the blank backside of the sign. Next, 24 poked the bottom of the map box with its nose from underneath the sign, then tried walking under the kiosk but discovered it didn’t fit. Then, 24 head-butted the vertical fiberglass trail sign, pushing it partway over before backing up and ambling over to join 35 on the east side of the parking lot. A bovine vandal.

Meanwhile, 35 was sneaking up on us again, tentatively approaching a few steps, then circling away to approach from another angle. Twenty-four joined this game while Cinnamon and I watched them watching us. The calves looked surprised when Cinnamon disappeared inside my trailer. I finished stowing my equipment in my rig and took Cinnamon home, leaving 24 and 35 to find some other amusement for the evening.

How to Keep on Riding After that First Day Out

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 23:00:32 GMT

Too slow, Too inexperienced? Too whatever? Nope!

Article and photos

by Carol Godwin

During the Pandemic, a bizarre phenomenon took place: in all the weirdness and confusion of lock-downs, remote schooling and home-based workplaces, people were trying to exercise away from others, people were trying to escape the feeling of helpless confinement and bicycles became the hot item. At our shop, we were lucky to have a decent supply of bikes because we were just preparing to begin the summer season, and people appeared from all over the area, all over the state and literally all over the country and beyond looking for bikes. We had a man drive from Southern California for a Marlin, a man from Texas came for a Roscoe, a man from Mexico City came for a Fuel Ex and a lady from New Mexico arrived on a mission to credit card fraud several local businesses and run off back to her state with thousands of dollars in bikes and a rack (not so good for us).

The enthusiasm for getting more physically active was short-lived, and we never really saw much of an uptick in using local trails, not much lasting recruitment of the general population into regular cycling and not much new cycling infrastructure was added locally. Every spring, people come into the shop needing work done on their bikes that have been sitting idle since a few weeks into last spring, and the excitement is nearly as palpable as it was during the pandemic.

“We are going to ride bikes this year! We are going to get out and lose weight! We are going to do more as a family and get the kids outdoors!” But inevitably, many of these bikes are used a few times and then put back in their storage containers until next season. Why are some people able to keep their enthusiasm up and others not so much? I think the key point is being able to share this experience with others.

In the OSW article “First Day Out”, April 2025, I described some of the basic things you need to do to prepare yourself for doing trail rides. Once you are comfortable on your bike, it’s time to join another person or two or a few on a group ride. Group rides are motivating time-wise (I promised I’d be there, so I’d better be there), support-wise (If that person can do it, I can too) and skill-wise (I’ll just follow this person and do what they do). Group rides are a great way to get past that first hump of spring, where you have a ton of motivation but not a lot of skill, and onto the awesome part of making cycling an essential part of your lifestyle and well-being.

We often take new people out with us on trail rides, and I usually notice that when we introduce somebody new to an experience we’ve had many times before, it becomes fresh and new to us too. You notice a twisted tree, a unique pile of rocks, a spectacular view you normally just ride past. You appreciate the glorious place you call home and take the time to think about why you live here. It’s nice to slow down and take this time to share what you love. When you repeatedly follow the same path, your mind smooths it out for you, anticipating the end or the next major feature.

There is no way that even if you know an area “like the back of your hand,” you can remember every minor feature. Do you really know the back of your hand? How many lines are on each knuckle? What direction do the veins go? Taking someone new on an old adventure gives you a chance to look for those amazing details that your mind has learned to tune out with repetition. Take the chance to go a little slower on those familiar trails and look around.

On the Secret Trails, there are little hidden gems around every corner. A set of bones here, a small strange toy in the crook of a tree over there, amazing painted rocks peeking out of logs or topping natural rock piles. Appreciate this chance to see old trails through fresh eyes and focus on the journey with no need to accomplish some end checkmark.

When we are trying to introduce a relatively new and inexperienced rider to the sport, we often try to encourage them by saying “It’s easy, you can do it” and the phrase “It’s all downhill from here” takes on a new meaning when you notice that small rise you forgot about or that next “little climb” that really doesn’t seem so little now. We don’t mean to mislead people and our intentions are good when we encourage them with the “it’s easy, you can do it”, and “It’s all downhill…” phrases, but what does that do to that new person’s confidence when your well-intentioned encouragement is proven false over and over?

“It’s easy, you can do it” is a phrase that people use in many life situations, which is really not helpful at all. It may be easy for you, but when it’s difficult for that other person, how does it make them feel? If it’s difficult for them right now, they must be a failure, probably shouldn’t try to do whatever task is before them and makes them feel less, not more, confident. Keep in perspective that things that are easy for you now once were hard, and for this new person, this thing you are saying is easy, is actually really daunting for them now.

I think that the feeling of not being good enough or holding others back is a primary reason that many newer riders don’t feel comfortable enough to take the time to learn the skills needed to feel at ease on our trails. A few discouraging rides out where a new rider needs to walk over rocks that others glide through, or hills that take a lot of struggles for them while others seem to race effortlessly to the top (I promise you, no climb is effortless) is enough to make most anyone want to hang up their wheels and go back to feet in hiking shoes or butts on the couch.

Getting proficient at anything takes time and repetitive practice, with cycling being no different. The most common phrase I hear from riders new to the sport, especially from women, is “I’m slow, I don’t want to hold everyone back” or “I don’t want to make everyone else wait for me”, and women often tend to over-apologize for not being able to keep up or finding an area tricky.

I think women are especially susceptible to these feelings because, many times, we have been taught to care for others over ourselves and feel selfish and guilty if we seem to need special consideration. This point is especially important for men wanting to get their significant others into cycling. Never make your new riding partner feel guilty for holding you back, never belittle their efforts and never tell them it’s easy. Applaud their efforts and encourage them at whatever speed they feel comfortable. I’ve found that men seem to be more able and willing to just say “*&^%!, that was a tough climb!” or “You guys are killing me, *%&#!” and move on with no guilt dogging them.

Guess what? As long as you are trying and have a good attitude, we are happy to take a break to wait, we are happy to coach you through a tricky area and we are just happy to have you out being you! I act as the “sweep” on most of our rides, and my job is to make sure that everyone gets from the start to the end in one piece. Going slower lets me work on pedaling techniques, lets me enjoy the little things along the trail and lets me chat about whatever comes to mind. No, you are not too slow, or holding me back. We’ll get there eventually, and those up front started in the back too. Soon you’ll be leading the pack and dragging along friends for the next fun ride.

When I first started riding a mountain bike, I was in my 50s and hadn’t ridden a bike, much less a mountain bike, in literally decades, so it was all a new and terrifying experience from every angle for me. We had a big adventure route behind our house that I had hiked a few times, so that seemed a good place to start. We packed snacks; we packed water; we made sure we had plenty of time; and we set off.

There was a big climb right off the bat, and I walked part of the way up it to get to the trail (“Just keep pedaling, you can do it”). Soon after the big climb, there was a terrifying dip in the trail, seemingly straight down and filled with small slippery gravel rocks that wanted to send me careening off into the trees lying in wait. (“It’s easy, you can do it!”) Tires skidding and a death grip on the bars got me to the bottom of the slope and then a steep incline back up towards the top of the rise. What in the world? My husband is trying to kill me…

The trail crossed a road with a yawning cavern of a drainage ditch- no way am I getting across that! (It’s easy, just let the bike roll…). Four grueling miles later, we reached a cattle tank and took a well-deserved break. Snacks, and sitting on logs, talking and enjoying. This is actually fun! But now we need to get home… (It’s all downhill from here). Now on a two-track road covered in vicious sharp rocks waiting to grab a tire and send me to my death, back towards home and past a beautiful old cabin, following a barely visible rocky path through the junipers (where are we going now!?) and…wait!...you said it was all downhill…up the side of the hill we started out on. Narrow trail, barely cut into the hillside, sloping downward, slippery gravel, knuckle-biting adrenalin-inducing terror — I think I will walk this now (“It’s easy, just look ahead and relax”). Almost there, but wait, the trail heads down another impossibly steep, slippery slope with a 90-degree turn at the bottom, right where there is a huge pine tree just waiting for me to make a mistake and go careening into its rough bark. Made it home. Time for a nap! And that was “easy?”. Obviously, mountain biking is way too hard for the likes of me.

No, and no. It was difficult; it was hard; it was scary, and it induced more than a few tears, but a few years later, that seven-mile loop is an easy after-work, before-dinner zip-around dog run. I don’t even wear my chamois shorts, rarely take snacks and don’t even bother to take a pack. I grind up that hill, down the not so slippery slope, over the drainage ditch and around the side of the next hill. Rocks? What rocks? Those are just minor bumps on the trail. Climbs? What climbs? Those are just chances to put down some power and feel like a champion at the top of each rise. Slippery slopes? Those are just chances to test your skills and fly for a minute. Seven miles is nothing. Oh, I wish there was more time before the sun sets. And look! There is something new…stop and take a photo, enjoy the ride and keep on keeping on..

So yes, you can do it, whatever “it” is, but when somebody tells you it’s easy, remember that it may be easy for them now, but it’s all a matter of perspective. When you are tempted to tell others how easy it is, think again and find a better way to encourage them with specific advice. This hill looks steep. Break it up into chunks and focus on getting further each time. These rocks look scary. Let’s roll the bike over them walking first so that you can see how the bike moves. Instead of taking a new rider on a long ride over complex single track the first time out, take a simple roll down a dirt road and stop to admire the flowers with them.

It’s all downhill and easy from the top, but getting there is the trick, and what fun would life be if you just got to the top and stayed there? We all have new things to tackle, new challenges to take on and new experiences to explore. Remember this when you are introducing someone new to what you love. Realistic coaching and encouragement help, but keep in mind what the starting point is for that person and remember how it was for you when you were there. If you are a beginner, keep in mind that everyone was a beginner once and with perseverance and an open mind, you will be the mentor to the next new rider. Keep on keeping on and enjoy the ride…it’s easy!

Nature on a Whim

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:54:58 GMT

Happy to take a quick local jaunt with little (or any) pre-planning.

Photos and article

by Rob Bettaso

Perhaps you have heard the notion that is somehow better if we can “live in the moment.” It is also sometimes added that by living in the moment, we approach a Zen state of enlightenment. Unfortunately for me, I’ve never studied philosophy; including Zen Buddhism, or any other formal philosophy/theology.

Nonetheless, I can appreciate the assertion that it is unwise to spend too much of one’s time “living in the past.” Similarly, it would be silly to perpetually fixate on “what’s next.” So, basically, I will assume that most sentient creatures try to learn from their past while also doing what they need to do to plan for their future. And in the ever-evolving instant of time that is in between the past and the future, we try to focus on not stumbling into anything….

That said, I do see value in a certain level of spontaneity. There are a fair number of impromptu opportunities to go hiking (or biking, or birding, or whatever) because my friends know that if I have some free time, I’m more than happy to take a quick local jaunt with little (or any) pre-planning. Even an overnight camping trip can sometimes happen on short-notice and, in fact, often winds up turning into a great little excursion.

As an example of my tendency to “go with the flow” (hmmm, how many clichés can I manage to insert into this OSW article?), this month I will write about one recent outing. The occasion came a few weeks back, when my friend Ron (a retired forester) invited me to join him on a one-night camping trip up in the high country, at about 9,200 feet in elevation. Although Ron had mentioned the excursion a few days in advance, we didn’t get to actually discuss it until the evening before our departure when Ron called to ask if I was still interested. It was then that I learned Ron was going to head-out early the next morning to reconnoiter the nature walk that would be a feature of a “TRACKS” outing the following day. For those of you unfamiliar with TRACKS, it is, briefly: a community group of volunteers who work with the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest (A-S) to maintain existing trails; build new trails; hike/bike/ski various A-S dirt roads and trails; and, engage in an assortment of other laudable outdoor activities that benefit the users of the Apache-Sitgreave’s (A-S) lands.

On the morning of the day that I was to meet Ron on the A-S, I had several things to get done prior to driving to our afternoon rendezvous site. While I attended to my tasks and errands, I knew Ron was out there already, somewhere in the evergreens, enjoying a solitary exploration of the spruce-fir forest and finding various items of interest that he would soon reveal to enthusiastic TRACKS hikers. I rushed through my chores and then scarcely took any time to pack as I loaded a few essentials (i.e., my ever-ready “chuck box,” a small cooler, and a day-pack) into my pickup, which also perpetually contains basic camping gear (a tarp, sleeping bag and pad, and a tent). I finally hit the road around noon-ish.

When I arrived at what would be the night’s camp, I found Ron reading in his camper-van, having successfully completed his scouting expedition so that he would be all-set for tomorrow morning’s TRACK’S hike. Even though Ron had spent most of his day thus far on various trails in the forest, he was still happy to join me as I took to the surrounding countryside to look for birds. In fact, knowing that I was a career wildlife biologist, Ron suggested maybe I could handle the bird and wildlife side of tomorrow’s hike while he focused on the trees and other plants.

As we set out on our foray, the first bird we encountered (not counting robins, juncos, and nuthatches; all of which were ubiquitous in camp) we actually only heard: a Hermit Thrush. Many birders consider this species to have the most beautiful song of all the birds in the western U.S. To me, the primary qualities that contribute to this bird’s reputation include pure and haunting low-tones; lilting, ethereal high notes; and, seamless phrasing. I must admit, every time I hear this bird, it sends chills down my spine; chills of joy, if such a thing exists.

After we finished our critter-rich walk, we returned to camp only to find yet another exciting bird species: the Gray Jay (aka the Canada Jay, the “camp-robber,” and the “whiskey-jack”). The latter two nick-names give you some idea of this bird’s rambunctious nature; but, despite its mischievous ways, this lovely species is never less than completely endearing!

While watching the jays, a gentle rain began to fall, so Ron and I donned our rain-jackets and stood beneath the thick canopy of a Douglas-fir and engaged in a free-wheeling conversation — mostly about various facets of the natural world. A little later, when the rains subsided, we strolled out to a big meadow to watch a herd of elk — seemingly all cows and calves, though there may have been some young spikes in the group too. The rain never came down hard, but it didn’t really go away for very long either. As we walked back to camp, Ron looked upward at the cloudy sky and noticed that there was another type of cloud above us: thousands of beetles (perhaps somewhere in size between that of a “lightening bug” and a “June bug,” to pick two types of flying, hard-shelled insects that many people know). The beetles appeared to be flying unidirectionally; from the forest to the meadow. We stood with our necks craned to observe this bizarre mass movement, neither of us being certain what biological phenomenon we were witnessing.

When twilight came, it was still occasionally drizzling, and Ron and I ate some cold chicken that he had bought on his way out of town. By 8:30 p.m., I didn’t particularly want to set up my tent and decided instead that I would just recline my truck’s seat and sleep inside the vehicle in case the clouds really opened up during the long night. I’ve spent a few nights sleeping in my truck since buying it back in 2003; and, while it isn’t super-comfortable, I still snooze enough to allow me to awake adequately rested come the morning. But this night was different, and I just couldn’t get into a position that allowed me to nod off for anything longer than an hour.

I lay awake listening to the rain as it shifted from showers to drizzle and back to showers again, and recalled a quote by Goethe that I have always found relatable: “Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must.” When the light rain finally stopped, I took a chance and stepped outside to throw down my tarp, pad, and sleeping bag and brave the still partly cloudy night skies. I only used half of the tarp under my bedroll and kept the second half ready to pull on top of me, should the rain begin again. I quickly fell into a deep sleep and when I awoke, an hour before first light, I felt refreshed enough to fully enjoy watching a waning half-moon (remnants of the “Buck Moon”) as it peaked in and out from behind silver-blue clouds.

When I arose to make coffee, the dawn’s earliest light ushered away the last, lingering clouds, and I knew we were in for a spectacular morning. A solo coyote seemed to feel differently, however, and while I boiled water, his sad, lonely howl unsettled me. Soon, Ron was up and making his breakfast, and we both enjoyed listening to the mewing of elk and the swelling chorus of the avian dawn-song.

We met our group, which included 11 hardy souls, including one of the local hikers/adventurers I very much admire: Kay. Soon, we set off on a wonder-filled ramble through the deep woods that Ron knows so very well. When we reached the hike’s half-way point, we dined on a watermelon that Ron had sequestered near a natural spring. After I had consumed three gut-busting pieces of the melon, I poured a bit of my canteen’s water onto my sticky hands to wash away any potential bear-attracting aromas, since I didn’t want to entice a local bruin into sniffing her way in my direction as we hiked back to where we had all parked.

We made it back to the vehicles in one piece, and I realized many people in the group had not yet received enough of Nature’s tonic; as they lingered, and socialized, and seemed reluctant to head back to town. Eventually though, all the participants drove down the dirt road, and only Ron stayed back to make sure he was the last person in the group to depart the area. I wondered also if perhaps his thoughts weren’t also directed to one of the key players in the TRACKS world: Arlene; who remains down in Phoenix undergoing long-term health therapies for a serious medical situation. Although I do not know Arlene as well as many, I know she is loved and that concern for her condition is a palpable presence on any given TRACKS outing.

The drive home went smoothly and quietly. When I stepped into my house, I noticed that the answering machine’s light was blinking. I clicked the button and listened to a message from a local friend who proposed a hike that we should do tomorrow morning, starting at 0600. Naturally, before I even unloaded my truck, I called my friend and told him I would enjoy a hike and would meet him at the trailhead, rough-and-ready, at the appointed hour….

A Change of Perspective

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:48:50 GMT

Creating distance to clearly figure out what is going on in your life

by Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

I’m playing with taking some pictures with my cell phone. (And playing is the operative word.) If I see something that strikes my interest, I take a shot. Or two. Okay, quite a few, for I have heard professional photographers take thousands of shots to find that perfect picture.

I was at the local library the other day and saw the roses in front of the building. Breathtaking. At first, I took a close-up shot. The yellow pistils were so clear, the petals so perfect. Then I wondered what would happen if I stepped back and took a different view. That shot showed more roses, but lost the intensity of the close-up perspective. When I stepped back even further, I had a view of the entire bed of roses: vibrant, alive, bursting with color. And a very different point of view.

I found this to be similar to how I live my life. If I get frustrated about something or angry about a situation, I lose my perspective. I can feel only the intensity of my emotions. My negative thoughts persist and block my progress in reaching a solution. When this occurs, my breathing gets shallow, my thought process shuts down and I ruminate about what’s happening. Just as in the closeup of the single rose, my feelings ramp up and get more and more intense. And I lose perspective.

One remedy? Take a walk. I harness The Toot, put on his leash and out we go. Fresh air and a change of scenery can change my perspective. So can a phone call to a friend. Or some playtime with Toot. As I return to the issue, I have a fresh perspective. I have some mental distance from the situation, and my emotions are calmer. Similar to taking that second shot of a few roses, other options surface. I can sort them out and see what is more appropriate.

If I need to distance myself even further, I will turn the problem over to my subconscious mind as I drift off to sleep. That marvelous part of my mind sorts through strategies and other ways of doing, usually arriving at a solution by morning. Not taking this for granted, I thank that part of my awareness for solving what I thought to be a hopeless problem. (I found that this part of me likes to be complimented.) A simple change of perspective can make a tremendous difference and save energy.

On the go and need a quick reset? Here’s what I do. When an issue returns to my mind and I start on the hamster wheel of those “same old thoughts,” I picture myself sitting in a theater. The problem, with all its players, is on stage. I watch and listen, seeing what’s going on from a very different point of view. My emotions are not clouding what I perceive. I often realize it’s not all about me; that other people have their own issues playing a part in this drama. A change in perspective is then quick and easy. I have some distance and can more clearly figure out what is going on. Living unstuck.

Having over 35 years of experience, Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for Lil’ toot, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

The Spirit of Adventure

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:41:48 GMT

The epic journeys of Kay Alderton

EDITED VERSION...

By Anne Groebner

Photos submitted

In 1938, Kay Alderton was born in the small sawmill town of Laona in northern Wisconsin. She was born breech, which I’m told is feet first, and from what I can tell, she hit the ground running and she hasn’t stopped. She’s a mountain climber, a trail runner, a river runner, a skydiver, a backpacker, a marathon runner, mountain biker, cross-country skier, ice skater and was an ICU nurse for over 30 years — and she always carried the biggest pack! Today at 87, she still hikes several miles every week. In fact, she still plans, schedules and leads the hikes for TRACKS’ “Up-The-Hill Gang” hiking group in Pinetop and does trail work! On a clear day, you might find her working on top of her roof — a quality she carried over from her mountain climbing days — no fear of heights! I would say, Kay Alderton has no fear of just about anything.

Growing up in the great north woods of Wisconsin is not for the faint of heart. Alderton was one of seven kids. They had no running water, and in the winter, she would have to carry a teakettle of hot water to melt the ice off the pump, prime it, pump it and then haul the water back to the house. It wasn’t until high school that they got running water and indoor plumbing. Hauling water, hauling wood for the wood stove, working the large garden and pushing a non-motorized lawn mower was just part of her life back then. She called it her basic training.

Alderton earned a scholarship to a pre-med school in St. Paul, Minnesota, but followed her boyfriend to Phoenix. They got married and had six kids in seven years. Her marriage ended in divorce, and her husband took the kids while she went back to school. She graduated from Glendale College in 1974 with a degree in nursing, but her husband wanted to keep the kids and raise them on his family’s farm back in Wisconsin. She stayed in Phoenix to pursue her nursing career. “They were established in my hometown with the same teachers I had growing up and learning good work ethics,” she said, “so I left them knowing I would still see them often.” She kept her ex-husband’s name and never remarried.

Single and looking for something to do, Alderton joined the Arizona Mountaineering Club and started rock climbing. One of her first feats was establishing the luminaries on Piestewa Peak (its former name was Squaw Peak). For fifteen years, she and other club members would carry 40 fifty-pound bags of sand to fill 750 luminaries along the trail. She ended it once the number of visitors reached 15,000. There was too much erosion on the trail and, because of the darkness, hikers were getting injured. It was too great a liability.

Her climbing took her all over the world. She couldn’t afford to climb Everest, so she climbed a peak that was close, with an elevation of 18,900 feet. During the climb, she could look down at Everest’s base camp and has a photo of a dark blue sky and the white peak of Everest over her shoulder.

Alderton has climbed Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa and the highest free-standing mountain above sea level in the world, at 19,341 feet. She climbed Aconcagua in Argentina, which is 23,000 feet and the highest peak in the Western Hemisphere. She climbed the highest peaks in Mexico: Orizaba Mountain, 100 miles south of Mexico City at 18,800 feet, and Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl (Popo and Ixta) at 17,800 and 17,600 feet — twice.

When she went ice climbing on Mount Ranier, she got caught in an avalanche that took most of the skin off her face, but she survived. She drove non-stop from Washington State to Phoenix because she had so much adrenaline. Her group received a rain check for the shortened June climb, so they went back in September, but it was storming. They went back five times before they could finish the climb.

She climbed Mount Shasta, the most glaciated peak, three times. On a climb on Orizaba Mountain, she was roped to five other people with her crampons, ice axe and harness, 20 feet apart. One climber in front of her suffered from elevation sickness and decided to sit on a 60-degree slope of ice. She saw him whiz by, and she slammed her axe to the hilt into the ice and caught him. They would have all fallen into the 2,000-foot abyss below them.

By the time she made it to the top of Mount Whitney in California, a storm had started brewing, so she descended immediately. Other climbers did not heed her warning and took shelter in the geological building at the top, which had a metal roof. One person died and several were injured.

Alderton climbed and camped on top of Pike’s Peak twice, took people to the top of Weaver’s Needle 20 times, and climbed Mount Sneffles, a 14er in Colorado and the highest summit in the Sneffles Range in the Rocky Mountains — one of her favorites. She also climbed and camped on Mount Humphreys many times, ran the 50-mile San Juan marathon in the Cleveland National Forest in 11 hours (and the first 15 miles were uphill!). And... amazingly, Alderton ran the Grand Canyon rim to rim 38 times. She said, “The North Rim would open the second weekend in May and close the second weekend in October, so I would run it both times.” — and she did it for 19 years. She trained year-round.

She was a river runner too. In fact, she ran the Colorado River from Lees Ferry all the way down to Lake Mead (274.8 miles) in 1972. That year there was so much rain the river was running at 72,000 cubic feet per second. “You felt like you were getting flushed down the toilet!” Alderton told me. According to the history of rafting, 1972’s historical flood set the record for paddling the Colorado through 72,000 cubic feet of water per second down the canyon. A cubic foot of water weighs 64 pounds. Multiply that by 72,000 and you can imagine the force behind it. And…the water was so high that it covered Lava Rock, a high point where people can stand and watch rafters rush by.

They only had 15-foot rafts — five rafts with three people on each raft. The first drop along the Colorado is six feet, and the second one is ten, which made the raft flip. One rafter fell out and lost his glasses. Alderton unrighted the raft, rowed over to him and pulled the 300-pound man back in the boat.

They couldn’t take fruits and vegetables on the trip because of limited space. During a calm spot along the river, Alderton wished for a big, fat, juicy orange. A few seconds later, a commercial raft floated by, and someone threw one to her — ask and you shall receive. Alderton ran the Green River, the Upper Salt River and the Klamath in Oregon, as well.

Alderton did the French Route — from France across Spain — of the Camino de Santiago. It is a 500-mile pilgrimage that she accomplished in 36 days carrying a 40-pound pack. The year she went — when July 25th falls on a Sunday — was a holy year.

She did Trash Tracker 10 times at Lake Powell, picking trash out of the lake, while living on a houseboat for four days and four nights. And she was on the Mountaineer Rescue Team from 1972 until 1985.

Alderton has jumped out of an airplane 200 times. She was dating a firefighter who always talked about skydiving, so she bought him five lessons for his birthday. It turned out he was all talk, so she kept the lessons, tried it and loved it. Her first skydiving lesson was also her first time in an airplane. Later, when she flew back to Wisconsin, having 99 jumps under her belt, she sat next to a guy who was nervous about flying. He noticed she was pretty calm. “You seem pretty comfortable flying; you must fly a lot,” he said. Alderton told him, “This will be my 100th flight, but I have never landed in a plane before!”

Alderton retired from nursing in 2004 and has lived in the White Mountains for 27 years. She loves to cross-country ski and hike our beautiful mountains. She has been the secretary of the TRACKS Hiking Group for 18 years and has done trail work for 22 years. Before she gets out of bed in the morning, she does 100 crunches, 50 pelvic lifts, shoulder presses, and 50 leg raises — unless she’s heading out to hike several miles or do trail work. She also works out at the gym.

She was inspired by Hulda Crooks, who climbed Mount Whitney 20 times, but Kay wanted bigger, taller mountains to climb, faster, more exciting rivers to run with higher altitudes and free falls to experience.

Kay Alderton is the epitome of courage, strength and endurance and an inspiration to us all.

There are so many other things Alderton has accomplished — mountains she’s climbed, rivers she’s run, marathons she did in record time — that I couldn’t fit in here. She told me I would have a hard time getting everything in, and she was right. When we sat down to talk, I recorded an hour and a half of her ventures, and I’m sure there are things she didn’t think to tell me. But I’m sure you get the gist. Alderton has lived a life of fearless adventure. She has no limits. She is intrepid and dauntless and any other name for a person who doesn’t let fear get in their way. Because I believe only those who dare, truly live.

New Shirts for the Dog Lover

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 19:45:09 GMT

Check out our "shop" page to order these t-shirts...

COME SEE US AT THE WHITE MOUNTAIN MARKET, SATURDAY, JULY 5TH, AT THE MOVIE THEATER IN LAKESIDE

To order ONLINE with Zelle, click on SHOP...

Resistance?

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 19:10:26 GMT

How to move past resistance...

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

Consider: A new way of eating. Buying a new jacket. A decision to cut back: on what money goes out, frittering time on Facebook, less attention to naysayers. On to: A decision to be more positive. A new direction for the business. And I start by saying to myself, “Okay. Today, the balloon goes up.” And off I go. Or is it really that simple?

For me, I need to gear up. Get unstuck. Align my energy. Check out my negative self talk and quiet it to a dull roar. You know chit chat, the words that whisper, “Will this be successful?” “Can I do this?” “What if it fails?” “Learning Zoom is hard. Maybe…” I figure those thoughts might be there somewhere, but they don’t need to be front and center. So I set aside a specific amount of time. And start.

Ah, the start. Resistance creeps in. I’m hungry. (That one always pops up.) Maybe an apple. I should make some tea. Sort my sock drawer. Text a friend. A muffin would be better. The temptations I can create can be overwhelming. Amazing I accomplish anything at all. My mind idles in place. And I feel stuck.

Then I remember Brene Brown saying, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.” I can choose to be open, for the first start will always feel wrong. No matter what I do. Or how much I prepare. Or how hard I push. It will always need to be reshaped. Refined. And I have learned that’s a part of creating.

But how to move past resistance?

Here are some ideas to get going:

• Take stock of what’s going on. Doing something that’s keeping you stuck? Or perhaps the situation is not in your control. Or maybe you need patience to let it work itself out. Step back and take in the big picture. Then move on it.

• Check self talk. Is what you’re saying to yourself overwhelmingly negative? Did someone tell you,

“You can’t do this. It’ll never be good enough.”

Thank those thoughts for sharing and send them

on their way.

• Accept that you’ll have bad beginnings…and move on. So you gave it your all for a new position. But were rejected. That doesn’t mean you’re a loser. It means that job wasn’t a good fit. Back to the drawing board and continue the search for the right position. You’re the CEO of your life.

What’s the smallest step you can take to get where you want to be? Do that today. Congratulate yourself on that mini success. Then immediately figure out what the next step will be. I did that when I began walking. I was so out of shape; it took me an hour (that’s right, 60 minutes) to walk up and down a nearby hill. Rather than being discouraged, that time was my benchmark. Anything under that was gold. The next day? 59 minutes. And on it went.

What if?… Ask yourself, “What if I could do this? How would I feel?” Then move on to the next step. “What do I need to do to feel that way?” Then do that. If you’re stuck, you are in a bad trance. Use self-hypnosis to shift that perception and move to a new point of view. And yes, it’s that simple. Live unstuck.

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites biweekly posts for Lil’ Toot, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

Top Ten Reasons to Avoid Handling Baby Wildlife

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 19:02:16 GMT

What should you do if you find what looks like an abandoned young wild animal?

By Dan Groebner, AZGFD

1. The parents haven’t really abandoned the young animal — they are just waiting nearby for people to leave or things to quiet down.

2. Wildlife parents are the best parents for wildlife. Mother Nature always knows best and won’t abandon her young just because you touched them. Humans are not that good at raising wild babies.

3. Baby wildlife will imprint on humans and lose their fear of people, causing problems for both the animals and humans they encounter in the future. Imprinted animals cannot be released back into the wild.

4. Wildlife gets extremely stressed out when handled by people and can be injured or just die from the extreme anxiety of being handled by humans.

5. They can transmit diseases to people or our pets, and some, like rabies, can be fatal.

6. They can easily get sick and die if they are not fed the proper food or liquids.

7. They bite and claw you

8. They poop on you

9. They poke your eyes out with their long,

pointed bills.

10. Only trained biologists or veterinarians authorized by the Arizona Game and Fish Department can legally rehabilitate and release to the wild any injured or abandoned wildlife.

So, what should you do if you find what looks like an abandoned young wild animal? The first thing is to look and listen for a stressed-out parent in a nearby nest or burrow. You can quickly replace the young animal without fear of your scent, causing the parent to abandon it.

If you can’t locate where it came from, leave it there and call the Arizona Game and Fish Department for advice at (928) 367-4281 during business hours. After hours, you can call the radio dispatch at

1-800-352-0700 .

Depending on the circumstances, you may be asked to place the animal in a location where dogs couldn’t get to it, or assist an officer or biologist in transporting the animal to a licensed wildlife rehabilitator, if appropriate.

All The Write Stuff

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 18:58:28 GMT

The 2nd Annual White Mountain Festival of Books

By Jen Rinaldi

Every year as our landscape changes from white to green, we drag ourselves from our winter caves, and our local creatives get to work planning a myriad of summer events, both indoors and out. We are blessed to be part of such a vibrant community of artisans, writers, hikers, and outdoor enthusiasts. If there is one thing I can say about our mountain home, is that it is inspiring!

Being a writer of romance and an outdoor lover, I always look forward to attending and writing about happenings here year-round. Of these events, I find this discipline crucial to the fabric of our community.

— Literacy.

I have a deep passion for literacy. In January I attended Blue Ridge Elementary School’s literacy night. The school’s staff and students put on a magical Harry Potter-themed show, and I was proud to have attended.

Instilling the love of writing in children helps enrich our society in innumerable ways. It is as important as instilling a love for the outdoors, and the best part is that the two go hand in hand. School teaches us how to read, write, and calculate, but what it does not teach us is how to feel. That is where the arts and the outdoors come into play. Specifically writing.

I had the honor of meeting two people who are deeply involved in the promotion of local writers and literacy. David Gilmore and Kathleen Osborne are members of The Arizona Professional Writers and are key members of The White Mountain Festival of Books, an event that will take place over two days in August here in Show Low.

For those who don’t know Kathleen Osbourn, she is a podcaster, accomplished writer, and president of the Festival of Books. She has written many romance and space opera books. Her newest one is a paranormal romance/ space opera titled Hidden Dragons, which is available on Amazon.

https://www.amazon.com/HIdden-Dragons-Chronicles-Xandavier-Book-

David Gilmore, who is a retired accountant and the treasurer for the Festival of Book is also the author of the book Operation Blue Sapphire.

https://www.amazon.com/Operation-Blue-Sapphire-David-Gilmore-

2024 was the inaugural year of their festival. The Arts Alliance hosted the conference, which included keynote speakers from various writing fields. From publishing to promotion, non-fiction, and fiction, to capturing a memorable character through an action scene, last year’s speakers did not disappoint. I even spoke about censorship in children’s literature. Many people attended last year’s conference, which covered great topics.

This year, their lineup is even more dynamic for those wishing to pursue a career in writing. Among those speaking at the Arts Alliance of the White Mountains are Bing Bruce , who will be the lead keynote speaker.

Bruce is a radio and TV Production specialist. He will talk about his journey of over 30 years in the industry, which includes producing and directing commercials, his two nationally syndicated TV shows, and co-producing an award-winning comedy film. Bing created the “Rise Above the Noise” Podcast Academy and teaches individuals and groups how to be successful, professional podcasters. His new book has remained number one since its release.

https://arizonanewstoday.com/press/raptor-films-re-introduces-rise-above-the-noise-podcast-academy-and-book-to-revolutionize-podcast-training/132170

Another speaker, Stephen Wade Nebgen is an active entertainment lawyer and one of his clients was Jack Black. Thomas Jacob “Jack” Black is an American actor, comedian, and musician, known for his roles in family and comedy films, as well as his voice work in animated films.

Clair Murray will talk about the ins and outs of mystery writing. A former ghostwriter and website designer, she delved into the world of mystery writing. Her tagline is, Where Character, Crime, & Mystery Collide.

Claire-Dee Lim is an author, writing and film production professor, and content marketing writer and consultant. She’s also the co-screenwriter of the family film Firehouse Dog and creator of the comedic web series The Power Object, Mistress Marlena’s Sexology, and Donnie’s Diatribes.

Speakers will be in the main room of the Arts Alliance building, Friday, August 8th, and will begin at 8:30 a.m. There will be a lunch break, and the event will conclude at 3:30 p.m. The Arts Alliance is located at 251 Penrod Road, Show Low, AZ. You will need tickets for Friday’s conference, which you can purchase online at https://wmfestivalbooks.org/.

The next day the speakers from the conference will be at the Elk’s Lodge for the Festival of Books event which will showcase local authors and artisans, featuring books of all kinds, from mystery, nonfiction, fiction, romance, children’s books, and more. The event will have food, and activities for children and is a perfect family-friendly way to spend an afternoon.

Last year, 35 authors and many others from the publishing industry attended the book festival. The White Mountains’ Chapter of Arizona Professional Writers’ mission is to promote literacy, recognize writing achievements, inspire authors further writing growth, mentor aspiring writers, and foster fellowship, so bring the kids and come out and meet our local talent!

The Festival of Books will take place on Saturday, August 9th from 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. The event is located at the Elks Lodge, 805 E. Whipple Street, Show Low AZ 85901.

The Festival of books

If you are a writer or artist and wish to attend as a vendor or signing author, note that space is limited, and we will assign exhibit locations. Vendor forms can be found online at https://wmfestivalbooks.org/

The Festival of Books is a free family event. For more information, please visit their website.

Navajo County Search and Rescue Sheriff’s Office Hosts Multi-day K9 Training

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 18:53:11 GMT

The 2025 Arizona Multi-County K9 Training in the White Mountains

Submitted by Debra A. Jones

Lead K9 Handler/Navajo County Search and Rescue

This past April, Navajo County Search and Rescue (NCSAR) and Navajo County Sheriff’s Office (NCSO) hosted the 2025 Arizona Multi-County K9 Training up here in the White Mountains Show Low area. Eight Arizona Counties came together with their Search and Rescue (SAR) K9 Teams to train, network, and learn from one another.

K9 training covered three methods SAR dogs and handlers employ when looking for the lost. Tracking/Trailing techniques can be similar to what you see on TV in many cases, where the bloodhounds use an item of clothing to follow a subject’s scent trail. Some K9s don’t even need a scent article to start with!

Area Live Find methods are used to find anybody in the search area other than the searchers on the mission. K9s range in front of handlers and communicate their successes in finding people through various specific actions, like running back and forth between the handler and the found subject.

The least pleasurable but sometimes most important role for SAR K9s is Human Remains Detection. If SAR efforts are not successful before the subject passes away, these K9s are specially trained to find human odors, even underwater or buried underground.

The importance of the Multi-County K9 Training is to recognize the importance of being able to work together in the event a disaster takes place. Each K9 discipline had the opportunity to train in remote forested areas, urban areas, and with a helicopter. The camaraderie seen in this three-day training showed the passion and dedication each K9 team has to find the lost and missing. Each team was eager to exchange their experience and knowledge to help each other be the best handlers for their K9s.

Thank you to Linden Elementary School and Sequoia Village School for allowing us to train at their facilities, honing our skills training in an urban setting. The teams ended their last day familiarizing their K9s with the helicopter. This allows the K9s to be comfortable and be able to work in an environment with loud noises and chaos. They were able to do cold loads with no rotors spinning as well as hot loads with rotors creating plenty of wind and noise. The Arizona Department of Public Safety Service (AZDPS) did an excellent job demonstrating how to approach the helicopter, how to assist the K9 into the cabin, and how to depart the cabin. A big thank you to AZDPS!

To see a Nationally Certified Handler and K9 working together as a team, searching for those lost or missing, brings a tremendous asset to Law Enforcement and the community. These K9 teams are volunteers that take no monetary compensation, are on call 24/7, attend K9 workshops and seminars, and train regularly with their local teams to keep themselves ready for a “call out” anytime, any day.

The NCSAR team is composed entirely of volunteers and answers requests from the NCSO with K9s, OHV’s UTVs, Ground Trackers pounders, and Drones. If you need assistance, call your local Law Enforcement immediately. “So that others may live” is a motto widely used in SAR operations, reflecting the dedication and selflessness of SAR personnel. This phrase encapsulates the core principle of SAR, which is to prioritize the lives of those in distress, often at personal risk.

Horseback Riding the Blue Ridge Trail

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 18:48:56 GMT

Riding the White Mountain Trail System

Article & photos

by Allanna Jackson

It was a warm May day with a light breeze, so I rode the Blue Ridge trail before the Memorial Day weekend crowds arrived. I hitched the trailer, loaded Cinnamon, and drove to trailhead No. 2. The trailhead was empty when we arrived, and a US Forest Service truck drove by on Forest Road 187 and waved.

We set off up the trail at 2:30 p.m. going counterclockwise ascending the numbers. We had the trail to ourselves, though we saw an OHV on the road near the trailhead. Cinnamon walked along cheerfully, looking at the scenery. Just short of white diamond marker B1 (Blue Ridge), we passed the junction with the new Lumberjack trail (LJ0). Cinnamon glanced at that trail as we passed. We continued up the Blue Ridge trail as it climbed Blue Ridge Mountain. The Gambel oak were looking fresh and green with their new leaves just sprouting. There were very few flowers on the trail however, around marker B3, Cinnamon found grass to snatch as she strolled along.

There were bicycle tracks on the trail. We found several places on the route where users had shortcut across squiggles on the trail. This is a problem because the squiggles exist to reduce erosion. When a trail offers a straight line down a slope, that’s where water flows, eroding the trail. It may seem funny to be thinking about erosion during a drought with stage II fire restrictions in effect, but the way we use a trail in dry weather influences where the water flows when it does rain or snow. Squiggles on a trail also make it easier for hikers and horses to safely ascend or descend a slope.

Cinnamon remembered this portion of the trail from last summer and cheerfully walked and snacked her way up Blue Ridge Mountain. As we approached the junction for the Lumberjack Trail near marker B9, Cinnamon looked down the trail, remembering it from last summer. This time, we continued up the Blue Ridge Trail. Just before marker B10, we passed the weathered and bullet-riddled sign identifying Blue Ridge Mountain with obscured distances to the trailheads. This sign is in a low spot between two high points. The top of Blue Ridge Mountain is about one eighth of a mile further along.

The area around the top of Blue Ridge Mountain has been thinned since the last time Cinnamon and I rode here, but there are still plenty of Ponderosa, Gambel oak and many species of juniper. Between markers B10 and B11, there is an excellent view of Porter Mountain. I also viewed the San Francisco Peaks in the distance through a slight haze.

Near marker B13, the trail descends rapidly into a denser forest with more twists, turns, and narrower spaces between the trees. The trail briefly winds around the shoulder of the mountain. Cinnamon suddenly stopped and stared at something up the slope above us. I asked her what she was watching. Her answer was a sudden spin, a quarter turn left and a skitter sideways a couple of steps. I straightened her out, and she resumed walking down the trail as if nothing had happened. Cinnamon seldom spooks, so there must have been some unusual movement out there, but I never saw whatever it was.

The trail climbs again briefly on its way to the horse gate after marker B14. Cinnamon poked the gate with her nose to see if she could open it herself, but it was latched. We stopped there while I drank some water and gave Cinnamon a horse cookie. Then I asked Cinnamon to help me open the gate. It was a complicated task, being on a slope, so Cinnamon had to duck her head away to keep the gate from hitting her. I got better control of the gate and we got through on the second try. Cinnamon helped me close the gate, and I gave her horse cookies for her work.

We continued down the trail to the junction with the Ice Cave trail after marker B15. Cinnamon has been here more than any other part of the trail because we’ve ridden to this area from home multiple times over the years. She would happily have taken the Ice Cave trail home, leaving my truck and trailer back at the Blue Ridge trailhead.

Cinnamon and I continued down the familiar switch backs. When we crossed two old roads, just before marker B18, she looked west, wondering if we were going home that way. When we crossed FR 187 to get to trailhead No. 1, near marker B19, Cinnamon looked down that road too, but we weren’t going home that way either. She slowed a little as the trail turned eastward toward Billy Creek, but resumed her three-mile-per-hour walk when I tapped her with the whip.

Some oaks in this area had not yet leafed out. After marker B20, the trail crosses underneath the power-line easement. We found an old turquoise diamond marker on a tree just after marker B21. The trail descends into Billy Creek canyon near marker B24. We could see the Billy Creek crossing and Billy Creek Connector junction just after marker B25. We met a lady hiking, and we greeted each other. The Blue Ridge Trail roughly parallels Billy Creek until marker B28, then it climbs out of the canyon under the power-line around marker B29.

The trail crosses a couple of small, dry water courses on its way back to Billy Creek Canyon, beyond marker B32, where it parallels Springs Trail and the Connector Trail between the two. As we climbed out of the canyon approaching marker B35, we spotted one wild iris blooming on the edge of the trail. I spotted some tracks of a shod horse, along with the bicycle tracks we’d been following, and Cinnamon sniffed at an old manure pile. The shod horse followed the trail for only a quarter mile or so before the tracks disappeared.

Cinnamon was getting tired, and it was past her supper time as we continued the last half mile back to the trailhead and we were the only ones there when we arrived. A few minutes later, a car drove into the parking lot and two people got out and set off hiking up the trail while I unsaddled and Cinnamon was happy to find some hay in the trailer to munch on the way home.

Insanely Fun Birding

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 18:40:40 GMT

"In A “World Of Wounds”

Article By Rob Bettaso

When I awoke, just slightly before first light, it took me a moment to orient myself. There were two features of my environment that told me I was no longer sleeping out-of-doors: 1) my feet were not cold, and 2) the cacophony of birdsong by numerous species had been replaced by the vocalizations of just two — a singing Black-headed Grosbeak and a squawking Steller’s Jay. It was then that I remembered I was back at home, in my own comfortable bed.

I was not at all sure that the exchange was a good one; as, while it was nice to be warm, it was a serious sacrifice to have lost the richness of the dawn choir that I had experienced while camping near a riparian corridor in the Prescott National Forest (PNF). My recent travels had centered on doing some intensive field biology with an organization known as the Arizona Field Ornithologists (AZFO). This was my second consecutive year assisting the AZFO and the first trip that allowed for three glorious nights of camping in an area I had never been to before. In fact, the PNF had generously allowed us the use of a former backcountry Ranger Station as the place for us to make our camp.

The AZFO comprises a mixture of diverse folks, including both current and retired agency biologists; serious birders from outside the natural resources profession; students and teachers; and general nature-lovers (often accompanying friends or family from one of the aforementioned categories). There is some minimal, formal structure to the AZFO, and this trip fell under the classification of scientific “field expeditions.” The trip leader and organizer was an expert birder by the name of Dara; whose knowledge of birds not only included species-identifying field marks and vocalizations but also bird taxonomy, behavior, and many aspects of avian ecology.

I wasn’t an actual dues-paying member of AZFO and my entrée into the group came from my good friend and long-time Arizona Game and Fish Department colleague, Lin, with whom I have done many day outings and camping trips over the past 25-30 years; all of which revolved around some aspect of nature-study. Lin had also recruited his brother-in-law (Ken) to join us and while Ken is not a birder, per se, he is an avid outdoorsman (the three of us have done many an elk hunt together) and a keen observer of the natural world.

Because the trip spanned four days, there was some coming and going of different participants into our team of birders; but both Lin and I were on-board for the duration of the effort and, I must say, I would have been very happy to have had the expedition run another several days as it was, quite simply, so much fun! In fact, the only aspect of the trip that was not thrilling to me was the roughly 10 hour round-trip drive to and from my home and the field site.

On the voyage to the camp, I took a northern route, which involved a lot of boring I-40 driving; but on the return trip, I meandered along state highways and through smaller towns along the Mogollon Rim. And while I had been in portions of the PNF (both for work and for non-work trips) in the past, I had not been to the specific portion of the Forest in which our field expedition occurred; namely, a chunk of public land west of the Williamson and Chino valleys and northwest of the Prescott and Verde valleys.

Our camp was situated approximately in the middle of our field survey sites — which included various habitats such as grass- and rangeland; pinyon-juniper scrub; higher elevation Ponderosa Pine country; and both sparsely and lushly vegetated riparian areas (though all the drainages had, at most, only small, intermittent pools of water). Our mission was straight-forward: hike and/or drive pre-determined routes and identify and count every bird we saw (and provide behavioral/ecological observations). By the end of our surveys, our final, collective tally was an impressive 109 different species of birds! Keep in mind that because the overall environment was so dry (normally dry; and now with the prolonged drought, especially so) that any wetland-dependent species of birds, such as the various waterfowl, were simply not anywhere near our survey sites. This made our bird species count even more gratifying; at least for me, since I’m quite satisfied with any outing that results in a tally above 30.

It is also worth noting that for about half of our field time; the wind was blowing with enough force as to make birding a challenge. How, you wonder, does the wind affect looking for birds? Well, there are at least three ways in which moderate to high winds can affect one’s ability to find and observe birds: 1) the sound of the wind makes it harder for birders to hear the vocalizations and the rustling of birds in their habitat; 2) the wind puts everything in motion (grasses, twigs and leaves, conifer needles and boughs, etc) so that our eyes struggle to pick up the motion of birds as they flit through the vegetation; and 3) birds are less active when it is windy because it takes more energy to fly in adverse weather (heavy snow, rain, or winds).

That said, modern birders have a few powerful tools at their disposal that were lacking when I started “bird-watching” — as it was known back in the early 1970s, when I first took up the hobby. Today, we have a wide range of optics (both binoculars and cameras) that, given the buying power of many Americans, are far superior to what most of us could afford a few decades ago. Additionally, there is this amazing and relatively new tool called “Merlin” (possibly named after both the Arthurian wizard and a species of falcon found in parts of the U.S.) which is a smartphone app that can identify bird vocalizations (calls and songs) with impressive accuracy. A final advantage I will mention is that on-line databases such as “e-Bird,” can help birders know which birds might be found in particular habitats and geographical areas at different times of the year — while simultaneously providing data pertaining to any given bird’s level of abundance. For that matter, a bird-watcher can even have their smartphone alert them to rare or freak sightings that are within easy driving range of their home or any specified location.

One of the primary reasons that the AZFO chose for us to camp and work in our pre-determined portion of the PNF was because there was (and still is) a significant bird occurrence “data gap” for the area. As such, our quick but intensive surveys tried to fill-in the blanks for what should prove fertile avian habitats. Over the course of our three days in the PNF, we divided ourselves into small teams and followed an intentionally flexible protocol as we birded our way through the countryside. Our days started around 4:30 a.m. and ended after 9:00 p.m. (with breaks in between). We tallied many passerines (the family of birds that includes the “song-birds”) but also did well with bird groups such as diurnal raptors; nocturnal families such as owls and nightjars; hummers; woodpeckers; and various types of “game birds” (turkey, quail, and doves).

And while our mobile/team surveys for birds were very productive and enjoyable to do, it was in the area right around camp that I experienced my most rewarding moments. It was in camp that I pondered how many different Yellow Warblers I could hear singing and calling when I awoke at first light. It was in camp that I watched as two rival male Bullock’s Orioles chased each other through the canopy of the walnut and cottonwood trees and once swooped alarmingly close to my head.

And lastly, it was in camp during the mid-days when we took our breaks from doing routes. I counted how many different flycatchers were perched within a half-mile radius of where my truck was parked. The seven flycatcher species that were in and around camp were a visually and vocally conspicuous presence. By the end of my time at our Ranger Station camp, I almost reached the point where I felt I was getting to personally know one Ash-throated Flycatcher who was invariably perched on the same scraggly oak tree each afternoon. As I walked toward that particular individual, I would pause to study the perky, medium-sized flycatcher. He was a fine specimen with his bushy brown head; distinctive white wing-bars; rusty tail-feathers; and soft, pale-yellow belly plumage. While I marveled at his subtle colors and alert demeanor, I thought that J.J. Audubon might not have had to resort to blasting and then posing the dead subjects of his magnificent paintings if he only had such cooperative birds as this one flycatcher who so patiently tolerated my nearby presence.

I also thought that long-gone Audubon essentially only killed a relatively small number of creatures during his lifetime. In contrast, in our more “civilized” times, all of us collectively have apparently changed an entire planet’s climate, and have put virtually all of Earth’s biodiversity in jeopardy. This sad notion reinforced my gratitude at having taken part in the bird blitz we had done within the PNF; but it also made me shrug my shoulders, and wonder what good our surveys would really do in the face of our seemingly dire global predicament.

OUR National Parks belong to us

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 18:35:14 GMT

Preserve our National Parks and National Monuments

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

“In the Grand Canyon, Arizona has a natural wonder which is in kind absolutely unparalleled throughout the rest of the world. ... I hope you will not have a building of any kind, not a summer cottage, a hotel or anything else, to mar the wonderful grandeur, the sublimity, the great loneliness and beauty of the canyon. ... You cannot improve on it.“

— Theordore Roosevelt

Ok I admit it, I haven’t visited many of the 63 National Parks in the United States during my lifetime and probably won’t have time to visit them all before I leave this Earth, but…even without visiting them, I know deep in my soul, how important they are for our America.

I grew up in Tucson, so I’m sure I visited Saguaro National Park at some point, but as a kid living amongst saguaros every day, I can’t remember being impressed one way or another at seeing some millions of saguaros there in the park. I probably was more interested in getting some sort of souvenir from the gift shop than hiking through the desert. As an adult, I see the value of protecting this slice of Sonoran Desert for future generations to experience and love.

For a short time in my life, I lived on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and was lucky enough to easily hike to the edge and look into its vast expanse of eroded rock. There was a wide variety of fossils and evidence of prehistoric occupation found nearly everywhere, and I loved seeing the raptors using thermal uplifts to cross and surveil the canyon with just a few minute adjustments of their flight feathers.

I didn’t visit Grand Canyon National Park proper until I was a teacher chaperoning a group of science club students on a hiking field trip there. My focus was entirely on making sure we didn’t lose any kids over the edge or into the gift shop without permission, but I certainly felt a sense of pride that this huge canyon was part of Arizona’s culture and that there were literally millions of people from all over the world who came here to Arizona, “The Grand Canyon State,” specifically to see our Grand Canyon.

“What you can do is to keep it for your children and your children’s children and for all who come after you, as one of the great sights which every American, if he can travel at all, should see. Keep the Grand Canyon of Arizona as it is,”

— Theodore Roosevelt

As a science teacher, I found it fascinating that the Colorado River formed the Grand Canyon by starting at the top and cutting down to sea level. The continent there started at sea level, and was pushed up past the rapidly flowing river cutting determinedly to stay at sea level. As the continent rose and sank, numerous shallow seas covered most of Arizona and receded, leaving sandstone and limestone evidence behind, over and over. At least 40 unique seas left their rocky remains behind with the uplift, exposing the layered rock which defines the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon has some of the oldest exposed rock in the world, 1.8 billion years of the Earth’s geologic history. It also contains one of the largest geologic mysteries in the world: the great unconformity.

The unconformity is a section of missing rock that was swept away by an unknown watery force which erased about 1.2 billion years’ worth of the continent’s history or about 25% of its total historical record in this area. What happened on Earth during this time? The continent was rising at an incredible rate of speed, forming the Grand Canyon in a mere 5-6 million years. Was there a meteorite that melted ice caps? Was there a massive flood running from the Idaho badlands that emptied into the sea via the land we now know as Arizona? What happened? What creatures lived here and…if Arizona has been covered and re-covered by seas, will it happen again? Questions like these let us think beyond our short human lives and add perspective and wonder to these fleeting lives of ours.

“National parks are the best idea we ever had. Absolutely American, absolutely democratic, they reflect us at our best rather than our worst.”

— Wallace Stegner

Many National Parks were chosen because of their unique and priceless geologic formations ranging from rich fossil beds to spectacular eroded canyons and badlands. This geologic activity was responsible for rich deposits of oil and gas formed from the prehistoric living things that passed before us, and it is these rich deposits of oil and gas that are currently threatening the Parks’ continuing existence.

In 1864, President Abraham Lincoln designated the land contained in Yosemite National Park to be preserved for public use. Yellowstone National Park, the very first National Park was, established by President Ulysses S. Grant, in 1872. President Theodore Roosevelt signed the Antiquities Act, which allowed presidents to designate National Monuments for preservation of cultural, scientific or historic value. President Woodrow Wilson created the National Park Service in 1916. It has grown and developed into the diverse and enthusiastic cadre of Park Rangers we see today.

Having passionate and educated Rangers dedicated to protecting these parks and other places allows us to experience and learn about our great country in ways that history books can never show us. Protecting these places leaves much for the future generations to learn about and enjoy, and maybe one day a geologist inspired by a school field trip will figure out what caused the Great Unconformity.

Our natural spaces give people a place to push the pause button in their lives, let people breathe freely and think thoughts larger than themselves. Being able to experience the grandeur of a snowcapped mountain range, the intricacy of prehistoric cliff dwellings, the sounds of bull elk bugling in the mist and the sheen of a waterfall cascading off a cliff is part of what makes life worthwhile and cements a feeling of ownership into the future of our great country. Giving the public ownership of these vast parcels of land allows all of us to enjoy our amazing country, our amazing land of the free, our America the beautiful, from sea to shining sea.

“The establishment of the National Park Service is justified by considerations of good administration, of the value of natural beauty as a National asset, and of the effectiveness of outdoor life and recreation in the production of good citizenship.” — President Theordore Roosevelt

The question that we need to confront head-on is the question regarding the value of preserving these natural reserves for future generations to make use of verses taking these reserves now and leaving a man-made unconformity of missing resources. Some well-known National Parks currently being depleted of their natural oil and gas reserves, and threatened by the accompanying air and water pollution of the mining activities are Chaco National Historical Park, Mesa Verde National Park, Theodore Roosevelt National Park, Canyonlands National Park, Great Sand Dunes National Park, Rocky Mountain National Park, Grand Teton National Park, Carlsbad Cavern National Park, Sequoia National Park and many more National Monuments and preserves.

The current administration is determined to use every bit of the economic value of the Parks, up to and including selling the land to private investors. Once sold, our National Parks will irrevocably no longer belong to the citizens of the United States and their riches will not profit the citizen majority. Oil, gas and tourism dollars will no longer benefit the United States as a whole, or the individual States to which the Parks now add incredible benefit, and instead, will go into private, often foreign pockets. This is not the America that our founding fathers and great early presidents saw for the future of the United States.

“There is nothing so American as our national parks.... The fundamental idea behind the parks...is that the country belongs to the people, that it is in process of making for the enrichment of the lives of all of us.”

— President Franklin D. Roosevelt

Arizona has three National Parks, six National Forests, 33 State Parks and many other protected areas. Last year, in Arizona alone, the three National Parks generated $1.2 billion dollars and over 17,000 jobs, adding to the state economy. Grand Canyon National Park received 4.7 million visitors in 2024, who spent a combined 768 million dollars in nearby communities, supported over 10,000 local jobs and contributed over a billion dollars to Arizona’s economy. The US has 63 National Parks, 154 National Forests, 131 National Monuments and 6,600 individual State Parks. National Parks are also a significant part of the United States economy, generating 55.6 billion dollars in 2023, and creating over 400,000 park and tourism related jobs.

To say that Americans value their communally owned land is clear and part of what makes America a place people from all over the world want to visit and admire. Giving us, the public, ownership of these vast parcels of land allows all of us to enjoy our amazing country. Our amazing land of the free, our America the beautiful, our purple mountains majesty. Our America belongs to Americans and should benefit every one of us well into the future. Shortsightedly selling off our national treasures cannot be tolerated or accepted as part of the economic future of the United States. Foreign entities should never have ownership of these “crown jewels” of America. We have plenty of land, plenty of already available resources for our current needs, and the parks generate vastly more income than they cost to maintain. We owe it to future American citizens to fight to protect our National Parks, Monuments and Forests and keep them for the people, of the people and by the people.

As Americans, when we see our National Parks under unnecessary and unreasonable threat of privatization, we have a duty to speak up and protect our national treasures, our lands, our futures. If we allow our land to be divided up and passed out to corporations for exploitation, future generations will deal with another Great Unconformity of sorts with chunks of our natural and cultural history and great stores of energy resources erased in trade for short-term private gain. Future generations will wonder why we allowed such a thing to happen and will wonder where Lincoln’s grand idea went wrong.

This land is my land. This land is your land, this land belongs to you and me… — Arlo Guthrie

As I said before, I’ve never been to Yellowstone, but the rumbling caldera it is built on, releasing pent up geothermal heat through hot springs and geysers is another peek into the continuing geologic forces shaping the continents. A huge geothermal energy plant covering “Old Faithful” would provide energy to power more cities built nearby on meadows currently inhabited by a fraction of the bison who roamed the plains by the millions before America was even a thought. Is it worth it? Do we sacrifice what’s wild and unique about America so that there can be more homes, more factories and more wealth, or are our citizen-owned natural places more valuable than they are? To me, the answer is obvious. To the 332 million National Park visitors in 2024, the answer is obvious, and to any kid, the answer is obvious. Save our irreplaceable National Parks and their rangers. Even if you don’t use them, think of those who will.

“Our parks are our crown jewels, important places not just for out-of-state visitors, but they are here in our backyard! It’s really important for people to know what they can do to help keep them safe — protect and support them.” — Roger Naylor

Note: Renowned travel author Roger Nayor is coming to the White Mountain Nature Center on Saturday, June 14th to talk about state and National Parks and to discuss his adventures in them. He will discuss his new book, Arizona’s National Parks and Monuments. This event is scheduled at the White Mountain Nature Center in Lakeside, Arizona, from 6:00 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. Members and children under 12 are free, non-members are $5.

Hummingbirds

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 18:31:09 GMT

The Flutterby birds...

Article by Annemarie Eveland

Photos by D.J. Craig

and Annemarie Eveland

The first time I heard a melodic humming and a tiny bird flew by my head with such blurring speed, it made me feel dizzy. The young girl who was with me called them “flutterby” birds. So, I learned about these fascinating little hummingbirds that have dazzled people for centuries. And then one day, I found that a little hummingbird had built a nest by my front door. It was hanging from the tentacles of my tiny green strings of white Christmas lights. That was three years ago. The well-built tiny nest has lasted through many seasons and weathering outbursts.

I felt that if the mother had built it so well, I could honor her by leaving it for her annual return visit. And she has done so each year faithfully. Next to her perennial nest, I hung a hummingbird feeder and routinely cleaned and refilled it with my homemade sugar water. We have one on the front and back sides of our home, and they are visited frequently. Recently, I was told that it is best to keep feeders clean and replace sugar water every two to three days.

When I discovered this year that she chose again to make this nest to lay her eggs in, and to use as her nursery for her two little babies, I felt so honored. I would slowly open the door, then the screen door, and try to stay behind it as I exited my home so as not to startle her into flying away. It gradually worked, and she trusted our comings and goings as part of our daily routine. The day I saw two heads peeking out of her nest; I knew the time was getting closer to saying goodbye.

As I became more curious about these hummers, I did some research on them. Here are some surprising notes about these beautiful, amazing birds:

• Ruby-throated hummingbird weighs 3 grams — one tenth the weight of a first-class letter.

• Hummingbirds have the largest known relative heart size of all birds — 2.4 percent of their body weight.

• Their egg size is half the size of a jellybean, under half an inch long

• They consume half their weight in sugar each day.

• Their distinguishable long slender bills make them stand out from other species.

• If you compare a man with a hummingbird’s metabolism, he would have to eat 285 pounds of hamburger each day to maintain his weight.

• Rufus hummingbirds have the longest migration route; they fly up to 3,000 miles from their Alaska breeding range to Mexico wintering grounds.

• Ruby-throated hummingbirds fly 500 miles nonstop across the Gulf of Mexico on their migration.

• Hummingbirds do not have a sense of smell. Instead, they locate their food by eyesight.

• A Hummingbird’s heart beats 1,260 times per minute. When it is resting, it takes 250 breaths per minute.

• Hummingbirds can live 12 years, but most live three to five years.

Even in the 16th century, the hummingbirds were described as “size like the end of a thumb, so fast you can’t see their wings move, and have a bill as delicate as a fine needle.”

So, what does the world’s smallest bird do to become the acrobatic champions of our skies? Their daring flights can out-maneuver even birds one hundred times their size. It is the only bird that can fly forward, backward, and upside down! And it’s worth mentioning that it hovers like a helicopter, and because of the bones in its wings, it can turn its wings in any direction. Its iridescent colored feathers are overlapping, and parts of them are covered with thousands of tiny various sized and shaped “bubbles.” These let their feathers change colors as the light hits them from differing angles.

Hummingbirds spend a lot of time eating. They eat more than half their weight in food and drink at least eight times their weight in water. So, a hummingbird may have to visit nectar flowers a thousand times a day. And since they lose body heat fast, they often slow down their metabolism and go into torpor (lasting 8-14 hours) at night if their energy level is low. During the period of torpor, their heartbeat slows down; breathing becomes irregular and at times there is no breathing at all. The next morning, when their body temperature reaches 86 degrees, they can fly again. For its size, the hummingbird uses more energy in a day that any other warm-blooded animal on our planet.

Hummingbird courtship is a blazing acrobatic display by the males. Then females build their nests, sit on the eggs and care for their chicks themselves. Although their nests look tiny and fragile, they surprisingly survive many blustering forces of rain and wind while growing their chicks. At first, the chicks are smaller than a bumblebee, but they grow quickly and often leave their nest in a few weeks. I have found that it is rare to have over two babies. She sits on the nest sheltering her chicks after birth from wind, rain, etc. And I found out that even after they fly out of the nest, she continues to feed them.

One day, I came home and found a chick on our cement walkway. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I touched the tiny wild bird. Would its mother help it? My mothering instincts kicked in and I picked up the tiny creature and gently put it back in the nest. The other baby was not in the nest. A few days later, the nest was empty, so I surmised that the baby hummingbird flew successfully the second time around.

This year was a surprise to me because I found that we have three hummingbird nests. One in our front entrance, one in upper deck and another in the carport’s steel beam structure. Wow! I guess I should hang up a few more hummingbird feeders, huh?

I have thought about these tiny creatures whose capabilities mesmerize and enchant us with their seemingly impossible abilities and strength. I have enjoyed reading about them, and maybe next season, I will plant a garden using my research that suggests the best nectar flowers they will love. If I don’t get around to that, there are still my hummingbird feeders I can put sugar water in……again.

A View From 11,308 Feet

Mon, 16 Jun 2025 23:27:07 GMT

Sacred Mount Taylor: Turquoise Mountain or Blue Bead Mountain

Photos and article

by Anne Groebner

One thing I can always count on is my brother, Jeff, telling me about the most recent book he is reading. Since he’s a biologist and a linguist, I trust his judgment, and I usually buy the book or he will, sometimes, send me his copy when he finishes reading it. When he told me about the book “Talking To The Ground,” by Douglas Preston, I knew I had to read it. I didn’t wait for him to finish. I ordered it. It’s about crossing the Navajo Nation on horseback. Preston, spurred on by his reading of the Navajo Creation Story, took his fiancée (at the time) and her daughter and they rode horseback through history, culture and mythological topography, across the Diné Bikéyah — “People’s Land” or “Navajoland.” Throughout the book, Preston provides many historical facts and personal experiences to enlighten the reader. Learning about the cultural and spiritual history of these mountains and the land, makes the journey of experiencing them so much more inspiring. So, after months of planning, I grabbed my friend (and writer) Rob Bettaso (who also read the book) and we headed for New Mexico to climb Mount Taylor.

There are four sacred mountains that mark the boundaries of Diné Bikéyah; Sierra Blanca (in southeast Colorado), Mount Taylor (in northwest New Mexico), The San Francisco Peaks (in Flagstaff, Arizona), and Hesperus Peak (in southwest Colorado). Mount Taylor marks the southern border of the “Dinetah,” the traditional Navajo homeland, and is only a few hours away from Pinetop. The Navajo’s call it Tsoodzil (Blue Bead Mountain or Turquoise Mountain) — its color is blue and its gender, female. According to their mythology, “First Man created the sacred mountains from the Fourth World, together with sacred matter, as relics of mountains from that world. He fastened Mount Taylor to the earth with a stone knife.” It is said that Black God, Turquoise Boy, and Turquoise Girl still reside on the mountain.

Mount Taylor sits in the Cibola National Forest and stands as the highest point not only of the San Mateo Mountains but also of the entire Cibola Forest. It is a prominent (dormant) volcano that is part of the Mount Taylor volcanic field. Its vast height makes it visible for hundreds of miles. While in route to the Gooseberry trailhead, where we began our climb, we could see it peek through trees in its grand stature. Meadows cover most of the peak, giving it a bald appearance, but lower elevations, as we soon discovered, have a dense forest of Pinon juniper at lower elevations, then ponderosa pine, Engelmann Spruce, Douglas fir, and aspen.

After parking at the trailhead, we started getting our packs ready, stuffing them with plenty of water and snacks. Duncan waited patiently behind the truck while we worked to get ready. To our surprise, a small cinnamon bear scrambled down the tree we parked next to. I put Duncan, who never saw the bear, back in the truck, then tried to get a picture of the bear as he scurried away, but all I got were aspen trees. They were beautiful, but not as exciting as a picture of a bear. I believe seeing a bear in the forest can be a powerful and symbolic experience, as bears are often associated with strength, power, and primal instincts, but they can also be the potential for danger and unpredictability. After surmising why a bear would be up a tree next to multiple cars in a parking lot, we put on our packs, leashed up Duncan and headed up the trail.

The first part of the trail is unremarkable, and I say that in the most respectful way. Looking back now as I’m writing this, I would have to say that the first mile (at 9,500 feet) wasn’t as spectacular as the higher elevations. In fact, the more we ascended the mountain, the more remarkable it became — with the climax being at 11,308 feet. Every level transformed into something incredible. Different trees and unique landscapes unveiled extraordinary views. At one point, I turned around to tell Rob something and literally gasped at the view behind him. I didn’t expect to see the entire valley below.

Leaving the dense forest and entering the meadow, the sun was stronger through less atmosphere and I worried about my black dog, who would scramble for shade at any chance he could. Rob felt the ground and said it was pretty cool, but a black dog in any sun is a problem. Luckily, I had brought a white t-shirt with me, so I soaked it with water and tied it around him and it worked perfectly.

As we neared the peak, the climb got a little steeper in some places and every time we thought we were there, another switchback showed its face. Slow and steady was my motto. After getting a pacemaker last year, I needed to monitor the beats of my heart (that were playing loudly in my head). However, my Apple Watch, that saved me in the first place, never buzzed or dinged, so I knew I was good to reach the top. And I did — and it was great. It was well worth the wait, the planning and the pain — and I would do it again — except now I have my sights on another peak.

Hiking down a mountain is pretty hard on the toes and my feet were pretty sore by the time I got to the bottom. Duncan knew we were heading for the truck and I had to reel him in occasionally, while hopping from rock to rock along the trail. We met some very large cows grazing the meadow and Duncan thought he could take them on, but I convinced him to keep moving forward.

According to Rob’s GPS, the actual height of the mountain is 11,308 feet and the length of the trail is just under 3.5 miles one way, with a 2000’ climb in elevation — for a total of about 7 miles. We started hiking at 11:21 a.m., got to the top by 3:00 p.m. and got back to the truck by 5:00 p.m. From the trailhead, it’s about 3.5 hours back to Pinetop and we made it by 8:30 p.m. Two Tylenol and early to bed, and I was ready to go the next day. It’s great to be back on the trail and my old self again.

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White Mountain Water Festival 2025

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 23:37:51 GMT

Educating young people about wise use and sustainability of our valuable water in the White Mountains area.

By Dan Groebner

Now that the winds have subsided a little and the temperatures are finally rising, it’s time to get out on some of the local lakes and reservoirs (with your life jackets, of course!). But you better be prepared to carry the kayak a little further or back your boat trailer further down the lake ramp than you ever have had to do in the past.

Although some localized areas received a little more than normal winter precipitation, most of our typical runoff from the winter snow melt at higher elevations has not even come close to filling the local lakes and reservoirs. Some areas even delayed the irrigation season for a couple of weeks when the water is drained from these impoundments to preserve the water currently stored.

Since the amount of water we use in the White Mountains is only going to rise in the future, and we aren’t blessed with the higher levels of precipitation of past years, many folks think it’s important for young people to understand the importance of this finite and diminishing resource. The youth of the White Mountains are not only attracted to our lakes and streams for recreation, but they will depend on a healthy area if they want to stick around, make a living and raise a family in northeastern Arizona.

Educating young people about wise use and sustainability of our valuable water in the area was the main driving force behind the recent White Mountain Water Festival, held at Mountain Meadows Recreation area on April 29. The University of Arizona engaged over 280 White Mountain 4th graders and 12 teachers, and in fun activities that were part of the global program, “Project Wet” (ProjectWet.org). Schools participating included Blue Ridge, Show Low, and Heber-Overgaard. Two days later, a Project Wet Water Festival was held for the Whiteriver School District.

Students visited different stations that were set up on the soccer fields, with each station covering the basics of our water cycle, sustainable uses, groundwater facts, and the concept of living in a watershed.

The future decision makers learned that the water cycle is more complicated than just rain falling into a lake, evaporating and then raining again somewhere else. The water cycle is more of a water web and doesn’t always move in a set pattern, with precipitation, evaporation, condensation and surface flow all participating to different degrees depending on the weather. To emphasize this concept, students played a game where they represented water molecules that moved in different ways. Some became clouds while others became groundwater, so you can imagine it was more exciting for some molecules than others.

The sustainability station made students aware that our modern technology can provide us with cleaner, safer, and less expensive water, but technology can also make it easier to waste our valuable water. Most of the students were amazed to learn that they used an average of 100 gallons of water per day. Classes were divided into groups who “raced” against each other in a shuttle relay to see who could most efficiently move the most water in various cups. It turns out that the winners were the ones who spilled the least amount of water, not the ones who finished the fastest!

At the groundwater station, the 4th graders had a hard time believing that over 40% of the water we use in Arizona comes from wells, since they are not as obvious as our streams, rivers and lakes. Students at this station used table top models that showed how groundwater moves and sometimes is directly connected to the surface water we call lakes and streams. Porous types of soils and rocks could store and move water better than other types, so geology makes a difference. Students also saw a visual representation of what happens when contaminants enter the groundwater by adding a colored dye to a “well” and observing what happens when gravity moves the groundwater.

Students made it rain at the watershed station, by simulating precipitation with a squirt bottle over a 3-dimensional model of an entire miniature watershed. The table-sized watershed model also included a mountain range where ice was used to simulate snowpack that eventually melted, filling the lakes and streams at lower elevations. Students were tasked with locating various forms of development, as well as wildlife, on the model in sustainable locations. Future student engineers also created impoundments at appropriate locations to make the best use of seasonal water supplies. And just like with the groundwater station, students saw how surface water is constantly moving and sometimes carrying contaminants with it, so all areas within a watershed are connected.

The watershed station also made it easy to demonstrate how altering the land surface creates bigger problems because paved urban areas prevent water percolation and soil absorption. This excessive runoff causes flooding and all kinds of damage. In addition, percolation from above can not recharge the local groundwater, average temperatures usually rise, and atmospheric conditions create a “heat dome” effect which can actually push away approaching rain storms and make it even drier.

Since all the stations required the students to take part by actively doing things, like making it rain on a 3-D model, or transporting water from one location to another, the time went quickly and the students enjoyed themselves learning about our valuable water resources.

During Water Festivals, students work in small groups together to solve real-world problems. However, since the Water Festivals are designed to involve many community volunteers and teachers, hundreds of students can be offered this opportunity all in one fun-filled morning.

The Water festival also provided an opportunity for a number of Mr. Kristoffer Van Attan’s Junior High Blue Ridge students to teach the 4th graders at one station. The Jr. high student teachers were provided curriculum materials and trained in how to present the material, which gave them the confidence to present the complex material in a way that 4th graders could relate to. Learning from someone close to their age in the outdoor classrooms was a unique experience for many of the students.

This inaugural White Mountain Water Festival was made possible through the generous donations and involvement of the Arizona Water Company, American Ground Water Trust, City of Show Low, Town of Pinetop-Lakeside, Navajo County, Roscoe Moss, State Farm, Loft 54 Interiors, Mogollon Water Management, as well as the University of Arizona’s Cooperative Extension Project Wet personnel.

Project Wet is a global organization that is “dedicated to solving critical environmental challenges by teaching the world about water… by providing hands-on, science-based water education resources to formal and non-formal educators.” Project Wet’s methods include interactive activities that sometimes use games to help explore and solve current issues in ways that 4th graders understand. The University of Arizona’s Project Wet program has been educating teachers for over 30 years with the primary goal of “Developing water stewards through student-centered instruction and Arizona-specific content.”

With current growth predictions for the area, and the ominous trend toward drier conditions, there is a need for annual Water Festivals to enlighten our youth while we still have time. Since these are community-based programs, this is an opportunity for you to become involved. This year’s event was fortunate to have over 40 local volunteers but could still use more. Contact Alex Pfab, Water Conservation Specialist with the Arizona Water Company (apfab@azwater.com) to see how you can volunteer.

Training for Keeps

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 23:33:17 GMT

How a group of dedicated dog owners is making a difference!

By Jen Rinaldi

How often do I hear the phrase? “I can’t get him to stop doing this. He’s driving us crazy!”

I feel for both dog and owner, but the outcome is always worse for the pet. It is challenging for both the pet and the owner when issues arise. Although poor personality matches, inconvenient timing, or significant illness in either pet or owner present difficult situations, owners can resolve many behavioral problems with effort and commitment.

Basic training saves the lives of dogs that might otherwise be euthanized.

Here are some facts.

• According to the ASPCA’s National Re-homing Survey, pet problems are the most common reason that owners re-home their pet, accounting for 47% of re-homed dogs and 42% of re-homed cats. Pet problems were defined as problematic behaviors, aggressive behaviors, they grew larger than expected, or health problems the owner couldn’t handle.

• The National Institute of Health reports; The most reported of these seven reasons for relinquishment of dogs were owner health (29%), animal behavioral problems (23%), housing issues (21%) and lack of time (14%).

• Owners relinquished nearly one-quarter of the animals because of behavioral problems. Because owners often contribute to behavioral problems, the results emphasize focusing on owners to address pet relinquishment challenges.

The reason is clear.

• Roughly 96% of relinquished dogs had received zero formal obedience training (i.e. obedience classes and/or private training). About 28% of the pup parents didn’t do ANY training at all.

WHAT CAN WE DO TO REDUCE THE NUMBER OF DOGS BEING RELINQUISHED?

TRAIN YOU DOG!

Untrained and unaltered dogs are the dogs that either get left on the side of the road or are surrendered to our local shelters or animal welfare organizations. With surrenders on the rise here, our shelters and fosters are overwhelmed! We need to keep dogs with their people! Without training, a dog becomes a nuisance rather than a valued member of the family.

Terry Bankert, a volunteer at the Humane Society of the White Mountains, Boxer Love, Border Collie rescue, and Cattle Dog rescue, is also a member of our training and rally group, strongly agrees with positive training to change the odds for dogs on our mountain.

For years now, a dedicated group of dog enthusiasts (Many from Arizona White Mountain Kennel Club) have been meeting year round to help train and get the word out about helping dogs of all kinds. The folks and dogs in the group are from all walks of life. Some take part in search and rescue, some are competitors in obedience, rally, and agility, service dogs, some dogs are pure breed, others shelter dogs and family pets. All are beloved family members who are with us until they die!

The one thing these dogs have in common is they all are canine good citizens through weekly training sessions and responsible dog ownership! Canine good citizen is a designation from the American Kennel Club. Being a canine good citizen means so much more than just earning a ribbon. In fact, on the back of the Canine Good Citizen form are the commitments to responsible dog ownership that must be agreed to. I feel that these need to be stressed before a dog is purchased or adopted!

• I will be responsible for my dog’s health needs.

• I will be responsible for routine vet care, adequate nutrition through proper diet, daily exercise, and regular grooming.

• I will be responsible for my dog’s safety.

• I will properly control my dog by providing fencing, not letting my dog run loose, and using a leash in public. I will ensure that my dog has some form of identification.

• I will not allow my dog to infringe on the rights of others.

• I will not allow my dog to run loose in the neighborhood.

• I will not allow my dog to be a nuisance to others by barking in the yard, at a hotel, or at others.

• I will pick up after my dog, in the park, at home, and in the wilderness.

• I will be responsible for my dog’s quality of life. (Until the end)

• I understand that basic training is beneficial to all dogs.

• I will give my dog attention and playtime, and I understand a dog is a lifetime commitment.

If you believe in the statements above and wish to deepen your bond with your dog, then join us!

On May 17th and 18th, The Arizona White Mountain Kennel Club will hold its Rally and Obedience Trials at Frontier Field, 650 N. 9th Place, Show Low AZ, 85901 From 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday. There will also be temperament testing and Canine good citizens tests given on Saturday. Many of us who train weekly at the Humane Society will be there to show our own dogs or to just lend a hand, helping judges and competitors.

For those who do not know what Rally and Obedience Classes entail, the name Obedience says it all. Dogs in obedience need to be able to perform on command all the basics. The very name of this type of training implies that the dog will learn to comply with a verbal command or hand signal given by a trainer, owner, or handler.

In Rally, which is the precursor to agility, you and your dog will heel through a timed course of stations and perform the specific obedience exercises indicated on each sign. Various signs direct a dog and handler team to turn left or right, and guide them through moves like sit and down, stay, come, fast or slow, and heeling maneuvers.

The lower-level classes in both classes are non-threatening and are quite enjoyable! If you have ever thought about trying to show, our club is the perfect place to start. With such a mix of dogs and experience levels, we strive to help each other and have fun!

If you are interested in joining our Tuesday training group, we have limited space, especially in winter when we are in a small indoor training room, but we can make accommodations.

During summer if you are new to our training group, we request you contact us through Facebook or by email at https://awmkc.org/, to schedule a date for us to meet you and your dog. We have an evaluator who can test your dog in Canine Good Citizen, Urban Canine Good citizen, Trick dog, and temperament testing with an appointment.

We work in obedience, rally, and basic socialization. The class runs around an hour and a half and is held at the Humane Society of the White Mountains on Tuesdays. If you are on the fence about training with other people or would like to come meet us, the show in May is the perfect time to do so. Our passion is all about bonding with our dogs, having fun, and creating family!

Become a member today!! The Arizona White Mountain Kennel Club is an All-Breed and Mixed breed club. Founded in 1979, the club’s name and bylaws were accepted by AKC in 1980. The first ‘A’ Match was held at Blue Ridge High School. Our Club’s focus is on the welfare of both dog and owner!

We love our dogs and want to see our mountain become an example of great dog stewardship!

https://www.facebook.com/AZWhiteMountainKC

https://awmkc.org/

Turning Wood and Cloth into Art

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 23:31:03 GMT

Pinetop Woodworks and Jessy Jayne's Handcrafts

By Anne Groebner

When I walked into Pinetop Woodworks and Jessy Jayne’s Handcrafts, a new shop in town, I was greeted by a young and very friendly golden lab named Jessy (the namesake of the quilt shop). She was so happy to see me and I was happy to see her too! After a couple of years of working tirelessly on their new building, Steve and Marie (and Jessy) are finally ready to open their doors and welcome customers looking for unique wood creations and creative, custom quilts. But that’s not all you’ll find inside. Several local artists display their works and there’s a friendly and welcoming atmosphere.

It was Covid’s fault that Steve decided he wanted to do woodworking. He had done some work with wood his whole life — with his dad and then woodworking class in high school — but about five years ago; he was looking to set up shop so he could immerse himself in it a lot more, maybe even as a retirement project. So instead of baking bread, as so many of us did during the pandemic, he chose to work with wood.

Marie, on the other hand, stumbled upon quilting quite by accident. While living in Eagar, in their refurbished, 100-year-old “Udall” house, she went to see a dentist in St. Johns, who came highly recommended. Leaving the dentist’s office, she walked over to a fabric store and watched some women cutting cloth into small squares and then sewing them together to “make things.” “What are you doing?” She asked. “Making quilts,” they told her. “This is a quilting class.” Fortunately, Marie told me, she could sew a straight line and before she knew it, she was quilting. Now she creates beautiful quilts. Her favorite styles are half-square triangle and chevron quilts. Marie’s quilt studio is any quilter’s dream, complete with plenty of room and storage (all built by Steve) and a high-tech long-arm quilting machine. It’s fun to stop in and see her newest creations!

The new store has several wood pieces showcasing Steve’s work. He uses local wood — sustainably harvested fire trees — which are readily available here, creating amazing tables, bar tops and benches from wood with character flaws, which he likes the best. Bowls, pepper grinders, bottle stoppers and wooden rings, he turns on a lathe and he only uses natural wood finishes, such as tung oil, linseed oil or walnut oil. “Many people use mineral oil,” he tells me, “however, mineral oil doesn’t harden, is petroleum based and can leach into food.” (Something I just learned after I coated my cutting board at home with mineral oil). His natural oils harden, and both his oils and waxes are non-petroleum based and non-toxic.

There are so many unique items in their shop, that I couldn’t fit all the pictures of them in this article. They have over 15 local artists displaying items including Navajo jewelry, Arizona sandstone, embroidered towels, metal horseshoe art, panel quilts, place mats, runners, pillows, wood carvings, wood spirits, Riddling wine bottle racks and much more. You’ll just have to stop by and check it out for yourself! — and you can, by stopping by during their Ribbon Cutting, May 23 at 11:00 a.m. Their Grand Opening also starts on that Friday and runs through Sunday, May 25. They will have live music by KARAMAX, MoonDog’s Food Truck and much more! See their ad on page 19 for more information.

Horseback Riding the Los Burros Short Loop Trail

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 23:28:09 GMT

Riding the White Mountain Trail System

Photos & article by Allanna Jackson

May 2nd was warm and sunny with a light breeze, perfect weather for a horseback ride. I hitched the horse trailer, packed a sack lunch, and took Cinnamon up to the Los Burros (LB) campground at trailhead No. 1.

When Cinnamon backed off the trailer, she immediately noticed two mules in a portable electric tape corral at the Camp Host campsite on the other side of the campground. I tied her to the trailer and let her study the mules while I ate my lunch.

When I opened a bag of baby carrots and walnuts, I suddenly had a brown and white nose snuffling at my fingertips. Cinnamon wanted a carrot. I gave her one, which she ate in one chomp. She came back for more, but I told her the rest of them were mine and ate them myself. Cinnamon took one sniff at my peanut butter and jam sandwich, then resumed watching the mules. She was not even curious about my Thin Mint cookies.

After lunch, I brushed the dirt from the trailer ride off Cinnamon and saddled up. The camp hostess stopped by briefly to comment that there was no rain in the forecast, but the clouds that had appeared looked like they might rain. She asked if I was riding by myself, then commented they’d ridden the trail the day before. I told her, “Yes, but Cinnamon’s a good little trail horse.”

We set off along the trail from the trailhead across the slope above the northern edge of the meadow to the gate at LB1. My GPS, which claimed to have two-thirds of its battery capacity when I checked it at the house, chirped its low battery warning and turned itself off before we’d gone an one-eighth of a mile. The Los Burros trail is quite popular with mountain bicyclists, so a new rollover gate has been added beside the old horse gate. Cinnamon expertly helped me open and close the horse gate as we went through. We crossed the power line and headed up the Shortcut at LB36.

We met two hikers with two dogs near LB37. They were going toward the campground. We exchanged pleasantries about the lovely weather and continued our opposite directions. Cinnamon and I had the trail to ourselves for the rest of the 8.25-mile ride. For the first half mile, the shortcut trail gradually climbs up Low Creek Canyon, which has aspen, spruce, fir, and white pine trees in addition to ponderosas pines. The New Mexico Locust and Gambels Oaks were still looking like dead sticks, not yet convinced that spring had arrived. Between LB39 and LB40, the trail makes a short, steep climb up the slope in a series of switchbacks. My camera, which claimed to have three-fourths battery capacity at home, suddenly complained of low battery and shut itself off. I tried it again a little while later and got another picture before it shut itself off again. The camera continued this erratic behavior for another three miles and 30 pictures before the battery was truly empty.

After LB40, the trail tops out of the canyon and begins a more gradual descent through Ponderosa Pine forest for the next mile, where it crosses Forest Road 9. The trail markers clearly indicate the junction. We crossed the road and continued along the shortcut to its junction with the main loop trail at LB22. From there, we turned east and went down the diamond numbers, looping back toward the trailhead.

The trail wanders up and over the shoulder of another hill after LB20. It then angles south toward the Fort Apache Reservation boundary fence. We had such a dry winter; I was pleasantly surprised to see the small stock pond at LB17 had water in it. Cinnamon got her taste of the trail snacking on grass growing beside it while I got my water bottle out of the saddlebag. The trail approximately parallels the reservation boundary with one excursion away from the boundary between LB12 and LB11.

The clouds blew away, and we had sunshine for about half an hour. Cinnamon suddenly stopped at full alert when she spotted three gray horses grazing on the reservation side of the fence at LB10. They were equally interested in her. All four horses stared at each other for a minute. One of the greys blew loudly. The youngest, a steel gray, trotted away and one of the white greys followed it. The other white grey stood its ground, staring at us. Cinnamon pranced a few steps, then resumed walking down the trail. The two greys circled back for another look. Cinnamon stopped and stared, then pranced again. Two of the greys again trotted off, then circled back. Then all three grays trotted away, but didn’t go very far before stopping to turn and watch us again. For the next mile, Cinnamon watched something over her right shoulder, though the grey horses were on our left. She stopped abruptly to stare at something across the meadow. All I saw was a red truck proceeding slowly along Forest Road 9. Cinnamon was watching something else, though I never figured out what.

A Great Blue Heron was standing in the water at the edge of the stock pond near LB6. The trail loops around the pond, so the Heron flew off when we got too close. The Chipmunk Connector trails joins Los Burros trail near marker LB6, where the Los Burros trail turns northeast to complete the loop back to the campground.

Cinnamon stopped abruptly between LB4 and LB3 to stare at a flock of six turkeys running up the slope to our right. We watched them until they disappeared, then continued down the trail. The clouds had returned and started to sprinkle, though I heard more drops in the trees than I felt. Cinnamon stopped again near LB1 when a lone turkey ran across the trail. We didn’t see the rest of the flock, but I heard them. Cinnamon again helped me with the gate into the campground. The sprinkle of rain tuned into a sprinkle of sleet that put tiny drops of ice on Cinnamon’s mane as we rode the last quarter mile back to the trailer. Cinnamon stared at the mules, who were now wearing blankets, while I quickly unsaddled and prepared for the trip home. The rain stopped as I loaded Cinnamon and drove home.

Experiential Learning

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 23:23:23 GMT

It was reassuring to see that twenty-somethings enjoying investigating the natural world around them.

Article And Photos

By Rob Bettaso

It was mid-afternoon on a Friday; late in April. The last item to load into my truck was a small cooler, which only held some fruit, a chocolate bar, and some cream for coffee — the ingredients of tomorrow’s breakfast. Somewhere between home and my destination (a deep canyon along the eastern edge of Coconino County) I would stop at a grocery store and pick up something ready-to-eat for this evening’s dinner and probably a few snacks for my day and a half outing in the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest.

I was feeling a bit out of sorts and knew that part of it was because of the annoying winds that had started blowing late in the morning. The weather report had said that a cold front would be moving through over the course of the next couple of days and that, instead of providing some badly needed rain, it would only offer fierce winds and dropping temps. Lovely. I was also a tad cranky because I was sleep deprived; having made too many withdrawals from my body’s sleep-bank during the latter portion of the week. My most recent foray, joining a friend to scout his turkey hunt just yesterday, had involved a 2:00 a.m. wake-up so that we could meet for a 3:00 a.m. departure to the Big Lake area (Apache County). There, he would use a turkey-call to provoke a vocal response from the “gobblers” (male turkeys) in the morning darkness to get an idea where the roosting sites were likely to be on opening day. And while that experience was very fun, it had left me feeling slightly run down.

So now I was less enthusiastic than I would have normally been as I began my travels to join my friend Pat and her class of seven Northland Pioneer College (NPC) students. As I pulled out of my driveway and began the two-hour drive to our rendezvous and camping site, I got to thinking about how back east, where I grew up, the counties are small in terms of area but large in terms of population. Here in the West, it is mostly just the opposite. In fact, the county to which I was going today (Coconino) is the second largest county in the U.S. and it includes only one large city: Flagstaff. Mind you, I am not complaining about our wide-open Western spaces and I only comment on it because it seems odd that things evolved the way they did.

County jurisdictions contain several significant governmental entities, including such things as the Sheriff’s Department, Assessor’s Office, and public health programs. They are also often the land unit in which biologists geo-reference their field specimens. As an example, if you look at the plates and illustrations in some of the older “field guides,” the guides will often name the county in which the “type specimen” was found (a “type specimen” is the first sample of a plant or animal species that has been archived into a major museum’s collections). Now days, since it is common for people to use on-line data-bases to record their plant and animal sightings (think: “i-Naturalist” or “e-Bird”), one of the basic data-entry points is still at the level of the county.

While human-designated boundaries are certainly worth noting, as a former fisheries biologist, I tend to think in terms of hydrologic units: basins, watersheds, drainages, streams. The canyon I was heading to this afternoon was one of the many perennial drainages that eventually flow into the Little Colorado River. Despite its name, the Little Colorado River is a major Arizona river and, in fact, it traverses the northern portions of three counties in Arizona (Apache, Navajo, and Coconino) before it enters the Colorado River within the Grand Canyon National Park.

When I arrived at our campsite for the NPC classes’ fieldwork, I was disappointed (but not surprised) to see that the canyon’s channel was bone-dry. Hopefully, there would be some water down-stream from camp as tomorrow morning Pat and I would lead the students in that direction to look for, identify, and observe whatever plant and animal species we could find during the morning’s practicum in riparian ecology. I parked my truck and walked over to where the students were gathered in their make-shift kitchen. It was late in the day and since the canyon is deep, camp was already mostly in the shade and folks were wearing jackets while they played a game of cards. After Pat introduced me to her students, I declined the offer to join them in their cards (it was a game I had never heard of called “Spoons”) because I wanted to eat a quick dinner and then check out the creek-bed to see if I could find water.

As I ate from my Safeway “Cobb Salad” I stood on the outside of the circle of card-players. They were using rocks to weigh down their cards but otherwise seemed unperturbed by the wind. I enjoyed hearing their light-hearted banter and I could tell that I would have felt very at home with a group like this (either as a student or as a teacher) if I had spent more time with them. It was also clear to me that my longtime friend Pat fit right in with her students and would occasionally offer her share of benign “smack-talk” as the card playing became more intense.

After dinner, I left the group and headed down canyon in search of water; plus whatever wildlife I might see. Despite the winds, it didn’t take long to tally a bird count of about a dozen species, but other critters (invertebrates, herps, and mammals) were not obviously out and about. This did not bode well for tomorrow’s “species blitz” but I wasn’t too worried about that, as given the good humor that I observed at the card game, I figured the students would take any minor setbacks in stride.

Years ago, both Pat and I had been field biologists with the Arizona Game and Fish Department (AGFD). My focus had been Arizona’s meager number of native fishes and Pat’s had been the state’s very rich diversity of amphibians and reptiles. Before hiring-on with the AGFD, both Pat and I had done stints with the Peace Corps in Africa: she in Malawi in the early/mid 1990s and me in Zaire in the late 70s and early 80s. As such, when we met at AGFD, we became instant chums.

When I returned to camp, I let Pat know that I had found no water but that I thought the birds alone would keep us busy during the morning’s explorations. She was relieved at this news, especially since the temperature was rapidly dropping and the wind was continuing to blow even after the sun had set. Because fire restrictions were in place, we had a cold camp and, without a camp-fire to stare into, by 8:00 p.m. folks were wandering off to their tents to “call it a day.” I stayed up until 8:30 and by then, I knew that after 10 minutes of star-gazing from my cot, I would be ready for sleep. Finally, I would make a significant deposit into my over-drawn sleep-bank.

In the morning, after coffee and a bite to eat, our group headed into the canyon and we picked our way along the cobblestones in search of exciting representatives of the riparian biota. My impressions from yesterday’s observations of the student’s group dynamics while in camp were soon re-enforced by watching how they interacted with Nature. It was truly reassuring for me to see that not all teens and twenty-somethings are reflexively glued to screens and that, in fact, when allowed to investigate the natural world around them, some of the younger generation quickly become inquisitive, excited, and grateful! I believe this tendency is innate to nearly all of us, but that it takes a good mentor, such as Pat, to bring it to full flowering. Pat is naturally a nurturing type of person, and whether she is helping her students understand the complexities of an ecological principle in action, or she is patiently pointing out the presence of a cryptically patterned lizard motionless on a rock, she has the enthusiasm that is contagious.

We eventually came to water in the canyon; first, in the form of scattered pools, and then later as a continuous, flowing creek. As morning wound down, we took an upland route back to camp and, upon our return, I think we were all satisfied with our experience in the living laboratory of wild Arizona. After a quick snack, I left the crew to their more elaborate lunch and packing. I enjoyed a leisurely drive back to the highway along the nearly 15 miles of dirt road; stopping occasionally to watch various birds including: a foraging flock of Bushtits, an industrious Hairy Woodpecker working the bark of an old pine, and a wild and free Red-tailed Hawk — soaring majestically; high among the puffy clouds.

Just before I reached the highway, I saw up ahead a large Gopher snake stretched out and motionless in the middle of the road. I pulled off to the side and tried to encourage the snake off the road and into the relative safety of the nearby scrubby undergrowth. In classic fashion, the big snake instantly coiled and began mimicking a rattlesnake by vibrating his tail. I opted to not risk being bitten and instead found a stout stick with which I could gently lift the colorful serpent and take him away from the road.

Mission accomplished, I got back behind the wheel of my truck and drove the last few miles to Highway 260. As I merged into weekend traffic, I couldn’t help but wish that the NPC folks had been caravanning with me so that Pat could have given them a quick lesson in the life-history of a gopher snake. I was sure that her students would have hung on her every word; and then begin asking lots of good questions. After all, one of the most impactful things a teacher can do is to make a fundamental and positive difference in the way students experience the world around us.

Eagles, Empathy and Evolution

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 23:17:04 GMT

Get outside and give yourself a chance to be a part of something larger, something timeless...

Photos & article

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

One of the most satisfying things you can do for yourself in times of trouble is to get outside and give yourself a chance to be a part of something larger, something timeless, and something that doesn’t involve your participation or input in continuing to exist. Nature is a powerful force and spring hammers that message home with crystalline clarity. Trees, that a week or two ago were just brown “lifeless” twigs suddenly have full-on leaves and flowering shrubs are buzzing with bees. How in the world do the dormant cells “know” when it’s safe to begin dividing to create leaves that won’t be in danger of freezing in a late storm? Is it temperature? Is it day length? Is it the patterns of winds? It’s probably a combination of all the above, but it is surely a miracle of evolution.

Hummingbirds suddenly arrive just as flowers are beginning to open and bird migration maps track the movement of birds moving from South to North America as the seasons switch places. Coyotes yipping off in the distance are busy collecting food to feed their young; mating season timed perfectly to have pups born just when nature is revitalizing itself and food is abundant. Rabbits are busy creating grass nests and caring for kits, some of whom will eventually feed the young coyotes, and recently arrived birds are establishing territories, building nests and hatching young in freshly budded trees just as the insects necessary to feed newly pipped chicks begin to move and reproduce.

Mosses that lay dormant and brown suddenly green up with moisture and, bam! It’s spring. There’s a pair of red-tailed hawks on the knoll I frequent, and I’ve been looking for their nest that is strategically placed somewhere in a snag high on the northern slope, but year after year, I just cannot find exactly where it is as they circle overhead screeching out their irritation and territorial dominance as we pass by.

Like many people this spring, I’ve been faithfully watching several of the live Bald Eagle cams set up across the US. There’s America’s favorite couple, Shadow and Jacque in Big Bear CA, who bonded in 2018 and, as a long-term couple, laid over 14 eggs, with five successfully hatching and fledging over the years. This year they hatched three eggs with two surviving to fledging age. They are the ultimate examples of evolutionary dedication, empathy and parenting.

It’s a big job to care for eaglets: There’s the 35 days of brooding the eggs and keeping them warm in freezing temperatures, periodic snowstorms and fierce treetop winds. There’s the keeping the tiny eaglets warm after hatching while feeding them multiple times a day, collecting food in the form of fish and ducks, maintaining and widening the nest and as the eaglets mature, adding large perching practice sticks as the eaglets prepare to fledge, and encouraging them to exercise their wings to prepare for that first leap out of the nest, coming up soon.

Jacque and Shadow are experienced parents who take turns brooding and feeding and have been great providers, successfully adding two new eaglets to the ecosystem. On the other hand, there’s Mrs. and Mr. T. in Trempealeau, WI. Mr. T is a two-timing thief who abandoned his first mate after she laid their egg. Mrs. T has had to take on the entire responsibility of brooding and feeding their chick while he attached himself to a younger female across the lake. His input into the family is to steal the fish that Mrs T. brings to the chick, making her efforts to successfully raise it twice as hard. Incredibly, he takes the stolen fish to his second nest to feed those chicks, posing as a responsible father. Having to act as a single parent causes Mrs. T to have to repeatedly leave the chick unguarded while she is off to work getting food to feed the hatchling, only to have her unfaithful mate eventually come steal entire fish from his neglected single chick. So far, the single chick is thriving and we are all rooting for this determined mother.

Why are we so enamored with these families? How are we able to interpret the actions of a species so different and yet so similar to our own? I think it is because of the trait of empathy. Empathy is the ability to understand and share the feelings of another living organism. Studies have shown that people who have a high affinity for animals and nature often show high levels of empathy and compassion. Those who do not feel empathy, see big birds flapping, awkward ugly babies and maybe fun targets to shoot at. And, those without empathy see our forested areas as a means to an end rather than a fulfilling escape filled with wonder. Those of us who have empathetic traits felt the pain when one of Shadow and Jacque’s chicks perished in a big snowstorm.

Jacque spent days buried up to her neck in snow, trying to keep all the babies protected while Shadow provided food for all of them, but despite their best efforts, one chick wiggled out from under Jacque’s protective warmth and died. Both Shadow and Jacque mourned over the dead chick in the nest for a few days and then Jacque took it away some place to dispose of it; she did not just toss it over the edge like they normally do with old fish and duck carcasses. We feel admiration in seeing the young eaglets stretch their wings and practice jumping and flapping, and we will certainly feel a mother’s loss and pride as they eventually fly off to make their own ways in the world, just a few months after arriving in the world as tiny helpless creatures encased in a thin eggshell. We also feel anger at the two-timing thieving Mr. T and the admiration for the hard work of Mrs. T in raising a chick as a single mother, rooting daily for her success.

In several incidents with eagles this year, severe winds knocked generations-old nests out of trees and eaglets were killed in the falls. A heartbreaking loss for us as humans empathizing, but a part of life for the eagles who will try again next year, learning something about nest building and maintenance in the process. In one case, the main part of the nest survived the fall, with two young eaglets clinging to it and was found floating in a nearby swampy area. Rescuers waded into the swamp and collected the wet eaglets to raise and release when they mature in a few more weeks.

Donations of fresh trout flooded into the rescue to help save these eaglets. Some people criticized the rescue, saying “Let nature take its course”, but is there any harm in empathizing with these fellow life travelers and helping them on their way? I say no. Allow empathy a part in your life, help where we can, let ourselves into lives other than our own and be a part of the tableau of life around us rather than just focusing on what only makes us more powerful in our own eyes.

“Humans are amazing creatures, built on an evolutionary legacy of empathy and compassion for one another. Encouraging, rather than discouraging, empathy and care for one another can only lead to the evolution of future humans that will be much more successful than we are able to be now.” — Carol Godwin

Empathy allows many of us to “walk in the shoes” of other living things, ranging from nodding flowers broken by a careless footstep to the helplessness of a baby bunny caught by a cat, to the specter of endangered species disappearing because of loss of protection and to families torn apart by political policy makers. We have been cautioned that empathy is a flaw in the human condition, is “the fundamental weakness of Western civilization” (Musk 2025) and should be squashed so we can be powerful and successful as a nation. I disagree wholeheartedly and feel that empathy is one of the core traits that makes us uniquely successful as humans and one trait that makes our lives worthwhile and fulfilling.

As an avid hiker and biker, I often wander into philosophical pondering as I move through the woods with the dogs. Does a tree have empathy for its saplings, struggling to grow in its shade? Does the caterpillar feel guilty for eating the new leaves off a bush? Not possible, this is an example of the survival of the fittest and there is no room for empathy in plants, insects or many reptiles. Does the coyote feel empathy as it chases and kills a mother rabbit, leaving kits to starve? Does an eagle feel empathy for snatching a hen away from helpless ducklings? Of course not. The rabbit/duck is food and a coyote/eagle, which stopped to consider the ethical ramifications of removing the mother from its babies, would starve and not pass on its genes to the next generation. But, both animals felt empathy for their hungry young and can do whatever it takes to raise those young successfully.

Does an elk cow which has a calf killed by a mountain lion feel loss? Of course, but does the rest of the herd feel empathy towards that cow and treat her with a different level of compassion afterwards? I think not. Life goes on, and there is food to be found in the next meadow. Does a wolf pack feel empathy for a wounded or elderly member? It has been shown that they do care for those weaker members of the pack by protecting them and bringing back food for them, just as they do for their young.

Empathy and compassion build and maintain strong communities, so that future generations inherit these qualities. Empathy was likely a tremendous evolutionary advantage for those animals that require a parent’s care for an extended amount of time. Fish and reptiles which do not provide extended care for offspring have not been shown to show empathy. Parents who could expect an offspring’s needs were better able to care for that offspring and the trait of intra-species empathy was passed on and magnified over time.

Studies show that most mammals and birds experience empathy, suggesting that successful offspring care is related to empathy and, consequently, community success. Great apes, dolphins, elephants, felines and canids are the most prominent animals that show empathy and are all species that require extended care for offspring. Interestingly, the most common domesticated animals are those that share the trait of empathy with us and can form close bonds with humans.

The Human-dog bond is unique in evolution because it is the only example of co-evolution between two large dominant predators, each willing to give up a little of that dominance for the advantage of working together. Dogs help give my life meaning and definitely add to the outdoor adventure as I experience the world at least a little through their interactions with nature. They open our eyes to things that are present there that we may otherwise never have noticed and give us unwavering and enthusiastic companionship, no matter what we are doing.

Go take a walk, look around you, feel the success of an oak tree budding out perfect leaves this spring, listen to the enthusiasm of birds singing to establish their territories, think about the perfect timing between flowers and hummingbirds, hatchlings and the arrival of insects feeding on green leaves. Watch the intent focus of an osprey anticipating the movement of a fish in order to execute a perfect dive and a fishy meal to bring back to its fledglings in the nearby nest. Listen to a pack of coyotes communicating across a canyon about a fresh kill and watch your dogs explore spring. Think about how and why these things evolved to coincide so perfectly. Think about how you are a tiny part of all this grandeur and why it is important that you allow yourself to go into the world with your empathetic senses intact. Happy spring!

Watch Jacque and Shadow here: https://www.youtube.com/@FOBBVCAM

Hook, Line and Sinker

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 23:11:04 GMT

Fun for Kids of All Ages at Green Valley Lakes

Article and Photos by

Annemarie Eveland

The three Green Valley Lakes in Payson have always been a source of beauty and relaxation to me. Whether it was seeing people strolling leisurely around them, others sailing softly and quietly on their surfaces, or just anglers fishing from the edges of their sparkling waters, these public lakes are a genuine delight. People young and old continue to enjoy these bucolic, easily accessible lakes.

But when it came to fishing on April 26th, there was busy and exciting energy for the annual kids’ fishing festival day. This was the 19th year of this fun, popular free event for the community kids. The Let’s Talk Fishin’ event started at 8:00 a.m. and lasted until 2:00 p.m. at the largest Green Valley Lake. The event provided a completely free fishing day for kids, even supplying poles and bait. Free registration (required) was available at the park site, which included signing a consent form by a parent or guardian.

The weather was beautiful, and a little windy, but the fish were biting. The kids were eager to learn from the willing volunteer professional anglers who were available to help the “wanna be” beginner anglers learn proper fishing techniques. And there were photo ops, of course. You could get your photo taken with a professional angler and, of course, when the young person caught a fish, there were memorable photos taken with the successful catch.

Each of their catches were weighed and a photo of the proud little angler and an accompanying pro fisherman was snapped for prosperity. Kids also enjoyed sharing the excitement of each other’s catch too.

There were lots of FREE things included for the kids. First, registered children aged 10-17 received an annual fishing license.

And although participants were encouraged to bring their own fishing equipment, loaned equipment was available using an adult’s valid driver’s license or $20 refundable deposit.

A free gift was given to all registered kids, along with a free raffle ticket, and a free gift for each fish weighed in by kids. And for all the fishing kids, there was the free lunch of hot dogs, chips, and drinks. Since I was not a “fishing kid” I bought my tasty hot dog from the food vendor for a nominal $3.

To add to the festival, there was music and announcements provided by the local community KRIM radio station. I was pleased to hear that KRIM broadcasts “Let’s Talk Fishin’” every Friday evening.

I also noted that there were many sponsors. I counted at least 16 listed on the promo flyer. It was good to see so many businesses being supportive of such a worthy endeavor.

I briefly met and chatted with Tracy Purtee, who was heading up the special event, and I learned more about their ardent endeavors of having a successful event just for the kids’ enjoyment. I was glad to see this group of people so devoted to helping kids make a happy memory.

Ardent Pro anglers Tracy Purtee, Matt Shura and Kenny Meyers were a part of the team directing this fun fishing event for the kids. Tracy also gave his wife generous credit for preparing for this annual Kids’ Fishing Festival.

So, if you would like to know more about this fun annual fishing festival for next year, you can contact Tracy Purtee at email: letstalkfishin@gmail.com or visit their website: www.letstalkfishin.com.

Until the next fishing festival at Green Valley Park, may all your fishing adventure stories be memorable and true. And if you have a young friend or family member, invite them to go with you to next year’s fun Free Kids Fishing Festival!

The Power of Soft Connections

Mon, 02 Jun 2025 23:07:53 GMT

Who are your soft connections to the world?

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

Your favorite barista. The cashier at the grocery store. The smiling lady at your mail drop. The woman at the copy shop who connected you with her son to help you move. The people who taught you to survive on your own after your husband died. What do these folks have in common? They are your soft connections to the world.

Strong and soft connections

Just as a tree has deep roots and a strong trunk, some relationships have strong connections. Family and close friends are here. You spend significant time together, go on weekend outings, and text and talk frequently. You know these people and their families in depth, for you have ongoing physical and emotional ties.

Soft, or weak, connections add color to your life. You may not see them often, but they’re the ones you feel at home with when you connect. There’s a heart-to-heart kinship with them.

• A few years ago, I was making frequent trips to see my mom before she passed. I stayed at the same motel, and Jessie, the check-in clerk, always greeted me with a smile and a happy greeting. I felt so at home.

• In 2004, I took a fascinating beading class at Northland Pioneer College and met a woman I call the Imagineer. After a while, I met her partner. We struck up a warm friendship and kept in touch — now talking every Sunday morning. She’s my bestie!

• When painting a house, I met the store manager of the paint shop and her husband. We lost touch over the years (how many homes can you paint?) but I remembered her fondly.

Fast forward a decade. I was taking my morning walk when a familiar voice called out, “Hey, Joan!” There was my friend! We now chat and catch up on the latest every morning.

These leaves on your tree may stay for a long time. Or be there only for a season. They are there to add zest to your world. Warmth to your heart. And are irreplaceable in what they leave behind.

Want more soft ties?

You want more of these people in your circle, so how do you bring them in? Here are some tips:

• Smile . Be it the postal worker, your mechanic, or the teller at the bank, smile and be friendly. They can provide friendly support with good humor, and you want to be the one to uplift their day, too.

• Get curious . What are they about? Hobbies? Do they raise dogs? Bake cakes for special occasions? Their oldest just off to college? You can learn so much if you’re open to listen.

• Keep in touch. It’s easy to text or call. To stop by where they work and chat for a moment. When you do, remember what’s important to them. And ask: how’s Scotty doing at his new job? Do you have a litter of new puppies? Extend that hand of friendship and feel your heart open.

Develop those soft ties and connections, and your life expands. After all, you can never have too many friends. Live unstuck.

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for Lil’ Toot, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

Mountain Maternities for the Birds

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 16:27:20 GMT

The variety of nest types and strategies for raising chicks does not come close to matching the sheer diversity in the over 500 species of birds who make Arizona home.

By Dan Groebner

Has anybody been seeing birds flying with a purpose and carrying long slender sticks or grass blades in their beaks or talons? These are not hungry vegetarians with their takeout meals on their way home. Well, not really. They are on their way home, but they are actually carrying part of their home with them, as they are probably engaged in nest building or maintenance.

Nests can actually be described better as maternity wards, since their primary purpose is to provide a safe place to rear young from eggs to independent fledglings. Some birds actually do nest in large groups near others in trees, like a hospital ward, called colonial nesters, such as great blue herons, cormorants, and black-crowned night herons.

Nests differ from a roost, where they are trying to get out of the weather and lower the risk from predators at night. Even though roosts can be used almost year-round, they do not include any constructed structure like a nest, but usually are found in thicker vegetation with more cover from the elements.

Although we are only talking about bird nests, other critters will readily make or take over a nest, mostly for shelter and sometimes for raising youngsters. In the White Mountain and Mogollon Rim area, nests and cavities in trees will be used by raccoon, porcupine, squirrels, rodents, snakes, and lots of bugs if moist enough.

Different birds will usually make characteristic nest types for their species, that is, you can often identify the bird who made the nest by what it looks like. There are always exceptions, as some bald eagles in Arizona have nested on cliff faces like a golden eagle typically does, and some goldens have used large stick nests in big ponderosa trees like a bald eagle would. But usually a nest is relatively distinctive and often has discarded feathers of the hosts nearby. Obviously, the best way to identify the current tenant of the nest is to observe the daily comings and goings of the residents from a distance that doesn’t disturb them.

To make it easier to help identify nest owners, it is helpful to categorize the various types of nests that birds build. These include typical stick and grass cupped nests, as well as cavity, mud, ground, and artificial boxes or platforms.

Stick and grass nests are typical of most bird species, maybe because they can be constructed of so many locally sourceable raw construction materials in so many configurations and in so many tree and shrub species. Therefore, it can be a challenge to distinguish some nests from each other, but many are still very distinctive.

Large stick nests made by bald eagles and osprey can be built in the same general areas near lakes and streams, but the osprey nests are usually up higher in the tree, often on the tip of a dead snag. Eagle nests usually are on a more sturdy branch since they plan for additions in future years as they consider themselves long-term homeowners, whereas the osprey aren’t afraid to make a new nest when the old one blows out of the tree, having more of a renter attitude.

Hummingbirds are masters in making nests of local materials that blend in and effectively camouflage their nests. Orioles and some vireos have very distinctive nests, dangling precariously from the ends of thin tree branches.

Some birds prefer a little more cover and don’t have a problem with claustrophobia, so they are found in cavities of hollowed out trees or bird house boxes built to the correct dimensions. Birds like woodpeckers, chickadees, and flickers will excavate their own holes, while many other cavity nesters, like bluebirds, wrens, and kestrels, move into holes made by other critters. The diminutive black-capped chickadee can whittle out a home from a soft spot on a tree that any self-respecting white-breasted nuthatch would be proud of.

Instead of excavating a nest out of a rotten tree or making a stick nest, some birds prefer to work in clay and mud to create more of an adobe style house, often adhered to the vertical and sometimes overhanging face of a cliff. These globular nests can look like a patch of gourds growing on the side of a cliff with only small holes for doors revealing the inhabitants coming and going. Cliff and barn swallows and black phoebes make nests mostly of mud.

Belted kingfishers and bank swallows excavate their own nests from cut banks or the exposed sandy sides of rivers and washes. Kingfishers can tunnel back over 6 feet before making a nesting chamber and bank swallows pepper a cliff side with nest cavities, making it look like it was used for cannonball target practice.

Nests of the first birds were undoubtedly on the ground, like their reptilian ancestors. But as they became warm-blooded and had to incubate their eggs with their own body heat to keep the eggs viable and growing, birds couldn’t just bury their clutch of eggs in the sand or dirt and leave them. Incubating eggs on the ground exposed the adults and eggs to higher predation rates from carnivores so some species evolved anti-predator behaviors such as building nests in trees or distracting behaviors, such as the broken wing “act” of the female killdeer when you approach her nest.

Although they are in the minority, there are many birds that successfully raise their young from ground nests. Besides feigning injuries, ground nesters are masters of camouflage, with killdeer eggs looking exactly like the rounded gravel rocks that they are laid in. A nest cup would obviously stand out on a gravel bar, so the killdeer gets the prize for the “Leave No Trace” nest.

Western meadowlarks make a dome-shaped nest on the ground in grasslands, fields, and prairies that is totally covered from above with a loose dome concealing the side entrance from the larger predators looking down. Burrowing owls are both ground and cavity nesters as they re-use abandoned prairie dog and badger burrows. When danger appears, they usually duck into the tunnel complex, but can also fly away. Mountain plovers are also ground nesters that have been known to use cow manure chips around a modest scrape on the ground to contain the eggs.

Many birds readily take to houses that we build for them to nest in, from bluebirds boxes to platforms made specifically for eagles and osprey. Even colonial, or large groups of clumped nests, can be artificially created for birds like purple martins and sometimes violet-green swallows.

Artificial nest boxes not only provide valuable cavity nesting habitat that is in short supply these days, they also provide the opportunity to study, document, and appreciate the hard work involved in raising a clutch of chicks. Cornell University maintains the NestWatch Program where citizen scientists can report the results of any activity at nest boxes they erect and monitor. Monitoring across a larger area can help detect population changes or habitat issues more reliably. If anybody is interested in monitoring or constructing any bluebird boxes, call Arizona Game and Fish at (928) 532-2308.

Not all birds defend their nests aggressively, and they can abandon their eggs or young if disturbed enough. That is why all occupied nests are protected from being disturbed, moved, or destroyed under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, a federal law. After the birds are done using the nest, they can be removed, especially if they are making a mess with their droppings and causing a human health and safety issue.

Believe it or not, blackbirds and grackles can pose a human safety issue if they choose to nest near an area with high human activity. Some birds have been known to dive bomb people as they approach their nest in the spring and actually draw blood with a quick stab of their beaks!

As you can imagine, some birds can be more dangerous in defending their nests. If you are hiking in the woods and hear a high pitched, repeated cackling type call, it could be an agitated northern goshawk, making her strafing attack plans if you keep getting closer to her nest. These hawks, as well as great horned owls, can inflict serious damage, requiring stitches at the minimum in some cases. Fortunately, most people hear the goshawk warning calls or are not hiking in the late winter when owls are nesting.

In Southeast Asia, people actually seek out nests to make Birds Nest Soup, composed primarily of solidified swiftlet saliva, considered a delicacy to the locals. Fortunately, these swallow-like birds like to nest in remote, inaccessible areas and there are also efforts to captively breed the birds for their nests to make the practice more sustainable.

The variety of nest types and strategies for raising chicks does not come close to matching the sheer diversity in the over 500 species of birds who make Arizona home. However, since we live in prime diverse bird nesting habitat here in the White Mountains, our own backyards can support many species who all require something a little different to successfully raise their young. So those morning cacophonies that are beginning to wake us up earlier than usual are a great sound of a healthy forest!

Hulda Crooks

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 16:25:03 GMT

Hulda Crooks was nicknamed “Grandma Whitney” for her determination and success.

By Ron Miller

I would love to say that I was on assignment in California to write an article about the incredible Hulda Crooks, but truth be told, I had never heard of her. I was actually getting much-needed medical treatments at the famous Loma Linda University Medical Center when I was directed to a park named after her while searching for a place I might hike. Hulda Crooks Park is on the edge of town and opens up to a myriad of trails through the rolling hills surrounding Loma Linda. Loma Linda, by the way, means “lovely hill” and there is one in particular that the city is built around.

So who is/was Hulda Crooks. Hulda was a centenarian who lived to be 101 years old (May 19, 1896 - Nov. 23, 1997) and it is what she accomplished during her later years that is most noteworthy. She became the oldest woman to climb the 14,495 foot Mount Whitney in California and the oldest woman in the world to climb the 12,388-foot Mount Fuji in Japan. And she didn’t just climb Mount Whitney, the tallest peak in the Continental United States, once. She climbed it 23 times, starting when she was 66 and finishing when she was 91! She was nicknamed “Grandma Whitney” for her determination and success.

Ironically, when I called my good friend Kay Alderton, here in the White Mountains (who is pretty incredible herself) to tell her about Hulda Crooks, she said, “Oh, I know about her. I met her on the trail up Mount Whitney and I even have her book.” Sure enough, when I returned, Kay let me borrow Hulda’s fascinating book, along with numerous articles and newspaper clippings that Kay had collected over the years. The book is appropriately called “Conquering Life’s Mountains”.

The 5-foot-1, 115-pound Hulda Crooks started hiking as solace after the death of her husband, Dr. Samuel Crooks, in 1950. She climbed the nearby 11,502-foot Mount Gorgonio in the San Bernardino Mountains about 20 times before her first ascent up Mount Whitney in 1962. She started jogging and running when she was 72 because, she said, “it made climbing so much easier.” At 82, she ran 1,500 meters in 10 minutes, 58 seconds in the Senior Olympics,

setting a world record for the 80 to 85 age group. In the decade between her 81st and 91st birthdays, she also climbed 90 peaks listed in the Sierra Club’s list of 268 southern California peaks. At 95, she continued to walk two miles a day.

Hulda Crooks also backpacked the 212-mile John Muir Trail, hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and trekked 80 miles in the Sierras. “Good health doesn’t always happen by accident,” she was quoted as saying. “Sometimes you have to work at it.”

She knew what she was talking about. She wasn’t very healthy as a child, but became a Seventh-Day Adventist at 18 and adopted the religion’s vegetarian diet. She credited her longevity not only to exercise and diet but also to her religious faith. Loma Linda is home to many Seventh-Day Adventists and is the only “Blue Zone” in the United States, so named because the proportion of healthy 90 or 100-year-olds to the overall population is unusually high.

Crooks pursued and earned a bachelor’s degree in dietetics. She married Dr. Crooks, who taught anatomy at Loma Linda University, and became a researcher there. She co-authored nine articles in nutrition and vegetarianism which were published in prestigious scientific journals.

She also focused on attitude. In a section of her book entitled “Cultivate Gratitude and Cheerfulness” she states:

“Begin to count the happy moments of each day. Be grateful for whatever good comes to you, be it seemingly so little. Talk of the things that give you joy. Linger over each new happy thought with a thankful heart. This will grow into a most rewarding habit. I know — it works for me!” — Hulda Crooks.

Her attitude and all of this amazing physical activity didn’t go unnoticed. In 1991, four years after her last climb up Mount Whitney, she was taken by helicopter to the top of Mount Whitney for a special surprise ceremony. Her companion was her friend and climbing companion, U.S. Congressman Jerry Lewis of California. He had sponsored legislation to name a nearby peak in her honor. Crooks Peak rises 14,240 feet in elevation and is the second peak to the south of Mount Whitney. Passage took five years because Congress was reluctant to confer the honor on anyone still living.

Along with this honor were letters from two former presidents that included the excerpts below:

“It is with great pleasure that I join with your friends in congratulating you on this special day. The dedication of “Crooks Peak” is a well-deserved recognition of your lifetime of achievement. Over the years, you have been a shining example of what it means to live one’s life to the fullest. Your hard work and diligence have earned you this high award of honor. Indeed, you have been an inspiration to all of us. I am proud to commend you for all that you have accomplished and to wish you well on your future endeavors” —Ronald Reagan.

“With a sturdy pair of shoes and a can-do attitude, you have demonstrated the outstanding vitality and creativity that makes older Americans a national treasure.” — George Bush

Grandma Whitney’s reaction to the honor was summarized in a letter she wrote to Congressman Jerry Lewis after that incredible day: “To set eyes once more on my beloved Mount Whitney, to whose lofty summit I have hiked twenty-three times since age sixty-six, was inspiring. But to be introduced to its nearby companion, so recently named Crooks Peak by an act of Congress, was the ultimate in surprises! What can I say? Such an honor is not to be taken lightly.”

Hulda Crooks’ book, Conquering Life’s Mountains, was published in 1996 as she approached her 100th birthday. The cover of the book shows Hulda Crooks with her walking stick overlaying an aerial photograph of Mount Whitney and the second peak to the left of it, which is now Crooks Peak. What a fitting memorial to this incredible lady!

Once again, in a letter to Congressman Lewis, Hulda Crooks wrote down her thoughts:

“I lay down my pen and give thanks that my life’s teaching of the value of healthful living and a trusting faith in God will live on after my voice is silent. Crooks Peak will carry that message as long as the rugged mountains endure.”

Let’s hope that proves true and that more people can take inspiration from the life of the incredible Hulda Crooks.

——————————

Kay Alderton and Ron Miller are both Board members for TRACKS here in the White Mountains. At 84, Kay still leads hikes here. Ron has climbed the highest peak in all of the 48 states in the continental United States (which includes Mount Whitney).

Feeding Seniors in Both Body and Soul

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 16:21:44 GMT

Meals on Wheels and the Turn of the Cards Community Center

By Jen Rinaldi

Photo By Jess Rollar

We met Karen Hook Director of The Turn of the Cards Community Center and Meal on Wheels when our new indoor community Market (Merry Mountain Market) was looking for an indoor space on the weekends. Our group had been looking into renting a space large enough for ten to sixteen vendors to share their wares weekly, regardless of the weather.

Kristal Scofield (from Ponderosa Creations) and I (Jen Rinaldi of Rinaldi Arts) toured The Turn of the Cards Community Center, expecting it might be our new home — a space that would allow us to have an indoor market all year long.

Karen took time out of her busy schedule to meet with us. We all hit it off immediately. Karen’s open nature and love of the community were so evident in her enthusiasm towards our cause. She took us on a tour of her wonderful dining room and kitchen to show us where the magic happens. Kristal and I measured and considered the space, while Karen told us a little about what they do each day.

The history of Meals on Wheels begins in 1983, by a woman named Gertrude Mae. This amazing woman, “TRUDY” Bartlett, started serving sack lunches out of her kitchen to seniors in need in the White Mountains.

She enlisted her friends and others who shared her compassion and respect for our elders to deliver these sack lunches. Today Meals on Wheels Arizona White Mountains operates out of the Turn of the Card Community Center. As was with Trudy, this would not be possible without the help of our community members who either devote their time or donations to continue her and her friend’s legacy that started four decades ago.

The dining room that we measured is referred to as “Gerty’s Kitchen” and serves nutritious meals at the low price of $10 dollars a meal, drinks included. Any age is welcome! The kitchen is open Monday — Friday from eleven to twelve-thirty.

“They are our parents, our neighbors, and our friends.”

— Meals on Wheels, website

They currently serve approximately 180 meals out of their facility per day, five days a week. These meals include Meals on Wheels, Head Start breakfast and lunch, and a Congregate Meal program. Their goal is to double this amount. The only way they will reach their goal is by the help of our wonderful community. There are currently six routes for Meals on Wheels. They would love to increase that number so that they can ensure that there truly is no senior left to worry about where their next meal will come from. If you are interested in volunteering to help them meet this goal, please reach out to Mary or Karen at

928-532-0656.

Karen and her staff are devoted to making sure that seniors in our community have a place to come for fellowship and nourishment. Along with meals, there are activities throughout the year at the center. There are games such as Mahjong, Bible study, Hula dancing, Cribbage, and Yoga. As their website says,

“We are devoted to providing quality senior meals, supportive services, and experiences. To Create a community culture that ensures every White Mountain Area senior is fed, valued, and respected.” — Meals on Wheels

Even though the Community Center space wasn’t large enough for us, the magic of what Meal on Wheels and the Community Center gives our community stayed with us, so when we were planning our Easter Celebration, our Market invited Karen to join us at the Arts Alliance for our Easter Basket Raffle.

Our new Merry Market is also about helping the community, and organizations like Meal on Wheels. The Turn of the Cards Community Center is an essential fixture for the seniors living on our mountain.

And since the heart of our markets’ charter is the commitment to fostering a vibrant community, helping organizations like Meals on Wheels is a slam dunk.

As our Market grows, we will continue to give back to the very people who come out and support us weekly. Buying local means that profits stay local and are there to lend a hand! Part of the proceeds from our basket raffle went to Meals on Wheels. Part of our table fees go to the Arts Alliance.

In April, the Community Center will have its first annual Senior Prom. Called “A Night to Remember” the event will be held on Friday, April 25th at the Community Center from 3:00 to 7:00 p.m. There will be dancing, refreshments, prizes, and an old-time photo booth! The cost is $10 per person ages 50+ and proceeds will benefit Meals on Wheels.

Your help is needed!

Most volunteers for Meals on Wheels help deliver meals to homebound seniors and people with disabilities. Volunteers are vital to ensure our most vulnerable homebound seniors receive the meals they need to stay healthy and engaged in our community. Putting a smile on the faces of seniors can be just as rewarding for volunteers as it is meaningful to the clients. You can choose to volunteer as often or as little as you like. A typical route takes about 90 minutes. Routes are available Monday through Thursday. If you want to volunteer to serve our senior community, please contact us today at 928-532-0656 and ask for Karen! Must get a fingerprint clearance to volunteer, but don’t worry, we can help!

https://www.mowazwm.org/

For the Love of Arizona

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 16:18:20 GMT

Roger Naylor is the "Arizona Guy"

By Anne Groebner

Roger Naylor fell in love with Arizona the moment he stepped off the tiny plane in Flagstaff. It was 1975 and he came here to attend Northern Arizona University. The first year of school he made the Dean’s list, but by the second semester, he was put on academic probation. He had discovered Arizona and started “rambling” across the great state. By the end of the first year, he had dropped out and begun his illustrious career as a rambler — today he is still rambling, but now he is well known as the “Arizona Guy.” His books about the state, its trails, state parks, national parks, national monuments, historic and scenic highways and local cuisine are by far the most “go-to” books in the state, if not the country.

Naylor was a voracious reader as a kid. When he was around 12 years old, he picked up a book of Mark Twain essays and he was stunned. Twain helped him think in different perspectives, see the world differently. It was a powerful turning point, and it directed his life from that point on. He wanted to make people feel something with his words; he knew right then he wanted to be a writer. Later, when he fell in love with Arizona, he knew that this place was not only where he wanted to live, but that it was what he wanted to write about.

As a young man, he would stay in Arizona until he ran out of money, and then he would travel back to his hometown in Cincinnati, where he maintained a small landscaping business. He would mow lawns, trim bushes and plant flowers until he had enough money saved up, and then head back to Arizona. He would “crash” around the desert state until he needed more money and then repeat the cycle.

Naylor was a writer in Cincinnati before he ventured out to Arizona. He wrote for newspapers, magazines and radio. When he and his wife, Michele, got married 38 years ago, they honeymooned in Arizona and decided they both wanted to live here full-time. He started writing for different media and eventually started freelancing, which wasn’t always easy.

Before there was Internet, if you had a story idea, you had to mail it to a publisher, and sometimes they would answer you, and sometime they wouldn’t, so it wasn’t a very productive time in the beginning. Once the Internet took hold, and he could start emailing queries and/or stories, things got a lot easier for him. He’s been a freelance writer now for over 30 years. He was writing humor, pop culture, and politics for newspapers and magazines all over the country, but once he started rambling more around Arizona, Arizona was what he wanted to write about. Arizona is what he loves.

So he pitched some ideas to Arizona Highways Magazine and they bought them. He started writing cover stories for them, followed by writing for the Arizona Republic Newspaper and Arizona Visitor Guides. Books came next. He carved out a niche for himself as the “Arizona Guy” and he has been a full-time travel writer for over 20 years.

“That’s what trails do, they bring the community together. Trails make it possible to get out into that open space and connect with your neighbors.”

— Roger Naylor

Naylor hikes constantly. His favorite hiking spot is the Chiricahua National Monument. He fell in love with the Chiricahua’s right away. It is his go-to spot, one that he visits over and over again. He loves hiking “the twisting trails through the wonderland of rocks there.” Obviously, he always hikes the Grand Canyon (“It’s always spectacular”), and he does a lot of hiking where people wouldn’t think there would be trails. (“There are trails everywhere in Arizona!”) Kingman also has a great system of little trails just outside of town (“They’re really lovely.”) He hikes the west coast around Havasu City, where they have a great slot canyon (“Really nice trails that combine beaches, water and desert.”) He loves all of that. In Page, they have some wonderful slick-rock hiking with water overlooks. That “you can find wonderful hiking all over the state” is one of the joys that he’s had as he’s traveled all these years.

“The White Mountains has a great combination of trails,” he says. He loves both the East and West Baldy. He was particularly impressed by the Thompson Trail, and says it is probably his single favorite. ”It knocked me out the first time I hiked it — the combination of the little flowing river and forest,” he divulged. “It just doesn’t feel like a place that most people would envision being in Arizona.” The trail that really charmed him was the Show Low Bluffs Trail. A paved trail, that ascends the bluff where you overlook the creek and the big meadow. He appreciates those community-type trails. Last time he was there, he stood on the bluff watching mothers with strollers, little kids wandering around, people fishing, some old folks stopping to chat, and someone taking photos of flowers.“That’s what trails do; they bring the community together,” he says. “Trails make it possible to get out into that open space and connect with your neighbors.”

On June 14, 2025, Roger Naylor will once again talk to us at the White Mountain Nature Center. This time, it will be about his new book, Arizona’s National Parks and Monuments. It’s become an even more important book and talk in recent months because of the direction the current federal administration is going with the cutbacks of the workforce. Many National Park employees have been laid off or fired. The parks are really being hit hard with funding cutbacks in effect, and it’s starting to show. Visitors are experiencing long lines at the Grand Canyon, and Saguaro National Park has had to close their visitor center on Mondays. There are fewer tours because the staff isn’t as available as before the cuts.

Everything Naylor writes is all about his love affair with this remarkable state--the state that saved his life so long ago — and he just wants people to explore these wonders that are here in our backyard.

I’m not touring the country encouraging people to move to Arizona, I’m just touring Arizona encouraging all of us to say “Hey, don’t forget about this place and don’t miss this.” The White Mountains are beautiful, but you don’t want to miss a super bloom in the desert, visit the Grand Canyon whenever you can. Just enjoy all the diversity that we have. There is no state that can match us for the combination of scenery and diversity. We can change our seasons, we can change our climate, we can change our scenery with just an hour’s drive, There’s no place in this state that is inaccessible.

Who has that kind of remarkable diversity? It’s just a gift that we need to cherish, and that’s what all of my talks are about, that’s what all of my books are about. Appreciate and enjoy the wonders that are waiting outside our back door. Arizona is especially vulnerable because such a high percentage of our lands are federally owned: National Forests, National Parks, National Monuments — 34 National Park units, including national historic trails, national historic sites, national recreation areas like Mead and Glen Canyon. We have a national memorial, the Arizona Trail is a National Scenic Trail. We have a lot of different designations, but they are all really important places that preserve scenic beauty and cultural treasures, a lot of our history, and we don’t want to lose any of it. It’s a quality-of-life issue. It makes such a huge difference to have access to not just some little bit of green space but an actual sense of wilderness where you can disappear for a while. You can walk out on a trail — you might be close to town — but a hundred yards down the trail you don’t see a soul. You have the woods to yourself. To be able to do that in a matter of minutes is a rare and wonderful thing, and it’s available to the people down in the Phoenix area and Tucson area, as well. Everyone In Arizona lives within 15 minutes of a trail. Even in the Valleys with their massive populations, people have access to open spaces and wild country. It changes who you are as a person being able to be outdoors and experience nature on a regular bases.

— Roger Naylor

The Verde and Its Tribs

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 16:15:16 GMT

The Verde River is clearly a testament to the fact

that water exists in the arid West

Photos & article by Rob Bettaso

When I recently met up with my cousin Barb and her husband Larry at a restaurant in Sedona, I was relieved that I easily recognized them in the restaurant’s crowded lobby. It had been over 20 years since our last visit, but, impressively; they looked essentially just like they had when I had last seen them.

After we exchanged the obligatory hugs and some quick small talk, a host appeared and took us out to our reserved table on a back patio that overlooked Oak Creek. Because the day’s weather was inclement, the restaurant’s outdoor space heaters were turned on full blast and it was warmer out on the patio than it was inside. We placed our orders (lunch for me and breakfast for my cousins) and before our food came, Larry had wrangled one of the wait-staff into taking a picture of the three of us using Larry’s camera. Actually, this was no minor accomplishment, as, not only did the restaurant have its heaters on, but it had also kept the heavy, transparent plastic curtains lashed down and the server was not keen on taking the time to undo the somewhat elaborate arrangement. But, Larry is a very persuasive type of guy (his long career had involved insurance sales to corporate customers) and so, before long, there the three of us were: posing with arms draped over each other shoulders and with lovely Oak Creek down and behind us as we leaned against the second story patio’s railing.

We returned to our table and while we waited for food; we exchanged updates on our lives with mine including stories about my trip from Lakeside to our current location here in the restaurant; which, I will now note, was not actually called a restaurant, nor a bar and grill, nor a diner — no, this was ritzy Sedona, so it was naturally called a bistro…. I continued with my trip account and mentioned to my cousins that only yesterday morning I had decided that instead of making a one day rocket-run just for lunch in Sedona (some 180 miles from my home), that I would leave a day early, and had therefore camped out near the Verde River last night. This, I hoped, would somewhat explain my grubby appearance.

Our food arrived, and I continued my story; telling my cousins (and now you too, kind readers) about the many leisurely stops I made between Show Low and Strawberry, Arizona. At each of these stops, I took short hikes to stretch my legs and look for birds. I suppose I could say that I was looking for any sort of wildlife, but, given that it was the season for early migration, I was primarily hoping to locate rare birds. The birding was good, but not great, and virtually all I saw in that Show Low to Strawberry stretch were common species — beautiful and interesting birds, to be sure, but nonetheless, common.

When I had dropped down off the Mogollon Rim and into the Verde Valley, I began to pick up birds that are not often found in our higher elevations, but which are routinely seen in the lower, mesquite country — species such as Lucy’s Warbler, Abert’s Towhee, Bridled Titmouse, and Northern Cardinal. The latter species has always intrigued me in terms of its distribution; mostly because this stunning red bird was a familiar occupant of both the backyards and the wildlands where I grew up in Michigan. Interestingly, over the last century or so, the cardinal has been expanding its U.S. range further west. Oddly, in Arizona, we see cardinals more frequently in the arid lands than in the greener mountainous portions of our state — which is curious given the fact that back east, the species is a creature of lushly green habitats and one might think that as the cardinal colonized the West, it would have focused on green habitats like those in its homeland, and not in the significantly more alien terrain of our deserts. Then again, wherever one finds the cardinal, it is generally not too far from some sort of water.

The Verde River is clearly a testament to the fact that water exists in the arid West. Unfortunately, the Verde River is imperiled due to the wants and needs of our ever-burgeoning human population. But, I get ahead of myself; as, before I came within sight of the Verde River, I made my first arid-land stop at West Clear Creek (WCC) — east of the town of Camp Verde. WCC, a tributary to the Verde, is a stream I know fairly well, since on many occasions I have hiked, camped, and backpacked near its shores. During my career as a fisheries biologist, I had also done a fair amount of research on the fishes of not only WCC but also the mainstem Verde River, and many of its other tributaries.

After I finished a few hours of hiking and birding along WCC, the day was growing late and so I decided I had better find my night’s camp. I drove along the dirt roads of the Coconino National Forest and, just before it got dark, I found a scenic spot in the middle of nowhere and set up my cot. After a quick dinner (cold canned soup, yum) I laid out my sleeping bag on the cot, got in, and fell fast asleep. Off and on during the night, I awoke to the unnerving sounds of an increasing wind; a cold-front was coming into the valley and tomorrow would be unsettled.

In the morning, I fought the wind while packing up my camp and then drove to a second tributary of the Verde River, Walker Creek. After exploring this classic Arizona riparian stream, I returned to my truck and continued on my way. Before long I came upon a sign for a site I didn’t remember from my long-ago travels in this country: it was the V Bar V Ranch (which is now incorporated into the Coconino National Forest’s Crane Petroglyph Heritage Site). I figured I might as well check out the area and was soon impressed to learn that the old ranch had been preserved to protect an incredible array of petroglyphs that had been made by the Sinagua people in pre-Columbian times.

As I hiked through the Heritage Site grounds, I finally saw a rare bird: the Olive Warbler. In fact, I saw two of them, both males and therefore, both resplendent with tawny-orange heads, black facemasks, and double white wing-bars on greenish-gray bodies. Knowing a bit about this bird’s habitat preferences, I assumed this pair were migrating and would eventually find themselves back in the higher coniferous country in which they typically nest during their breeding season. Of course, first, they would each need to find mates.

After making one last stop, this time at Wet Beaver Creek (and yes, there is also a Dry Beaver Creek), I concluded my morning by driving the remaining 30 or so miles up in elevation and into the red-rock country of Sedona. Not surprisingly, as soon as I arrived at the outskirts of Sedona, I knew that time had not been kind to this exquisite locale. Settlement and population growth had turned the once quaint area into a very trendy and hectic playground for the Uber-rich. But, I always knew it would be so, as, the last time I had been here, 30 or more years ago, it was already well on its way.

At this point, I have circled back to my visit with Barb and Larry, and, as we finished up our lunch and said our good-byes, I contemplated my next move. I had intentionally kept my plans vague since I knew the weather was going to be fickle during this 1 to 3-day trip. The day was still wet and windy and so I decided that rather than go hiking up in the higher elevations of the Sedona area, I would drop back down toward the Verde Valley and do some hiking/birding at two of the Game and Fish hatcheries that are a few miles from the town of Cottonwood, Arizona.

Both the Bubbling Ponds Hatchery and the Page Springs Hatchery grow sport fishes for stocking in many parts of the state. Bubbling Ponds also has a research facility on the grounds that conducts studies on the propagation and rearing of small native fish species including two types of minnows: the tin-foil scaled Spikedace and the gaudy orange, black, and cream-colored Loach-minnow. Many people may not realize that the world of fishes is every bit as rich in gorgeous specimens as is the world of birds.

And, speaking of birds, I spent at least two hours hiking the hatchery grounds near and along Oak Creek, where the bird watching is always amazing. Later, I stopped by the offices of both Bubbling Ponds and Page Springs and was very grateful to find that several of the fisheries biologists that I used to work with were still on-the-job and doing great things at these two facilities. I have always deeply respected these hard-working folks, and I can’t really describe the boost it gave me to re-connect with them again (albeit briefly) and see that they were all doing so very well.

But, the afternoon was winding down and no matter where I was headed, I knew I had better get back on the road. I drove through tiny McGuireville; merged onto the interstate briefly before exiting at Camp Verde; and, by the time I passed the turnoff that would have once again taken me to WCC, the weather was turning from cold and windy to cold, windy, and rainy. So, then, and there, I decided I would rather head home and sleep in my warm bed rather than face both wind and rain during a second night of camping.

The drive home turned out to be hellish, as once I got to the higher elevations, the rain turned to snow and I drove the last two hours through the darkness with snowflakes madly swirling in the beams of the headlights. Luckily, no elk leapt onto the highway and my trip wound down safely. However, when I stepped into my house, I realized how stressed and exhausted I was, and so, after a hot shower, I opted to skip what would have been a very late dinner and went straight to bed. Fortunately, that night, instead of having nightmares about driving endlessly on dark snowy roads, I dreamt of hiking along clear streams alive with brightly colored fishes and watching lushly plumed songbirds flit up above in the green canopy of cottonwood and sycamore trees.

When I awoke the next morning, I was happy to hear a robin singing in the dim, dawn light. Despite the snow of yesterday’s drive, I took heart in the fact that the days were growing longer and warmer. Soon, I might even see a nesting pair of Olive Warblers in some nearby pine/fir forest.

First Day Out

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 16:10:44 GMT

Beginner bike tips; from first ride to group rides

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

Wahoo! It’s spring, and it’s time to get outside and bring back that summer shorts tan. Here in the White Mountains, mountain biking is one of the popular go-to’s for getting outside, but it can be a daunting sport to get into. Very often, people wanting to get into mountain biking or just new to the sport will come into the shop and want to know about it. They will say something like “We just want to get out and ride the trails, nothing crazy”. I say “crazy” is in the eye of the beholder and directly correlated to the amount of experience the rider has.

Crazy for me now is significantly above the crazy when I started and what was crazy for me at first is now easily handleable on trails, which most riders would consider an intermediate trail. I have no plans to move up to advanced crazy at 62 but I can rule nothing out…yes I can! No advanced crazy for me lol. How do you go from beginner crazy to intermediate or advanced crazy? Here are a few things I learned on my journey from wobbly fearful beginner to confident intermediate rider that will help guide you on your way with your new bike, assuming you took the plunge and got one. Wax or oil your chain, check your tire pressure and let’s begin this adventure!

Bike fit: saddle height and width. First things first. Let’s get your new bike properly fitted to you. I’ll assume that you bought the appropriate size when you bought the bike, but not all bike shops will fit your saddle height to you. New riders often resist having the saddle at the ideal height because they feel intimidated by the fact that they cannot touch the ground while seated on the saddle.

Let’s think about this for a bit. When you pedal a bike, your legs should straighten out nearly fully, just a tiny bend at the knee. If you could put your foot on the ground from the seat, your pedal would also hit the ground from the seat. Not possible. A good start is to put the saddle height around the top of your hip joint. Have a loved one watch you pedal your bike away from them. Your leg should nearly straighten and your hips should not rock from side to side as you reach the bottom of the pedal stroke. If the seat is too high, your hips will rock as you reach for the pedals and this will put undue pressure on your sit bones…ouch! If the seat is too low, your knees will not straighten out and they will end up moving laterally on each pedal stroke. This will cause wear on your hip and knee joints over time and can initiate arthritis in those spots.

Adjust as necessary, and as you gain experience, your ligaments will actually stretch and you will find yourself slowly adjusting your saddle height higher over time, usually up to an additional half-inch in height. If you are still experiencing undue discomfort, you may need to replace your saddle with a wider or narrower one. Your bike shop can measure this and give suggestions on proper saddle fit. Women especially usually need a wider saddle than men do because of their wider pelvis and sit bone configuration. Padded Chamois shorts will also help tremendously, but make sure to raise your saddle height a bit to account for the added padding — it makes a difference! Incredibly, the shoes you wear also make a difference and a thicker sole can make your seat height too low to pedal as efficiently as you are used to.

Bars. Most bikes come with a standard bar length. Watch your hands and wrists as you ride. If your hands are angled in, your bars are probably too wide, and if your wrists are collapsing on the bars, you are probably too cramped in the cockpit. If you constantly feel you are reaching forward, your bike is probably too large and the cockpit too long. Your wrists should come to the bars at about the same angle that your arms are coming from your elbow and should be relatively straight on the bars. If you have narrow shoulders or shorter arms, you may need to get your bars cut down to fit you. This is simple to do and any bike shop can do this for you. You want to be holding the bars at a distance that is natural for you.

Hold your arms out with the palms down in a position that feels comfortable, elbows bent. Holding a broomstick might help you feel more natural. Measure the distance from outer edge to outer edge of your hands or place your outstretched hands on the bars and mark the natural position, accounting for a bit of excess bar end length for protection from trail obstacles. Remember…measure twice (or thrice) and cut once. If you have carbon bars, do not cut them without a proper carbon blade. It’s best to ask your local bike shop to help you fit your bars to you. Most will do this free with a new bike purchase.

First ride. Now that you have your bike approximately fitted to you, it’s time to ride. On your first journey out, I’d recommend that you stick to a dirt road or field close to home so that you aren’t putting pressure on yourself to accomplish any set distance or trail. Straddle your bike across the top tube (the bar from the saddle to the bars). Decide which is your natural dominant foot and put that pedal forward and at an about 45-degree angle upwards from flat. Squeeze your brakes and step up on the pedal and back down. Feel how this step-up allows you to access the saddle from its higher position. Do this several times until you feel comfortable. Now release the brake as you step up next time and this will propel the bike forward while lifting you up enough to sit on the saddle. You got it!

To stop, reverse the process, but this time have the dominant foot’s pedal all the way down to the 6-o’clock position. Squeeze the brakes, stand up off the saddle and lean away from the side your lower pedal is on. Take the other foot off the pedal and step off, leaving your dominant pedal foot planted on the pedal. Now you have a sturdy tripod supporting you and your bike: wheel, foot, wheel. When you are ready to go again, move your dominant pedal around backwards to the same Front side 45-degree position, step on it and go! Practice mounting, starting, stopping and dismounting until you feel confident and comfortable. Practice pedaling at a medium speed and then try going as slowly as possible and still stay upright. If you have good balance skills, you can learn to balance steady and still on your bike, standing with flat (3-o’clock and 9-o’clock) pedals in what is called a track stand, a great skill to master and one I just can’t quite do!

Coasting. Once you have pedaled down, the next step is to practice coasting. Get moving at a good speed in a straight line and then stop pedaling and stand up on your pedals, off the seat with your knees bent, one foot forward at 3-o’clock and one back and 9-o’clock. Angle both feet slightly back so there is slight forward pressure keeping your feet planted on the pedals. (Watch some You Tube videos of riders going down trails to get a good mental picture of what this should look like). Try to stay upright as long as possible before needing to pedal again. Practice this with both feet forward alternately to develop good balance and to allow both Achilles tendons to alternately stretch and rest. This skill is necessary for you to lower your body position going downhill and to take pressure off both your hands and feet and your sit bones.

Trail prep. OK, you have mounting, dismounting and pedaling down solid, so it’s time to take on some common trail obstacles. First, make yourself a path about 4-inches wide. You can kick out a path through the pine needles or rake a short path in the dirt. Make it a straight path at first and then add a turn or two. Practice looking 10 to 20-feet ahead of your front wheel and not just down at the trail directly in front of you. Find a couple of trees and practice riding figure eights around them. Then add a tree or two to practice winding around trees, making sure to do both left and right-hand turns. Make sure you leave plenty of room for yourself so that you can turn without cramping yourself.

When you feel confident, find some clean 2x4’s or small logs and lay them across your path. If you feel fearful of going over them, walk your bike across them and watch how easily the bike handles these small obstacles. Then it’s time to ride over them. Make sure you have plenty of forward momentum and let the bike roll right over the sticks. After you feel comfortable rolling over these sticks, it’s time to build on your skills by combining rolling over the sticks with standing up and coasting over them. Let your arms absorb the bump as the front tire crosses and let your knees absorb it as the rear wheel rolls over. You can now double the sticks up or get bigger ones and build your confidence so that when you see rocks and roots on a trail, you will glide right across them.

Next, you can lay the sticks next to one side of your “trail” and practice ratchet pedaling so that your pedal on that side doesn’t hit the obstacle. Ratchet pedaling is when you use just one pedal to go forward. Pedal until you reach the 3-o’clock position and then back pedal to 12-o’clock, repeat. What this will do is enable you to keep going forward when there is a rock or other obstacle along the side of a trail. Practice this on both sides. Lastly, it’s time to work on shifting.

You always try to shoulder shift your bike when your feet are in the 12-o’clock and 6-o’clock positions because that is when you deliver the least amount of power on a pedal stroke and it makes it easier for the derailleur to move across the cassette. I usually pause, pedaling for just a moment as I shift. Try to get where you can shift both up and down nearly silently. Don’t hold back on shifting. When I started out, I felt I should only shift when climbing a steep hill and made myself work much harder than necessary. Shift up or down to keep your pedaling as comfortable as possible and don’t worry about which gear you are in. As you get stronger, you’ll probably use slightly higher gears, but it’s better to pedal at a higher cadence (rate the pedals go around) than at a lower one stressing your equipment.

Go! You’ve been practicing mounting and dismounting, steering, pedaling, ratcheting, coasting, going over small obstacles and shifting, so now it’s time to hit a real trail with confidence! First, find out what trails in your area are considered “green” trails. Find one that is 3 to 5-miles in a loop or plan to do that distance as an out-and-back. Don’t plan on anything much longer than this the first few times out. Take water and some snacks and a friend with you and plan on being out for at least an hour. Lube your chain, check your tire pressure, and, if you are going alone, let someone else know where you are going and how long you expect to be out (make sure you let them know when you get back lol). Start off nice and slow and remember to watch the trail in front of you and not directly down at the ground.

Having a more experienced rider in front of you will give you a “line” to follow around trail features. Don’t get in a hurry and allow yourself to stop when you see something that looks “crazy”. Walk your bike over this feature a couple of times and watch how close the obstacle is getting to the bottom bracket. Chances are, it’s not even close. Now back off 20 or 30 feet to get a good start on this obstacle and build up speed. Bend your arms to absorb the front wheel impact and go right over this thing. You got this!

When you get to an uphill section of trail, remember to shift down and keep on pedaling. It helps to lower your body position over the bars and use your arms and core to create as much power as you can. Look forward to the top and keep on pedaling till you get there. If you run out of gas or hit an obstacle that stops you, brake and dismount. If you can’t get going again immediately, walk to a flatter section to restart. Often, a short walking break will give you enough power to finish the climb. At the top, allow yourself a congratulatory pat on the back, a sip of water and a little snack. Look around and enjoy the view, breathe deep, get your heart rate back down and most of all feel glad to be alive and outdoors on this beautiful day. Reward yourself for your accomplishment before continuing on.

When headed downhill, lower your dropper post if you have one, stand up on the pedals and crouch down as low and as far back as your seat will let you. Let your legs absorb the terrain and feather your brakes gently to keep your speed comfortable. Try not to let your tires come to a stop and skid because as soon as your wheels stop turning, you begin to lose control. Make sure to never use only your front brake when going downhill or you’ll end up face first in the dirt-don’t want that! Do use both brakes, though, and keep your front wheel under control to guide you down. When you reach the bottom, breathe and take another reward and snack break (yes, I like snack breaks lol). Remember, if you are not comfortable, walking it can show you what your bike is capable of and will give you confidence to go back up and try it again today or another day. Failure is not an end all, it’s usually just the beginning of success.

One day at a time, one skill at a time, one mile at a time will soon take you from beginner crazy (that 2x4 is scary) to intermediate crazy (let’s climb this hill and come down the other side) and beyond. Once you get confident that you can do that green 5-mile loop, try a blue one at 8 to 10 miles. Once you’ve accomplished that and didn’t die, you are ready to join a group ride! Now you are going to have some fun. Most group rides are limited to green and blue trails and will have a “drag” rider at the back who will give you tips, make sure you don’t get lost and will definitely not mind getting you through the ride at a slower pace.

Most rides are “no drops” which means that you will not get left behind no matter what. Riding with a group inspires confidence, gives you motivation to ride farther and faster than you might alone, provides you a safety buffer in case of accident or bike failure and lets you build a whole new group of amazing people you can spend time with and enjoy. Here’s to a great new addition to your lifestyle and one that will keep you young longer and in much better shape than you ever thought possible. Keep on pedaling!

Getting Slightly Lost on the Buena Vista Trail

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 16:07:47 GMT

Horseback riding the White Mountain Trail System (mostly)

Article and photos

by Allanna Jackson

March 27, 2025, was an unseasonably warm, dry, sunny day in the White Mountains — perfect trail riding weather. I have hiked parts of the Buena Vista and Chihuahua Pines trails many times. Cinnamon has been on parts of the Buena Vista trail several times, but she had only been on Chihuahua Pines Connector once, and that was 12-years ago.

I trailered Cinnamon to the Buena Vista Trailhead. There were several vehicles in the parking lot when we arrived, but no one was there. Cinnamon found a stick to chew on while I saddled her. We set out on the Buena Vista Trail toward the Chihuahua Pines Connector trail.

The first half-mile of the Buena Vista trail is a balloon string leading to the loop trail. It passes beside a stock pond which was totally dry. In previous years, when the pond had water in it, I have seen feral horses here. I haven’t seen any horses recently. This time, we had the trail to ourselves despite those vehicles at the trailhead.

When we reached the loop trail, we turned left toward Chihuahua Pines Connector, going up the trail marker numbers to BV3, where the trail suddenly switches direction and passes the shortcut route on its way to BV4. As Cinnamon climbed up the rocky trail, I spotted a turquoise trail diamond, a relic from the late 1980s. The Forest Service approved this version when they created the Buena Vista trail.

Just after marker BV4, we found a trail angling across the route we were on, but there were no trail markers at this junction. Cinnamon looked to the left, indicating she wanted to go that way. I opted to go right instead, following the well-worn route. I didn’t see any trail markers, just a few animal bones hung in trees, which made me suspect we’d accidentally diverted onto the web of unofficial trails created by mountain bicyclists. A little further along, my suspicions were confirmed when I sighted one of the white diamond TRACKS’ trail markers below us on a section of Buena Vista Trail I recognized as part of the short loop route. After deliberating on whether to turn around or continue, I opted to go on. We found an unofficial OHV route where we turned left and followed it down the hill to where it intercepted the real Buena Vista Trail again. Cinnamon alerted to a bicycle that came whizzing along a trail from our left, crossed the road and continued up the Buena Vista Trail I’d been looking for. Cinnamon’s 12-year-old memory of the Buena Vista Trail route was better than my memories of more recent hikes!

Our unplanned detour took us about a mile off my intended route. We found Chihuahua Pines Connector and followed it down the marker numbers west toward Highway 60 and the Los Caballos Trail. As we approached Highway 60, I saw a flat-bed tow-truck with a school bus on it headed toward Show Low. A few minutes later, I saw a Show Low school district bus leaving Show Low.

The Chihuahua Pines Connector runs beside and above a small canyon until it gets to the highway. At the fence line — the highway right of way — the trail descends into the canyon and runs through a rectangular concrete culvert under the road that doubles as a tunnel. Most years, there is enough water flowing into the canyon to make this route impassible in the spring. This year the canyon floor and culvert were totally dry and marred by graffiti.

Cinnamon approached the tunnel cautiously, instinctively wary of entering a dark, enclosed space where she might be trapped by a predator. I reassured her it was safe, reminding her she had been through this tunnel once before. Cinnamon cautiously entered the tunnel, walking carefully through it. She shied slightly at a piece of cardboard stuck in the sand in the middle of the tunnel. Or maybe it was the flash from my camera that bothered her. She strode more confidently after we passed the half-way point where she could see her way out.

After exiting the tunnel, the trail turns right and climbs out of the canyon, wanders through the trees briefly, then drops back into the canyon, crosses it, and climbs out again. Cinnamon opted to trot up the first slope, then lope up the far side instead of walking. We continued along the Chihuahua Pines Connector trail behind the Torreon Equestrian Center, through the forest and across a power line easement. The trail becomes quite rocky and steep, so Cinnamon needed the boots she was wearing.

As we approached marker CP13, my watch showed it was time to turn around. We were still climbing the hill, so we continued another few yards to a spot that wasn’t as steep to turn around. Cinnamon carefully stepped her way back down the hill we’d just come up. We descended into and across the canyon again. As we went up and around through the trees toward Highway 60, I saw another tow-truck pulling another school bus toward Show Low.

Cinnamon approached the tunnel confidently and marched through with only one wary glance at the cardboard. We climbed the trail out of the canyon at a walk as we continued retracing our steps. This portion of the trail is smooth enough, so I asked Cinnamon to gait, so she did a little stepping pace, some running walk, some foxtrot, and a little trotting.

As the trail turned left toward CP17, another unofficial trail angled right across a wash to parallel the back of a subdivision. My sense of dead reckoning and Cinnamon’s sense of direction concurred that this was a shorter, more direct route back to the trailhead, so we took it. When the trail merged with a single-track road, I asked Cinnamon to lope briefly. We re-joined the Buena Vista Trail at marker BV3 and walked to the trailhead. My GPS said we had been out two hours and traveled 6.46 miles, which was the time and distance I had planned.

Back at the trailer, Cinnamon alerted at returning hikers while I unsaddled. They got into their vehicles and departed with barely a glance at us. I trailered Cinnamon home, arriving at the time I had planned after another enjoyable ride (mostly) on White Mountain Trail System trails.

Honoring Vietnam Veterans

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 16:02:41 GMT

Remembering the 57,939 U.S. armed forces who died or were missing because of the Vietnam war.

Article and Photos

by Annemarie Eveland

They served our country at a time that was most unpopular. The Vietnam war lasted the longest in all our American history. It began November 1, 1955, and ended April 30, 1975. Reports indicate that 2,594 million U.S. servicemen were involved. Casualties of our military were 58,190 (38,502 killed in action and over 5,264 died of wounds). The military listed 766 as prisoners, and 114 died in captivity.

The staggering statistics of our service people killed, maimed, permanently scarred mentally and emotionally were frightening. Often, upon their return, people booed them, shouted profanities, spat on them, and called them names. People advised these brave soldiers not to wear their uniforms or identifying tags upon returning home, due to concerns about the backlash.

In 1982, they dedicated the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C. and inscribed the names of 57,939 U.S. armed forces who died or were missing because of this war. Through the years, this total has passed 58,200.

There has been some recent effort to devote one day each year to honor those who served during that war. The quote, “All Gave Some, Some Gave All” rings so true here.

This year, the Vietnam War Veterans were being honored for serving. I helped with a First Annual National Vietnam War Veteran’s Day Celebration here in Payson, Arizona. It was long overdue, but helped heal some of the black past for them.

This special event was held at the Payson Elks Lodge on Saturday, March 29th, 2025, noon-5:00 p.m. This event filled the entire lodge space.

The organizers dedicated one room to related organizations, including the Marine Corps League, Warming Center, Tuesday Morning Coffee Time for Veterans, Honor Guard, Cactus Navy, Quilts of Valor, and Veterans Helping Veterans, who attended and provided information about their services.

Organizers invited the entire community to this free event. Some activities included a colorful Patriotic Ceremony, Vietnam Veterans Keynote Speaker Jim Muhr, Award Winning Payson Honor Guard Presentation, which included the thirteen symbolic notations with each fold of the flag. A young son of a veteran helped with that. At the close of this, everyone stood and sang the Star-Spangled Banner with their hands on their hearts or saluting at attention.

Entertainment was performed by the favored and well-known Cinnamon Twist (Anne Eichberger, Jennifer Baltz and Don). Anne’s Vietnam Veteran brother added his thoughts of appreciation. The musicians covered a nice collection of Patriotic Songs, dance music and rousing finale of God Bless

the U.S.A!

A simple picnic style lunch basket included Hamburgers with trimmings, or Hot Dogs, chips or fries, and a choice of soda. Lounge was available for other libations.

During the day’s festivities, t-shirts noting the event and patriotic flags were available for sale. People could also bring old flags to the Lodge for a special burning ceremony.

After the formal presentation, Art Schaier announced the Proclamations that had honored the Vietnam Vets. State congressional representative Walt Blackman House of Representatives, and Bobby Davis-Mayor of Star Valley, individually read them. At one point, the event organizers asked all attending Vietnam Veterans to stand for recognition.

Terry Lowman (a veteran himself) summarized upcoming activities: such as the competitive Chili Cook-off (contestants entry fee of $10) and, of course, yummy free samplings of the chili’s crock-pots were available for the audience to determine their number one choice. (Karen Schaier won).

Vietnam Veteran Jim Muhr was the keynote speaker and spoke of his serving as an officer in Vietnam during that time. After being wounded several times, he was assigned to notify the family of the soldiers who were killed. He got tears in his eyes as he talked about his first time notifying the wife of a soldier he knew. I thought if he felt emotional now after all these years, how hard it was for him then. He said he had a few stiff drinks after he left the sobbing wife and her relative for comfort.

There was also the 50/50 raffle, a silent auction (items donated related to military and provided by Terry Lowman from Bison 76); and the fun rousing entertaining Trivia Game (that period of history was used as the subject) which he ran with teams, being each table of guests. It provided an opportunity to learn about our history then and encouraged active participation and lots of laughter.

I noticed many people were visiting with other attendees and got to know “their stories.” Much camaraderie made the event feel like a healing and wonderful memory maybe long overdue.

I thought of my dear brother, Vietnam Veteran, Joey, and sent my blessing thoughts to him in heaven. Yes, today was a good day.

Tha Quiet Space Within

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 15:58:03 GMT

The centering process that goes with serenity is ongoing

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

Times like these seem so topsy-turvy. It’s time to find that easy-to-overlook quiet space within. The centering process that goes with serenity is ongoing. Some days are better than others, with the best days arriving when I live in the moment. But how can we do this?

Tips for inner quiet

Simplify. My life can be full of bumps and potholes. Simplifying my life helps me to avoid the potholes and smooth out the bumps. Inner peace fills those cracks and crevices.

• Prioritize that to-do list. A day jam packed with “I’ve got to do this” is a recipe for anxiety. Sort out what’s most important and let the rest sit for a time.

• Set personal limits. Worrying about a project or a situation? Set a limit on how long you will fuss about it. When the inner timer goes off, you can move on to something you can act upon.

• Promote tranquility. Keep things simple. Find time to enjoy the wisps of clouds on the mountainside or that tiny bright yellow flower. A strong connection to nature is key to space within.

Accept. Cultivate an acceptance of life’s reality. The world is not always as I perceive it. The more I resist, the more complex and challenging it appears. When I accept what is, I stop feeding into resistance. I open space for what could be. Much of the sticky stuff is gone, and there’s peace inside.

• Accepting doesn’t mean giving up. It merely allows for the flexibility of having other options and different strategies to open new doors.

• Acceptance gives clarity. Once the mind clutter is cleared, I can make better decisions. Or better yet, I can let the situation go.

• Feeling the essence of life. Stop and sense all that is going on around you. Watch the squirrels chasing each other up and down the Ponderosa pines. Hear the ducks and geese calling to one another. You feel life’s rhythm in the breeze against your face and the sun on your back.

Do what you enjoy. When I enjoy what I’m doing, I feel weightless. A natural peace arises, and the way toward that inner quiet is clear.

• Be curious. Life speeds by. There’s not enough time to be stuck in a pattern that is not useful. And there’s so much to see and discover, both in your inner and outer worlds. Doing something new, be it biking or canoeing, frees new areas of my mind for other connections. Creative indeed!

• Be adventurous. It came as a surprise to me: when I am open to new adventures; I cultivate inner quiet. Exploring life’s opportunities opens doors I never considered before, with different skills and friendships.

• Pencil yourself in. An early morning walk, a run at the park, rock-hounding: these can loosen the pressuring ties of what is. I then become more content and focused, more aware of the rhythms in my life. I am the one who created the hectic to-do list that is both demanding and never-ending. Why not pencil me in too? The result is an inner stillness, the tranquility I had been searching for and found within.

Get unstuck and enjoy your journey to your own inner stillness. Revel in what’s inside. Live unstuck.

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for Lil’ Toot, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

31 Animals Rescued in Concho

Mon, 21 Apr 2025 17:07:05 GMT

Tails of Love Rescue and the Apache County Sheriff's Office

Save 31 Animals in Concho, Arizona

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT

Rescue Mission : 31 Lives Saved in Under 24 Hours

Friday afternoon, they received a call about three puppies living in poor conditions. They planned to head out, vaccinate them, and see what support they could offer. But nothing could have prepared them for what they found.

When we arrived, it was clear the situation was far worse.

- Deceased goats lay among the living.

- Only two pigs remained alive in a filthy pen.

- Deceased chickens scattered among the rubble.

- Two dogs were locked inside an RV with no access to the outside.

And then we reached the shed. Inside were two crates — one with three puppies and their mama, and another with an older pup. All five were completely covered in feces and urine. The smell was overwhelming. Their water was black, their food dishes unusable, and they had no clean space to lay down.

We got the three puppies out but had to leave the mama and older pup behind, promising them through tears that we would come back for them.

As soon as we had phone service, we called Apache County Sheriff's Office and shared everything — photos, videos, and our full report. Within minutes a deputy called us back and confirmed they were moving to arrest the individual the next day and gave us the green light to remove all animals.

Saturday morning, with volunteers and trailers ready, we waited as the arrest was made — and then we stepped in. In total, 31 animals were pulled from that nightmare.

We cannot thank the Apache County Sheriff's Office enough for acting so quickly and making this rescue possible. To the volunteers who dropped everything to help, and to those helping house, bathe, and care for these animals — you are the reason this was possible.

A special thank you to:

- Michelle's Mountain Grooming for cleaning up the puppies on her Saturday morning off.

- Lauren and Kaylee at Hector's Hay and Feed for coming in late Saturday night to bathe the mama and older pup

None of this would’ve happened without this incredible community. Stay tuned for updates on each of the 31 survivors — their healing journey is just beginning.

They are safe. They are loved. And they are finally free.

UPDATE: All 31 Are Safe and settling in

All 31 animals are doing great! They’re settling in, adjusting well, and finally experiencing love and safety.

Once again, none of this would have been possible without the quick response of the Apache County Sheriff's Office . We are so grateful for the amazing deputies who stepped in and made this rescue happen. And all the volunteers and people that stepped up and help find safe places for the animals to go.

Stay tuned for their stories — the best is yet to come!

ARRESTED: STUART HUTCHINSON

Stuart Hutchinson was booked in Apache county, Arizona for disorderly conduct: weapon/instrument (Felony); misconduct involving weapons (felony); animal cruelty: cruel/mistreat (felony); threatening and intimidating: public inconvenience (misdemeanor)

Time to Work on your Putt, Cluck, Yelp, Cutt and Purr!

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:49:41 GMT

Spring Turkey Hunting and Calling Seminar

By Dan Groebner

Just when we think we’re going to miss an entire winter this year, we get a nice dose of cold moisture with more predicted on the horizon. Better late than never! But we’re still a long way from the start of any monsoon moisture, so we’ll need some more precipitation to help with the spring green up. Carry on with the snow dances, please!

If we get the moisture during the spring to support the bug and insect population needed to feed the young turkey polts following our mild winter, the area’s turkey population should be in great shape. There will already be quite a few one-year olds surviving the winter without any hunter experience, ready to respond to maybe even less than perfect calling attempts by hunters.

Fortunately for some of us less talented callers, hormones in turkeys during the spring can override common sense like it does in some teenagers, so even new turkey callers have a chance to fool a bird if they are in the right mood. Another helpful characteristic of spring turkeys seems to be that even though they might not be “in the mood” to respond one morning, they could change their mind the next day or you can easily find another gobbler whose hormones begin to peak at a different time.

For those folks interested in fine tuning their turkey hunting skills, and mastering the cluck, putt, yelp, cutt and purr calls of the turkey, the Sportsman’s Warehouse is presenting a free “Spring Turkey Hunting and Calling Seminar” at the Pinetop Regional Arizona Game and Fish office on April 5, 2025 from 1:00 pm to 4:00 pm. The office is located at 2878 East White Mountain Blvd, in Pinetop.

In addition to being free, the event will also have raffle prizes for attendees donated by Sportsman’s Warehouse, National Wild Turkey Federation, Cal Ranch and other local businesses. However, register early as seating is limited to 50. Call or email seminar leader Bill Waldron at (928) 368-3913 or Larswildu@yahoo.com or Jeff Pferdeort at (928) 242-6814 or JeffreyP48@yahoo.com. To register, you will need to provide the names, emails and phone numbers for all attendees to be eligible for any raffles and to reserve a seat for them.

Bill Waldron has been leading the seminar for years with long-time local hunter Jim Warren, who unfortunately passed away this past year. Jim’s knowledge and willingness to share his experiences will be missed, as will his endless stories of encounters with the elusive and wary turkey. Luckily Bill has found a local volunteer to help him carry on the tradition of the spring turkey seminar in Jeff Pferdeort.

Bill and Jeff will cover many different tips for bringing in more gobblers to shooting range and using the right equipment to fill your tag and harvest some healthy wild protein. One of the biggest draws for turkey hunting is the opportunity to “talk turkey” and increase your chances of seeing birds by calling them into your semi-comfortable blind setup.

You’ll probably have to do some hiking to get to that spot, but you could be rewarded with encounters that include a build-up of expectations as you can hear some gobblers responding from far away and then progressively closing in on you. Many mornings can include stereo and even quadrophonic calling surrounding you for extended periods if you’re lucky.

This pace of hunting might be considered more enjoyable and less stressful than the famous “buck fever” that descends upon hunters almost instantly when a buck or deer appears within shooting range. It can also be a good way to introduce new hunters to the activity without that sudden pressure to make a decision and shoot.

It turns out though that most hunters probably try calling in turkeys too much. They overdo the calling and have a hard time just letting the willing gobblers know they are there and let the birds get curious. Bill and Jeff will cover situations where you want to call a lot and when you might want to just sit back and look and listen. They will also show you how to use any of your calls most effectively, if you bring them with you (but refrain from practicing during the lecture portion of the seminar!!).

Along with their acute hearing, turkeys have amazing abilities to see even the slightest of unnatural color, motion, or shapes in the woods. A portion of the seminar will focus on effective camouflage used for turkey hunting and the importance of minimizing or hiding your movements. For younger or more restless hunters, this might require a portable blind with seating that can be set up near a responding gobbler. Although not actually seen, your base layers or underwear can be just as important as the outer camouflage to keep you warm, comfortable and not shuffling around because you get cold.

A successful hunt includes using the most appropriate firearm and ammunition. Bill and Jeff will discuss the need to pattern or sight in your shotgun prior to the hunt. Sight in a shotgun? Even though the load of pellets from a shotgun are not as precise as a single bullet from a target rifle, hunters still need to know how the density of pellets decreases at range, making it less likely that you will hit your target with enough pellets. Some younger hunters should definitely start with the lower recoil of a 20-gauge, instead of taking the macho route and developing a trigger flinch by using the higher-powered 12-gauge right away. The 20-gauge can be just as effective as the 12-gauge, and is more enjoyable to shoot a box of shells at clay pigeons for practice.

Health conscious hunters like to avoid accidentally ingesting any lead pellets from their harvest, so many have moved to the non-toxic steel, bismuth, tungsten or other inert alloys for their ammo. This type of ammo is not only more healthy for humans, but waterfowl hunters realized in the early 90s that lead shot is harmful to ducks, geese, and the environment as a whole. This motivated duck and goose hunters to lead the passage of legislation requiring non-toxic shot when hunting waterfowl.

Since turkey hunters must use camouflage because of the incredible vision and alert teamwork of turkey flocks on guard, they can often be mistaken for something other than a person, especially if turkey decoys are being used. That’s why Bill and Jeff will stress the need to positively identify any targets as definitely a legal bearded turkey, along with other safety tips.

As with most hunts, you need to make preparations before actually heading out at “0 dark thirty”, as it’s often called hours before sunrise. Not only do you need to get to your hunting spot earlier than most other hunts, but pre-hunt scouting the days and nights before can pay rich benefits. Scouting can reveal water holes with abundant tracks and large gobbler scats or night roosting trees, commonly old ponderosas, with concentrations of scats underneath.

The seminar will also describe how to find these roosts the night before the hunt opens, at least putting you near some known turkeys. And scouting this year is even more critical as some roads are going to be closed due to snow or the new Travel Management Rule being implemented on the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forests by the US Forest Service.

Remember that the use of remote game cameras applies to all hunting activities, so they can not be used for scouting purposes or during the hunt. This certainly doesn’t apply to the use of cameras to take the trophy photos once you harvest that long-spurred gobbler.

If you’re one of the lucky ones to get a permit through the draw this year, congratulations! But if that didn’t work out for you, there are other options. Although you need a draw permit for the Game Management Unit 3C Youth Hunt, the Youth Hunts in Units 1, 4A, 4B, and 27 are over-the-counter, non-permit tags, meaning you can pick one up at the Game and Fish office without entering the lottery process. Youth are defined as 10-17 years old, no matter how you act! Hunters under 14 are required to take a hunter education course.

For those of us over the hill already and without a tag this year, we can still dust off the bow and hunt units 1, 4A, 4B, and 27 from May 9 to the 22nd with an over-the-counter non-permit archery only tag. There are other units also open for non-permit tags, including Youth Hunts, but these listed are just for the White Mountains area. See the Arizona Game and Fish website for opportunities.

By attending this turkey seminar, you’re likely to pick up a new trick or feel more confident that you’re doing everything right so you can blame your lack of tags filled on the turkeys themselves. At the very least, you could go home with a new turkey call! Remember to register!!

Saddle Up At Mormon Lake

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:46:04 GMT

Your just one horseback ride away from a good mood...

By Anne Groebner

Photos submitted

If I could pick one person who I would trust to take me on a trail ride, sitting on top of a large horse, across rocky terrain, through forested mountain trails, I think I would choose Robert Pablo of AZ High Mountain Trail Rides. He is incredibly knowledgeable about anything pertaining to horses. He should be. His Dad has had him working for the family business since he was 16. He has worked as a wrangler all over Arizona and even in Jackson Hole, Montana. His calm and easy demeanor sets the pace for the scenic, slow and peaceful trail ride through a Ponderosa, aspen and pine forest on trails such as the Navajo Springs Trail and even along section 29 of the Arizona Trail.

AZ High Mountain Trail Rides provide horseback rides there for the last four years. They are open May 1st and plan to provide trail rides at the Mormon Lake Village through September 30th. They also own and operate Koli Equestrian Center, located in Chandler, Arizona, which is open year-round.

Mormon Lake’s history includes the construction of the Mormon Lake Lodge about 80 years ago. Originally known as “Tombler’s Lodge”, it is a remembrance of the booming ranching and logging days in Northern Arizona. The lodge burned in 1974 but was reconstructed by volunteer local ranchers. The ranchers burned their branding irons into the walls and, if you visit the lodge, you can still see them. Mormon Lake Village hosts several rodeo events in their arena and there are many hiking trails, surrounding lakes and many campgrounds. Of course, the best way to see the area is on top of a horse.

AZ High Mountain Trail Rides is working hard at keeping everything sanitized and disinfected. I would say it is the “ultimate outdoor social distancing activity available.” They spray down every helmet, saddle and any other item that is used. There is more than six feet between riders, and it all happens in the great outdoors.

Their horses are very well trained and, although they are perfect for beginner riders, they also offer an amazing experience for any level of horse enthusiast. The scenic ride includes history, and an amazing mountain forest adventure in average temperatures around 70-80 degrees. They have horses for every sized rider including smaller horses for children, older horses for beginners and draft horses for larger riders.

The best way to book a ride is online at HighMountainTrailRides.com or by calling TroyScott at 928-354-2359 (office) or 602-791-3283 (cell) — especially for groups larger than 10 so he can give you the best group discount. They can take walk-ins if there are wranglers and horses available. They are open every day except Wednesday but, if you call with a group, they are happy to open that day too. They offer 30, 60 and 90 minute rides for 7 year-olds and older. Their hours are 7:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.

They are located at 2040 Mormon Lake Road, in Mormon Lake Village, approximately 30 minutes south of Flagstaff on FH3 (Lake Mary Road). Coming from Payson, we took AZ Route 87 through Pine and Strawberry, just past Clint Wells and took a left onto FH3 to Mormon Lake Road.

Go to outdoorssw.com for more pictures and maps.

Visiting Out of Africa in Arizona

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:43:21 GMT

Paryeri and her stories about the Wildlife Park

By Annemarie Eveland

Photos by Annemarie Eveland

and Prayeri

I was delighted that owner/President/Co-Founder Prayeri was willing to share a couple of stories of her experience healing wounded animals at their Out of Africa Wildlife Park in Camp Verde, Arizona. I have retained much of her own words so that our readers understand what it takes to rehabilitate animals and safely set them free into the vast grounds of their Park. She began,

This is the story of Kenyatti, a Sable antelope. He was born at our Out of Africa Wildlife Park, in one of the large plains hoof stock areas. We call this area the Masa Mara, like the territory in Africa.

Shortly after baby Sable was born, we saw two zebras trampling him. My husband, Dean, and I saw that baby Sable was in serious trouble. The mother Sable was running at the two zebras, head tossing up and down, with her long horns to detour, or stop the ongoing attack on her helpless newborn. We raced to the scene, threw a blanket at the mother Sable’s horns, as she was now attempting to prevent us from interfering, thinking we were going to hurt her baby too.

We quickly picked up the frightened baby and removed him from the Zebra’s focused assault. We managed to get him safely away from the Zebras into our vehicle and hurriedly drove out of the Masa Mara habitat to a building to assess the damage to the newborn. His head had a hole at the top of his skull. He had blood on both legs and he was seriously traumatized. We could see the baby was going to need our constant care to get him through this trauma.

Later, after we cared for the newborn, we realized its mom had joined the rest of her herd in a different area in the Masa Mara acreage.

To help the baby Sable survive took constant care for a few weeks of tube feeding and then bottle feeding. I would have to stand him up each time I fed or cleaned him, because his legs were very weak, and then stimulate his bottom until he could defecate on his own. We named him Kenyatti — musician/singer.

A few weeks before this episode, we had also rescued an adult Great Pyrenees dog, who had entered our park from the desert. He was extremely fearful and had many abrasions on his body. We called the stray dog Avalanche. He was getting better after much care and having a vet remove thirty burrs buried in his paws from the harsh desert living, likely for a long time. Scars on his face and pads were undoubtedly from coyotes, during his time of surviving a hard desert existence. He showed very little emotion. He would stay on the porch of our house, just sitting most of the day.

The Sable baby, Kenyatti, was now showing some improvement after my many hours of feeding, cleaning and devotedly mothering him and showing him love and patience.

One morning, Kenyatti suddenly walked out of the bathroom where he confined himself. He walked through the living room, and then onto the porch, and sat down next to Avalanche. They nuzzled each other, and they became instant friends, and didn’t seem to realize they were not the same type of animal body, but they were the same in heart, loving, sweet, and now true family to each other. They lived together playing and enjoying a large area where they could play and run seemingly free.

After a while, the Sable was getting quite large; it was decided that Kenyatti may be able to join an older male Sable Antelope, Keyanga, that had been neutered and was living among other hoof stock in a large area. Keyanga was residing with a herd of Eland Antelope, here at our park, where they had an extensive area to roam. This would be a more natural way of life for Kenyatti. I knew Avalanche and Kenyatta would miss each other, but it was a better choice for an African Antelope to live with other herds of antelope.

The day came for Kenyatti to be moved to his bigger space and new life. Our wildlife park had not opened yet that morning, so we walked Avalanche on a leash, and Kenyatti followed beside me. We walked all the way to the gate that opened to the Eland acreage. When we opened the entry gate, after brief hesitation, Kenyatti walked right over to Keyanga, as if they knew they were to be together.

I felt it was going to be easier for Avalanche and Kenyatti to keep from missing each other if they did not see each other again, so before long we acquired Klondike, a Great Pyrenees puppy, to be Avalanche’s new friend. And so, it was meant to be that Keyanga and Kenyatti also became great friends.

Kenyatti still has a very sweet spot for people, perhaps from the kind, nurturing care we had given him. He has been known to not move from the gate, where staff need to leave the animal area in their feed truck. The call we hear on the radio is, “Will someone help us move Kenyatti from the entry gate, so we can get out?” He will come when called and enticed by animal feeder cookies we use for animal treats. I wonder where he got that habit?

When you come to visit Out of Africa Wildlife Park, you can see a grownup Kenyatti on the main Serengeti road, usually near the gate, of course!

Listening to Prayeri’s sharing about the rescue of Kenyatti prompted her to tell me one more (of her many stories.)

Kimbia — means “to run” — a baby African lioness that was born at our Out of Africa Wildlife Park. We didn’t have many birthings at the park for many years. When the last two male lions passed away of old age — living over 20 years — we were left with just one 18-year-old male lion named Asante. Asante lived with two of our older female lionesses, that had both been spayed over the years.

For many years, we didn’t breed carnivores. When Asante was bitten by a Mojave Green rattlesnake, we could not save him. Sadly, he died in our arms. He will forever be missed. Asante’s passing was the last of our male lions. All the female Lionesses had been spayed or were beyond breeding age.

However, one day we learned that three rescues were available and needed a home. These three adult rescues were named Ted, Lady, and Kayla. They lived in a zoo in another state, in a small area enclosure where the facility had no other room to breed, and it was a tiny living area for the lions.

The owner wanted them to have more space. So, we were able to acquire the three adult lions and give them huge areas to run around and eventually be together. In time, they bred. Kayla ended up having one female baby lioness, and Lady had two male lion babies. Unfortunately, neither mom would nurse their babies, nor even acted interested in them.

We knew it was not good to have two males and one female together. We were hoping for one male and two females, and then we planned on spaying the female babies, to put them together without breeding possibilities. The second breeding was the same number of males, Askari and Amani were the names we gave them. Both baby female lionesses were spayed, so they would not breed with their half-brothers. Each pride lived together harmoniously, but soon we decided it would be time that Kimbia was old enough to have an operation.

The veterinarian did the procedure, and it went well. Early the next morning, when we went to check on Kimbia, we were shocked to see that she had torn her sutures open and had pulled her intestines outside her stomach cavity. They were still hooked to her insides, but they were laying on the ground. We called Veterinarian Dr. Skinner at the Prescott Animal Hospital, who said to bring her in right away.

As he instructed, we wrapped her in something wet and rushed her to the hospital as fast as we could get there. After an extensive surgery, we brought Kimbia back to the Park where she stayed inside, and I watched her closely around the clock. By morning, Kimbia was not doing well at all. I had a meeting with the rest of the staff in that department, and then I called Dr. skinner, to consult on Kimbia’s situation.

When I asked him what was the chance that Kimbia would live if I brought her back to the hospital, his response was about one perent. I said that was OK. One percent from him, and the rest was a prayer with the Lord. I said quickly that we’re going to bring her in, and she’s going to make it.

Kimbia was in surgery for quite a few hours, and they did have to remove 32 inches of her intestines. After they sewed her back up, we brought her back to the park, and we had instructions not to leave her alone to re-tear her sutures, or she would never make it. At that point, I lived with her for 24 hours each day for two weeks. I brought her into my house, confined her with me in a large playpen on my living room floor. I placed plastic on the floor and slept with her day and night, making sure she would not tear her sutures.

It was quite a memorable and intense time living with this baby lioness, following her around in the playpen when it was time for her to go potty, catching it in a pan, and sleeping with her with my hand covering her sutures. When she moved and started licking them or bothering them, I would wake up and distract her. We would spend each of our days and nights together in this way. It took two long, full weeks. At the end of the two full weeks, it seemed like her sutures were fine, and so I was able to start carefully taking them out one snip at a time. Finally, we could take her outside and introduce her back with her brothers, Askari and Amani.

Kimbia had grown so close to me during her recovery time that she decided she had to protect me from her half-brothers, and she would not let the boys anywhere near me. In time, however, we got them back together. They now live happily together in a large habitat at Out of Africa Wildlife Park. But I have to say, Kimbia is the boss of the Habitat. You can visit them, and many other wonderful animals at our park in Camp Verde.

I walked with Prayeri down to the next enclosure.

Prayeri then turned her attention to the Hyena Chipa — means “to be strong.” Before entering his enclosure, she made special sounds, and he came running to her. She knelt and began nuzzling him, which was obviously a great delight for him. They truly had a special relationship.

Next there were the warthogs, her favorites. She walked down and started calling them in a kind of wild yodel. The three of them came running from some distance away, crossed the gully and came dashing eagerly with their own sounds. The first one rolled over and Prayeri started rubbing his belly. The other two stood by and made little sounds. Maybe imagining how good it will feel to have their bellies rubbed, too?

I could feel that the animals knew her kindness and love and resonated with it. It was amazing to see her special connection with the usually avoided wild animals such as hyena and warthogs, but it was real and wonderful.

So, if you and your family would like to visit wild animals, plan a fun family day to visit Out of Africa in Camp Verde. I got “kissed” by a giraffe, witnessed the Predator Feed, and the famous Tiger Splash presentation. I missed the Zip Line that covers the park from the air, but I look forward to my “next visit” because Africa is closer than you think!

Interview with Grace Payne and JD Pepper

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:38:00 GMT

Their thoughts on Fire Prevention for the upcoming season

By Jen Rinaldi

In anticipation of the upcoming summer after a parched and windy winter, I had the opportunity to interview Grace Payne, the Communications Manager and Advanced Public Information Officer, And JD Pepper Timber Mesa’s Fire Marshal regarding fire preparedness on our mountain. Given the unusually dry winter we have experienced, concerns about potential fire hazards have been mounting among the community.

Pepper is impassioned about this. “A fire of the magnitude of the Rodeo-Chediski fire could forever alter a mountain community such as ours. All commerce and tourism could be lost for generations to come.” That dire warning has been in all our minds as we ease into spring with little to no snowfall.

The Importance of Fire Preparedness

Both JD Pepper and Grace Payne emphasized the critical importance of fire preparedness, especially considering the current dry conditions. Both acknowledged the heightened anxiety within the community but assured me that proactive measures are being taken to mitigate fire risks. Pepper stressed the importance of us being the stewards of our community. Both encourage property owners to be proactive in containing risk on their own properties while officials work to make our parks, forests and communities safe.

Fire Prevention Programs

The City of Show Low, in collaboration with Fire Marshal Pepper, has developed a comprehensive set of fire prevention programs aimed at safeguarding residents and property. Grace Payne elaborated on several key initiatives:

• Community Education: One of the primary focuses is educating the community about fire safety practices. This includes workshops, seminars, and distribution of informational materials that cover topics such as creating defensible space around homes, proper storage of flammable materials, and fire-safe landscaping. Grace Payne and the City of Show Low are hosting events all summer long to keep fire safety in the forefront.

• Basal Scoring: Basal scoring, as explained to me by JD Pepper, is the practice of counting trees in any given area to take into consideration the density of the forest. The sum of the basal area for all trees in the stand is the total stand basal area, a common measure of stand density and tree size and a very important piece of information for making stand-management decisions. Many recreational areas here on our mountain have a high Basal score, meaning that there are too many trees per acre. Fire Marshal Pepper would like to see a 60-80% score rather than 100-300% score. The city of Show Low and parts of Pinetop Lakeside are actively working on thinning and cutting dead or bark beetle infested trees. These strategically cleared areas are crucial to the health and fire resistance of our community.

• Controlled Burns: Controlled or prescribed burns are being planned to reduce the amount of combustible vegetation. Trained professionals carefully managed these burns to minimize risk and enhance the health of the forest ecosystem.

• Emergency Response Plans: Payne highlighted the importance of having a robust emergency response plan in place. The Fire Marshal’s office has been conducting drills and simulations to ensure that all emergency personnel are well-prepared to act swiftly and effectively in the event of a fire.

• Public Alerts and Warnings: The City of Show Low has invested in advanced alert systems to keep residents informed about fire risks and evacuation orders. Payne encouraged everyone to sign up for local alert services and to stay tuned to official communication channels. They have Apps available through Apple and Google. These Apps will alert you of present fire dangers, controlled burns, and closures.

https://apps.apple.com/us/app/city-of-show-low-az/id6479614916

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.apptegy.showlowcity&hl=en-US&pli=1

Collaboration with Local Agencies

Both Pepper and Payne also mentioned the collaboration between the City of Show Low and various local, state, and federal agencies. This cooperation ensures a coordinated approach to fire prevention and response. The city works closely with the U.S. Forest Service, Arizona Department of Forestry and Fire Management, and neighboring municipalities to share resources, information, and best practices. These teams are comprised of the Forest Service, Emergency Management, and the County. All meet bimonthly or more to determine which stage of alert we are in.

At the date of this article, we are in stage one.

Stage 1 Fire Restrictions prohibit igniting, building, maintaining, or using any fire at all times, including charcoal and briquettes. Smoking outdoors is also prohibited.

Residents’ Role in Fire Preparedness

While the city and its partners are doing their part, Payne stressed that residents also play a crucial role in fire preparedness. She urged community members to take the following actions:

• Create Defensible Space: Clear vegetation and flammable materials from around your home to create a buffer zone that can help protect your property in case of a fire.

• Follow Fire-Safe Landscaping Practices: Use fire-resistant plants and materials in your landscaping to reduce the risk of fire spreading to your home.

• Stay Informed: Regularly check for updates on fire conditions and heed any warnings or evacuation orders issued by authorities.

• Prepare an Emergency Kit: Have a kit ready with essential supplies such as water, food, medications, and important documents in case you need to evacuate quickly (I will add that you must also plan for your pets and livestock!). I was the Santa Cruz County Fair and Rodeo Grounds’ manager during the fires in Sonoita in 2017. I was shocked by how many people had a plan for themselves but not their animals. You will need carriers, meds, food and if you have a high strung animal, you may want to ask your vet for tranquilizers in case of emergency as animals feel your stress.

• Develop a Family Emergency Plan: Ensure that all family members know what to do and where to go in the event of a fire. Practice your plan regularly.

Pepper and Payne’s insights into fire preparedness and prevention programs provide a reassuring perspective on the efforts being made to protect our community. Both are passionate about keeping our community safe. While the dry winter poses a significant risk, the proactive measures implemented by the City of Show Low and the Fire Marshal’s office, along with the active involvement of residents, can significantly reduce the threat of wildfires. By working together and staying vigilant, we can ensure a safer summer for all.

NOTE: At the time this article is being edited, the white Mountains are getting dumped on by nearly a foot of snow, with more to come in the following days. This does not mean that it will last through the spring, which is our fire season, and we hope our readers will continue to follow proactive fire safety.

The Jackal Hut

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:30:52 GMT

the 10th Mountain Division Huts in Colorado

By Laura Brown

It was foggy and crispy cold when we left Denver on December 13th heading for the Camp Hale trailhead that lies 14.5 miles north of Leadville on Highway 24. There were ten of us—four over the age of 60 (I’m in that group) and six under the age of 40—and our destination was the Jackal Hut. The Jackal Hut is just one of 38 backcountry huts operated by the 10th Mountain Division Hut Association in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, connected by 350 miles of suggested routes. The name honors the men of the 10th Mountain Division of the U.S. Army, who trained during World War II at Camp Hale in central Colorado. Hut visitors share the special spirit of these individuals, especially their love of the outdoors.

By the time we reached the trailhead, it was sunny and calm, with temperatures in the low twenties. After discussing whether we should shuttle supplies and people back to a trailhead that shaved a mile off the route, we decided that adding a mile of flat skiing and snowshoeing would be just as easy. Supplies were divided among various packs and two sleds to be pulled, mostly by the youngsters. Given that the trailhead was at 9280 feet and that after the initial flat mile, we’d be encountering a 2,436-foot elevation gain over 3.5 miles, you’d perhaps think that only the bare essentials would be hauled up. “Essentials” for these seasoned hutsters included beer, wine, and board games. With three cross-country skiers and seven snowshoers, the adventure began about

11:00 a.m.

After the initial flat mile, the skiers had to put climbing skins on their skis for the ascent. For approximately two miles of ascent, the trail is a road-cut that climbs to about 10,700 feet. There are expansive views of the Eagle River valley with mountains in all directions. About this time, some clouds began moving in and folks started layering up despite the exertion of the climb. Danielle had hiked the trail during the summer and knew her way to the hut, so she forged quickly ahead. The rest of us huddled up to make some decisions. We still had about 1.8 miles to go with another 1000 feet of elevation gain. We’d agreed that if anyone was too tired to continue that we’d all turn around, but because we still had enough daylight (and everyone had headlamps) as well as snacks and water, folks felt confident they had the juice to get to the top.

As in life, sometimes it’s best not to know what lies ahead. As it got colder, windier, and snowier, the trail also got steeper for long stretches. For the two of us from Arizona, where it hadn’t snowed in months, it was the first time we’d put on our skis and snowshoes this winter. For our son Jeremiah, who came from sea level, albeit a runner, it was downright miserable. Many of us were huffing and puffing, stopping frequently to catch our breath. Simply put, we were all getting pooped.

Fortunately, it was a hardy group without whiners or naysayers, and the scenery was breathtaking. We were prepared for the weather, and it wasn’t a race, so we forged on up, each at their own pace. When we broke through the trees and saw a flat meadow ahead, we knew there had to be a hut nearby. The last three-eighths of a mile trudging through deep snow, despite having approximately zero elevation gain, was the hardest part of the hike. Even though the hydration reservoirs and tubing in our packs were insulated, the water had frozen; the light was fading, and snow was falling. It was a wonderful feeling to know we were so close to the end. Those who had pulled the sleds were exhausted.

There’s nothing like arriving at a hut that already has a roaring fire burning in the woodstove and hot tea at the ready. The Jackal Hut is configured with two enclosed outhouses connected to the cabin by a wooden walkway. Inside, there’s a wood-burning stove for warmth and another for cooking. The very well-equipped kitchen had plenty of pots, pans, plates, cups, and utensils, along with four propane burners. Water was obtained by melting snow in giant pots on the woodstove. We ran the water for drinking through a filter to be extra safe. A dinner of stir-fried veggies and peanut sauce over ramen noodles, with mango sticky rice for dessert, warmed everyone to the core and gave us the energy to climb the stairs to the second floor where everyone chose a bed, a pillow, and a place to sleep, divided by snorers or non-snorers. The first night was crystal clear, so going out to the outhouse when it was well below freezing was almost delightful by the lights of Leadville in the distance, the glow of the nearly full moon, and the Geminid meteor showers.

Saturday was so sunny that we had to rig makeshift curtains to cover some of the huge windows and wear sunglasses and sunhats in the cabin while we yakked, played Bananagrams, Tenzi, and Cribbage and assembled a 750-piece jigsaw puzzle. Although outdoor snow play is often embraced the day after arrival at a hut, on this venture, we were all happy to recover from our trek there by enjoying indoor activities, lively banter, and plenty of laughter. Everyone pitched in to bring in snow and wood, cook, and wash dishes.

Sunday’s breakfast of pancakes and sausage fueled us for cabin cleanup and the trek down. Hut etiquette requests that groups leave the hut stocked with wood from the storage sheds, the kitchen spotless, and the floor swept clean. Going down was glorious! Quick and easy.

A few weeks after we returned, we checked in with each other. Luke, another son and trip planner, said next trip he would set up and communicate a better plan for emergencies and create a hard cut-off of “if we aren’t at this spot by this time, we turn around.” Luke’s friend Connor said he’d bring warmer mittens. Marc learned that for him, the slope was really too steep for skis and that snowshoes would have been a better choice. The prevailing theme was that it was a weekend of love and kindness, humor and laughter, support, and fun cooking together. Much gratitude was extended to the sled pullers. Connor summed it up by saying, “It was magical spending an entire Saturday lounging, grazing, playing games, napping, and building camaraderie in a place with such spectacular views.”

To learn more about the 10th Mountain Division Huts go to https://huts.org/

The photo below is Danielle, not Colleen, as it reads in the print edition of OSW.

Chick Days

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:27:17 GMT

Here’s what to think about before boxing up a dozen peeping fluff balls.

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

Oh my goodness! It’s dangerous to go into a feed store these days. The chicks…the chicks are so cute! So fluffy! So helplessly peepy…just adorable! And with the price of eggs, we need some chicks! We can basically eat endless eggs for free and they will eat all the bugs around the house and they are so cute…and peepy! Reality check time. Yes, they are cute and fluffy and peepy right now, but those adorable fluff balls will grow into gawky teenagers and then into poopy hens that will demand a lot of food and a lot of space, giving you relatively few eggs. Here’s what to think about before boxing up a dozen peeping fluff balls.

Where are you going to keep them? They have chicken houses in the feed store parking lots that range from $250 to $999 and more. Most of them look roomy when you stick a half dozen chicks into them, but in reality, most of them would only reasonably hold 1.5 full-grown hens. Most of these commercial houses are also cheaply built and will need to be replaced after a winter or two. Your tiny peepers will ridiculously outgrow any of the commercial chicken houses I have ever seen and then you’ll need to plan for an at least 8’ to 12’ enclosed run with a secure night house and a laying box. Plan on spending at least $500 to properly house six hens in a home built structure. You can let them roam during the day if you don’t have neighborhood predators, but they will need a safe place to stay at night.

What will you feed them? Chick grower food, and then hen layer food is about $20/50lb bag. Chickens eat a lot! You’ll also need scratch at about the same price.

How many eggs will you get? Your adorable fluff balls will begin laying in October and will lay maybe three eggs a week. Your half dozen hens will give you 18 eggs a week if you are lucky. You’ll need to keep a light on them as winter approaches to keep the daylight at 14 to 16-hours-a-day to keep them laying in the winter.

What’s a pullet? A pullet is a female chicken that will lay eggs when mature. “Straight-run” is whatever comes out of the hatch at a 50/50 chance of being a hen and a 50/50 chance of being a rooster.

Is it worth it? Sure, if you want great homegrown eggs and like knowing that the hens that laid those eggs get to have good lives. Don’t even google “egg farm layers” if you don’t want to know how most commercial hens spend their lives. I have a couple dozen chickens and get about six to eight eggs a day. Plenty for my husband and me and enough to sell a couple dozen a week. I sell them for $5/dozen and feed costs $20/week...so no, chickens really don’t make financial sense, but I love them and enjoy feeling a little self-sufficient even if it is only eggs.

Social Hiking

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:23:36 GMT

Hiking with friends and canines

Rob Bettaso

In recent weeks, I have taken several hikes with pals of mine from the Navajo County Search and Rescue team (SAR). In this article, I will briefly describe two of those hikes: one with Gary and another with John. Gary is among our longest serving and most experienced members of SAR; John is relatively a new-comer; and I am somewhere in the middle, having been a part of SAR for nearly 10 years. It should be noted that none of the recent hikes we took were part of actual SAR “missions” (searching for a lost or missing person) nor were they part of our monthly SAR training outings. Both hikes were simply for the fun of being outside — experiencing nature and enjoying the comradery of like-minded colleagues.

The first outing I will recount was with Gary, with whom I have gone hiking many times over the years. We had decided that we would hike a very popular trail: the Buena Vista, on the Apache-Sitgreaves (A-S) National Forest lands. The reason I had suggested this particular trail (which I have hiked and biked several times since moving to Lakeside) was because I had heard that a “land swap” between the A-S and a private landowner had been such that the nine-mile loop trail was no long do-able, and that the trail now consisted of an “out and back” type of route. Neither Gary nor I were keen on doing an “out and back” so we were considering a cross-country type of return (as a good way to practice our SAR orienteering skills).

When it comes to cross-country hiking, there is no better outdoorsman I know than Gary. From an early age, Gary has spent enormous amounts of time setting off into the hinterlands with some essentials: food and water; basic hiking/survival gear; appropriate apparel; and a map and compass. Given how backcountry navigation has changed with the advent of the Global Positioning System (GPS) and with various “smart-phone” electronic mapping options, Gary has become something of a dying breed: a person who is as comfortable with the old ways (a “7 ½ Minute Quad” — which is a paper topographic map — and an old-fashioned magnetic compass) as he is with the more modern, electronic methods of GPS hand-helds and “smart-phone” apps (e.g. On X, All Trails, Gaia, and the one used by SAR; called SAR Topo).

On the other hand, for me, when it comes to wildland hiking, I generally play it safe and stick to established trails but keep a Garmin (a brand of GPS hardware) and an old-fashioned map and compass close by, just in case. The way I see it, there is a good reason the old-timers coined the term “dead-reckoning” to describe off-trail hiking. Personally, when I’m outdoors, I want to be free to let my mind wander while I hike and not have to apply Daniel Boone’s level of knowledge to get back home safely. Besides, busting through dense vegetation (such as our local manzanita, locust, and/or chaparral) can be physically demanding work. Additionally, when pioneering an off-trail route, one can also find that they have descended into a canyon that “cliffs out,” leaving one to hike back out the way they came; assuming they haven’t scrambled down a series of drops that they may not re-negotiate when they have to climb up and out (Ed Abbey’s harrowing tale from Havasu Canyon back in 1949 comes to mind).

The Buena Vista trail lives up to its name with several impressive views, unfortunately, it is also one of those places that we have “loved to death” — having some deeply rutted sections along portions of the official trail, and many other un-official paths that have been established by unauthorized trail-makers. I still call these informal routes “boot-leg trails,” as I refuse to adopt the term that is used by some people: “social trails.” In my way of thinking, the moniker “social trails” has a potentially positive connotation, and by adopting it, we may have unintentionally contributed to the proliferation of such trails. Conversely, on those rare occasions when I opt to hike “cross-country” am I not also guilty of potentially being the first to lay down a subtle path that others may eventually follow, and encourage the creation of a new “social trail.” Hypocrisy, thy name is Rob!

Because I want to get to my second story, I won’t delve into additional details of our wonderful hike at Buena Vista. Suffice to say, we easily made it from the trailhead on up and across a scenic ridgeline, and then on down to the newly fenced private land. At that point, we traveled cross-country (tisk, tisk) to get back to the trailhead, and we wound up shortening the hike to only six miles — not because we were trying to lessen our mileage, but simply because one never knows for sure how to best proceed along an improvised return. In our case, we wound up taking a few routes that led us into thickets of manzanita, which we opted to backtrack out of, and then we detoured around. Hopefully, the A-S will eventually convert the “out and back” trail into a loop and, as such, will mitigate the odds that we will see the birth of a whole new network of social trails.

My second hike was approximately 20 miles north of the Buena Vista trail. To describe this hike, I would like to traipse down memory lane for a minute, and recall my high-school World History teacher, Mrs. Reed, who would occasionally give us Friday “pop quizzes,” pertaining to what she had taught us earlier in the week. Often, Mrs. Reed would have as a final challenge on the quiz an implied question that would require a short essay response. Invariably, her statement would start: “Compare and contrast...” and would then end with something like “… the city-states of Sparta and Athens in ancient Greece.” So, let me use the Mrs. Reed approach to describe my hike with John — who, along with his spouse Debbie, lives in the Taylor area.

I have already mentioned that all three of us — Gary, John, and I — are members of the Country Sheriff’s SAR team. We also share a deep appreciation of Nature and have an irrepressible need to get outdoors hiking. So much for one aspect of how we are similar, but let us now also look at an example of a respective difference: I augment my hiking with regular mountain bike outings; Gary enters competitive races in cross-country orienteering events; and John is an avid back-country horseman.

Continuing the study in comparisons and contrasts, it was along one of John and Debbie’s horseback riding routes that John and I set off for our six-mile hike on a recent mid-week morning. John, being a tall person, has a mileage-devouring stride, so I practically had to trot alongside him to maintain my part of our conversation. I wasn’t alone in terms of moving at a brisk clip, as one of the family pups had joined us for the hike. The presence of “Gus” (a mixed breed that is clearly part herding dog) was another difference between my hike with Gary and that with John. Unless I’m seeking skittish birds or other wildlife, I am happy to be in the company of a good natured pooch when walking — and Gus was indeed an ideal hiking companion.

Unlike the clearly identified National Forest lands that Gary and I had hiked in, the land ownership was vague (unsigned/ungated) in the country that John and I did our loop route through. Mostly we followed a sparsely used “two-tracker” path that had a few quad tracks and, of course, lots of horse hoof-prints. Because the dirt road allowed us to walk abreast, we started off our conversation by talking about the family dogs and horses. Learning about horses is always interesting to me since I have never been a horse-guy and know so little about riding or caring for them.

After about a 30-minute crash-course in equine anatomy and physiology (including learning some basics pertaining to the important role of a farrier) John and I turned our attention to discussing current events and the lay-offs of federal employees. Both John and I had worked for the government, with John’s career having included time spent working with the U.S. Forest Service in Arizona and in the private sector (as a forester in the Pacific Northwest and in New Zealand). Additionally, John and Debbie had been teachers in the public school system of Holbrook and it was interesting to hear the details of how John had sponsored many a hiking and trail-running trip in the Grand Canyon, which was often the first time many of the participating Navajo and Hopi kids had seen that magnificent natural world. John, in fact, has spent an amazing amount of time hiking the trails in the Grand Canyon and, in fact, has logged over 3,000 miles within that vast National Park!

Eventually we left the two-tracker and hiked cross country through the rolling and dun-colored hills near Shoen’s Dam. There were lots of pinyon and juniper trees, but they were not so thick that we couldn’t easily see most of the expansive terrain that surrounded us. It was a beautifully open world, and it felt good for me (my house being situated in dense, tall pine country) to be hiking under such a big sky.

By the time we returned to John and Debbie’s home, classic western clouds (scalloped, but still puffy) had accumulated in the sky, but none of them really looked like they were going to offer any much-needed rain. I had lunch with John while Debbie took ol’ Gus to some kind of dog training in Show Low and after we ate; it was time for me to head home. I was pleasantly tired and felt very much relaxed after several hours of hiking in such wide-open spaces.

So ends my summary of two recent hikes: spending time with two good friends in two very different habitats; enjoying stimulating and meaningful conversations while exploring two different walking conditions. While this winter may be remembered for its minimal snow levels, I will also remember it for having taken advantage of the dry landscape by getting out frequently for excellent hikes with kindred souls.

Cycling Through History

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:19:31 GMT

The bicycle will inspire women with more courage...

Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

“Let me tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. It gives women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel — the picture of free, untrammeled womanhood,”

— Susan B Anthony-1896.

Once again, I am visiting the Vernon cabin, this time in a light March snowfall on our fat bikes. I feel fortunate to have several bikes for different conditions, and this one specializes in handling snowy conditions with confidence and security. The wide, soft tires float over the snow and carry me across the rock-strewn snowy field with ease. This bike is built with strong light carbon, my tires are riddled with titanium studs to grip firmly into the snow and ice that could be slippery under other tires, and the wide stance and low air pressure of the big tires makes rough ground disappear under the new snow.

As always, when I visit the Land of Pioneers area, I am thinking about how things have changed since the time that the first homesteaders came here nearly 150 years ago. Interestingly, at about the same time that these homesteaders arrived, the modern bicycle was being invented and the trajectory of lifestyles for women was changing across America and Europe. The women who homesteaded here undoubtedly worked equally as hard as their husbands and most likely had already changed much about their clothing and ideas of their places in the world, but in much of “civilized” society, women were restricted in what they were allowed or expected to do with their lives, what they were expected to wear and how much it was expected that they could do physically. How did the bicycle change things for women and what does the bicycle do for us today?

“I am delighted with my wheel. I am just as fond of it as my horse.” — Annie Oakley-1892.

March is women’s history month, as it has been for the past 38 years, and strangely, although I am a woman, I find myself being surprised at how much I didn’t/don’t know about the history of women in society, about how things have changed for women over time and what things we take for granted today that were forbidden or unusual just a century ago. Curiosity made me look into the history of women and bikes and what I learned took me on an interesting journey, ending full circle with the main reasons I love to ride a bike.

“Truly, the bicycle is the most influential piece of product design ever,”

— Hugh Pearman-2021.

The first vehicle resembling a bike was the Dandy horse, invented in 1817. The Dandy horse, primarily constructed of wood, resembled a large balance bike. Men enjoyed the freedom a bicycle provided, with less expense than a car and less work and maintenance than a horse and carriage, and a great way to get around in crowded cities. Upper-class Victorian women were just beginning to have the time to leave their homes and socialize, and this new mode of transportation allowed them more freedom to get out without having to harness a horse and buggy.

Women’s models had a step-through frame which accommodated the voluminous skirts worn, and this new invention became nearly instantly popular. The Dandy horse was slow, heavy, hard to steer and was very cumbersome, but the potential was there; leading to rapid evolution towards what we see as the modern bicycle.

Tricycles, quadricycles, side-by-side tandems and the classic Penny-farthing came in a whirlwind of invention and technology. As bicycles became less expensive, women saw the bicycle as a way to gain more freedom from the traditional home-based lifestyle and a way to get out and socialize with other women outside of their normal social circles, resulting in a wider world-view for many women.

“The bicycle will inspire women with more courage, self-respect, and self-reliance and make the next generation more vigorous of mind and body,”

— Elizabeth Cady Stanton 1895.

The freedom women obtained from riding bikes lead to a yearning for more autonomy and eventually planted the seeds to some beginnings of the Women’s Rights movement. The long heavy multi-layered skirts worn at the time tended to get caught in the spokes and were dangerous for woman cyclists, and after several reiterations of bike frames and wheel guards designed to accommodate the skirts, the skirts themselves were changed to accommodate bikes.

First, split skirts with draw-up overskirts were modeled after the hiking skirts of the day and then the overskirt was removed, and bloomers became fashionable for both male and female cyclists. Cyclists found corsets too constricting for proper breathing and quickly discarded them, leading to the observation that upper-class white women, in particular, weren’t biologically weaker or more delicate than men or lower-class women; their constricted breathing was simply because of tight corsets. This lead to the revolutionary idea that exercise was good for the body and doctors started recommending regular daily exercise. Women realized that the freedom, social interaction and exercise that the bike provided was making their lives happier and better overall and cycling clubs for women became fashionable.

“Next to a leisurely walk, I enjoy a spin on my tandem bicycle. It is splendid to feel the wind blowing in my face and the springy motion of my iron steed. The rapid rush through the air gives me a delicious sense of strength and buoyancy. The exercise makes my pulse dance and my heart sing.” — Hellen Keller-1900s.

The first “modern” bicycle, called the Safety Bicycle, was invented in the 1880s and bicycling quickly became popular world-wide, both as an effective mode of transportation and as a social phenomenon. Safety bicycles were distinguished from other earlier forms of bikes by having two wheels the same size, a chain-driven rear drive, the rider’s weight moved lower and back on the frame to provide better balance and security, and the classic diamond frame made from two triangles. This new bicycle transformed the way goods, services and information could be transported and connected people in a way never seen previously. The ability of bicycles to transform societies in this way is still ongoing today and has helped people in developing countries be able to move themselves, information, goods and services within and between communities, making it a vital part of countless economies around the world.

“Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race.” — H.G. Wells-1905.

Bikes evolved from heavy basic transportation to lighter, more functional vehicles for enjoyment and exercise, to ultralight racing machines, and, in the 1970s, began to develop and morph into what we know today as the modern mountain bike. Around here, the mountain bike is the most popular bike and is mostly used for recreation on backcountry-style trails. A light flexible frame and shock give the rider much greater control over steering and production of power and make the bike maneuverable over varied terrain.

Mountain biking has taken over back-country travel by storm and most trails are multi-use for hikers, cyclists and equestrians. For me, mountain biking has the magical quality of being able to transform a bad day into a great new one, take my mind off of work and outside issues and gives me a feeling of freedom like no other. I love the challenge of a trail and the feeling of conquering a climb or completing a long-distance trek. A short ride with my dogs is priceless for my sanity and the physical benefits are sure to help me stay healthy and active into my older years. Freedom, expansion of boundaries, the beauty of nature and the interconnectedness of everything are all things that make me very grateful to have come back to bikes after a long break focused on “life happens”.

“Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride”

— John F. Kennedy-1962

Today, women are well represented in the cycling community, and here in the White Mountains, I feel honored and grateful to count several of them as my friends and trail companions. These women are from all walks of life and have different focuses as to which style of cycling they prefer, but all of them represent what is strong and amazing about today’s woman. I asked my friends for pictures of themselves loving life on two wheels and was flooded with great ones. Here are a few which represent what cycling is all about for us.

If you are interested in starting your cycling journey, visit a local shop or join an online cycling group to get advice on which bike might be best for what you plan to do. Cycling is for everyone and everyone can find a niche that they fit into that will give them the freedom that the first bike riders found so exhilarating and addictive. We’ve come a long way and I’m excited to see where this journey takes us next.

“When the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, all one needs to do is just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road.”

— Conan Doyle-1896

Riding the Maverick Motorized trail

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:16:04 GMT

MINIMIZE IMPACT ON OUR LOCAL TRAILS — TREAD LIGHTLY!

By Allanna Jackson

Our unseasonably warm, dry weather continued through February, putting the White Mountains into Stage 1 Fire Restrictions on February 28th. This very early beginning of fire season is a good time for all of us to review how to prevent fires and leave no trace while enjoying the outdoors.

One day in January, I saddled Cinnamon, and we strolled over to Timber Mesa. As we approached the Jacquez ranch house chimneys, I was dismayed to find a vandal had punctured the interpretive signs and trail signs with bullets. This was doubly disturbing because these signs are only 100 yards from the Timber Mesa Trailhead, which provides access to the Maverick Motorized Trail, and the Timber Mesa, Osprey Connector, Sawmill Connector, and Flume Connector Non-motorized Trails. This reckless and irresponsible shooter gave no more consideration to human safety than they did to obeying the law. Fortunately for us, the shooter was gone. Unfortunately, the shooter probably got away with their crimes. Nothing spoils a ride quite like wondering if I’m going to be shot while peaceably minding my own business using a marked trail on public land.

There are two cinder pits within a few miles further up Porter Mountain Road that have been used as shooting areas for decades. A cinder mountain effectively stops bullets and the local residents know to expect shooting there, so those cinder pits are very safe places to shoot.

There wasn’t any evidence of anybody shooting right then, so Cinnamon and I continued along the road that follows the base of Timber Mesa. This is now an officially designated part of the Maverick Motorized trail. When I first began horseback riding around Timber Mesa in 1989, it was already a well-established single-lane road used by everyone, including the ranchers who run cattle in these meadows for part of the year.

The next meadow to the west still has the deep ruts left by an irresponsible off-roader who drove across the middle of it in very wet weather back about 1990. Yes, damage to a meadow really is permanent. I was saddened to see fresh damage added to the old mud-bogging scars. Somebody drove through the middle of the dried-out stock pond and did figure-eights on the dry grass beside it.

The original road route took us across the toe of a hill, through a Juniper thicket, to another meadow. Irresponsible OHV users have also damaged this one. There were tire tracks across it in multiple directions. There were also off-trail tracks around bushes beside the trail. Was that dark circular patch in the meadow the result of a fire? There were tire tracks beside it.

I was almost afraid to look for the old log cabin for fear the vandals had destroyed it, too. It was still there, but the spring on the other side of the trail was totally dry.

Cinnamon and I turned around and strolled back the way we’d come, taking a different well-worn route around the toe of the hill. This revealed another portion of meadow with OHV damage. I’d already discovered the OHV route to Penrod Road while bicycling and hiking. There have been several much-needed logging and thinning projects on Timber Mesa in recent years. Logging projects created a few alternative routes, but much of the work relied on routes from logging decades prior. The OHVs have been using these logging routes, but many of the new tracks were going places the loggers had not. Some of the OHV tracks went nowhere.

I heard what sounded like two gun shots somewhere in front of us, but couldn’t identify where. Was it just an echo from the cinder pits or Jacquez Marsh? Or was someone shooting in the meadow ahead of us? I couldn’t tell, so I was wary as we neared the next meadow.

Cinnamon and I took an animal trail through the trees. Though I doubt they offer protection from stray bullets, especially if a scoff-law hunter mistook Cinnamon for an elk. We found tracks where an OHV user had attempted to drive along the irrigation ditch. The thick juniper foliage had deterred them. I had to duck under a few tree limbs myself as Cinnamon followed the cattle trail beside the ditch. Motorized machines do more damage in one pass than the animals do over many years.

As we approached the chimneys again, I saw an abandoned appliance lurking under a juniper. It’s not the first time I’ve seen appliances and furniture illegally dumped around Timber Mesa. I’ve always wondered why they didn’t take it to the Town Collection Center or the landfill or trade it in when they get a new appliance instead of dumping it out in the Forest.

Riding OHVs in the Forest is a privilege that can be lost. The Alpine Trails group has spent years developing a new 700-mile Alpine motorized trail in eastern Arizona. If OHV users treat the new trail as they abused the Maverick Motorized Trail at Timber Mesa, they will waste all the Alpine Trails group’s hard work.

Arizona Game and Fish provides the following information about how OHVs can tread lightly to minimize their impact and preserve their trails:

• Stay on the designated routes. Do not make new trails.

• Do not harass wildlife. When you encounter wildlife, appreciate it, respect it, and LEAVE IT ALONE When camping, keep a clean camp.

• Do not ride over plants, it destroys wildlife habitat.

• Signs are important for travel and your safety.

It is illegal to destroy signs.

• Avoid creating dust. Slow down.

• Keep out of closed areas. Do not trespass.

• Leave gates as you found them, whether open or closed. If the gate has a sign stating whether it should be open or closed, obey the sign.

• Keep your OHV quiet. More complaints equal more closures.

• Fences keep livestock confined. Do not cut fences.

• Do not drive on a route smaller than the width of your vehicle.

• Pack it in, pack it out. Do not litter.

• Reduce the risk of fire. Make sure your vehicle’s spark arrestor is in good working condition.

• Be considerate of others by sharing trails. Pull off to the side of the trail, shut off your engine, and let horses, hikers, and bicyclists pass.

• Join an OHV club and volunteer to help maintain the trails you ride.

If you observe a violation of game laws or wildlife harassment, report it to:

Arizona Game and Fish at 1 -800-352-0700.

If you observe destruction of the environment or private property, call:

1-800- VANDALS (1-800-3257) .

Let’s all do our best to leave no trace and tread lightly so we can all continue to enjoy our public lands for many years to come.

Endless Spinning? Or Constructive Daydreams?

Mon, 24 Mar 2025 20:12:23 GMT

The mind never fully rests...

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

I talked with a friend yesterday, and the conversation moved to her random background program as she went about her day. She has a job and runs her own business, so she is busy. Her mind is filled with products she needs to pick up for her horses. Forms needed to compete in a class. Plans for another class, and then on to her home that’s under construction — then the other job — then a trip to see family over the weekend. All this while driving. Or cleaning. Or shoveling manure. Rather than thinking about the negative, she is happily making plans.

The mind never fully rests.

Are you like me? I get my most creative ideas when I’m doing boring tasks. Washing the dishes. Sorting paperwork. Vacuuming and dusting. Meal planning. Waiting in line. Lying in bed as I drift off. Ideas I consider to be flashes of brilliance appear out of nowhere. The mind is in idle gear, but never asleep.

But I can also get stuck in an endless loop of what-ifs and maybes. What if I can’t start this project? Am I doing the right thing for my puppy, Lil’ Toot, post-surgery? Then don’t get me started on world affairs. Five years from now, how will my life be different? And on it goes. Much as a cow chews its cud, I could spin my wheels. Well, at least the cow is productive.

That being said, I still delight in mind-wandering. I’m at my best when I’m bored and don’t want to do anything. Working at simple repetitive tasks. (Laundry, anyone?) When I’m tired after a long day. Sometimes, it’s enough to simply sit with a cup of tea and Lil’ Toot to contemplate the world and my place in it.

Stuck in rumination?

If you find yourself anxious as you ruminate about your life, here are a few tips:

• Notice your thoughts. How do you feel when you have that thought running in the background? Does it serve you well or cause you distress? Your mind is like a jukebox. If you don’t like what’s playing, punch another button for the next song.

• Open your world to something new. Lil’ Toot is new to me and his world at the same time. Yes, there’s a lot of work with a new puppy, but that new life overwhelmingly brings joy and happiness. Constructive daydreaming brought me other thoughts of doggy obedience classes. (Smile.) His reveling in his discovery of other critters, a flower, and his delight in meeting new people. The world holds many exciting adventures. All just waiting for him, and me, too.

• Stop the rumination . What’s one of the easiest ways to shift to another state of mind? Move your body. Go for a walk. Hop on your bike. Stroll through nature. Play pickleball with friends. Take up archery. Hike one of the many trails on the Mountain. Your mind will move to those positive resources deep within. You’ll discover treasures you never dreamed of. You’ll live your best, unstuck Hall of Fame life.

Check out what’s running in your random background program. You can choose to end the endless spinning or enjoy constructive daydreaming. It’s all up to you. Live unstuck.

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also writes bi-weekly posts for Lil’ Toot, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

FINDING HEART

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 20:17:03 GMT

Living the life you imagined..

By Anne Groebner

Last year went out like a lion. Not so much weather-wise, but in tragedies and loss. Major heart surgery taught me the hard way, that my life will never be the same. I learned how important every day — every hour, every minute and every second — is. Recently, I have been told that I have no restrictions, however, I have spent months proving it to myself. I have hiked Mount Baldy and other trails and I just traveled by truck (with my black lab and loyal companion, Duncan) four thousand miles from Arizona to the east coast and back. Along the way, I looked for the things that matter most in life. I needed to see the good in this world. The things that make a difference, that make life worth living and meet the people that have passion and big, good hearts.

PIE TOWN

My journey started on the back roads in Northeastern Arizona. From Springerville, Arizona, the long, quiet eastward State Highway 60, through high-desert vegetation, brought me to Pie Town, New Mexico. I have to admit that I have driven past this place many times and never stopped. This time, I put my foot on the brakes and pulled into the parking lot of the Gathering Place — and was glad I did. I ordered a plate of some of the best pulled pork and hand-cut French fries in Catron County — and, of course, some pie.

As I was leaving, Maddie, the owner’s dog, ran out to greet me, followed by Paul, the owner. He was excited to tell me about his plans for their new venture in Pie Town. He and his Mother, Cheryl, purchased the Gathering Place in October 2023 and opened November 5th. They moved from northern Idaho, near the Canadian border. Since then he has purchased two new smokers and is smoking meats and serving up brisket, pulled pork, sausages and a lot more. He has some big renovations taking place soon as well, including expanding the kitchen and moving the bakery, and creating a lounge complete with pool table, couches, chairs, wine and beer.

As a new business, Rader worried people wouldn’t know what to expect, but now he has the support of the locals and many travelers passing through, like me. It is also a welcome sight to travelers along the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail (CDT) — a 3,100-mile trail that runs from Mexico to Canada (The trail is a National Scenic Trail that was established in 1978). The center of Pie Town is two miles (3 km) west of where US 60 crosses the Continental Divide, which provides a respite between Silver City and Grants, New Mexico. For cyclists, equestrians, motorcyclists, and hikers, Pie Town provides several services, including a free hostel, supplies, and unique flavors of pie.

The Gathering Place is open year round, but in the winter they are closed on Thursdays and Fridays. They are open on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Saturday from 9:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. and Sunday from 9:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. Weekend specials often include a variety of options, like brisket and brisket sliders. Everything is made fresh, including all their sauces and French fries. Nothing is cooked until you order it and then they make it from scratch — and their pies are pretty amazing. I bought a peach/blueberry, and it was outstanding. And, I was told, that they have the highest ratings — a 4.9 out of 5 — in the county. “Of course there is always that one person,” Rader told me.

Next time you are passing through New Mexico via State Highway 60, make sure and stop in and try the food and enjoy their hospitality. Or check out the “Pie Festival” held there on the second Saturday of each September. Last year, the festival drew in almost 4,000 attendees.

After leaving Pie Town, I passed the Very Large Array (VLA), which I had written about a couple of years ago. They filmed the 1997 movie Contact here. The satellite dishes are huge and seeing them always makes me wonder if Dr. Ellie Arroway (Jodie Foster), really heard something or someone communicating from another galaxy? Okay, it’s just a movie, or is it? There is a museum there that is worth stopping for. Magdalena is just miles further east, and although the road is pretty desolate and there’s a tendency to get past it quickly, keep it slow, I hear from a reliable source they are seriously watching your speed there.

Once I reached the end of State Highway 60 I was in Soccoro, where I got on I-25. I drove about eight miles south and took exit 139/San Antonio to State Highway 380 east, and drove past the Trinity Sight and the White Sands Missile Range — the site of the World’s first atomic bomb. There is a pretty interesting and in-depth documentary about the history of the atomic bomb on Turning Point that I watched on Netflix.

SMOKEY BEAR HISTORICAL PARK

A few miles from the Trinity site is the town of Capitan, where the Smokey Bear Historical Park is located. It is a State Park that draws millions of visitors each year. It caught my attention, and I wanted to find out the story behind the famous bear, who, while he was alive, “attracted children and adults alike, second only to Santa Claus.” Capitan is the birthplace and the final resting place of the original live Smokey Bear fire prevention icon.

Park manager, Mary Lavin, greeted me when I entered the museum and I told her I wanted information about Smokey Bear. She briefed me on the fundamentals of the authentic story and then handed me brochures and website links with more than enough information. Then she directed me to the museum and the outside interpretive walkway for my self-guided tour.

Smokey Bear’s legacy has been around for about 80 years. During World War II, he was just an advertisement for fire prevention. In 1944, the USDA and the Ad Council conceived the original Cooperative Fire Prevention Program and chose a virtual bear as its official symbol. They named him “Smokey” after the New York Assistant Fire Chief, “Smokey” Joe Martin.

Meanwhile, in 1950, there was a human-caused wildfire called the Las Tablas Fire in the Capitan Mountains, within the Lincoln National Forest. A second fire started a couple of days later named the Capitan Gap Fire, which was also human-caused — both fires burned 17,000 acres. Seventy mile-per-hour winds made it impossible to battle the blaze and nineteen firefighters took shelter in a rock slide while the fire burned over them. Ray Bell, the Game Warden at the time, recalled, in his recorded interview in 2000, just months before he passed,* that Speed Simmons, fire supervisor, told the men to get into the rocks, lay face down with wet handkerchiefs over their heads and wait until the fire burned over. “he didn’t want any of them to run. If they ran, he told them, he would hit them in the back of the head with a shovel.”

Afterwards, firefighters found a bear cub clinging to a tree. Its paws and backside were badly burned. The men fed him candy and canned milk, which then made him sick. Rancher, Ross Flatley, took the bear home and by the time Ray Bell got to the bear cub, they weren’t sure he would live. So Bell flew the cub to Santa Fe where Dr. Edwin Smith, veterinarian, cared for the bear. When Ray and his five-year-old daughter, Judy, went back to get the cub, the vet said the burns were healing but he couldn’t get him to eat, so at the insistence of Judy, they took the bear home. Bell’s wife, Ruth, sent Ray to the store to buy Pablum, honey and milk and set an alarm to feed every two hours.

It was Ray Bell who had the foresight of the importance of having a living bear icon. He approached the Forest Service’s head honchos in Santa Fe, but they wanted nothing to do with the bear. However, word got out and Washington D.C., realizing the value of a living icon, contacted them and asked if they could have the bear. So they flew him to D.C. on a Piper Jet, and he lived there for 25 years. Millions of people from all over the world came to see him. When he died in 1976, they flew him back to New Mexico and buried him in the Smokey Bear Historical Park — where I was able to stand by his grave.

The real Smokey Bear is gone, but his memory lives on through his incredibly important message to places across the world that are high risk for wildfires. It’s really very simple, but a message that is sometimes ignored at the price of great tragedy — only you can prevent wildfires.

The Museum and Visitor Center at the Smokey Bear Historical Park has exhibits on the true story of Smokey Bear, fire ecology, watershed health and restoration, wildland/urban interface, and forest conservation. There are three acres of botanical forests, beautiful butterfly and Xeriscape gardens, an interpretive walkway through life zones found throughout the state, and the New Wildland Firefighter Memorial.

*The living symbol of Smokey Bear would not have been possible without the dedication, nurturing and foresight of Ray Bell and his family. Ray served as New Mexico’s Game Warden from 1940 to 1957 and he was the first New Mexico Sate Forester from 1958 to 1971. The Interview took place on January 13, 2000. Ray Bell passed away on December 21, 2000, at 89.

The infamous village of Lincoln is just down the road from Capitan. By the time I reached it, it was dusk, and I just glanced at the many historical buildings as I passed through. It’s here that I learned I was driving the “Billy the Kid Trail,” and that State Highway 380 is the Village’s only street. Lincoln was the center of the Lincoln County War (1876-1879), and its historical ties to Billy the Kid are its main claim to fame today. It was a place where President Rutherford B. Hayes called its main street “the most dangerous street in America.” In this quiet one-street community, visitors can walk in the footsteps of Sheriff Pat Garrett, Billy the Kid, and other infamous characters involved in the Lincoln County War. The village holds an annual festival called Old Lincoln Days in August featuring an open-air enactment of The Last Escape of Billy the Kid. I will definitely be back.

I drove State Highway 380 until I reached State Highway 84 and eventually I-20 east. Driving on, I passed Dallas. I had heard it was a pretty busy city to get through and wanted to get it over with while everyone was sleeping. At 4:30 in the morning, I finally pulled over and slept. The next day I drove I-20 through the second half of Texas, through Louisiana, crossed the Mississippi River to Vicksburg (where one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War took Place), crossed the state of Mississippi, and landed in Alabama. My resting point was in Leeds, Alabama, at a friendly and comfortable Hampton Inn. I was only six hours from my destination. However, my biggest challenge was about two hours away — driving through Atlanta. It is the epitome of perpetual rush-hour traffic.

I stayed with my sister Tam and her husband Bill in Concord. Tam is the minister of Rocky Ridge, one of the older churches in Concord. In fact, one member of the congregation, Kitty, has been attending since World War II, when she was ten-years-old. Kitty attended High Point College in North Carolina, on a scholarship. Back then, dorms were separated by gender. “The boys could come over to the girls’ dorm,” she told me, “but the girls could not go over to the boys’ dorm!” Kitty will turn 93 next month.

I tagged along with Tam and got a lesson in humanity. We sang Christmas Carols to congregation members, went to the store to buy canned goods and baked goods and then filled the pantry box that sits on the church property, and played lots of cards. Tam spends so many of her days in hospitals with her church members or taking some of them grocery shopping. She has so much responsibility and yet I never hear her complain. Her “Green Shoe” ministry feeds so many people. Once we filled the pantry box with bread and canned goods and other goodies, the next time we came to check on it, it was empty, so she filled it again. She keeps a close eye on it. She refuses to let anyone go hungry.

I stayed long enough to watch Tam give sermons on two different Sundays. It amazes me how confident and persuasive she is. I can’t help remembering my little sister growing up and how good she was. We always called her “goody-two-shoes.” She has found her calling, and I held back tears of pride as I sat and listened to her.

The people that I met in Concord were pretty amazing. Keith Dorton and his wife Patsy invited us to their annual Christmas party. Because I rarely go to car races, I did not know who he was. However, I found out that Keith Dorton is a legend when it comes to building race car engines — and that is huge in Concord, North Carolina, home to the Charlotte International Speedway.

He has been working on engines since he was 12-years-old when he restored an early vintage flathead Ford. He raced for a while, but decided to build engines instead and created a business in1965 called Automotive Specialist, Inc. (ASI) An article I found written in 2015, states that ASI received international recognition for having established nineteen SCAT-sanctioned World Land Speed Records at Bonneville Salt Flats events and for winning numerous races in various circle track venues, including a NASCAR Daytona 500. Dorton and his staff are credited with developing and building engines for a number of high-profile race car drivers, including the legendary Dale Earnhart and Dale’s father, Ralph, and Dale’s son, Dale Jr.” (Engine Builder Magazine; 2015). Today, at 80 years old, Dorton is still one of the most respected engine builders and is still in the business! Dorton’s staff includes his son Jeff, daughter Camille and wife Patsy.

That night at the party we enjoyed some of the best pulled pork, brisket and good ole southern Brunswick stew. All made by the Dorton family. Patsy even gave me a jar of stew to take home with me.

Not only did we party with the Dortons, but we also went to hear some great Blue Grass Music by the Gibson Brothers with them, complete with incredible banjo and mandolin solos. Blue Grass music is exactly what you should listen to when you visit North Carolina. It was an amazing concert. Something I found endearing was that the bass player had just had heart surgery, at the same time I did, and they wrote a song for him.

My next destination was the east coast. My brother Jeff and his wife Denise set me up in a condo in North Myrtle Beach — just 30 minutes from Shallotte, NC, where my sister Li lives. It gave all of us girls a chance to spend Christmas together for the first time in years. I was supposed to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at Li and Franco’s house, but they got sick early on and I was worried they might still be contagious. So on Christmas Day, I went and bought dinners from the Carolina Roadhouse in Myrtle Beach and we sat in a cabana, named “Cherry Grove,” on the beach overlooking the ocean.

I am always amazed at the stamina of my baby sister, Li. She has so many animals that she has never come to visit me in Arizona. Loving animals is a good thing, though. Li loves them so much that she never has a moment to herself. She spends hours feeding them and her phone spends a lot of time in her back pocket while she’s talking to me during our daily conversations. I can hear the brushes cleaning the water tank for her horse and I listen while she tells her many, many cats how much she loves them after cleaning their litter boxes. She has a Catahoola cattle dog named Roy and a tiny mixed terrier called Cricket. Recently, they adopted a severely abused hunting dog named Lucy. When she hears anything close to the sound of a gunshot, she screams and runs for cover. Franco just bought her first bed, and she is absolutely in love with it. She is such a sweet girl!

Li makes us dizzy when she joins our weekly sibling’s and cousin’s zoom call. We are either standing on our heads, staring at a lamp or the ceiling fan because she can’t keep still. Her days are filled with chores and they don’t end until she sits on the couch to watch TV, where she falls asleep, wakes up at three in the morning and finally goes to bed. Only to wake up and start all over again — because of her love for those animals.

I was fortunate to take this trip, and I saw many, many signs of heart. It is everywhere. In the gentle guidance of a mother with her children, in helping to feed people, finding your passion and taking it to the point others benefit by it and taking care of animals, but I also discovered how wonderful it is to be with the people you love.

During my trip, we lost our good friend Norris Dodd. He was such a great human being and wildlife biologist, and we will sorely miss him. We also lost our good Friend Teri Pederson, who had just hiked with me on Mount Baldy. She always amazed me with her endurance. Our friend Bob Derosier, former owner of the Skiers Edge, had two major heart surgeries, but fortunately got to come home after spending 18 days in the hospital. We would like to say to the Dodd’s and the Pederson’s we are so sorry for your loss and we will miss them. To Bob Derosier, we are certainly cheering you on — stay healthy and heal quickly!

Effects of a Mild Winter on Waterfowl

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 19:43:18 GMT

Maybe it's not all good...

By Dan Groebner, AZGFD

The most common topic of discussion in the White Mountains these days has to be the extreme lack of any winter moisture, in any form. There is still plenty of time to get buried under some snow, and the closer to the fire season that we get the precipitation, the better.

But the current drought could have some more immediate effects on wildlife in the area. It’s true that the lack of snow cover makes it easier for grazers and seed eaters to find food without scratching through a foot of snow. Warmer temperatures require less energy for animals to maintain their metabolism. And you may have noticed less activity at your bird feeders during our extremely mild winter.

However, with no precipitation, especially the snow pack, our local ponds, tanks, lakes, and reservoirs shrink in size, sometimes to small pools and puddles. Although there is still plenty of water to drink, concentrating this many waterfowl in smaller and smaller areas is just asking for otherwise uncommon or dormant diseases to pop up and create outbreaks. This is one reason folks are getting more concerned about a viral disease called avian influenza, or more commonly, the bird flu.

Bird flu, also known as highly pathogenic avian influenza (HPAI), with the most current version also called H5N1, has a misleading name since it can infect mammals, too. Although it affects mostly birds, carnivores like foxes, skunks, raccoons, and bobcats have tested positive in the US. And unfortunately, this is just one of the many maladies that humans can catch from our pets, livestock, poultry, and wildlife.

The cause of the problem is a virus, which is not really alive like bacteria or parasites, so it needs a host to reproduce in and pass on more infective viral particles to nearby critters. Fortunately, these viruses are more sensitive than the small fragment of protein called a prion that spreads chronic wasting disease in deer and elk (but not in Arizona yet!).

No vaccination for bird flu is currently available, and it’s especially not practical for wildlife. The seasonal flu vaccine, even the most recently developed ones, does not protect against the bird flu. However, medicines designed to deal with the typical flu symptoms do work on bird flu and should be started as soon as symptoms appear. If a vaccine is eventually needed, there are already similar ones that can be adapted.

Although it appears that the bird flu can be transmitted to humans from animals, fewer than 100 people in the US have been confirmed to have contracted bird flu, according to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC). In Arizona, the two probable cases of the bird flu made full recoveries.

People with an increased risk of catching the flu are those that work on poultry farms, backyard bird flock owners, animal care workers such as veterinarians and their staff, as well as public wildlife and health care workers responding to sick animal reports. So if you just like to be outdoors or hike along lakeshores, there is little chance of contracting this disease.

It’s important to note that there has been no human to human transmission in the US yet. The Centers for Disease Control is watching for that but hasn’t seen any dangerous progression. Risk to the public’s health is currently low, but this could change. Any virus can mutate and become more or less dangerous, so time will only tell. The CDC is actively deciphering the DNA sequences of human cases to see if a different strain has evolved, which may have occurred in the single fatal human case.

Since the flu can infect mammals, it has been found in concentrated dairy herds across the US. Raw milk has been shown to carry the virus, so the CDC recommends drinking only pasteurized milk since it kills bacteria and deactivates any virus in the milk. It is not known for sure if people can get bird flu from raw milk that has not been pasteurized, but this is one way to play it safe.

We are seeing the obvious effects of bird flu on the price of eggs, since many chicken flocks have been infected and needed to be culled, reducing the total number of laying hens. Turkey prices could also be affected since they are raised in large concentrated conditions like chickens.

With the congregation of wild waterfowl in smaller pools of water, they are also becoming vulnerable to this disease and are more likely to pass it on to other waterfowl. Fortunately, most wildlife is territorial and spreads themselves out when breeding and raising youngsters - if there is enough wetland habitat available. Exceptions are colonial nesting birds like cormorants, great blue herons, and black crowned night herons.

So, should we stop feeding birds until the outbreak goes away? Advice from the Fish and Wildlife Service states it is OK to continue feeding if you keep all your feeders clean and disinfected. Most feeder problems occur in the warmer months when bacteria can reproduce in a more moist and warm environment. But viruses can’t grow in feeders like that. Songbirds using your feeders are not likely to contract the disease due to their primarily solitary behaviors, and very few songbirds have tested positive for bird flu. Just clean the feeders regularly.

Wild birds that get infected most commonly include geese, ducks, eagles, redtail hawks, but the flu has also been confirmed in snowy owls, grackles, and a great horned owl. No birds have been confirmed to be infected in Navajo and Apache Counties yet, but it is nearby in Coconino County for sure. And an Abert’s squirrel tested positive for the virus in Navajo County.

The current statistics from the US Department of Agriculture show that 25% of samples submitted for testing come back positive, which includes about 12,000 cases in wild birds, almost 150,000,000 domestic poultry affected and nearly 1,000 dairy herds being monitored.

So how can we avoid getting sick from bird flu? If you have a backyard bird flock, the advice calls for constant monitoring of your birds and testing any sick individuals. Isolating your flock as much as possible from wild birds, especially waterfowl, is a must. The CDC also advises protecting yourself by always washing hands and never eating, smoking, vaping or drinking when tending to your flocks.

If you are a waterfowl hunter, rest assured that a well-cooked duck or goose (>165 degrees F internal temperature) will kill all viruses, so the game meat is certainly safe to eat. You do need to take precautions when cleaning the duck so as not to get infected through the mouth, nose or eyes.

The CDC is not sure of the transmission route yet, so it’s best to clean ducks and geese with latex gloves in a well-ventilated area and avoid any exposures to open wounds. Wash your hands and all equipment thoroughly after cleaning. Dispose of all the remains of the goose or duck in double bags and place in the garbage where wild animals or dogs can not get them.

Don’t be confused by some recent TV commercials and feed your dog any raw meat from harvested waterfowl. Waterfowl hunters with backyard poultry flocks should be extra cautious by keeping harvested wild game, hunting equipment and camo clothes separated from the domestic flocks.

Anybody observing erratic or abnormal behavior by any wildlife should call the Arizona Game and Fish Department hotline at 623-236-7201. Local law enforcement, as well as the County Health Departments, may also respond. The faster any sick animals can be removed and tested, the less likely they are to spread the disease to others.

With constant monitoring and management of infected poultry flocks and dairy herds, bird flu will hopefully just be a cause for a temporary bump in egg prices and not affect any wildlife at a population level.

Dogs, Dogs, and More Dogs!

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 19:39:33 GMT

For the love of dogs....

By Anne Groebner

My love for dogs started when I was about four-years-old. My Dad brought home a black, long-haired and feisty cocker spaniel puppy, who we originally and creatively called “Blackie.” I greeted them at the door, but when I saw the dog, I was terrified and ran upstairs to the safety of my bed. Little did I know, in my hurry, that Blackie was right at my heels and reached the bed at the same time I did and showered me with kisses. It was the beginning of our great relationship. He and I had an understanding, When I was forced to sit at the table until I ate foods I detested, Blackie would sit under my chair and help me out when my mom left the room — It was a win/win for both of us.

We had several dogs growing up. There was Sandy, a beautiful, blonde collie mix, who I still bear the scar on my hand from helping her eat one day. She was an escape artist who hated the mail man. We would have to tie her up when he was coming so we could get our mail. It worked for a while until she ripped the fence out of the ground and we watched the mailman, followed by Sandy and the chain, dragging the fence and my mom all running down the street. Eventually, some people came to look at her who lived on a farm and, just like that, she was gone.

Our next dogs were KC (named after my parents; Ken and Carol) and snoopy, who was actually a girl, but we liked the name. They were both chihuahuas with totally different personalities. KC had longer legs and a slim body and could outrun us when she got out. Snoopy had short legs and brains. When we chased her, she would stop suddenly and we would fly past her and she would turn and run the other way. She was also the grumpy one. If she was sleeping on your lap, you didn’t move or you would witness her wrath.

When my mom remarried, we had a dog named Ace — I could write books about Ace — he was a character! We also ended up with 13 dogs, including a deaf Dalmatian named Dale (another creative name) and “The Dude,” (who’s mother was a Cairn terrier and his father was a traveling man), 12 cats, a bird, two gerbils and a horse, all in our backyard. Fortunately, we lived outside the city limits. On top of that, our house was the hangout for all the kids in the neighborhood. My step-father, Ram, was a retired Navy Captain with some pretty strict rules, but never did he reject turning our house into party central — to the detriment of some of our neighbors who tried to kick us out. With five kids and all the animals, my mother’s boss looked forward to hearing the excuses she had for being late. Each one was a story in itself.

One day, Ram brought home a book by James Thurber, and once I started reading, I couldn’t put it down. Thurber was a writer, cartoonist and a columnist/journalist for the New Yorker. His short stories about his dogs were popular around the 1940s. He had over 50 dogs in his lifetime! In 1969, they created a television show based on his cartoons, called “My World and Welcome to It.” I never missed it! In 2013, they produced a movie based on one of Thurber’s short stories called “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,” starring Ben Stiller. I think I have watched it 20 times.

Recently, during my recovery, after another short stint in the hospital, I picked up my old copy of “Thurber’s Dogs (1955),” that I found in a vintage bookstore. I still laugh at his short stories. “The Dog That Bit People” is one of my favorites. He writes Muggs is “A big, burly, choleric dog, who always acted as if Thurber wasn’t one of the family. There was one slight advantage in being one of the family. He didn’t bite the family as often as he bit strangers.” The dog bit everyone except Thurber’s mother, Mary (Mame). He tried once, but missed. Mame used to send a box of candy every Christmas to everyone that Muggs bit. The list eventually reached over 40 names.

Mame always stuck up for him, saying “he never bit anyone more than once,” she reiterated, “he has a quick temper but he didn’t hold a grudge.” Many people reported Muggs to the police, but Thurber’s father held a municipal office at the time and was on good terms with them. The officers still felt it was their duty to stop by and inquire about the dog, but Mame would tell them it hadn’t been Mugg’s fault, but the fault of the people who were bitten. “When he starts for them, they scream,” she explained, “and that excites him.”

The family took turns feeding Muggs to stay on his good side. However, if you reached toward the floor, Muggs would bite you, so they would feed Muggs on the table and provided a bench for him to stand on.

Towards the end of his life, Muggs liked to stay outside, and no-one would come close to the house. So they had to haul their garbage down to the corner, take laundry out and bring it back in and meet the iceman a block down the street. It was hard to get him back in the house. The one thing, however, Muggs was afraid of was thunder. So when Mame wanted him in the house, she would hold a long narrow piece of sheet iron with a wooden handle on one end and shake it vigorously to make it sound like thunder. Muggs would rush into the house and hide under a bed.

When Muggs died, they buried him and, on a board staked over his grave, they wrote in Latin, “Cave Canem” which translates to “Beware of the Dog.”

Thurber passed away in 1961. He holds a place in history as one of the best cartoonists, writers and humorists of his time. There are many, many more books out there filled with his funny stories. One place I have found is Thriftbooks, an online bookstore that carries a wide selection of vintage books. triftbooks.com.

Here’s to a life full of wet kisses and snuggles from your favorite fur-lips. May you find comfort in their unconditional love…Remember, get your pets spayed or neutered, keep their vaccines up to date and please Adopt, don’t shop. There are so many animals up for adoption and so little space. Open your heart to a best friend. The rewards are so amazing.

Finding Heart

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 19:35:31 GMT

How a Spirit Fairy makes Children (and Dogs) Happy

By Anne Groebner

Jamie Starkey-Die loves spiders. I’m not sure I have ever met anyone that loved those small, creepy, eight-legged creatures. It’s one of my phobias for sure. But Jamie would beg to differ. I noticed her post on Facebook once when she was pleading the case of a wolf spider. It makes sense, though, Jamie’s heart is in the right place. She spends her days caring about the community and the dogs, cats, people — and spiders, that live here.

Not only did the spider thing catch my attention, but if you ever check out her Facebook page, you wonder how many costumes she has hanging in her closet. As it turns out, she is a Spirit Fairy at the Blue Ridge Elementary School and she wears a vast variety of costumes. What does a Spirit Fairy do? They make kids happy! And that is exactly what Jaimie’s goal is. To make children happy and to provide them a safe place to land, when needed.

The night I called her to do this interview, she was cleaning out her freezer so she could fit the elk she harvested from this hunting season, inside it. She found a ton of frozen blueberries she bought last summer and, on a whim, decided to make blueberry jam. I caught her as she was boiling jars, but she stopped to talk to me about her amazing life of making a difference in the lives of so many people — most of them being kids and dogs.

Jamie is a self-contained teacher for special ed, ages kindergarten through sixth grade. Her students need full support in the classroom. They stay in her classroom most of the time, but occasionally are included in general education. Some have downs syndrome, are in wheelchairs or have feeding tubes. Some are non-verbal autism kids who may have abilities but are unable to communicate emotionally or socially.

Her career started about 14 years ago, when she was an aide for the pre-school, where her youngest daughter was enrolled. They encouraged her to get her teaching certification. She wasn’t an educator in the beginning, but she went back and got her General ED in Special Education and then got a masters in autism.

She is also part of the Literacy Program for Blue Ridge Elementary School (see article page 24) and is on the Sunshine Committee. The Sunshine Committee brings joy and happiness to the school. Not just for kids, but for teachers as well. Every quarter, Jamie becomes a “Crockpot Queen” and coordinates a “get together” for the teachers.

And, she’s a Spirit Fairy. She does this with the second grade teacher, Rachel Cotellesse, who she says is a pillar for the school. Together they dress in costume, especially at Christmas, when they never wear the same costume twice. It’s their way of ensuring positive reinforcement within the school building and making things happy for the kids. This week is “Kindness Week,” which is the week of Valentine’s Day; Monday is pajama day, Tuesday is Neon Day (where kids show their sparkle, she says), Wednesday is Sports Day and Thursday (Valentine’s Day), is Kindness Day — she will be wearing a costume, but she wouldn’t tell me what she would be wearing. “It’s always a surprise, she says, “I can’t tell you.”

Jamie has been a volunteer at the Humane Society for over 15 years. I published her picture in this magazine earlier, when I saw she had adopted a senior dog, named Kota, who had been at the shelter for 907 days. She would have adopted him sooner, but she had taken home another dog that had fused vertebrae from his hip to his tail and couldn’t risk bringing home an active dog like Kota. She did, however, walk him almost every day.

Jamie volunteers for Critter Camp — a camp for kids held at the Humane Society every summer. I could tell that this was something very important to her. It’s held in June and is three one-week sessions: 6-9 yr, 10-12 (will take a little older), and Graduate Camp. Graduates are past campers that come and work at the shelter to see the behind the scenes and also at the DOGhouse for a day to see where the shelter’s daily expense money comes from.

The Camp’s first 2 sessions are packed full of learning activities provided by community members. They invite Navajo County Search and Rescue (NCSAR), therapy dogs, agility dogs, tricks and treats, Animal Control (last year Navajo County and Show Low came), and Wild Wednesday where exotic pets come to show kids about why they don’t make the best pets. Campers also learn about the importance of spay/neuter/microchip and watch a surgery if they want to. NCSAR does training, having their dogs find the Campers that hide, and Animal Control “traps” the Campers and lets them mess with their gear. They keep it as a surprise, so it’s more exciting.

Other activities include walking dogs properly, socializing puppies and kittens, and cats, ground clean-up, aka poop patrol officers, and their favorite, reading to the animals! “It doesn’t matter if you are a good readers because nobody has taught the animals how to read,” Jamie tells them, “so just do your best.” And, if the story is too hard, use the pictures to create a new story. It really helps the timid readers feel better about reading out loud.

They also take them crawdadding if there’s water at the creek. There are prizes for the first, biggest, and most. Sometimes, there is a special prize for someone who’s creeped out but will hold one for a pic, lol.

It’s a fun camp!

Imagine what the world would be like if we had

more Jamies.

Literacy Matters

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 19:30:10 GMT

Celebrating the magic of reading...

By Jen Rinaldi

It was not quite 5:00 p.m. and already there was a line of students waiting to be let into the school building. The excitement shone on their faces as their parents tried to keep their charges close.

If you love Harry Potter, then Blue Ridge Elementary School’s Literacy Night was the place to be. Their literacy night took place on Thursday, January 23, from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m.

With Literacy so crucial to a child’s future, programs and America are falling behind. We need to applaud when faculty and community join together for a learning event. This event, like many I write about, is essential to our community’s wellbeing. According to stats on the Literacy Projects website, “currently forty-five million Americans are functionally illiterate and cannot read above a fifth-grade level.” Our community and our schools are there to help change that statistic.

A child’s cognitive processes develop rapidly in the first few years of life. By age three, eighty-five percent of a child’s brain has developed. With those facts in mind, nights like this are precious to enhance a child’s love of reading and ability to learn.

Blue Ridge Elementary was decorated with signs directing participants to all the different activities set up along the hallways. Our first stop was the library, which had been transformed into Hogwarts.

A Fantastical Fairy (Jamie Dye) was dressed to the nines! She had her magic wand, a crown, and a glowing skirt. She was the Emcee, leading anxious students to the first stop on their evening literary journey.

A wonderland of lights and creepy creatures crept along the shelves. Spiders and ravens adorned the tables, and a pointy hat sat on a chair in front of a picture of the famous school. Harry Potter’s tower and window made of cardboard were adorned with lights beckoning children to enter for a selfie. (A little bit of ‘stay time’) at work.

At the Hogwarts library, children were given a “Magic Card” with symbols they would need to find by visiting each of the different locations along their route around the school.

In attendance was PTSO (The parent-teacher fundraising group) They were selling swag with the profits going directly to the staff at Blue Ridge Elementary School.

“The more you read,

the more things you know.

The more that you learn,

the more places you’ll go.”

— Dr. Suess

Arizona Game and Fish had a table where they gave away swag and flyers about fire safety. The Nexus Coalition for Drug Prevention and First Things First shared a table to inform parents about the many services offered to aid with mental health and drug abuse concerns and Pinetop-Lakeside Library was on hand to promote their reading program “1000 Books before Kindergarten.”

In other hallways, there were local authors, Betsy Love and Kimberley Waters, with children and young adult books for purchase.

A big hit with the kids was the therapy dogs from Gail and Wendy who live in Vernon. Their therapy dogs sat patiently while the kids read to them. Their dogs licked faces all night, greeting all who ventured nearby.

The music room had an ongoing music circle, producing a wonderful rhythm that crept into the hallways, inviting others to join.

Every child left with free books of their choice. The books were provided by Basha High School AcDec, along with private donations. Many kids left with as many as five books.

According to recent studies, the number of books in a child’s home correlates significantly with higher reading scores. It makes me glad to see these young ones with books in hand.

Sprinkled throughout the hallways among invited community organizations, were tables with games set up by teachers from the school. One of the activities was called “Magical Yet,” asking students to draw what magic would be coming their way. Old favorites such as Pin the Tail on the Donkey were also offered with a new twist. Each player had to pin the correct story in the right place. Sylvester and the magic pebble was a favorite among children who crowded around the table to receive their own magic stone.

Navajo County Readiness was there to demonstrate Car seat safety tips and to present their teen reach program. Another guest was Child Find, which is a component of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA ’04), that requires Public Education Agencies (PEA) to locate, identify, and evaluate all children with disabilities, aged birth through 21, located within their boundaries of responsibility who need early intervention or special education services. Tables like these were of great help to parents who might not know how to access the resources offered.

It was a magical night for all of us! All of those who worked so hard to make the night special should be commended.

Riding the White Mountain Trail System

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 19:26:26 GMT

The Country Club Trail

Photos and article

by Allanna Jackson

The last week of January, it finally snowed in the White Mountains, just barely enough to settle the dust. February 1st was over 50 degrees and sunny, with a light breeze. A perfect day to trailer the horses somewhere for an outing. It has been several years since I’ve ridden a horse on the Country Club trail, though I’ve hiked it many times.

Velvet watched as I hitched up the horse trailer. Cinnamon stood at the back of her corral, looking at the meadow behind us, pointedly ignoring my preparations. When I called Cinnamon, she just stood and looked at me until I told her, “I’m planning a shorter ride than yesterday.” Then she came to get her cookie.

Velvet was already standing in the corner of her corral as close to us as she could get from inside her fence while I groomed Cinnamon. This is Velvet’s way of saying she wants to go with us. I got Velvet’s halter and went to her gate. She looked at me and then at Cinnamon. I asked Velvet, “Do you want to go along or stay home?” Velvet stood in the corner facing away from me with her ears turned back for a minute or so, thinking about this. Then she circled around and came to me. I haltered her, gave her a treat, and led her out to groom her.

When I led both horses toward the trailer, Velvet circled in front of us and turned toward her corral. I put her back inside. When I loaded Cinnamon in the trailer, Velvet dashed up and down her fence, whinnying loudly. I asked her, “Do you want to go, or not?” She promptly greeted me at the gate. I haltered Velvet and led her to the trailer where she eagerly climbed in.

There were three vehicles at the Country Club trailhead parking lot, which doesn’t have enough space for a horse trailer anyway, so I went down FR 185 to the wide spot beside the cattle loading chute. There were two vehicles there, too. After getting out of the trailer, the horses watched a person walking toward us through the Forest and the two dogs that came trotting over to investigate. The dogs were quiet and kept their distance. When their person got close enough to his car to use his remote, he opened the rear hatch and the dogs immediately jumped into their car. The man and I exchanged brief greetings just before he drove away.

I saddled Cinnamon, untied Velvet, then mounted Cinnamon. We set off up the Chipmunk Connector to marker CM-0 and its connection with the Country Club Trail at marker C-7. Cinnamon eyed the new rollover gate for bicycles. I told her, “That’s not safe for horses.” I reined her to the horse gate, which she helped me open. Velvet followed Cinnamon through the gate, almost tripping on the crossbar. We closed the gate and continued up the trail. I got one photo of the meadow when my camera announced the battery was empty and turned itself off. Although the meadow is often marshy, its grass was dried out and brown. There was some water in the stock tank.

At C-6, I discovered we were going counterclockwise around the trail down the numbers toward the trailhead. Cinnamon helped me with the next gate, and Velvet followed her through nicely.

Cinnamon huffed and puffed her way up the hill to the junction with the Mullen mountain overlook trail near C-5. We stayed on the main trail. The horses picked their way carefully through the rocks on the descent toward C-4.

Two markers after C-4 have been slightly melted and curled by heat from a prescribed fire. The third marker had an orange paint splotch on one corner where the tree marking paint had splashed.

Near C-3, Cinnamon stopped to snack on some grass, but I hadn’t told her she could, so I nudged her into motion again. A few strides later, we found enough grass for both horses. We paused long enough to let them get their taste of the trail.

We wended our way through the trees down to the gate at C-2, which is in the same fence line as the gate near C-6. Cinnamon again helped me open the gate, and Velvet followed us through. I gave them the last of their horse cookies but dropped Velvet’s, so I had to dismount to get it for her. I dropped her lead rope while mounting, but she stayed close to us so I could reach her halter and rope.

We strolled down to the trailhead, where there were still three vehicles parked, crossed FR185 and continued down the numbers to C-14. Between markers C-12 and C-9, the trail meanders through patches of young Ponderosa pines and around a couple of small man-made clearings in the Forest. We crossed FR185 again, following the trail back to C-7 and the junction with Chipmunk Connector. We backtracked along the Chipmunk Connector to where I’d parked. There was another vehicle parked on the other side of the road.

We had a déjà vu moment as a man and one dog emerged from the forest where we’d seen the man with two dogs earlier. They got into their vehicle and departed while I unsaddled Cinnamon. The horses watched a lady running up the road just before I loaded them into the trailer. There were still three vehicles parked at the trailhead as we drove out, yet we had the trail to ourselves for the entire ride.

As I drove into my yard, two neighbor boys came running up. After I’d stopped the truck, one of them asked, “Do you have a horse in there? I have two horses in there.”

I told the boys to stand back out of the way in case the horses backed out fast. They obeyed and watched as Velvet backed out nicely. One of them ran a lap around the inside of Cinnamon’s corral as I led Velvet to her own corral. When I opened the door for Cinnamon, she moved over just far enough to eat Velvet’s left-over hay before backing out of the trailer.

As soon as I put Cinnamon in her corral, the boys started jumping in and out of the trailer. They pretended to lock each other inside. When inside the trailer they yelled just to hear the echo. The horses merely watched this commotion while eating supper. Several minutes later, the boys ran off as fast as they’d appeared. Who knew a horse trailer could be so entertaining?

The horses and I had a lovely outing on an unseasonably warm, dry day.

There’s something about a single-speed

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 19:17:43 GMT

Something about the freedom, the lightness, the ease of pedaling and the simplicity of its design...

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

There’s something about a single-speed. Something about the freedom, the lightness, the ease of pedaling and the simplicity of its design. Mountain biking itself provides a feeling of freedom and flight for the rider, but single-speeds are the “Unladen Swallow” to mountain biking’s powerful Eagle and road biking’s Peregrine Falcon.

Single speed riders are passionate about their bikes and love to talk weight, gear ratios and set-up tech. It seems counterintuitive that riding a single-speed would be simpler and often less effort than riding a bike with the full set of gears, but somehow it is. Somehow it makes you feel more in tune with the trail and more aware of the feeling of power transfer from your body to the bike, almost like the comparison between riding a horse bareback and using a saddle.

When I ride my single-speed, I often tell other riders that it’s my lazy bike because to me it’s a break from the craziness of the world around me today and all the decisions I have to make each day as a teacher. At the end of the week, even thinking about getting my shoes on the correct feet feels like a task I don’t want to tackle, so the single-speed solves all of that. I don’t have to think about shifting on a hill going up or down or shifting prior to terrain changes.

On a single-speed you need to watch the terrain and plan ahead for the power surge needed to climb that hill, but that forward focus is part of what makes me appreciate a single-speed. As you get to that hill, you build up momentum and speed, and, as you begin to slow, you increase the power by standing up and pedaling using body weight rather than relying solely on leg strength. With a single-speed, there isn’t the safety net of one more gear to shift to, so you make it or not: it’s that simple. On a single-speed, you just have one gear, and that gear is in the spectrum of correctness about 80% of the time. 10% of the time you are over-geared and you struggle to climb a steep hill and 10% of the time you are reaching for the shift lever that’s not there and are under-geared when you are trying to speed downhill and end up spinning out at 15 or 16 miles an hour. 80% of near perfection is a number I can live with!

When I decided I wanted to try a single-speed after seeing others enjoy theirs, I spent a few weeks riding my geared bike locked into different gears for the entire ride. Sometimes it was easy to climb hills, but also frustratingly easy to spin out on the descent. Sometimes it was an amazing ride on the flats and downhills but impossible to climb. It took a while, but I finally came up with a gear that seemed to be in the Goldilocks zone: not too easy on the flats, but also not too hard on the climbs. The gear I settled on was 8th gear on my 12-speed cassette, riding my Stache.

This is where I started my single-speed journey, with my chainring being 32 and the cog at 19, a ratio of 1.68, meaning that for every full pedal stroke, the rear wheel turns 1.68 times, a reasonably easy gearing to learn with. To give perspective, many mountain bikes have a 32 tooth chain ring and a cassette of gears ranging from 10 to 52 teeth. The lowest gear ratio would be 32/52 or .615 while the highest ratio would end up at 32/10 or 3.2. A single-speed ratio near the center of that range would be at 1.9, a nice start for a single-speed.

There are charts online to calculate the gear ratios, but most sites suggest starting out at a ratio close to two, meaning that the rear wheel will make two full revolutions for every one revolution of the chainring. After taking the cassette off, the weight difference in the rear end of the bike was quickly discernable and, for whatever reason, identical gear ratios on my geared bike and single-speed immediately felt vastly different.

The direct connection between cog and chainring transfers power better than a chain traveling through derailleur jockey wheels and gives a slight power-boost advantage. As I gained experience, we have experimented with different combinations of cog and chainring to end up with the best ratio for the expected purpose. The first long distance race I did on my single-speed was a little frustrating because although I could easily climb the uphill portion of the course and passed others on geared bikes regularly, when we got to the downhill portion, I spun out at about 14 miles an hour and got passed by everyone I had just passed on the uphill. Changing the ratio to a slightly higher one made it harder to climb, but allowed me to run downhill at about 16 mph. It’s easy to adjust the ratios to match the trail you are going to ride, or be willing to work a little harder uphill in trade for speed downhill.

One thing that most single-speeders agree on is that the bike should be light, the lighter the better. Pretty much any hardtail mountain bike frame will work for a single-speed set-up, but some consideration has to be made for frame material. I researched my current carbon bike frame and found about a 50/50 dichotomy of opinions. Half said it would work perfectly and half said the carbon would flex too much and cause the chain to slip. I rolled the dice and for my weight and power; the carbon works flawlessly, but for larger and stronger riders, it can cause issues. Titanium is strong, light and has less flex, making it more ideal for larger stronger riders and both my husband and son love their titanium single-speeds. Aluminum and steel are heavier, but provide little flex, so work well for a good range of riders. Full suspension bikes do not work for single-speeding because the frame flexes too much to get an efficient power transfer as you pedal, and, as the frame flexes, the chain cannot maintain appropriate tension and will slip and pop across the gear teeth.

Other than a frame, you will need a rear cog to replace your cassette and derailleur. It is important to keep the chain in a straight line from the chainring to cog and there are specialized spacers to make this simple as well as chain tensioners you can add to keep your chain tight as the bike flexes. A dropper is a personal choice, and although it adds weight, it also adds control on technical trails. Because there is no derailleur and cassette, you no longer need shift levers, so the cockpit is clean and uncluttered, having only brake levers and possibly a dropper lever.

After getting your bike set up, there is a learning curve in understanding how to approach a trail differently on a single-speed. Single-speeders find they brake less, and learn to keep speed through corners, and momentum over trail features. Loss of momentum is difficult to overcome on a single-speed and is something you learn to avoid. You will need to learn to sprint before a climb and be willing to either climb ahead of slower, geared climbers, or wait a bit to let others get ahead before tackling a climb. If you attempt to climb at the same speed as geared bikers are climbing, you will quickly bog down and cannot complete the climb at the slower pace of someone using 1st or 2nd gear.

Another thing you will learn is perfecting ratchet pedaling. This involves pedaling back to repeatedly place the pedal in the power position of about 45º to get over more difficult features. I have a bad right knee and often use power ratcheting on my left side when there is a technical feature to get over in order to relieve pressure on the right knee. Surprisingly, riding a single-speed can be much easier on your knees than a geared bike because you are using full leg power, body weight and arm/core strength to turn the pedals rather than leg power alone pressing on your knee joints. The first time you go out on a single-speed, you will realize the full body work-out it provides! You’ll have sore shoulders, upper arms and upper back from pulling up and back to support your body weight as it pushes the pedals one at a time, and pain in your thighs from using a slightly different set of pedaling muscles.

I originally thought I was building a single-speed to do slow rides with the dogs close to home, but quickly found out that it is my favorite bike to ride on green and blue trails such as Buena Vista and McDowell. When I first started riding my new single-speed, I wondered if I had the stamina to ride in one gear very far, but after riding it over 100 miles in an endurance race, I realized it was just as easy, if not easier, to ride than a geared bike! Who would have thought? Talk to local single-speeders or your local bike shop to find out more about adding an amazing single-speed to your bike stable. Any single-speeder will be more than happy to talk indefinitely about their favorite ride.

Focus and relaxation for your brain, freedom from decision-making and a full-body workout; what more could you ask for on a Saturday morning? There’s just something special about a single-speed!

I’m not Lisa, My Name is Lina

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 19:13:35 GMT

Javelinas; Setting the record straight.

By Annemarie Eveland

I am here to set the record straight. I have been labelled negatively for too long. You ladies can appreciate that if you were called condescending nicknames, you’d feel disrespected too. For example, if someone called YOU a “pig,” wouldn’t you be insulted? See what I mean? I have been called a pig for too many years. I have tried to explain that my heritage is from the elite New World background but the stigma still stuck on me.

I’ve also been called a “javelina.” Do you know the word javelina is Spanish for “wild boar” and javelin is also a spear? There it is.

So, I want to educate people about me from my point of view. Here are some facts to define me properly. First, we are called a Collard Peccary, from the family Tayassuidae. I have a white pale striped “necklace” around my neck just over my shoulders. We are mammals and we wear sturdy shoes- hooves with three back toes which are very symmetrical, pigs have four. Also, pigs have crooked teeth — ours are perfectly straight. We also have small nicely shaped ears, not big floppy ones like those pigs. They probably use a curling iron on their tails too. Ours are understated.

Our family spread out in Central and South America (as far as Argentina) and here in the southwest. Although we females don’t like to mention our weight, I’m not too bad at 45 pounds. I hear some of us get up to 88 pounds! I try and watch my waistline but I just love eating too much.

I must confess that we females can be sexually mature starting about 10 months. Much like you, we could breed anytime of the year. We only live about 7.5 years so we must get a lot of play in right away. My little newborn “Linette” only weighs about one pound and was a little reddish color upon birth. We have one alpha male with exclusive mating rights; he is normally the largest member.

I hear some of you ladies are “night owls.” Well, you’re my kind of gals. I’m most active at night. As for food, I love to eat flowers, berries, plants, roots, grasses, seeds and, on occasion, a dead bird, rodent or lizard. But my favorite food is the tasty prickly pear cactus. I bet you can’t eat that! I just consider the cactus prickles as little toothpicks.

When was the last time you had to go to the dentist? We sharpen our own teeth; each time we chomp down and up, our canine teeth grind against each other, so we have razor sharp teeth. A warning.

We have tusks that are short and straight, good for crushing seeds and for boring into plant roots, and yes, for defending ourselves against predators. We love grubbing in the earth for roots and sometimes like lying down in the cool moist uprooted earth on hot days.

We act honorably even with predators. When threatened, we give warnings by rubbing our tusks together to make chattering noises as warning shouts. Yes, I’ll admit, sometimes -- when we’re defensive — we do injure humans. But if they would keep away from us and not send us their odiferous smells, we would be fine and keep to ourselves. If you get startled by us, just make loud sounds like hitting metal pots, scream, yell, stomp your hooves (err, I mean feet), throw a few rocks in our direction Don’t hit us but, since you have the better eyesight, just turn around and go the other way.

You would think with my poor eyesight, I would wear glasses. But God was a smart Creator as I have an excellent sense of smell. I can smell you easily from afar. Now maybe that’s why I get defensive and ready to defend myself when I feel threatened and especially if I have my baby with me. Otherwise, we tend to ignore humans.

Now some people say we “stink.” But I don’t think so. I like the pungent aroma that I give off. We tend to rub against each other’s scent glands to mark other members of our herd. I relish sniffing other herd members, as that is how we identify each other.

And because I have a keen sense of smell, I dislike the “musk” perfume you women wear. That smell is rank and comes from skunks! Wow, now that is pungent. We have a scent gland located on our rumps, or you ladies would say “derrieres.” When we meet up, we rub each other’s scent gland to smell and identify which herd they belong to and take time grooming each other. We don’t have any sweat glands like the pigs. To help distinguish our proper territories, we rub our backsides on tree barks and the ground to mark our areas. But humans don’t seem to respect our property rights and tromp right over them and invade our territory.

We tend to like hanging out near washes with dense vegetation so we have a lot of things to munch upon. If we happen to be near towns, our herd may forage what the folks discarded as garbage. You might think of us as good recyclers, instead of viewing us a nuisance.

We are social critters and live in loyal families of about 5 to 15. We mostly keep to our close-knit families. We are territorial and protect our space and family.

Everything isn’t always rosy in javelina land, though. We have some adversarial predators like coyotes, bobcats, mountain lions and hunting humans. We must constantly be on the lookout for humans with guns that kill us. They hunt us for our meat and fur. Ugh. I can’t imagine what a fur coat of my bristly fur would feel like for those thin-skinned humans.

When we get defensive, we become aggressive. You may hear our teeth clacking (to warn each other) or we may bark, growl and -- when feeling cornered — we may even charge you. You may be surprised to learn that we feel dogs are our predators and we view them as enemies. So, keep your smelly fur-kids away from us. It’s just the way God made us. Sorry, but we can’t change what’s inbred in us. If you see us in the distance, just turn and go the other way.

We wear our coats year-round. I know you women don’t wear yours in the hot summertime. But it works for us. Our fur coats are black, gray and with some brown hairs and with that fine whiteish necklace we have around our necks. You females know how to dye out those salt and pepper hairs but we just wear them as given.

Our overall demeanor is docile, naturally calm, except when we perceive a threat. For the most part, we are shy and mind our own business. We are also speedy runners. Yep, I’ve been clocked at 35 miles per hour. I bet none of you women can beat that speed!

So, now you know the truth to share. May you all be safe and serene; may we be too. And please, don’t call me a pig again!

Those 5 Little Words

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 18:38:54 GMT

Ask yourself, “What else could it mean?” and set yourself free.

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht., Unstuck Living

While a man and his four children were riding on the train, his kids were running rampant. Pushing each other. Shouting. Whining. Pulling the little one’s hair. Stepping on other people. Irritating other passengers. Misbehaving to the extreme. But the man just stared at his hands and paid them no notice.

The conductor came by and told him they were disturbing others. He was thinking, “What’s wrong with this fellow? Doesn’t he see how much havoc the kids are creating?” The man looked up, sighed, and said, “Oh yes. Their mother died an hour ago. I guess they don’t know what to do with themselves, either.” A total shift in perception.

Another story: My mom consistently said, “I never win anything. I’m not good enough.” I would encourage and support. I would cajole her to see the positive. At first, it was annoying. Over the years, I ramped up and took it personally. After all, she was my mom. Many good qualities and skills. Well educated. Community-oriented. A church-going woman. I finally thought to ask why she said that. She quietly replied, “I don’t want to be disappointed.” Immediate change in my understanding.

Those five little words

The five little words that can change your world? What else could this mean? You can be an observer and not have to wade into the fray. If you step into a neutral space, you can breathe… and the world opens up. Minor dust-ups and misunderstandings can be worked out. Hotly contested arguments can be put aside. Exercise your creative mind and develop other options, knowing the truth lies somewhere in between.

Check out the situation

But how to step back and take a look at what’s going on?

• Be mindful of when your button is pushed. Someone in your family consistently pushes your button, and you explode before you know it. Before getting together, take some time to gently tease apart the reasons for this immediate reaction. Resolve each issue as it comes up, knowing your experiences resemble an onion. Watch as each layer unfolds.

• It’s a challenge to hear opposing points of view. A friend has a different opinion from yours. You feel yourself getting steamed up. Do you shut her off? Or listen to what she has to say? Be curious as to your reaction rather than quickly getting stuck.

• “My dog isn’t in this fight.” Hot and bothered about something where you’re not directly impacted? Ask yourself, “Is my dog in this fight?” If yes, listen intently and ask questions to help you understand. If not, let it go and watch from the sidelines. Your body and mind will thank you. (And insomnia will not plague you.)

• Slow down the dialog. Listen to the words you are saying to yourself, and slooow dooown the wooorrrrddddss. Instead of “I’m fed up with my job,” try I’mmmm feeedddd uuuppp wwwwittthh my jjjjoooobbb.” Feel the difference inside. Get unstuck and grow lighter.

• Put your words to music. The other day I came across a problem of my own. Instead of the nasty downward spiral I was creating, I sang the words describing the issue to the melody “Morning Has Broken.” My fussing disappeared. And I was laughing. How ridiculous. I was unstuck.

Ask yourself, “What else could it mean?” and set yourself free.

Joan Courtney, Unstuck Living, is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites posts for Lil’ Toot, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

2025 White Mountain Eagle Fest

Sun, 19 Jan 2025 22:13:32 GMT

A Festival that's all about Eagles!

By Dan Groebner

Looking out the window, it is hard to believe that we’re supposed to be in the dead of winter right now. We still have plenty of potential for some good winter storms, so some well-timed late winter moisture might save us from the scary dry spring conditions we’ve had to endure in the past. At least one benefit of a mild winter is the abundance of wintering habitat for not only eagles, but other northern migrants as well.

The number of summer nesting bald eagles in the area continues to rise, and warmer winters in the White Mountains are supporting more “snow birds”, so eagle watching is getting more and more productive. In the last few years, four new nests have been reported by the public to wildlife agencies, just in the White Mountains alone.

Open, unfrozen lakes make valuable layover sites with plenty of ducks and fish to hunt in the White Mountains for any late migrants or birds who only want to go as far south as they need to. That’s why this mild winter could provide some great viewing opportunities for the mid-winter White Mountain Eagle Fest, scheduled for the morning of February 8th. The annual event will start at 9:00 a.m. at the White Mountain Nature Center, 425 S. Woodland Road, in Pinetop/Lakeside.

This year’s event will again feature a live ambassador eagle from Liberty Wildlife, the world-renowned wildlife rehabilitation and education facility in Phoenix. Eagle handlers from Liberty will enlighten the crowd with the activities at Liberty Wildlife and their important duties in taking care of their ambassador wildlife that they use for presentations.

Veterinarians and technicians at Liberty Wildlife have been highly successful in treating injured birds, including many eagles, so they can be released back into the wild. Sometimes they even care for young eaglets who jump from their nests before they can fly, nurturing them back to health and building up their strength before having Arizona Game and Fish biologists place them back in the nest.

Another valuable role that Liberty Wildlife provides for the benefit of wildlife is their Non-eagle Feather Repository, which salvages feathers from birds that have been found dead to then be used for ceremonial, educational or scientific purposes.

You probably realize that eagle feathers are very valuable, so much so that you need a federal permit to even possess one legally. Native Americans can obtain these permits through the Fish and Wildlife Service, as well as permits for other migratory birds protected by a treaty with Canada and Mexico.

For years, the Fish and Wildlife Service tried to keep up with all the requests for these bird feathers. This was such a large task that both eagle and non-eagle feather permit requests fell so far behind that it could take years to process, so Liberty offered to help with the administration of the non-eagle feather repository.

So, thanks to Liberty Wildlife’s coordination with the Fish and Wildlife Service to expeditiously catalogue and process all of these feathers, from robins to red-tailed hawks and hummingbirds to harriers, the backlog of permit requests is being addressed. Wildlife agencies regularly deliver birds mortally struck by vehicles, or fatally injured by pets, especially cats, that the general public will bring in. Every effort is made to rehabilitate the animals to be released back into the wild, but sometimes the animals die during care.

This extraordinary effort is very well documented in the eloquent documentary, “The Weight of a Feather”, narrated by Peter Coyote, that will be shown after the Liberty Wildlife eagle presentation. The value of the feather repository lies in helping preserve Indigenous cultures by providing hard to get ceremonial artifacts and can not be overemphasized, as it also deters illegal taking of wild birds that could endanger existing populations. Every few years, federal investigators still conduct sting operations to deter the black market trade in eagle feathers.

Arizona Game and Fish will also provide an update on current eagle populations and management in Arizona, including possible reasons for the record numbers of active nests. Intensive, but focused, management of bald eagles in the past has allowed more young eagles to be hatched, who then return to near their birthplace after five years of growing to start a family themselves.

Temporary closures around active nests have obviously protected young eaglets during the most vulnerable stage of their life cycle. So just a couple months of protection can lead to increasing productivity of these surviving birds for years to come until they can start breeding themselves.

The Nestwatcher Program, which utilizes short-term contractors to monitor nests, along with volunteers and agency biologists, monitor nests during the spring and can address potential problems quickly and efficiently.

For example, one volunteer noticed a fire underneath the Show Low Lake nest and immediately informed the Forest Service, who then extinguished the fire before it did any extensive damage. Citizen observers have reported young chicks on the ground that have jumped from the nest before they could fly, allowing biologists to gather them up and place them back in the nest or higher up on a tree branch, where they surprisingly stay perched.

Voluntary efforts to reduce lead in potential food stuffs of eagles also are probably showing some benefits. More hunters are moving to non-toxic bullets, not only for them and their family’s health to avoid even micro doses of lead from elk, deer, or turkey tenderloins, but also for the benefit of scavenging wildlife. Many animals, including bald and golden eagles, are not above eating carcasses or pursuing wounded prey, which exposes them to higher chances of lead poisoning from bullet fragments.

Eagle watching tips will be provided, including the best watchable wildlife areas for observing eagles and overwintering wildlife. We’re blessed in the White Mountains with abundant public property and access to wildlife viewing areas year-round. Although more remote gems like Big Lake, Woods Canyon or Chevelon Lakes are inaccessible at this time of the year, others like Woodland, Show Low, Pintail, Scotts and Fool Hollow Lakes are open, even after a snowfall if you’re not afraid to hike a few steps.

Participants will have a chance to put their identification skills to a test with a short field trip to a nearby lake to observe wild birds perched or hunting, hopefully. Parking is provided with a short walk to the shores of Rainbow Lake at the Lazy Oaks Resort, weather permitting. At the lake, experienced birders will be on hand to help identify birds and will have optics such as binoculars and spotting scores for participants to use.

And it wouldn’t be an Eagle Fest without a photo opportunity with America’s “new” official National Symbol. Folks will be given the opportunity to have their picture taken with Liberty’s ambassador eagle after the presentation, so don’t forget the phone or camera.

The award-winning documentary, “The Weight of a Feather” will be shown concurrently with the optional field trip to Rainbow Lake to hopefully view eagles in their natural habitat. There will be a repeat performance of the video for those who chose to attend the field trip immediately after the presentations and photo opportunities.

This year’s sponsors include the Arizona Game and Fish Department, Liberty Wildlife, Lazy Oaks Resort on Rainbow Lake, as well as the White Mountain Nature Center. Lazy Oaks Resort has cabins available for those out-of-town folks who want more time to observe eagles on the lake - (928) 368-6203. The program is free to White Mountain Nature Center members with a $10 donation requested of others. For more information, call (928) 532-2308. This event could be postponed in the event of inclement weather for the safety of those traveling.

Africa is Closer Than You Think! Part 1

Sun, 19 Jan 2025 22:08:37 GMT

Visiting "Out of Africa"

By Annemarie Eveland

I dreamt of Africa ever since I met my husband, John, a kind wild animal trainer for the movies. He spoke of the animals teaching him. We were going to Africa someday. I longed to experience the beautiful animals up close, but he died suddenly, so I tucked my dream away, but my heart never forgot John and his animals.

Recently, driving through Camp Verde, Arizona, I noticed a sign that made my heart leap. It read “Out of Africa.” So, I went online and sure enough, it was an actual place, and right here in the heart of Arizona! I don’t know how I had missed finding this incredible place until now! So I traveled to the venue, and I was delighted to meet the two women who run this special place, manager Ashton Powell and President/Co-Founder/Owner, Prayeri Harrison.

When I went to visit, I brought a few photos of my husband’s animals to share. I arrived with my associate Robert, and Barbara greeted us in the gift shop to begin our day visit to “Africa.”

Prayeri Harrison met us, and we began exploring “their Africa.” Prayeri is a slender, vivacious lady with long, flowing hair and bright, sparkling eyes. Her strong, quiet energy and enthusiastic demeanor speak of a boundless devotion to her beloved “residents” and the purpose of their mission.

From many trips to Africa, she and her late husband Dean created a unique, safe and natural setting for their animals to interact with people in harmony and trust — and out of Africa was born in Arizona over 36 years ago!

Their preserve has the beautiful Mingus Mountains as a backdrop, and rests easily on 100+ acres of variegated hills and valleys. Many exotic animals from around the world live there to help visitors know them through personal contact. It is a curious, yet valuable, rare and memorable adventure to bond with this powerful wildness and to see these animals in their natural behaviors in open, unfettered areas.

This place is not a zoo. I especially liked that each animal has a name and a personal story to tell. (see website.) And Prayeri believes that we can relate to animals meaningfully and feel a deep connection. I witnessed her cuddling fondly with a hyena, who instantly responded from her nuzzling attention.

During our day tour, we discovered many animals and the narrations from teammates helped us understand and better appreciate the animals. Mogie and Blue were only four years old when rescuers found them; their mother had been killed at Blue Ridge Reservoir, and they lacked hunting skills. This park is now their permanent home. Hand feeding can do lots for bonding with them. The bears enjoy a big pond, swings, underground dens, swim in pools, and are mentally stimulated. Their coats can be brown or black, changing with weather. They love to play and of course love food too. In the wild, they mostly eating grasses, roots, berries, insects. In captivity, black bears may live 35 years. There are over 2500 in Arizona, and they are solitary animals and bowlegged which helps them have great balance and can grip surfaces, even climb trees!

I met the White Rhinoceros Jericho, who is not worried about his weight of a hefty 5000 pounds. Even though he looks stocky, he can run up to 40 miles-per-hour. And in captivity some live up to 55+ years. In the wild, he munches on grass, water plants, shrubs, trees, bushes, twigs. Jericho arrived at the park in 2013 to his new six-acre domain, travelling over 2100 miles from Bush Gardens in Florida. He mostly relies on his smell, but can move his ears independently for sounds.

Next came Grizzly Bear Cypress.

Her diet is plants and meat. She came from being kept in a 10 x 10 cage but now has a lot of freedom and swims and plays in shows at the Park. She also receives a steady diet and has a large acreage to live on. For hibernation: She uses several caves and hibernates in them.

The giraffes stole my heart. Inside the park entrance, there was a giraffe named Pilgrim, who weighs in at 3,000 pounds, who was amazingly attentive and affectionate. I didn’t know that untrimmed hooves cause serious health problems for giraffes. But he (and everyone at the compound) went through a lot to fix them correctly. He is 16 feet tall. Definitely someone to look up to! The average life span in captivity for males is 16 years. Pilgrim is 23 years old now.

Tour guides at one compound offered us the chance to let a giraffe take the little vegetation sprig from my mouth. Sure enough, as his looming head and neck came into the Mog vehicle, Temba’s super soft lips touched my face and gently retrieved the vegetation from my lips. What a delightful surprise it was for me.

There are many other animals to discover too such as Reptiles, Giraffes, White Tiger, Black Bears, Grizzly Bear, Rhinoceros, Reptiles, Lemurs, African Lions, Javelinas, Barbary Sheep, Cougar, Ibex, Black Leopard Tiger, Exotic Lizards, Leopard Lion, Lioness Gray Wolves, Tortoises, Çritters Court, Marmoset, Caiman, Porcupine, Sloth, and more.

Spending the day at this Africa will keep you intrigued in a memorable and fun way with these animals who entertain, educate and give us pleasure from their beauty and fulfilled lifestyle here. The staff is dedicated to fulfilling this incredible dream.

Other popular experiences are the African Bush Safari Tour, the Predator Zipline, Wildlife Preserve, Super Mog Tour, Wildlife shows, experiential Giant Snake Show, Creature Feature encounter, Sloth Encounter and so much more. At all theses special shows and tours, the staff’s presentations about the animals will captivate you.

One special show is the Tiger Splash.

An entertaining and very informative show with the tigers jumping into the air to retrieve a treat and splash dramatically down into the large pool where people are also playing with them. This will get your riveted attention about how tigers love the water too. The show is dazzling and highly educational.

Another popular activity is the Predator Feed.

These animals devour their food with crunching sounds that will astound you. See the usefulness of the powerful teeth of lions, tigers, hyenas, and others, demonstrate what they do in the wild with a kill. I saw them easily gorge whole turkeys into mincemeat. Gulp! And I understand caretakers deliver about 50 pounds of raw meat to the animals three days weekly.

For more information, visit their website: www.OutOfAfricaPark.com. There is also a new out of Africa Sanctuary 501c3, a separate organization that was created specifically for the care of these animals. This newly founded Sanctuary plans to organize activities such as fundraisers and educational events. They always appreciate your kind support.

Discover these animals for yourself. Interacting with the animals offers unique experiences that cannot be experienced anywhere else. Plan a fun family day outing. You will want to come back. I know I did!

Leave your passport at home, because Africa

is in Arizona!

Oh! The Places You Will Go!

Sun, 19 Jan 2025 22:03:37 GMT

Riding Icelandic horses in Iceland

Photos and article

By Susie Griffin, Griffin Wellness Solutions, LLC

Iceland has been calling me to visit since 2012. During that year, I acquired an Icelandic mare, Óskadís, which means “wish fairy” in Icelandic. Her equine ancestry opened a door to a world far away, geographically and figuratively, from sunny Arizona and the hot-blooded Arabians I had previously owned and competed on in endurance rides. As I would soon learn from Icelandic horse owners on the many Icelandic Facebook groups I later joined, Óskadís embodied the unique characteristics of the breed: hardy, beautiful, and self-assured.

“There is no more sagacious animal than the Icelandic horse. He is stopped by neither snow nor storm, nor impassable roads, nor rocks, glaciers, or anything. He is courageous, sober, and surefooted.”

— Jules Verne, French author and poet

It was a post on one of those Icelandic Facebook groups that clinched my desire to go to Iceland. The post was a video clip of tourists riding Icelandic horses herding hundreds of free ranging Icelandics down from the Highlands to the farmers’ sorting pens. It is a common practice for the farmers to release the mares and their Spring born foals, along with younger horses, out into the Highland areas to graze the open areas during the Summer. In the early autumn months, the horses are rounded up and herded back down to the sorting pens where local farmers utilize technology (microchips) to confirm ownership. These gatherings take place in several areas of Northwestern Iceland. They, and other Icelandic historical and geographical wonders experienced by horseback, have become so popular with tourists, dozens of companies have grown to accommodate the tourist demand.

This was the first international trip I have taken in my life, minus a short venture into Mexico with my family many decades earlier and several trips across our northern border during my college years. Even though I had booked the roundup trip with a tour company the previous year (despite booking a year in advance, most of the company’s tours had already sold out), I wasn’t so punctilious with the rest of the trip details. I had to expedite my passport, praying that the extra sixty dollars I paid would literally pay off, delivering the passport within the two-week time frame. (It did).

The Facebook group, Bucket List Riding — Iceland Trip, is solely dedicated to marketing and promoting all the Icelandic horse tour options from the company, Riding Iceland, through which I booked. Scrolling through their posts, I could glean pertinent information that helped make my first time traveling internationally, my first visit to Iceland and first experience with the touring company, less of a nightmare and more of a dream. One tip the group shared was to pack a “pillow” as a carry-on (in addition to the airline’s policy of two carry-ons per passenger). This “pillow” consisted of a pillowcase stuffed with my bulkiest items, a waterproof and insulated jacket and a wool sweater. This recommendation, besides wearing and not packing my riding boots, supported my goal in traveling light — carrying all my bags on and checking none.

When I booked my tour the year previous, I was focused only on my Icelandic horse riding, making up the entirety of my first Iceland experience. After I scheduled my flights, I realized I had a whole day to myself before I met up with the tour organizer and the rest of the tour participants. What to do to fill up the time? To answer my naïve question combined with the consideration of jetlag from a 10-plus hour flight time and eight-hour time difference, a quick internet search recommended a soak in one of Iceland’s many geothermal pools.

“Iceland is a geologist’s and nature lovers’ dreamscape—a rugged island where the forces of nature conspire to paint a breathtaking portrait of the Earth’s raw power. From active volcanoes to phenomenal glaciers, the country is rich in features that tell the tale of the Earth’s history.” — Visit Iceland

Iceland’s moniker is the “Land of Fire and Ice.” Iceland showcases this nickname through its volcanoes and glaciers. It is a volcanic hotspot, home to 32 active volcano systems, erupting an average of every four years. This seemingly contradictory relationship helps to create geothermal activity that results in both natural and human controlled bathing pools. Various resources cite close to 250 thermal areas and 600 major hot springs, all of which are well used by both visitors and native Icelanders alike.

The combination of a geothermal pool soak, several healthy, traditional Icelandic meals and a restorative night’s sleep at my adult hostel helped reset my body clock and melt away my jet lag. The following morning, I walked to the bus terminal to meet up with the tour organizer and fellow tour participants. After boarding the van, we enjoyed a scenic three-hour drive to our group hostel, then dropped off our belongings before driving on to meet the horses at the farm. We went on a short, local ride to get used to the horses, the herding formalities (leader herd and follower herd — no one passes the tour leaders in either of the “herds”). We finished up the ride, loaded up in the van, drove back to our hostel, and experienced therapeutic benefits from a local hot tub soak, a homemade meal, and group singing.

The rest of the tour’s adventures culminated in riding several Icelandic horses across sixty miles of Iceland’s landscape, through rivers, by many waterfalls and getting a peak of the Greenland Sea. Our group made conversation and relationships, despite our geographical differences (three Americans, four Germans, two from the U.K., and two from Finland), over shared miles and meals and during the herding of two hundred plus Icelandic mares, foals and young horses down from the Highlands and observing the sorting process into their respective farm pens. These individual ventures blended into a dreamlike experience that can only best be summed up in four words: I will be back.

In our newly minted New Year of 2025, it is not uncommon for people to use this annual timestamp as motivation to initiate change, to do something new and challenging that results in satisfying achievements. I am one of these people whose motivation is transpired to culmination when I attach my goal to a timeline. Just as my long-term goal of traveling to Iceland was initiated by booking a tour on a certain date, I do that throughout the year with short-term goals. I encourage my coaching clients to consider this option when creating, maintaining, and achieving goals.

Relatedly, I have a workshop coming up in February that explores concepts and grows skills around recognizing and realizing goals and personal potential. If you are interested in learning more, please visit my website: www.GriffinWellnessSolutionsLLC.com. I look forward to seeing you fulfill your potential in 2025 and beyond. Cheers!

A Box of Birds

Sun, 19 Jan 2025 21:57:27 GMT

When it comes to artificial nesting boxes, there are many parameters to consider...

Photos and Article

By Rob Bettaso

The day dawned clear and calm and promised to be unseasonably warm. I opted not to take a morning walk as I had several things to attend to before my 8:00 a.m. rendezvous with Dan at the regional office of the Arizona Game and Fish Department (or, the “Department,” for short). I was looking forward to working again with Dan, who I had first met in the mid-1990s, back when we both worked in Phoenix for the Department’s Nongame Branch. What, you ask, is “nongame?” To which I reply: good question, as I agree it is a rather curious term. It always struck me as odd that the Department chose such a label; after all, how often do we describe something by what it is NOT?

In fact, nongame is the collective term for all the critters that do not qualify as game species — including both big game (as in elk, bear, and javelina) and small game (such as dove, grouse, and squirrel). When I had first joined the Department, the term nongame seemed vaguely pejorative (nongame species were somehow “less than” the game species). Later, I came to the conclusion that the term wasn’t an aspersion, but really, more a reflection of the Department’s history — and indeed the history of how some 20th century Americans have viewed wildlife ever since the advent of regulated hunting in this country.

When both Dan and I were working in the Nongame Branch, his job focused on planning the reintroduction of the Mexican Gray Wolf back into Arizona, specifically into the White Mountains. My job involved the management of the 30 plus species of native fishes throughout the entire state. With even a superficial glance, one can see a significant disparity between the investment levels (i.e. time, money, and energy) made for the “charismatic megafauna” such as wolves, ferrets, and condors and that made for frogs, geckos, and suckers (suckers, as in: a family of various fish species; not as in an assemblage of gullible nincompoops). Nonetheless, Dan and I both knew the ecological score, namely, that all the planet’s biodiversity deserves proper stewardship, so we didn’t let a little thing like Departmental politics and priorities get in the way of our shared mutual respect.

It wasn’t until 2005 when I moved to Pinetop that I really got the chance to get to know Dan. He and Anne (yes, the creative force behind the founding and continuing publication of the magazine you are reading now) had moved up here many years before me and ever since Dan’s move to “Region 1” (a huge chunk of north-central and north-eastern Arizona) he had been assigned the absurdly large responsibility of managing all the nongame wildlife within the regional boundaries — as if a wild animal is even aware of arbitrary and invisible human-defined “boundaries.”

Part of my connection with Dan is that we are both fellow mid-westerners. Dan was raised in rural, southern Minnesota and I had spent my formative years in the suburban sprawl of south-eastern Michigan. But, when I moved to the Department’s Pinetop office, I was still working in fisheries management and I rarely had the opportunity to do fieldwork with Dan. In fact, it wasn’t until I retired in 2014 that I occasionally had the chance to join Dan as he pursued conservation actions for various native species of leopard frogs and garter snakes.

In recent years, I have been assisting Dan with some of his work involving birds; including some species that use nesting boxes. I would imagine that there could be an entire science devoted to the construction, placement, and monitoring of nesting boxes. In the simplest sense, a nesting box mimics a natural cavity in a tree, or, for that matter, anything that contains a suitable hidden chamber that a breeding pair of birds can use to raise their offspring. Many of the natural cavities include holes initially excavated by various woodpecker species and, not surprisingly, occur in living and/or dead trees, cacti, and other materials of plant origin. Natural cavities can also include holes and/or crevasses made in dirt banks, rock cliffs, and/or talus slopes. Human-made “bird-houses” can also qualify as nesting boxes; but not all bird-houses are suitable for nesting because some are more ornamental rather than functional for the nesting phase of a bird’s life-cycle.

When it comes to artificial nesting boxes, there are many parameters to consider in box design alone because different species have different requirements and preferences. A brief listing of some design factors would include the choice of material from which to build the box; overall box size and shape; roof slope; finish type (if any); and the hole’s diameter and location on the box. Additionally, box placement is crucial and should consider potential access risks from predators and the elements. Some specific factors to consider include: the box’s aspect (“aspect” is the compass direction the box’s hole faces); shade and exposure to sun/rain/wind; the box’s distance from the ground, perches, food, water, and cover; accessibility for the person who will monitor the nest box (in addition to observing the birds who use the box, the boxes will need to be cleaned after each nesting cycle).

Many other considerations need to be kept in

mind — especially when one considers that cavity-nesting birds include such diverse bird groups as owls, swallows, wrens, chickadees, falcons, finches, and even ducks. Each bird species will have a different phenology — which is the timing and sequence of events pertaining to such things as roosting; courtship; nest-building (some species actually weave a cup nest within their cavity); egg-laying and incubation; and raising hatchlings, nestlings, and fledglings.

The first set of boxes that Dan drove us to were those at a relatively new departmental property — the EC-Bar Ranch. Our goal for the day was to simply visit each box and clean out the old cup nests so that when birds returned this spring, they could start fresh in a reasonably sanitary box. Pulling up to the initial nest box proved to be an interesting exception to Dan’s previous cold season visits to the box sites since, this time, there were five Western Bluebirds fluttering around the box. We remained in the truck and watched from very close range as the birds entered and exited the cavity. We were surprised to see such rambunctious behavior so well in advance of the spring breeding season. As it turned out, that first box was the only one of the day’s many nest boxes that had birds present.

Besides visiting the sites on the EC-Bar Ranch, we also checked the boxes that Dan had installed at the Sipe Wildlife Area. The scenery at both Department properties is nothing short of gorgeous and the weather was wonderfully calm and warm on the day of our visit. I hadn’t been to Sipe in over a decade and it was gratifying to see that it remained in excellent health as a vital habitat for both game and nongame species. The bluebird boxes, too, appeared to be serving as a very suitable nesting habitat. We did, however, come across four different boxes that each held one dead (but well preserved) chick from last year’s cycle. The chicks were developed just enough that one could see the telltale blue color in their young quill feathers.

We discussed why a single, nearly fledged bird remained in some boxes and concluded that, since bluebirds are known to lay 3-7 eggs, the parents might have successfully fledged most of the young and then needed to follow those who had fledged (who no longer need to return to their natal boxes) so that they could continue to feed and defend the majority of their offspring. Sadly, this meant that the runty chick that was left behind (possibly due to being the last egg laid, and therefore, the least developed post-hatching) no longer received the adult’s attention as the parents moved further and further from the box site trying to keep up with their growing fledglings. Nature can be harsh, but the eggs that make it all the way to adulthood are theoretically the most genetically “fit” of the clutch and have the best chance of pulling off their own successful broods in the years to come; thus perpetuating the species.

For our part, Dan and I had enjoyed the day and felt optimistic that the boxes had a good chance of attracting more bluebirds in the spring of 2025. It had also been a good opportunity for us to experience the natural world together, as two old pals who continue to share a long friendship. Because both Dan and I have many obligations that fill our days, Dan will need to find volunteers who can take on the important work of assisting in nest box monitoring. If you think you might have time to observe bluebird boxes, please give Dan a call at 928-367-4281 and explore the possibility of serving in this vital role.

As a final thought, I am going to conclude this article with a brief remembrance of a fellow Wildlife Biologist, namely, Norris Dodd. Both Dan and I had a chance to get to know Norris a bit, and, like virtually all of Norris’s colleagues, we feel very fortunate in having had that opportunity. Norris was an amazing biologist and a wonderful human being. His contributions to our profession were diverse, very significant, and enduring. And, without a doubt, the man had integrity!

Winter Suspended

Sun, 19 Jan 2025 21:53:06 GMT

Where is winter?

Photos and article

by Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

This is the time of year when I normally write an article about winter safety, how to enjoy the indoor-inducing weather by going outside anyway on snowshoes or fat bikes, or how to set fitness goals to avoid the winter slump. This is the time of year when most of us are effectively semi-hibernating, slowing down, eating more, exercising less, and sleeping more. In a way, it’s a relief when the weather outdoors keeps us in and forces an afternoon by the fire with a cup of hot soup and a good book.

Animals and plants take advantage of the winter break with its slower pace and less need to move around or photosynthesize, and even the cattle tanks and lakes normally get an ice-covered break from water loss through evaporation. But this year is different. I’m out in shorts and a t-shirt, riding my bike on dry trails and wondering if I need to water plants that are semi-dormant but still green. My roses have scarce green leaves trying to decide whether to stay or go, the oaks are still hanging onto their dry leaves and the unfrozen tanks are evaporating water into the dry air at a disturbing rate.

Writing this article reminded me to look at my rainfall recording app, and we have seen no measurable precipitation since November 6th! I see V’s of geese still hanging on and there is a large flock of robins busy in the warm garden soil and around my little pond. Hunters ask “where are all the elk?” and I wonder the same thing; assuming that “all the elk” are hanging out in higher elevations, trying not to overheat under their winter coats.

Those of us who love to feed the birds are asking “where are all the birds?” and I fervently hope that “all the birds” are wintering somewhere else and are not just…gone. I have certainly noticed a reduction of the variety of bird species coming to my feeders in the past years, and this winter, besides the errant robins, there is definitely a scarcity in the numbers and variety of birds at the feeders. Where are they?

Taking a break is important for the animals and plants in nature. Bears, and other normally winter-dormant animals, worked hard all summer to build up food stores to last all winter under fairly inactive conditions. Bears can consume up to 20,000 calories a day in late fall to prepare for the winter break. Amazingly, bears can stay in the torpor state for over 100 days, neither eating, drinking nor excreting waste, and can actually convert their urine into protein during this time. The warmer than normal weather disrupts their dormancy and uses extra energy that is hard to replenish this time of year.

Bear cubs are born in early January to mothers barely aware of their birth, normally fully able to feed them until early spring awakening, but this year, it may be hard for them to survive this half-awake, higher energy use winter. Studies have shown that across the country, bears are being triggered to leave their torpor and awaken 3.5 days earlier per 1Co rise in average ambient temperature. The danger of coming out of torpor and being more active is that each time the animal “awakes” there is a large expenditure of energy to get that animal back to their normal awake state.

Early-awakening bears find that their expected normal spring food supply of fresh greens, insects and small rodents is close to non-existent and water sources are dry or dispersed far from the den site. Variable winter weather patterns can cause an awakened, hungry bear to have to re-enter torpor without recharging its energy stores, a dangerous condition especially for mothers with cubs.

Hungry, early-awakening bears are a concern for outdoors-loving adventurers and we need to stay aware of our surroundings and carry bear spray. If this warm weather continues into the late winter, we can be sure that the bears will become increasingly desperate for food and will come into developed areas much sooner than expected.

Plants fooled into growing new leaves may unexpectedly lose them again in a cold snap, and water-loss causes dry branches to break under snowfall if/when it comes. Dry plants also affect our awakening bears and small mammals because the dry brittle stems are hard to digest and contain few calories. The tanks and ponds around our house are drying rapidly, unprotected by ice, and may be completely dry by spring; unavailable to animals coming out of dormancy or elk returning from wintering areas to calve.

An obvious worry frequently voiced by locals is the danger that dry plants bring to our forests as fire danger. One of my concerns is that the “prescribed burns” in our area have created large sections of standing dry wood and dried fire-killed understory, primed for ignition, with little to no water available in nearby tanks. If this dry winter trend continues into spring, our forests will close early this summer.

For us, as humans with a Walmart full of food minutes away and water coming from a tap, concerns of surviving a warm winter are low, but a winter break helps us reset for a new year, new goals for a new spring start. With this seemingly endless fall, it is hard to reconcile what time of year it actually is. Thanksgiving passed, warm and dry, Christmas passed, warm and dry, New Year’s passed, warm and dry with the benefit of dry warm wind… How do we get ourselves out of the waiting pattern, waiting for snow, waiting for a change, waiting to get started on the next thing? We can be like bears. Wake ourselves up and get moving. Yes, it takes energy to get moving, but once we are moving, it feels great and it’s easy to keep moving.

Lately, I’ve been pretending it’s fall and enjoying the rustling dry leaves and balmy conditions. Does it really matter if it’s January or October? The trails are dry and in exactly the same condition we left them months ago. Now is a great time to take out trail tools and clear trails of rocks and debris, trim back branches and fill in cracks. Now is a great time to explore new areas and find new favorite spots.

With the bare trees allowing clearer views, it’s easy to spot a hidden rock formation to explore or follow a drainage looking for petroglyphs or evidence of early homesteading settlers. I’m sure hoping that winter will eventually arrive and bring loads of fresh wet snow, or at the very least, we will get a wet spring, but until then, throw out the calendar and get outside while you still can…but remember to take along the bear spray!

Riding Chipmunk Connector

Sun, 19 Jan 2025 21:41:15 GMT

Horseback riding the White Mountains Trail System

 Photos and article

by Allanna Jackson

Happy New Year! It has become my tradition to go for a horseback ride on New Year’s day. Most years the horse trailer is snowed in, so I have to settle for the trails I can ride to from home. While praying for snow, I took advantage of this year’s unseasonably warm, dry weather to trailer both horses to the Chipmunk Connector trail. I’d ridden Cinnamon on the Chipmunk Connector twelve years ago, before TRACKS re-routed the trail between CM2 and CM7. Velvet, Cinnamon’s older half-sister, had never been on it.

New year’s day was warm and sunny with a light breeze. Perfect weather for a trail ride. I fed the horses an early lunch, then hitched and loaded the trailer. Watching my preparations got Velvet excited. She eagerly met me at the corral gate, then bounced out and tried to lead me. I stopped her and warned her, “No pulling, no bucking, no rearing. If you’re going to be rowdy, you’ll stay home.” I then tied her up and groomed her. She fidgeted a little. Meanwhile, Cinnamon was observing all this from the far side of her corral. Usually, Cinnamon comes when I call her, but this time she didn’t. However, she stood still and let me catch her. I tied Cinnamon next to Velvet and groomed her. Velvet calmed down as soon as she knew Cinnamon was coming along to wherever it was we were going. Apparently, Velvet understood my warning because she was on her best behavior for the entire outing.

Both horses loaded in the trailer and rode perfectly. As I expected, the Springs and Country Club trails were full of people. I continued down Forest Road 185 to the nice parking spot beside the cattle loading chute at the beginning of the Chipmunk Connector Trail (CM). Both horses unloaded perfectly. They looked around while I brushed and saddled Cinnamon. I rode Cinnamon and led Velvet, and we set off up the trail. The spring and a few puddles near CM1 had ice on them, but all the watercourses were dry.

Chipmunk Connector is rated moderately difficult because of the distance. The trail surface is easy, but it is 7.5 miles one way from Country Club Trail to Los Burros Trail, or 15 miles round trip. The horses and I had a lay-off for most of December, so they weren’t fit enough to do 15 miles. I went as far as CM12 or the Brushy Pasture stock tank, whichever we came to first.

For the first half mile, Chipmunk Connector follows on old road. It turns right at marker CM2 and becomes a singletrack meandering through the Ponderosa Pine forest. This trail is quite popular with mountain bikers and though the horses and I had the trail to ourselves, there were many fresh bike tracks on the trail, along with tracks from a

few hikers.

The horses strolled along, with Cinnamon maintaining a three-mile-per-hour walk. Velvet followed nicely. We all kept a lookout for wildlife and bikers. I was surprised that we didn’t see any of either category. This area shows evidence of having been logged and thinned a few years ago, but there are still too many broken, crooked, scrawny pines growing in dog-hair thickets. The trail crossed a logging road from the thinning project and continued meandering through the forest. Around marker CM8, the trail turned onto the old road and followed it to marker CM10, then angled off through the forest to CM11.

CM11 is at the fence line for the Brushy pasture. TRACKS has installed one of the new rollover gates for bicycles in the fence. Beside the new gate is a rickety wire gate for horses. I could see the boulders marking the top of the stock pond on the other side of the fence. I dismounted, opened the gate, led both horses through, and mounted again. We went about 50 yards up the trail, far enough to see that the pond was totally dry. My GPS said we were 2.75 miles from my truck, just the distance I had in mind to turn around.

We turned around and went back out the gate. I dismounted, closed the gate, and mounted again. We backtracked the 50 yards to the old road and followed it down the numbers. Cinnamon looked left as we approached the turnoff to the singletrack trail but had no objections to continuing down the road. Evidently, her memory agreed with mine that the Chipmunk Connector had followed the road back in 2012. The old roadway was rockier than the new single track because of erosion. A mile or more down the road, one forlorn, badly weathered turquoise diamond marker confirmed this was the original trail route. We continued along the road. All the puddles, springs and watercourses that were beside the road in 2012 were dry this year.

As we approached marker CM2 from the old road, Cinnamon alerted to a biker turning left off the official new singletrack route back toward Forest Road 185. A moment later, a second biker followed. They sped along the half mile of trail back to where they’d parked their car on the other side of the road from where I’d parked my truck. The bikers had completed their ride, loaded their bikes on their car, and were leaving by the time the horses and I got back to my trailer. There was another car parked across the road, and there were also several people and a dog hiking along the Country Club trail. Watching them kept Velvet entertained while I unsaddled Cinnamon. Everybody had left by the time I finished grooming the horses. Cinnamon and Velvet loaded into the trailer perfectly, rode home, and unloaded just as perfectly. It was a lovely 5.5-mile ride on a gorgeous day, but I’m still praying for snow.

Time to Hibernate

Sun, 19 Jan 2025 21:34:04 GMT

A time when the pace of life slows, and we are grounded.

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

To me, the time between the holidays in December and early spring is a time to hibernate and rejuvenate. There are gifts in this phase of darkness, a time to slow down and reflect on what was in the year past and what I want in the new year to come. It’s a time of comfort, of settling in, of truly getting to know myself.

Lil’ Toot and I are still out walking early in the morning, long before the sun comes up. During this time, the weather amazingly feels cozy and warm to me as I bundle up and venture outside. Hint: mufflers are a big help here, for they warm the breath and cover the back of the neck. My little cone of light radiates the way ahead as Toot’s harness jingles and my boots crunch along.

The phase of the moon also plays a big part in my journey and appreciation. The full moon appears to be almost day-like, with its dazzling light. When the half moon, then quarter moons, approach, they seem softer and gentler. The new moon brings pure darkness, with its promise of a brighter tomorrow.

And so it is with my life. There are times when it’s a full moon agenda. I am out in the world, bursting with energy. The air is warm on my skin, with a slight breeze touching my face. I’m busily engaged with people and projects, focused on goals I want to achieve. My mind is turned outward, ready to receive what is coming my way.

Then there’s the phase of the new moon, almost like the spaces between spokes on a wheel. A time of quiet, of sinking within to pay attention to what is important…or not. The time when my pace of life slows, and I am grounded. It’s the time I turn inward and hibernate, resting my mind and body. As I move along in the darkness, the air itself seems quiet and sounds are muffled and soft. Wrapped up in the magical world of my thoughts and feelings, I feel like a small boat out in the darkness, cruising uncharted territory. This peaceful time is so different from the bright days of summer, when we would stop and chat with neighbors and friends in the early morning light.

While there are momentary clamors for movement and exercise, it also is a time to slow down and cocoon a bit. Time to enjoy the inner parts of the world, both inside myself and with others. It is a time for deep sharing and inner knowing among friends, for contemplation and musing about bigger things as I move along. Camping, skiing, and hiking are delightful during the day, but laughter and friendship in the nighttime hours are precious.

Prime the Pump To Hibernate

Don’t know how to renew, review, and recharge? Here are a few tips:

• Pencil yourself in. Slow down. Life can sop up those precious, peaceful moments. Give yourself time to review and renew.

• Create a cozy corner. Figure out where you can hibernate, away from distractions. Set up some fluffy pillows. Warm blankets. A side table for a cup. Just be.

• Start, stop, continue. Idly consider how to streamline your year. What’s in alignment with your life? What will you focus on? And what do you want to let go of? Live unstuck.

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for Lil’ Toot, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

The Empty Chair

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 17:48:39 GMT

Thanksgiving traditions

By Annemarie Eveland

I was young when I first saw it. It was Thanksgiving Day. It was an empty chair set at our dining room table. An equally empty plate was set before it.

My mother didn’t say anything and I was puzzled at first but, as children, we were not to talk at the table unless we were spoken to so I remained silent and curious.

But I found it hard to be silent so it was my curiosity that prodded me to ask Mom before we ate dinner and said our prayers to tell me why no one was sitting in that chair. She explained that it was for Christ to come and have Thanksgiving dinner with us since he wouldn’t physically be there.

That was understandable to me even though I was very young. And, as the years went by, she added to the empty chair tradition by placing on the plate slips of paper with the names of our relatives and friends who had died so they too could celebrate Thanksgiving with us.

My mother, even though we had limited means, seemed to dream up lots of family traditions to make our holidays important and memorable. For example, for Thanksgiving Day dinner, there was a tiny white paper nut cup at each person’s place. Inside were three kernels of candy corn. We would go around the table and each of us (eleven children and our parents) would take turns naming off the three things we were grateful for. One of them had to be a spiritual appreciation. The other two were up for grabs!

Every holiday, my mom had us decorate the entire house: Thanksgiving, of course, featured the autumn colors. We had streamers too and they had to be put up and taken down very carefully and wound up on a little roll and put away in the proper holiday box. We used them every Thanksgiving for all the years I recall that I lived at home.

Somehow, even with our limited means, we celebrated all our birthdays, holidays and holy days. Each celebration had its own decorations neatly stored in labeled boxes up in the garage. They were put up and taken down under the careful eye of my mom.

We were fortunate in that holidays meant we would eat well. In Thanksgiving tradition, there was the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and cranberries, canned peas, sweet potatoes mashed, dinner rolls and fake butter (oleo margarine) a fruit cocktail salad laced with whipped cream and, of course, the dessert was mince pie (ugh) and yummy pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top. Dessert, of course, was only served after all our plates were clean.

Often my grandparents from Minnesota would travel to the south for the winter and join us for the dinner. Squeezing more around our already full up dining room table always seemed to be manageable.

I recall there were some stories about The First Thanksgiving. The celebration that the Pilgrims had. And then came Mom’s instructions for each of us children to present something. It could be a poem, joke, story but had to be something we invented. My brothers usually came up with some off-the-wall ideas for their part but, for the most part, we girls were traditional storytellers.

Holidays were a time when we used a real cloth table covering and cloth napkins and a little log candle holder made by my grandfather always sat in the center of the table. These candles stayed lit as we said our prayers before eating our meal. After the meal, there was more praying --the rosary, litany and novena. I guess you can tell that I was raised Catholic.

Somehow, having predictable family traditions made the holidays more real, more important and something to look forward to as each only happened once a year.

After our midday dinner and prayers, Mom would fix a plate for elderly neighbors and have us deliver the meals to them. I guess, early on, we were doing “meals on wheels” and didn’t know about the Senior Centers which deliver them now.

As I recall all the preparations that went into the Thanksgiving holiday, I see how much of our appreciation of special days is the intention that we are willing to put into that celebration.

It is easy to dismiss the day with a take-out dinner -- eaten perhaps in front of a TV program or televised parade. But, perhaps, if we take that time to connect with those significant people that we love, our holiday celebration will take on deeper meaning and fulfill our hearts in a way that food alone cannot sustain.

This Thanksgiving holiday season, why not take the extra time to call or connect with people who have been important in your life and let them know how you appreciate them. Their life will surely feel blessed that day to hear your meaningful sharing about how you value them.

Wishing you and your family a cherished holiday that will enrich your life as you continue to adapt to our changing world. I have often thought that the things that are most treasured are not things at all. It is the feeling of being special and connected. It is with our hearts that we feel the depth of our family and friends.

Make this Thanksgiving Day so special that you remember the experience of that day by sharing something of yourself. Thanks-for-Giving.

Dealing with White Mountain Wandering

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 17:44:43 GMT

Finding lost wanderers

By Dan Groebner

It can happen in just minutes. One moment your loved one is with you shopping or having coffee on the back porch, and the next moment they disappear. Youngsters and people affected by dementia or severe autism and other at-risk individuals all can take off wandering at almost any time and keep wandering for hours and hours.

If you have felt the panic after realizing your dog got loose from the backyard, can you imagine the feeling if a family member or close friend with cognitive issues just disappeared?

In more urban settings, these folks are often reported by good Samaritans or the more prevalent law enforcement officers. It’s hard to wander in too many places of the Valley without being seen by somebody, but it can still happen.

However, up here in the more remote White Mountain area, it doesn’t take long to wander from even some of the most urbanized settings, and before long we are out on the trails dodging elk pellets and listening to a howling coyote chorus.

We are also blessed with an abundance of outdoor recreational activities including camping, hunting and hiking that is usually a healthy activity for everybody, especially the elderly. On top of that, our weather can turn on a dime from a nice sunny warm day to a frigid, rainy and windy evening. So we live in an area with unique risks that need to be considered immediately when looking for lost people.

But are most of these folks just “wandering?” That may be the most convenient way for us to describe their movements, but it turns out that many people have a reason in their minds for taking off, it just may not make sense to us.

For instance, they might want to go looking for someone significant in their past or a place that fits that description. They might want to go do something like getting something to eat or buying something else. Some people talk about doing something like this before they actually embark, so by paying attention to even possibly meaningless chatter, it may provide clues on where to search.

Unfortunately, some folks may actually want to get away from where they currently are because they feel anxious and very uncomfortable, and they may even avoid people looking for them.

The best way to avoid a crisis situation is obviously trying to prevent it in the first place. Some homes and yards can be secured with fences, locks, and alarms, but these need to be maintained and turned off and on, which can be too much for some caregivers. Motion detecting cameras on all doors can at least give you a time and direction of travel possibly but that doesn’t prevent the situation.

If the person is still allowed to drive, and the vehicle is available, there are still precautions that can be taken. OnStar and other companies provide satellite GPS tracking of vehicles, even with the ability to shut down the car engine remotely. Most people don’t want to give up their freedom to drive voluntarily, so taking the keys or hiding them could be difficult to do for some folks. And don’t forget about the golf cart or riding lawn mower!

Many law enforcement agencies maintain a database of people at risk with basic information such as photos, contact numbers, medical alerts and other pertinent information. But this information is good only if it is current, so family and caregivers must constantly update this with recent photos and contact numbers. Since it is difficult to make everybody carry a wallet or purse with them all the time with identification, it may be a good idea to get a bracelet or anklet that is difficult to remove and contains this same information.

What should you do if someone wanders way?

It always depends on the situation and must consider the health of the person, the location, how long they could have been missing, any nearby hazards, missing vehicles, mindset of the missing person, and the time it will take resources to help with a search.

When family members or friends first notice someone missing, they should spend about 15-30 minutes doing what professional searchers call a “hasty” search. This doesn’t mean the initial search is done recklessly without any plan, but rather the search quickly looks in the most obvious or dangerous places the person could be. This includes the house in places where a child might hide when playing “hide and seek,” like attics, crawlspaces, outbuildings, vehicles, culverts, and under porches. If people are available, have them look in the same places a second or third time.

Depending on the situation again, you can search the immediate area as well as the neighbor’s, with their permission if possible. It’s always good to get to know your neighbors so informing them of the possibility of a wandering type of person covers a couple of bases, especially if the wandering person is non-violent and at severe risk.

If you are in a “big box” store, the best thing to do is to inform the customer service manager immediately so they can inform their associates on the floor and at the doors to be on the lookout. If the store can cover all the doors and maintain containment, that allows you to search the isles. Having a recent photo and clothes description will certainly make things much easier and more likely to be successful.

But if you can’t locate the person immediately, call 911 right away, especially if you are in a remote area, since the response time will take a lot longer. Even if you are not in a remote area, calling quickly helps searchers narrow down the area that they need to search and greatly increases the chances of finding the individual.

Fortunately, there are a range of new solutions that can help with keeping track of people who are at risk of this type of wandering. If the subject carries a cell phone, there are many apps that allow caregivers to keep track of others and emit alarms if they travel outside of certain boundaries, for example.

The “Find My” app that is automatically installed on iPhones and the “Location Sharing” option in Google Maps offer lots of flexibility from schedules to advanced features such as the electronic enclosures, called “geofences.” These features, as well as other more advanced paid options with companies that specialize in this service, usually require cell phone service coverage. Although this coverage continues to expand on the mountain and along the rim, there are still many voids without coverage where these phone apps and others would not work.

Technology for locating individuals that operates in areas without a cell phone signal includes mostly VHF or satellite frequency radio tracking. This solution is like wildlife radio tracking by using a transmitter that looks like a smartwatch, bracelet or anklet. Since this equipment is more complex and requires battery changes and maybe a monthly subscription fee, there are companies dedicated solely to this service. Currently, the volunteer Navajo County Search and Rescue posse is considering getting involved with one of these programs due to the increasing rate of search and rescue call outs for these scenarios. You can contact the Navajo County Sheriff’s Office at 928-524-4050 or www.navajocountyaz.gov if you want to become involved by either supporting this type of program or if you are interested in trying to safeguard a friend or family member. The program being considered requires funding for equipment and training and is currently being used successfully in Gila County.

Even if you aren’t enrolled in any programs, you shouldn’t hesitate to call your local Sheriff’s department as soon as possible if someone goes missing. This gives them time to quickly mobilize ground crews, Department of Public Service infrared capable helicopters, and Civil Air Patrol airplanes with high-definition cameras.

And for those of us with most of our facilities still intact for the time being, we still need to tell people where we are going hiking and when we plan to return! Happy Hiking!!

Winter Survivors

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 17:40:23 GMT

How wildlife survives winter

By Andrew Larson

When winter hits, humans are offered many luxuries. It’s easy to enjoy a cold, snowy day while bathing in the warm glow of a wood stove, safe and dry from the harsh elements outside. With pantries stocked full of food, layers and layers of clothes if we need to brave the elements and big vehicles capable of plowing through drifts of snow and getting you down the road, it seems people often forget just how easy we have it in the winter months. Sure, snow shoveling driveways isn’t the most fun way to start the day. Scraping ice off windshields can get old. However, winter’s grasp is much more of an inconvenience than a struggle for us modern humans. While we can glide easily through winter after winter, safe inside our homes, we are one of the few creatures to possess such a luxury. What about all the animals that live in the elements day in and day out? How do they strategize to make it through the harsh winter months without the huge safety nets that we know so well?

For animals, winter presents a whole new set of challenges for survival. Harsh and cold elements demand lots of energy from animals in order for them to stay alive — energy provided by food sources that can often be scarce during this time of year. To persist, animals have developed all sorts of strategies to successfully survive through harsh winter months. During this time of year, daily life can be a struggle for survival that can truly test an animal’s fitness for its environment.

Migration

One of the more well-known mechanisms by which animals deal with winter is through seasonal migrations. This is a term everyone is familiar with and the best example exists in the millions of birds that travel along northern and southern migration routes twice every year. Both birds and mammals exhibit a wide variety of migration strategies. However, in a general sense, the migrations of animals tend to fall into the categories of long-distance or short distance migrations.

An example of long-distance migration would be waterfowl that fly thousands of miles from their summer breeding grounds in the northern latitudes to their wintering grounds in the southern United States and Mexico. In our area, the best examples of long-distance migrating species are the abundant species of ducks, geese and waterfowl that move seasonally through the White Mountains. Other species of birds such as hummingbirds — who spend the bountiful days of summer here in the mountains and then retreat to Mexico for a warmer winter -- exhibit a similar strategy.

Short-distance migration is another commonly used winter survival strategy. Instead of covering lengths of entire states or countries, many mammals and birds take part in short- distance regional migration. A simple drop in elevation in the western mountains is often enough to significantly lessen the severity of winter. In our area, deer and elk can be a prime example of short distance migrators; spending their summers in the high mountains and then retreating to slightly lower elevations when the real snow falls. Some bird species to exhibit similar short distance migrations by simply moving from higher mountain elevations to the lower foothills or valleys.

Caching

For animals that don’t migrate to find better winter food sources, food can be tough to come by in the harsh winter months. Animals know this and there are a variety of species that cache — or store — food from the plentiful supplies of summer later for the winter when food can be hard to come by.

Species of both mammals and birds cache food for use in the wintertime. Squirrels spend much of their summer burying green pine cones in the duff and soil to store viable food for their use during winter. Birds such as Pinyon Jays are known for their remarkable ability to remember the locations of nearly all the seeds they stored in unique individual locations. Acorn Woodpeckers, unlike Pinyon Jays, choose to store nearly all their reserves in one spot. Known as a “granary tree,” a family of woodpeckers will select an old dead tree and poke hundreds to thousands of storage holes in it for acorns and other seed food sources.

Sleeping it Out

Perhaps the most iconic winter strategy of all is the long slumber cumulatively referred to as “hibernation.” Humans may also feel like they are in some sort of state of hibernation as they coop up in their houses during the cold days of winter. However, hibernation refers to a seasonal period of inactivity experienced by endotherms (warm-blooded animals). During hibernation, animals may come in and out of states of torpor, where heart rate, body temperature and bodily functions are depressed; being restored to somewhat normal levels along a cyclical schedule during the hibernation period. By hibernating, animals can not only stay tucked away from the harsh elements but also conserve valuable energy during the lean months by reducing activity. Hibernating mammals in our area would include bears and some ground squirrels.

Believe it or not, our White Mountains abound with dozens of species of reptiles and amphibians. How do these cold-blooded critters survive through the harsh winters? Similar to hibernation, many ectotherms (cold-blooded animals) experience a different form called brumation. Like hibernating mammals, reptiles and amphibians will find a sheltered place among a rock pile or crevice to stay safe for the winter. During this period of brumation, bodily functions are significantly reduced as the animal enters a state of dormancy throughout the duration of the cold months. Many species of reptile and amphibian are even known to brumate in mixed-species den sites.

Toughing it Out

Not all critters have devised an ingenious strategy to make it through the harsh winter months. Some hardy animals stay put through it all and battle the winter, season after season, through sheer grit. The winter hits these critters the hardest.

Despite many birds being seasonal migrators, a surprising number are year-round local residents in our area. Throughout the year and into the winter, there are a few common characters at backyard bird feeders. Dark-eyed Juncos and Mountain Chickadees are some of the local species that must work their way through winter. When bird feeders are empty, they must rely on finding remnants of last fall’s crop of seeds or dormant insects hiding in trees.

The Blue Grouse — or now referred to as the Dusky Grouse — hails from some of the highest elevation forests in our state, those forests most severely affected by winter’s grasp. Despite having a sufficient set of wings and muscular legs, the grouse decides it is best to stay put. Deep into winter’s cover, when the high spruce-fir forest floors are hidden under feet of snowpack, the grouse perches still high amongst the treetops. How does a grouse support its energy demands in this harsh winter environment? Without storing any food caches and its normal food sources on the ground being covered up, these grouse resort to an obligate diet of pine needles. It is impressive to think anything could survive on such a rough diet, but the Blue Grouse have managed to eke out an existence doing just that.

Whenever a big storm rolls around and I am sitting warm and dry on the couch in my home, I have a hard time fathoming what the animals outside must be going through. While some may be tucked away hidden from the elements in their hibernation den, I can’t help but think about those animals toughing it out in the elements, scratching through the blanket of snow to depleted food sources below. Before complaining about the inconveniences and discomforts the winter season may bring to some, think about all the luxuries that actually make it easy. The animals have it roughest in the winter and continue to show incredible resilience.

Gratitude for Dogs

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 17:36:49 GMT

Why you should have a dog...

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

It’s time! It is the time for excitement, enthusiasm, and energy. It’s time for unbridled joy and relief that this time has finally come. It may have been five minutes or five days since the last time, but it’s time again now!

What time is it? Did we win the lottery? Is it finally snowing? Did a new Amazon box appear on the front porch? With this much joy and excitement, maybe we got a new car or maybe we got a vacation day…what time is it? For a dog, it’s time to get up and go outside to go potty, it’s time to take the trash down to the street, it’s time for a bowl of kibble or maybe it’s the time that the people come home from wherever they have been for half their canine lives. Maybe it’s time to go on a bike ride on a forest trail or a car ride with their heads out the window in the wind. For a dog, any time could be that time, and any event, except for bath time, is worthy of a full-blown celebration.

As humans, we put a lot of unnecessary stress on ourselves. The prospect of a new president fills me with worry. I worry about what the Forest Service might decide regarding e-bikes. I’m concerned about both the timely completion and the quality of student work. I worry about how other drivers might affect me on the way home. I’m concerned about the amount of snow we’ll get to help the trees recover from the dry summer, and I’m also worried about how my kids are doing. These things are beyond my control and are things I need to mark as things to follow the advice of dogs about and put the worry aside.

We only have so long in this adventure called life and worrying less and spending more time enjoying it is a great lesson to learn. Dogs, with their ability to live in the now, don’t worry about things outside of their control. If they see a squirrel, they chase it. If they don’t see the squirrel, they don’t. If dad puts a bowl of food down, they eat. If not, they wait. It’s simple. If I have no control over something, I need to put that worry aside and focus on the things I can change.

Losing the worry and focusing on the joy will make me a better, and less stressed, person overall. I heard some good advice on my drive home today. Studies show that people with fewer good friends rather than many partial friends live longer and less stressful lives. Studies also show that having dogs makes us live longer, healthier, happier lives. Dogs reduce stress and anxiety, increase physical health by motivating exercise and lowering blood pressure, increase a sense of purpose and improve brain activity. Studies have shown that even looking at a dog increases oxytocin levels, which improves your mood, and lowers cortisol levels related to stress.

Interestingly, dogs also produce increased oxytocin when interacting with their owners. Having something to count on you and love you unconditionally is incredibly important. Their suggestion was to dump those people who aren’t real friends and adopt a dog or two…or three! Sounds like good advice to me!

Dogs are unconcerned with politics, money, and social media posts. It doesn’t matter to dogs if we hike the same path every day or if we turn around and double back. Dogs don’t care if it’s cold or warm, windy or rainy, dark or sunlit; they just want to be out, and with us. Every adventure is a new story for them. When I hike with the dogs, I notice new things that they stop and sniff and I can lose myself in their world. They notice a new elk bed on the trail or an unfamiliar scent on the local message stump. When we bike with our dogs, I admire the athleticism they have loping along the trail and I notice the way they use their tails to corner and balance at speed. We have a lot to learn from dogs about living life to the fullest and enjoying the journey however long or short it may be.

We just had to “put down” our old dog, Odie (the star of the story: Taking an Old Dog for a Slow Roll, July 2024. In the article, I wrote: “I wonder, does he know that one day it will be his last run in the woods, or does he just live day to day and hour to hour? Is that what makes us “different” from the animals? That we know there was something before us and there will be something after us?” As I petted him, and watched him draw his last breath, I felt he knew I was there with him, trusted us to do what was best for him and was at peace but never really knew that it was his last car ride or last little snack. For dogs, it’s all in the now and as long as they are safe in their pack, they are OK with it.

When I returned home with Odie’s body, they all knew. They knew he was in the back of the truck, wrapped in a blanket. When we buried him in the hole we dug, we uncovered his head and let the other dogs say goodbye. They took turns sniffing him and they know where he is now. They didn’t question, never looked for him in the house or on the trail and were OK with it… life moves on for them in small segments of “now.”

For us, dogs are an essential part of our lives and we would never want to be without one, or two…or three. They are family and deserve to experience all that life offers them. As I write, all of them are content to nap by the fire, but if I close the computer, with the tiniest “click” they will all leap up instantaneously and be ready for the next big adventure, whether it be moving to the kitchen or going outside — every adventure is cause for excitement. No preparation for them. They are ready to go anywhere as long as it involves us. We are their world. They don’t care if my hair looks funny, if I wearing shorts in a snowstorm, or if I’m stressed because I’m late for work. What a gift they give us: unwavering love and loyalty, unshakable trust that we will do the right thing for them and lead them safely from day to day. When we feel discouraged, they know and they come close. When we are sad and need comfort, they are there and the weight of a sleeping dog across your legs both calms you and gives you a reason to stay there and relax, can’t disturb a sleeping dog after all!

“click” … time for a new adventure!

Source: https://unplugged.rest/blog/health-benefits-of-owning-dog

Opting for Trees and Trails

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 17:33:04 GMT

Downhill versus cross-country skiing

By Anne Groebner

In the last few weeks, we have gone from temperatures in the 70s to below freezing and we even have snow. That can only mean one thing. Winter is here. Maybe not according to the calendar, but it’s a great start to our skiing season. We can only hope this weather continues because, according to all the signs in front of local ski shops, Sunrise Ski Park will open on Friday, November 29th. However, we locals know not to jinx it. We just sit back and wait and hope.

The White Mountains are known for its exceptional slopes, but because we have unbelievable landscapes and trails meandering into snow-covered pines accented by stark white and bare aspen, cross-country skiing is becoming increasingly popular. In fact, you can rent nordic skis from Krissie’s in Pinetop. Something that had gone by the wayside from other ski shops in years past.

Many skiers think cross-country skiing is more work. All you need for downhill is momentum and possibly a little skill and balance, and you are joy riding down a mountain at impeccable speeds. Cross-Country skiing is much slower and on a more level playing field. It’s the ambiance and exercise that attracts the Nordics.

I, for one, am a huge fan of cross-country skiing. Especially now that I am a little older and wish to keep my bones in one piece. Last year was great for skiing and I took full advantage of it. In fact, we ventured out one brisk and freezing evening to ski under a full moon. It was amazing. Words can not capture the true beauty of a trail lit up by the moon or the solitude of being the only skiers crazy enough to venture out into the freezing cold — I can’t wait to do it again.

There are so many places to cross-country ski. You’re not limited to one area, like downhill skiing. The entire forest, as long as there is deep enough snow on the ground, is your winter playground. A few of my favorites is Pole Knoll, which is on Arizona State Route 260, just before Arizona Route 373 (Greer turn off), making it close enough to the Village to head over for a hot meal at Molly’s after a brisk workout on the trails.

Another favorite is The Railroad Grade Trail, just past the turn to Sunrise Ski Park — the place we skied under the full moon. We used to ski the trails at Sunrise Ski Park, but you’d have to contact them to see if they’re groomed and buy a White Mountain Apache Reservation recreational permit for just $5.

Not only is cross-country skiing fun, but it is really good for you. Exercise physiologists widely accept cross-country skiing as “the best cardiovascular exercise known.”

Here’s why:

• Cross-country skiing uses a large percentage of your muscle mass and is more efficient and effective than activities using legs alone or arms alone.

• The low-impact nature of the activity reduces impact loading on joints; this is important for individuals with arthritis or joint surface defects.

• Gliding over uneven surfaces increases your “kinesthetic sense,” your body’s ability to perceive its location in space.

• The weight shift in ski-skating and the diagonal stride techniques while gliding on snow increases your balance, and balance is critically important in all sports and as we age to prevent falls.

• Skiing increases your cardiac output (your heart’s ability to pump blood) and increases your oxygen carrying capacity (your body’s ability to take in, oxygenate, transport and extract oxygen at the working muscle), or stated another way, increases your cardiovascular fitness.

• It improves your visual acuity, which is your ability to sense terrain changes and snow undulations in bright and low-light conditions.

• Skiing improves self-esteem and confidence. Enjoying a ski will help you feel healthier, happier and more invigorated due to increased blood flow and heightened senses.

• It helps cultivate an appreciation for our surroundings and environment. Quality time on a ski trail in glorious winter conditions helps us all appreciate the natural world we often take for granted.

• Skiing with family and friends is a great bonding opportunity, resulting in stronger friendships and relationships; this reduces stress and provides an opportunity to recharge our tired batteries.

https://www.uwhealth.org/news/top-10-reasons-cross-country-skiing-is-good-for-you

Whether you are a downhiller or a cross-country skier, or both, get out this winter and get healthy! Staying inside because it’s too cold is a lame excuse. It’s more important to stay active in the winter and to absorb all that vitamin D to keep illnesses at bay.

Hello winter!

Bugles and Whistles

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 17:30:14 GMT

A hunting story...

I was standing in the warm evening sun, facing east, high on a bluff running parallel to a large, dry wash. Behind me, a large, solitary juniper provided my backdrop, and I hoped that, wearing camo, I blended seamlessly into said backdrop. Arcing-out ahead of me was a swath of brown bunch-grasses and pale sagebrush, punctuated here and there by scattered junipers and by an occasional explosion of tiny yellow flowers blooming on the large clumps of rabbit-brush plants.

Beyond the relatively open grassy section, a thick forest of juniper grew, intersperse occasionally with pinyon trees. Using my 10x42 binoculars, I scanned the edge of a line of juniper trees that grew nearly up to where the bluff sharply dropped down into the dry wash below. It was early October and I was joining a few friends on their elk hunt in a section of brawny hills a few hours from town.

Behind me, on the opposite side of the juniper against which I was standing, were Lin and Susanna, no-doubt doing something similar to me: glassing the landscape looking for elk. Down off the bluff, Susanna’s husband, Bob, was engaged in his evening hunt. Of the four of us, Bob was the only one with an elk tag; a cow-elk tag, to be precise. Our goal, from our high vantage point, was to locate a group of cows so that we could use a radio to hopefully direct Bob to a spot where we could see elk (it’s important to remember that cell service was very spotty in this particular area).

I lowered my binoculars and was startled to see that Lin had quietly moved from his side of the big juniper to my side. He was now standing near me, also watching the tree-line with binoculars. Good, let Lin focus on the juniper/grassland interface for a while, as I wanted to just soak in the scenery, which, though somewhat familiar to anyone who has lived in, or near, PJ habitat (pinyon/juniper), was beautifully lit by the setting sun. Out ahead of me, the entire world seemed to have an amber glow, but the juniper tree-line itself stood out as a shimmering wall of bright green. Not high above the line of junipers, a group of three ravens flew toward the wash, croaking out deep “caw” notes as they left the trees and descended down along the crumbling hills and into the sandy wash below.

Very casually, I heard Lin say “there’s an elk” and I was snatched from my reverie and looked to see where he had his binos trained. I had to move a couple of meters to get a clear view, but soon I was also looking head-on at a cow as she cautiously stepped out from the wall of junipers and into the open grass- and brush-lands. As several more elk followed her out into the open, Lin walked back around to where Susanna was and she could quietly radio Bob so that he could hustle back to his truck and drive up to where he could park and then walk to our location. In the meantime, a bull elk emerged, followed his harem of cows out into the open, and bugled a few times while the vanguard of cows slowly picked their way into the open grassy area, presumably preparing to feed.

We watched the small herd of five elk and wondered if they might intend to descend into the wash; which would be unfortunate since Bob was now approaching the top. When Bob drove up to near where we had parked, about a mile to our south, I think the bull decided he would prefer to return to the cover of the trees and so, before long, the cows followed him back into the dense timber. Frustrated by our not being successful at arranging a meeting of the hunter and the hunted, we decided we would save Bob the uphill walk to our location and, in the diminishing light, we would hike back down toward the road to give Bob the details to our close encounter of the elk kind.

Just as we were leaving our high vantage point, we heard the whistle of the train that hauls coal from far up north down to one of the few remaining coal-fired power-plants still operating in Arizona. I lingered for a while as Lin and Susanna started off to meet Bob, as I wanted to wait long enough to get a view of the empty coal train as it headed north along its exclusive spur of tracks. A train’s whistle amounts to time-machine for me, as it instantly transports my mind back to my childhood, growing up in southeastern Michigan, where, from my home, I could hear a train’s whistle on warm summer nights when I slept with my bedroom windows open. The nearest tracks were several miles from my home so the sound, especially late at night, had a faint, forlorn, lonesome quality to it; but I loved it, and it made me happy to hear it so far away, yet somehow personal, like it was wishing me a goodnight.

I headed down from the bluff but didn’t catch up with Lin and Susanna until they were already back at the road and talking to Bob about the group of five elk, which had started off somewhat bold, then became wary, and before long had become down-right skittish as they headed back the way they had come, into the dense junipers. It was dark by now so we drove the two vehicles back to camp where we traded stories with the other three members of our team, two of whom also had cow tags but who had still not yet seen any elk, though they had noted an increase in bugling from bulls in our area.

Though the mid-days were very hot for this time of year, the first and last several hours of each day were pleasant and the nights were wonderfully cool. Because of obligations I had back in town, I was only out to visit my friends for two nights of their hunt. They, however, had already been out since before opening day, which was a few days prior to my arrival, and would remain out for the remaining nights of the hunt, unless they filled their tags before the season’s close.

Given the much longer duration of their camping trip, they had brought plenty of equipment and supplies and were eating more elaborate meals than me. I cooked up a can of soup on the tail-gate of my truck and by the time I was done eating it, they were just sitting down to eat around a campfire ring where they had been burning large pieces of juniper for the past several nights. One thing about this country, it may not have many elk, but it also doesn’t have many people out camping (on hunts, or otherwise) so there is plenty of good juniper to burn; especially since the local ranchers in the area had occasionally drag-lined the woodlands in past years to make more room for grasses and, as a result, desiccated juniper logs lay everywhere, ripe for the picking.

We each found our ideal personal distances from which to sit from what was soon a very hot but also very cheery campfire. The wood was so old and sun-dried that it never snapped and barely even crackled or popped; all the sap having dried up long ago.

Back in the day, several of us had been biologists for various natural resource agencies in Yuma and a few of the crew, had in fact, even known each other since their days at the University of Arizona prior to landing their respective Yuma jobs. I was a late-comer to the Yuma team but that worked out nicely for me as they all possessed a lot of hard-earned knowledge about the land and its plants and animals that they willingly shared with me once I became part of the group.

After a few wonderful hours around the fire engrossed in fun and far-ranging conversations, I was ready for bed; so I bid everyone good-night and walked the 50 or so meters to my cot-site. I spent about a half-hour supine, staring up at the vivid stars, before the pull of sleep became irresistible and I slid off from the plane of wakeful reality and into the dark world of deep slumber; then later, into the inscrutable realm of dreams.

I awoke rested and pleased to be greeted by the soft hoots of a distant owl, and then quickly set to boiling water for coffee in the 4 a.m. darkness. Well before first light, I was once again hiking up the slope to the bluff’s crest; this time with Mark, who also did not have a tag for the hunt. We would serve the same role that Lin, Susanna, and I had served yesterday evening, only now, we were waiting for the sun to rise instead of set. This time we did not have any elk join us on our high perch, nor did we see any down below in the wash or in any of the other more distant plains or rolling hills. The morning’s earliest light did, however, see the passing of the train once again only this time, it was headed to the power-plant with its cars fully laden with coal. Without knowing what the other was doing, Mark and I each silently tallied the coal-cars and each of us, as we soon learned, independently counted 137 cars. At the head of the cars, there were two big engines pulling the load. Two more engines, facing the opposite direction, were situated at the other end of the line of cars (in the place of a caboose) because on the return trip, they would pull the load of what would then be empty cars.

My second day went very similar to my first and when I awoke on my third day I only hung around long enough to do a bit of hiking in the one direction where none of the three hunting parties had gone off to find elk. My hike was just for the sake of exercise and a bit of bird watching prior to heading home. It was a rather paltry showing by me in terms of assisting my pals, but they really didn’t need me and I had lots to do back in town so, with some reluctance, I hit the road around 10 a.m.

One of the reason I appreciate living where I do, is because whether you are in town and enjoying the local natural history, or, you are hopping in the truck to drive to visit a place that is nearby (yet very different, habitat-wise), there is always some marvel of Nature to be explored. Tomorrow in fact, I may just head towards a chunk of National Forest I know, where a large stand of aspens grow healthy and tall. About now, in early October, they may be in their golden prime but, even if they are pre- or post-peak, they will be sublime. And I will be better off just for having spent a little bit of time among them. Come to think of it, I could say the same thing about my Yuma friends.

Prepping for Winter Outings

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 17:26:36 GMT

Be prepared for winter weather in the White Mountains of AZ

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

The day is gorgeous with startling blue skies, brilliant white snow and nothing but time. Temps are in the high 20s, projected to be in the mid 30s by noon and you want to get out and do something! There is lacy frost on the trees, and light winds and frozen ground are making the trails firm and fast. You get a few miles out and as the sun rises, the ground thaws and the trails turn to mud. A breeze picks up and clouds skid over the sky, blocking the sun and the temperature rapidly plunges. You get disoriented, and it begins to snow lightly. It happens. You are riding or hiking along, happily and with complete confidence and then bam!, suddenly the weather changes and you are miles from home and in trouble. How can you prepare yourself to be safe while out enjoying our winter wonderland?

Whether you bike, hike, ski, snowshoe, hunt or just want to go drive around, there are considerations to take when planning outdoor activities in the White Mountains. Be prepared.

What can you do to help mitigate the dangers of winter outdoor activity? The primary mantra is “be prepared.” Be prepared to communicate with friends or loved ones in case of an emergency. Be prepared to stay outside much longer than predicted. Be prepared for rapid changes in weather conditions. Be prepared in case of an accident. Be prepared to keep yourself warm in various scenarios. While you can’t prepare for everything, here are some suggestions to help you be more prepared for your next winter adventure.

Communication - Besides dressing appropriately, communication is of utmost importance. We live in a world where technology is sometimes overwhelming and there is a desire to “turn it off” and go out into nature without distractions, but you need to at least carry a fully charged cell phone to call for help. Double check, you will have coverage in the area you plan to adventure in. Using an app such as Strava to track your progress and send location data to friends/family is a must.

A tracking app like Strava is useful because while it tracks your exact path, it also shows the surrounding area on both satellite and topo maps so that rescuers can plot the fastest route to your location. The Garmin “In Reach” units use satellite technology to provide emergency 911 contact if you are in areas with little phone coverage. Most Garmin tracking units have crash locator beacons that will call loved ones with your precise coordinates, and there are several cycling helmets that do the same thing. Be able to be in contact with somebody when you go out. Always carry an emergency whistle to signal searchers — if you break a rib, yelling out may not be the most comfortable option! There is no shame in a crash or fall. Call for help as soon as you feel compromised, and your friends will do what is needed to get you out. Don’t wait to call for help if needed. With variable temperatures and short days, hesitation to call for help can have deadly consequences for both you and your would-be rescuers. The White Mountain outdoors community is awesome, has members from every occupation and is more than able and willing to pull together to help when needed.

Consider your planned activity. Dressing for variable winter conditions is highly individual. Figuring out what works for you, your activity level and your sport takes thought and some trial-and-error. Begin with brief excursions to see what works for you and learn how fast you will heat up/cool down while doing your chosen activity. Riding a horse differs from mountain biking or hiking, and gravel biking differs from mountain biking when you consider windchill. Riding a snowmobile or ATV involves high windchill and lower body heat creation. Hunting involves active hiking, which increases body temperature and then stationary sitting, during which your body cools rapidly. For most activities, you will need to dress in layers and carry a spare jacket in case you need to be immobile for a while (maybe it’s not you who needs help and you need to stop and give aide to someone else). Winter is the time to always carry a pack or waist pack to carry removed layers in or carry extra layers for use later.

Dress in layers. The most important concept to remember for winter dressing is layers. Often you feel you will be plenty warm enough with just a base layer and a light jacket since you are exerting yourself physically, but what happens if you or a partner have an accident and can’t move, are injured and in shock, or have an incident just prior to nightfall? Carry an extra layer, wear a base layer to absorb sweat and keep you dry, (T-shirts absorb sweat and holds it next to your body — cooling you down rapidly), wear a thermal layer and have a wind-proof shell to reduce any windchill. Unless it’s wet out, skip the rain jacket as it can trap moisture and cause you to chill quickly.

Unless you are sitting stationary, exposed to windchill in an ATV or on horseback, skip the thick padded jacket. You will find it to be too warm quickly and then it will be an encumbrance. Winter tights or leg warmers reduce exposed skin surface area, keep your legs warm and reduce heat loss. The large muscle mass of your legs can create a tremendous amount of heat and warm circulating blood, therefore it is important to monitor and adjust their coverage. Removable leg and arm warmers are great options for layering, as you can gradually modify coverage depending on need and these small pieces are easy to pack when removed.

Protect your extremities. Hands, feet and ears have limited circulation, are especially vulnerable to cold and their comfort can make or break an outdoor experience. Good quality insulated and wind/water-proof gloves are a must, especially when cycling, as hands are usually relatively stationary on the bars and are exposed to additional windchill as you ride.

Again, layers help. Wear a thin wool base layer glove inside the thicker waterproof gloves for best results. Pogies (bar mitts) are great because you can wear thinner gloves for easier bike control while completely blocking the wind chill. Wear insulated, waterproof boots and layered warm socks, including a base layer and outer sock. Wool is best and will keep feet warm even when wet. Carry or wear a scarf, skull cap or headband under your helmet to keep your head and ears warm. If you crash, and cannot keep on moving, put on your extra layers and keep your helmet on to conserve heat.

Plan for the unexpected: Even if you plan to be back by dark, on these short winter days a light (and a backup light) is a must both for being able to make your way back if possible and for signaling rescuers coming for you. If you have an accident or get completely disoriented and cannot/should not keep going, find a protected area near the trail to wait. It’s advisable to carry an emergency blanket in your pack to both keep your body heat in and to direct warmth if you need to build a fire. Speaking of fire, it is a great idea to carry a small fire-starting kit, including wind-proof matches and some dry tinder. Carry some spare high-energy food at all times, and of course water. Remember that exposed water bottles and hoses can freeze quickly, so insulated bottles, bladder hose insulation and wearing your water pack under an exterior jacket can help.

Pack it in/out: Even if you don’t normally ride or hike with a pack, winter is the time to get one and keep it stocked for the just-in-case.

Here’s a short list of things to carry in your pack:

• High energy food like sport nutrition bars and gus, high-fat foods like nuts and cheese

• Emergency blanket

• Fire starter

• Lights

• Spare winter gloves if you are starting out with regular cycling gloves

• Hat or skullcap

• Cell phone charger

• Chemical heat packs

• Small first aid kit including blood stopper and wrap

• Spare softshell jacket

• Emergency whistle

• Knife

• Your normal cycling tools and flat-kit

• Carry a compass and rough map of the area in case there isn’t cell coverage and the skies become overcast, causing you to become disoriented.

Have fun! Winter riding, hiking and adventuring are fun and invigorating activities, but carry additional risks. Be prepared, watch the weather reports and expected temperatures, venture with others if possible and get out there and back safely!

SIMPLE AND EFFECTIVE HOME-MADE FIRE STARTERS

Materials:

dryer lint

paper egg carton

old candles

1. Stuff egg carton holes with saved up dryer lint

2. Carefully melt candles in an old can placed in a boiling water bath

3. Pour melted wax into egg carton holes

4. Cool and separate.

5. Place a couple of these and a few weather-resistant matches in each pack you use for outdoor activities. These will burn long enough and hot enough to get a good fire going quickly in an emergency

The Madonna Guild

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 17:22:14 GMT

Supporting our community...

By Katherine Larson

and Jen Rinaldi

Photos submitted

With a few brave yellow leaves still clinging to the branches, this year we seemed to segway from an abnormally hot summer into instant winter.

Winter looming and the holidays fast approaching we turn inwards. Not only in heart but physically as well. Which brings me to Christmas shopping…

After all that has come to pass in this past year, I know that my family and I will strive to shop locally to keep our small businesses running. With such a vibrant community, we are blessed to have many great events that showcase local talent and allow us to gift those talents to family.

Last weekend at St. Mary of the Angels Catholic Church in Pinetop, Arizona, a premiere group of local artisans assembled in a lovely, heated space for the 4th annual ‘Made on the Mountain’ craft fair hosted by the Madonna Guild.

If you are not familiar with the Madonna Guild, “we are the parish and community-focused women’s organization at St. Mary’s Church” says Katherine Larson their President.

“The ladies of the Madonna Guild are an extraordinary group of kind and compassionate women who work as a team to give back to our Church and to our White Mountain community. Because there is always a need to do more, we welcome women within our community who want to help serve others through our many ministries.”

What strikes me the most about this group with whom I spent the weekend is how much fun and joy they take in their duties. The laughter and joy were evident in all who helped. I am an honorary member of this extraordinary group and am proud to call them sisters.

Among the women who give time to the Madonna Guild, there are also the “Dons” of the “Madonnas.” “They would be our long-suffering husbands who cheerfully lend a hand, whenever and wherever needed, to support our ministries.”

With the funds the Guild raises from their bi-annual craft fair and bake sale, the Guild looks to feed many families at Thanksgiving with a turkey and all the fixings for a delicious meal. At Christmastime, the Guild distributes handmade and decorated Christmas stockings brimming with personal care products and candy to those in need. Near Halloween, you will find the ladies volunteering at St. Mary’s Halloween party for the children of the religious education program.

The Guild also distributes crocheted prayer shawls to those who are ill or are grieving or are undergoing treatment at Summit’s Cancer Center. Handmade rosaries are distributed locally and throughout the world thanks to a wonderful flight attendant who delivers them to churches and missions as she flies around the globe. Rosaries are also sent to a prison chaplain to distribute at the prison in Florence, AZ.

Made on the Mountain ran for two days (Friday November 8th and Saturday the 10th). More than fifty vendors displayed their wares, ranging from candles and creams to cards, wood tables, felted items, wreaths, jewelry and more. At times the aisles were so crowded with hungry shoppers that shoppers had to shuffle single file down the rows.

Some of the proceeds from “Made on the Mountain” will help a sister parish on the White River Reservation with heating costs for the winter, Katherine, the president of the Madonna Guild, says, “We look for opportunities to help, where possible, those in need. The lack of funds to keep the heat on is an issue brought to my attention during the craft fair and I will be in touch with the folks at St Francis of Assisi.”

Members of the Guild did more than just run the event. Their own talents were on display this weekend! Their Bake Sale was a hit, offering pies, cakes and cookies of all kinds. Tess Durfee’s booth, featuring her paintings of the Madonna on necklaces, bookmarks and cards, was a favorite among holiday shoppers. Terri Linn made BBQ Sauce and festive holiday centerpieces. Fran Serio displayed beautiful natural stone and copper art pieces while Shawn Dragoo’s booth featured lovely etched glassware. Amazing!

Vendors were complimentary of the event, saying that the Madonna Guild had the details well in hand. Many signed up for next year, not wanting to take the chance of missing out. Being a vendor myself I recognize and appreciate when the volunteers go above and beyond to placate and accommodate all their guests both sellers and buyers. I will be there!

When I asked Katherine, their president, why this group is so successful she said, “We go about our work, without any fanfare, in service to God and to those in need. We are so thankful for the success of our Made on the Mountain craft fair and bake sale because the money we earn allows us to expand our ministries to do more.

“Actively participating only requires as much time as you want to give. Can you spare a little or even a lot of time? Either choice is great! Participating from home is wonderful. Are you a summer visitor who would like to contribute from your winter home? Your participation would be so welcome. We will get you started in whatever interests you!”

If you would like to join us please call Katherine at

(928)595-2888.

The Lessons of Trees

Mon, 18 Nov 2024 17:18:04 GMT

What trees can teach you...

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.,

Unstuck Living

Trees. As I walk and hike, I revel in trees. Ponderosa pines and junipers. Mesquite and aspens. Cedars and maples. Each has a story to tell, and a journey to make. Some, as aspens, live in tribes. They support each other as they make their community beneath the ground. Others are like lonely sentinels. Not like hermits who stand alone out of weakness, but like great solitary beings. In the topmost branches, the world rustles with the life of birds and squirrels, with roots in infinity. They fulfill their lives with one thing only: to live their lives according to their own laws. To build their own forms. To stand for themselves.

These trees are magnificent. When a tree is cut down, its entire history is there for all to see. The multiple rings of its years show its scars. All the suffering of drought, the happiness and prosperity of plentiful rain are there. The lean years. The luxurious years. The storms endured and the attacks overcome all leave their mark on these rings.

Trees are a place of refuge. Whoever can speak to them, to listen to them, can heal within. They do not lecture right and wrong, but preach their own ancient law of life.

A tree will tell you: a spark, a thought is hidden inside. The attempt to grow and flourish against many odds is mine. From the forms and veins of my branches to the patterns of my skin. The smallest scar in my bark and the tiny play of my leaves all create a symphony of understanding.

A tree also says: my strength is trust. While I know nothing about where I came from or nothing about the thousand children that spring from me every year, I trust that all is well. I care for nothing else. Out of this trust, I live and thrive.

The tree also has wise counsel when life gets too hard . Be still. Go within. Home is within you, or nowhere at all. The metaphors for life are numerous, easy to apply to a daily life.

Inner peace

I am grateful for the lessons these trees offer. But how to have this peace in a time of strife? Heart Math Institute has a process to bring harmony and that stillness we long for. I’d like to share it with you.

• Sit in a comfortable place. One that is quiet and without distractions.

Close your eyes …And take a deep breath in… Then release that breath… Now another deep breath in… and release that breath. With this next breath in… breath in pure relaxation. Breath out all the tension, the worry, the frustration of the day.

And as you do, open your heart … The opening may be very small as you first begin… but you can gradually expand it more… and more.

There is a light in your heart … Let that light shine from this open space... Let it radiate outward.

And as it does… let the light fill your body… First the torso… Your shoulders and upper back… Your stomach and your hips… Your legs… Your arms… Your neck and your head… Thoughts that float through your mind are bathed in this light.

Now, let the light radiate out beyond your body …as far as it will go. Feeling the wholeness… the completeness… the freedom within.

When the time is right, bring yourself back to your natural state of awareness, enjoying the light and love flowing through you.

Let your light shine this Thanksgiving season. Enjoy the lessons of the trees and the bounty that is yours. Live unstuck.

The Woods are Alive with the Sound of Music

Tue, 22 Oct 2024 00:04:17 GMT

It can be hard to imagine a unique piercing, high pitched call is coming from such a large animal.

By Dan Groebner

Step outside almost anywhere in the White Mountains these nights and you might be tempted to consider calling 911 after hearing the nearby commotion in the woods, if this is your first fall in elk country. Until you actually see the majestic bull elk bugling with your own eyes, it can be hard to imagine a unique piercing, high pitched call coming from such a large animal.

If you’re lucky enough to be close when they cut loose, you’ll hear the entire repertoire of grunts, growls, glunks, bugles, barks, bleats, chuckles, chirps, mews, squeals, and whines. And you thought your teenager had a peculiar vocabulary!!! Most of these sounds are self-explanatory but to get a true appreciation for their uniqueness, search the internet to play these different elk recordings. You’ll find that the frequency range produced by a bull elk rivals that of all other wildlife.

So why would a docile ungulate have such a complex set of vocalizations? Actually, they only have a big need to talk so much in the fall, when the bulls who have been socializing together all summer now have to show off their dominance with macho music driven by hormones that are magnitudes higher than any teenager.

The elk’s secret code of bugling language relays information on how dominant a bull thinks he is, as well as his precise location thanks to the more directional high frequencies that are used in bugles. With this “social media post” another bull can decide to challenge him to a shouting contest, or a cow elk can decide if he is the bull of her dreams.

The vocal displays of dominance often are not enough to settle disputes between rival bulls vying for the same herd of available cows during the breeding season. Fencing bouts with their antlers are certainly dramatic, and sometimes end in injury or deaths, however most disputes are settled without any bloodshed.

But it’s not just the bulls vocalizing their opinions in a one-way conversation. Cows and younger yearlings can grunt, bark, bleat and mew more than the bulls as they go about their feeding activities, constantly updating each other on their state of relaxation or alertness, depending on what they are seeing, smelling and hearing.

Although you can hear these kinds of cow conversations year-round, they are certainly not as dramatic as the bull’s bugling, which strains not only their diaphragms, but also every chest and abdomen muscle needed to create the decibels to propel their calls for miles. Their volume has been reported to reach 90 decibels, which would cause hearing damage over extended periods up close. For comparison, a lawnmower or electric drill are also about 90 decibels.

Expending so much energy revealing your location to potential predators must have some advantages for the bull elk, which is mostly the access to more receptive cows and the opportunity to spread their genes amongst the herd.

Imitating elk is an effective way to get a bull’s attention during the hunting season, so it is a commonly used technique to make the elk come to you within range, rather than having to stalk a silent animal. Photographers also use a blind and some of the various types of elk calls to pull in those bulls for better photos.

As it turns out though, more elk are probably scared away from inexperienced elk callers than are attracted, so don’t think you’ll pull that trophy bull in without practicing on several different types of calls. Those lessons are beyond the scope of this article but there are plenty of tutorials and YouTube videos on that topic. Sometimes it is just better to listen.

In between bugles, or in areas where the elk might not be abundant, you’ll still be able to hear a wildlife orchestra this fall if you’re lucky.

Nature’s audible thermometer, cricket chirps, are slowing down as the leaves begin to change color, but red-spotted toads may still be trying to imitate a cricket that had too many energy drinks.

Migrant visitors from the north will temporarily entertain us with their calls as they pass through the area to their winter homes, including flocks of Canada geese and the pterodactyl sounding sandhill crane flocks. Other birds are making a racket these days, but it obviously has nothing to do with their spring breeding season. Acorn woodpeckers are noisily protecting their newly stored winter caches of acorns from hungry squirrels since they don’t migrate and can’t find much food once snow covers the ground.

Breeding great horned owls will be staking out their territories in a couple of months with relentless hooting as they are some of the earliest birds to nest in the White Mountains. They time their hatch and fledging of young to coincide with the abundance of newly born prey animals, much like the resident breeding bald eagle pairs.

Different White Mountain owls, like western screech or saw-whet owls, begin their hooting concerts later in winter but sometimes get started early. Both of these birds have distinctive calls with the screech owl’s hoots gradually increasing in tempo or pace while the saw-whet uses a more plaintive “so what?, so what?” type of call.

Although most fall performances are solo wildlife looking for attention, you could get lucky and hear some of nature’s more rare harmonic ensembles when the local Mexican wolves and coyotes get excited and sometimes howl to the point of almost getting hoarse. Any kind of sound even remotely resembling a wolf or coyote howl can elicit a jealous response from a local canine resident worried about a new neighbor moving in next door. Often one member of the pack howling is all it takes to get the whole pack going.

Some of the oddest fall wildlife vocalizations must include gray fox barks, squeals, squalls, and other chatter that rival the variety of a busy raccoon telling its littermate what it did all night. Good luck trying to figure out how many foxes and raccoons are attending that spontaneous garbage can convention fighting over the goodies. One more reason to secure your garbage until collection day, since the bears are trying to fatten up for the winter now also.

So the next time there isn’t a good game on, or they’re just playing reruns, or you just want to appreciate what we have here in the White Mountains, try getting comfortable outside in a lawn chair and warm blanket on one of our nice windless fall evenings and take in the starlit symphony of the White Mountains, free of charge, no lines and no reservations needed!

Furry Carnivores of the Dark Skies

Mon, 21 Oct 2024 23:59:36 GMT

Bats are the target for many myths...

By Dan Groebner

We are approaching the evening known for its sightings of record numbers of werewolves, ghosts and vampires. But, of course, we all know that these creatures are fictitious creations from the imaginations of writers and Hollywood film creators. Or are they? Some people may believe in ghosts — and werewolves may have more sightings on the benches of superstitious professional sports teams during their playoff runs — but believe it or not, vampires can be commonly found just a day’s drive from the White Mountains.

No, there is not a Translyvanian castle buried in the remote depths of the Sierra Madre Mountain range in northern Mexico. But there is a resident population of vampires found in the countryside living off of fresh blood of living organisms. Fortunately — and maybe this is a disappointment for some people — these vampires are just small, palm-sized bats that only scratch surface wounds on the skin of cattle and deer and lick up the oozing blood. The compound found in the bat’s saliva that keeps their host’s blood continuously flowing and from clotting has been termed “Draculin” for obvious reasons and actually may show promise in treating human strokes and heart attacks.

Bats are also the target for many other myths. No, they don’t fly towards you trying to get caught in your hair (unless you have a load of lice, of course) and none of them are blind (even though some have highly developed echolocation radar that allows them to navigate in complete darkness). They are not considered flying mice but they are the only mammal capable of sustained flight. Bats certainly don’t breed like mice, usually producing only one or two pups each year. But what about that story of all bats being dirty and carriers of rabies?

Bats keep themselves photo-ready groomed by licking and combing their fur with their nails and their droppings are mostly dried exoskeletons of insects and do not support bacteria like mouse feces. Unfortunately, bats can contract, carry and transmit the deadly rabies virus just like skunks, foxes and dogs. But, fortunately, very few bats actually get sick and they are easy to spot because they can be found out and about during the day or they show no fear of humans and may become aggressive. Importantly, not all rabid animals get the “furious” form where they act aggressive. The “dumb” form of the disease results in animals acting unnatural but not aggressive. The only good thing about rabies is that there is a vaccine that is 100% effective in preventing humans from contracting the other-wise fatal disease — if treatment is administered within a day or two of the bite or exposure.

Even perfectly healthy bats can become a nuisance, if not a safety issue, if they decide to use your home as their summer party place and send invitations to seemingly half of the bats in Navajo County to join the fun. Summer cabins only used occasionally — and especially the ones left vacant for more than a year — are favorite haunts for bats to take up residence in and use as a day roost. These issues can usually be resolved by sealing all possible entry holes and cracks down to ¼” from the bat roost into the human living quarters first. Then wait for the bats to migrate south — after October — and seal up all those small cracks and entry holes into their roost from the building’s outside.

Bats also use roosts at night to rest during their hunting forays and hang out to finish their take-out meals of moths, mosquitoes and sometimes even centipedes and millipedes. These night roosts are usually on front or back porches where bats can fly in and out easily and are protected from the wind and have convenient toe holds to use. The problems arise when they select a hanging spot just above a nice sitting chair or right where you walk.

To encourage bats to move on from using these night roosts, you can mount and aim fans or lights in the spots they use or try hanging things like Christmas tinsel or wind chimes in their travel paths. Since bats are protected and you can’t harm them, you can’t use any harmful methods. But a shot or two from a squirt gun near them can splatter enough ricochet water to discourage them from using a site so near high human use — if you want to take a more active approach without harming them.

So, our attitudes towards bats, as well as most wildlife, depends on our assessment of their costs or impacts to us, compared to any benefits we might get from them. For most folks that don’t have to deal with bats in their homes, the free goods and services that bats produce far outweigh any negative impacts.

Bats do the job of trainloads of insect repellent and bug zappers without the cost of those harsh chemical coatings or that metallic odor of burnt bugs. A single cave in Texas, with a large population of 20 million Mexican free-tail bats, is estimated to eat each night an amount of insects that would equal the weight of 200 Volkswagen Beetle cars!

The smaller number of bats that live in the White Mountains focus their insect control activities near permanent water sources like golf courses, lakes and streams. There are no known large colonies of bats in the White Mountains so their impacts on bug control are more spread out. The spotty monsoon rains this past summer didn’t produce the usual bumper crop of mosquitoes so the local bats were probably more localized and may have had below normal reproductive rates. Still, bats can eat their own body weight in bugs every night. Have you tried that lately? Even in pizza weight equivalents?

To be more accurate, bats actually recycle pesky, crop eating and disease-spreading insects into a product sold as a plant fertilizer for over $3 per pound - guano or bat feces. As previously mentioned, bat guano does not contain harmful bacteria or hanta virus but is rich in carbon, nitrogen, sulfur and phosphorous. When guano piles up and remains moist, a fungus can grow that causes a lung infection in people called histoplasmosis. But small piles of dry bat droppings are perfectly safe to scoop up and mix in with your house plants. Bat guano was also used in the Civil War by the Confederate States to manufacture saltpeter (potassium nitrate), an essential ingredient in black gunpowder, due to the naval blockade by the Union forces.

Bats are important economically also as plant pollinators and seed dispersers in other parts of the world where products such as mangoes and bananas need bats in order to reproduce. In southeastern Arizona and northern Mexico, bats are needed to pollinate the agave plant, from which we get tequila (but not the worm) as well as our State Cactus, the saguaro. Arizona’s White Mountain bats are all insect-eating carnivores and sometimes even become prey to owls, hawks, snakes and – unfortunately -- domestic cats, participating completely in the food chain.

With relatively abundant sources of water in the White Mountains and Rim area — compared to the rest of Arizona — there are quite a few different types of bats that live here. Arizona as a state is second only to Texas for supporting the most diverse assemblage of bats.

There are no nectar feeding bats that live at our high elevations but their absence is filled in with a variety such as the northern spotted bat with their huge ears and three large, well defined white spots on their black back fur. The hoary bat, with the attitude of an ornery bobcat, almost hides its ears and face amongst an abundance of frosty, white-tipped hairs around its yellowish-brown face. The smallest Arizona bat — and the first to emerge hunting every night — the western pipistrelle, usually weighs less than a quarter and has to migrate every winter to warmer areas south or at least lower elevations.

The most common bats in Arizona belong to a group called the little brown bats — or the myotis genus. There could be a half-dozen different species of these bats living in the area, with some only identifiable after they are captured using a fine net near a pond. Some have fringes of hair on the trailing edge of their tail membrane while others have different lengths to their tragus — that little flap of cartilage that we and bats have sort of sticking up and covering our ear canal. Bats can have an amazing variety of sizes and shapes of their tragus which makes it easier to identify them.

A new technique is being used to identify bats that doesn’t require their capture and handling. We all know that bats echolocate to find and catch bugs and to avoid obstacles. But did you know that each bat species uses a little different frequency and pattern to accomplish this job? These differences are like bird calls and can be used to identify some bat species with special equipment that can hear above the range of humans. Unfortunately, not all bats echolocate enough — or they hunt at higher altitudes out of the reach of the microphones — so this technique may not provide a complete census but is another tool to help monitor bats.

Bats appear to be doing well in the White Mountains but more monitoring is needed. Projects like Northern Arizona University’s “Bat Blitz” — where students, volunteers, Forest Service and Game and Fish folks all converge on an area for a week and intensively sample bats every night — can provide valuable information. Sometimes graduate students also radio-track bats to help determine their important roosting habitat in the wilds of the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forests.

Everyday citizens can help bats by first becoming more knowledgeable about them by using resources on the internet or at your library. Use a licensed pest control company with a permit for handling bats if you have a nuisance problem with bats in your belfry — or attic. Leaving dead trees standing, if not a safety hazard, can provide lots of day roosting habitat for bats in its cavities and under any exfoliating bark. You can also join one of the many bat organizations and become even more involved in the bat world. Good luck.

In the Coils of the Snake, Part 2

Mon, 21 Oct 2024 23:54:39 GMT

A Six-Day River Trip on the Snake...

By Rob Bettaso

Photos by Rob Bettaso

and Kirk Young

Our six day river trip started with a push, as I leaned into the nose of the raft and then clumsily hopped aboard as the boat began floating out into the turbid waters of the Snake River, just below Hells Canyon Dam on the Idaho/Oregon border. My friend Kirk worked the oars and took us out into deeper water where he situated us within the river’s strongest current. After a 950 mile drive and an arduous early morning of unloading trucks and loading boats, we were finally beginning our voyage — a nearly 80 mile run down the Snake until we reached our “take-out” spot at Heller Bar (as in sand-bar, not, as in a tavern; though, if there was a tavern located at Heller Bar, it would probably do a brisk business).

There is an old saying that suggests that “you never step into the same river twice.” I assume that what is meant by this is, that the flow of water is eternal yet ever-changing: it starts in the clouds, falls upon the land, runs down to the seas, where, over time, it evaporates back into the clouds – to begin the cycle anew. But, at every step along the way, it changes: sometimes picking up sand here, but then, perhaps depositing silt elsewhere; sometimes slowing and allowing for the proliferation of plankton, but then at other times, picking up speed and eroding banks, boulders, or cliff walls. Eventually, a stream might percolate down below the Earth’s outer strata and settle into vast reservoirs, or aquifers, which, if they are not forced back to the surface, eventually reach the oceans via subterranean passageways.

You will excuse the rhetoric; in truth, I am not remotely qualified as a hydrologist or geologist. For that matter, I’m not even qualified to call myself a river-runner — at least not a skillful river-runner. But my friend Kirk is. In fact, let me now offer up some basic trip statistics: we had on our expedition four inflatable, heavy-duty white-water rafts (ranging in size from Mike’s 12 foot “Aire” to Randy’s 18 foot “NRS” model); all of which are modern self-bailers with sturdy aluminum rowing frames. In our four rafts we had seven guys: four of us are fisheries biologists (Kirk, Randy, and me are retired; and Mike, who still works); one of the crew is a Nazarene minister (Brian, who is also a software product manager and an avid fisherman); and two of the crew are 20-somethings (Randy’s son Kenai and his pal, Sheldon) who are keeping their career options open.

I offer specifics on such things as the crew’s names, because people are as much a part of this story as is the river itself, or the wildlife, or the weather, or the Hells Canyon scenery. In fact, for the nearly 10 years that I have been writing for Anne’s Outdoors Southwest magazine, one of the people I have most wanted to write about is my friend of ~30 years, Kirk. Although I’ve lived in seven states and three countries; travelled through another 30 countries and most of our U.S. states; graduated from two universities; worked dozens of different jobs; and known countless people (most for the better, but a few for worse), somehow, I’ve had very few people in my life that I would call “mentors.” Kirk is one of those few, and really, much of what I’ve learned about the wild lands and waterways of Arizona, I have learned thanks to him.

In fact, other than floating a few rivers here and there in my youth, I never tried white-water until Kirk suggested that we add rafts to the various tools that we used to conduct the fisheries studies that we did through-out Arizona during the 1990’s. Several of the different fish species that have evolved in, and adapted to, the bigger streams of the “desert southwest” are bizarre-looking creatures that sport heavy dorsal keels; long and graceful fins; compressed and diminutive heads; and/or torpedo-shaped, powerfully muscled bodies. The names of these big-river native fishes are as colorful as the waters in which they reside and include Razorback suckers, bony-tailed Chubs, and Colorado River pikeminnows; the latter species, curiously enough, allows me to segue back to Hells Canyon, as the Pacific Northwest is home to a pikeminnow species as well — the Northern pikeminnow.

However, before I talk about some of the fishes and other wildlife of the river, I want to address the topic of rapids. Of the potentially dicey white-water in the stretch of the Snake River that we travelled, all of it occurred within the first two days of our river trip. Prior to launching, the guys who would row us through the tricky sections of the Canyon, watched on-line videos of other folks who had run the Snake’s bigger rapids (the three Class IV rapids). In typical fashion, Kirk neither dramatized nor down-played the Class IVs when he briefed me about the trip a few days prior to our departure. He had suggested that I use a waterproof “Paco pad” (a river-runner’s version of a sleeping pad, which is much thicker and far more durable than most pads used by campers and back-packers) strapped to some water-tight stowage containers that would, in turn, be strapped to the boat’s frame and would provide me with a secure seat in which to ride-out any rough waves, holes, and/or hydraulics.

In my early days of running white-water, before I had developed a sensitive lower back, I had grown used to either rowing, or being rowed, through bucking rapids and didn’t really worry about banging my body against the metal “rocket-boxes” that river-runners use to securely stow gear, since, said boxes often serve as seats (although we also frequently used our food coolers as seats, and they tended to be a bit more forgiving than the rocket-boxes). In those days, I was more concerned about being thrown from the boat and into the churning waves, than getting worked over while staying in the boat. At this stage of life, I now worry about both scenarios.

As it turned out, none of our crew who rowed through any of the rapids had any serious troubles and once the biggest white-water was behind us, I took up my binoculars while the other guys fished for small-mouth bass (an abundant, non-native species in the Snake River much enjoyed by not only human anglers, but also by belted kingfishers; ospreys; bald eagles; and various species of herons, egrets, and mergansers). In addition to the bass, a few of our crew saw large, breaching white sturgeons and Kirk also reeled in the lone northern pikeminnow. The latter species is not a fish that many people eat but for decades there has been a “bounty” (a government payment) on this interesting native — partly because some sportfishers have deemed the pikeminnow a “trash fish.” In more recent years, biologists have begun to speak to the value of “trash fish” as a vital part of the ecosystem but nonetheless, the agencies have maintained a bounty on the common northern pikeminnow because it eats rare and declining native salmon species.

Continuing downstream, the river not only mellowed but the canyon walls also became less sheer and many of our campsites afforded broad views of the valley. Instead of staring into campfires, we enjoyed watching the nighthawks emerge and swoop upon insects as the evenings transitioned from dusk to twilight to moonlit night. At dawn, we would often awake to the clucking sounds of two species of quail and the chucker (a partridge-like bird introduced from Asia). I didn’t see any new bird types on our trip but it was fun to watch Vaux’s swifts, black-capped chickadees, and black-billed magpies again, since it had been a few years since I had last seen those more northerly species.

Perhaps the most curious wildlife observation of the trip came one afternoon, after we had pulled the boats into a scenic, sandy camp along the shores of a Snake River tributary: the Imnaha River. As always, everyone pitched in to unload the rafts (a drudgerous daily task) and when we finished, Kirk and I decided to take a hike in the direction of an old mine – something Kirk’s river guidebook had mentioned as a site worth visiting. Along the way, we noticed that about a quarter-mile upslope and away from the river, there was a herd of 13 bighorn sheep (of the Rocky Mountain variety) all of which were adult ewes and this year’s lambs. The group was led by an alpha female who was steadfastly guarding a mine-shaft or natural cave entrance; we couldn’t be sure which of the two it was given our distance from the site. Occasionally the alpha would step into the cave (or shaft) and disappear for a few moments. Later, she allowed the other sheep and lambs to take their turns and, one by one, they also went inside and vanished from sight for a few minutes before re-emerging for us to see as we focused our binos on the area. We assumed that there was either a mineral lick inside the hollow’s depths or maybe a small spring, though the general area was devoid of vegetation and appeared to be nothing but lifeless rock.

After five nights on the river, we came to Heller Bar on the morning of our sixth day. Despite having the river (and tributaries) to occasionally bath in during the trip, we were, nonetheless, all somewhat grubby and each of us looked forward to a hot, soapy shower. Kirk and I had planned ahead; so on our way home we would be staying in a hotel in McCall, Idaho. Once we made it to the hotel, we flipped a coin and Kirk won the toss so was the first to get a hot shower. Me, I clicked on the hotel T.V. and, after first checking to make sure we hadn’t entered WWIII or something crazy like that, I switched to a nature show and watched an episode about venomous snakes of Australia.

Speaking of which, of the seven of us on the Snake River trip, I was the only person to have seen a rattler; it was during a gentle stretch of water and while Kirk was fishing for bass, I was using my binos to watch for birds along the river’s edge. After observing a few different types of wrens and warblers (oh, by the way, the canyon wren was probably the most commonly heard bird through-out our trip) I noticed something different rummaging in the berry-bushes growing right at the water’s edge. It turned out to be a song sparrow and while watching him forage, I just happened to notice that moving behind him was a type of rattlesnake. I couldn’t tell which species it was (they have two in that part of Idaho and Oregon) but I could make out several distinct rattles at the tip of his tail, which he held perpendicular to the plain of his body. The old buzzworm didn’t seem interested in the sparrow nor did the sparrow seem in the least bit concerned about the snake. But I was happy, because what would a trip down the Snake River be, without seeing one of “the serpents of paradise?”

Listening to Fall

Mon, 21 Oct 2024 23:50:52 GMT

Somewhere tantalizingly nearby, bull elk are bugling to each other across the pastures and from hillside to hillside...

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

We are out early, the dogs and I, and, in the expectant pre-dawn light, or lack thereof, nature is busy preparing for the day. I’ve learned to hike in the crepuscular darkness by attaching small bike lights to my hiking sticks and using that bubble of light to guide my way. I feel safe in my light bubble but most of the time, in the dark, I also use a bear bell to alert whatever predator might be out there to our presence. When I hear an elk bugle or turkeys click, I call the dogs close, silence the bell and become one with the darkened morning, walking step by step, softly and carefully, listening and stalking.

Somewhere tantalizingly nearby, bull elk are bugling to each other across the pastures and from hillside to hillside. They are too far apart to even be in sight of the next bull over, but each one is declaring its territory and trying to outdo the last one’s bugle with one longer and deeper than the previous one. Grunting, bugling and slashing at young trees, the bulls personify fall to me: a glorious end to summer and a promise of new calves to be born next spring.

Listening to the bulls sing and the cows mew makes me feel alive and draws me out of the house and into the woods in the cool dawn hours each morning. Saying that it’s for the dogs, gets me out, but being out there is my refuge. If you know what to listen for, you can hear the turkeys in a tall pine across the drainage beginning to stir as the sun creeps up over the horizon. High in the tree, they chirp and cluck at each other, perhaps waking each other up to coordinate their descent to the forest floor. Nearly as one, just as the sun creeps over the horizon, they launch from their resting branches, and with slightly less than majestic flaps, they glide to the soft duff below the tree to begin their busy day of foraging and building up fat stores for the winter.

Tom turkeys begin to gobble and proclaim their dominance while the hens cluck to call the juveniles to the next foraging spot. Coyotes are yipping, jays are squawking, and in general, the early morning is a cacophony of sound as creatures awaken to make the best use of a short day.

Later and later in the morning as the season dips into fall, the sun rises and illuminates the landscape, so my own stick lights go off and the bell is silenced. The sounds of nature begin to still as human noises rise up from the homes and roadways nearby and the day begins; nature’s magic on hold, ‘till I can get out again.

As we drift farther from the fall equinox and into autumn, it seems that just as I come home from work, the sun begins to set in the western sky and the day is over. Then, the next day, I get up in the dark, and just as the day is brightening up and looking good, I have to leave for work. How do we extend the day and continue to use our precious outdoor time? How do we convince our bodies to keep on being active when every cell is telling us to slow down, fatten up and sit out the winter?

Our bodies tempt us to build up fat and slow down in anticipation of a winter torpor period. Waning daylight hours trigger our bodies to prepare for a period of minimal food availability and lighter workload. Our body also ramps up inflammatory immune system responses in anticipation of potential harm in winter conditions, which is why autoimmune diseases like type 1 diabetes and arthritis tend to flare up in winter.

Shorter sunlit days and less time outdoors can cause vitamin D deficiency which in turn triggers muscle weakness, pain sensitivity, mood swings and depression. The hormone melatonin increases as winter approaches, causing us to feel drowsy and feel the need to sleep for longer periods. In short, nature is prompting us to store food, hunker down, be prepared to fight off any diseases we might encounter and wait out the winter period.

This all sounds self-defeating and discouraging, and is a main reason that October is mental health awareness month. As humans, we have the knowledge to realize that in our case, nature is overreacting and our responses to the oncoming fall and winter are completely correctable if we stay aware and active.

Modern man has no use for a winter torpor as food is readily available year-round and most of us have ways of keeping our homes warm and comfortable all winter. So how can we fight our body’s natural responses to the upcoming winter? One of the best ways to fight off the winter downturn is to be aware of the messages your body is sending you and choose which ones to listen to and which to ignore. Do you really need that fistful of cookies to survive the winter, or will there be food readily available at the next meal? Do you really need to go to bed at 8:00 p.m., or is it the increased melatonin tricking you? Is there something you can do to stay active instead?

Is the crepuscular darkness really what’s keeping you inside, or can you use lights to get out anyway? Should you stay inside and watch the wind blow or is there a way to dress appropriately to stay warm if you go out? Should you refrain from that ride or hike you had planned with friends because your joints and muscles hurt or should you stay active and keep them moving? Do you listen to that discouraging voice in your head that is keeping your mood low, or do you realize that its just the lack of vitamin D speaking to you and increase your outdoor time, use full spectrum lighting and take a supplement.

Stay active outdoors. Get as much sunlit time outside as possible and keep your oxygen levels high with exercise. Cool fall temperatures are ideal for outdoor activities like hiking, running, biking and when the snow falls, skiing, snowshoeing and snowboarding. If you have limited time outdoors because of a work schedule, use full spectrum light bulbs and an indoor trainer or exercise machine regularly. Make use of whatever daylight hours you can, and do required indoor activities after the sun goes down or before it comes up.

Encourage kids to be outdoors as much as possible after school and leave homework and video games for after dark, but encourage the use of full spectrum lighting rather than allowing kids to play video games or be on phones in a darkened room. Watch food intake and balance it with calorie expenditure during the day. Make sure to stay hydrated as cool, dry air can dehydrate you as easily as sweating on a warm summer day. With forethought and active rebellion against what nature is tempting us to do, we too can arrive in spring, fresh, fit and renewed from winter.

At the end of the day, the warm afternoon sun fades quickly. With low humidity failing to hold in the heat of the day, temperatures drop frighteningly rapidly, nightfall chasing away the day with increasing aggressiveness. Song birds and hummingbirds have migrated south and soon winter birds will arrive. Summer flowers have turned to fall seed puffs, grasses have seeded out and have turned golden brown by pulling back resources in preparation for winter dormancy. Trees are similarly busy finishing up the summer with a spectacular final blaze of color as they pull back their resources for new growth in the spring.

If you sit and listen, those dusky evening hours are a busy time for many creatures as they reverse the morning routine and prepare for night. The elk are moving again, and as the heat dissipates, the bulls resume their bugling, declaring their territories and then settling with their herds in bedding areas. The turkeys are finishing their foraging, and are using a clucking gathering call to collect the flock together for their noisy flapping ascent into the roosting trees for the night. Jays are quiet, and the only sounds to be heard are the distant yipping of coyotes and the ghostly rustling of dry leaves shaking and falling in the night breeze. All is well.

Fishing Stories

Mon, 21 Oct 2024 23:45:21 GMT

Sharing stories about fish...

Photos and article

by Annemarie Eveland

There are three lakes in Payson, and fishing is one of the fondest sports’ activities that visitors and residents alike agree on. Mornings and other times of the day you can usually find a “fisherman” whether old or young enjoying the fun of catching the local choice of fish.

And these lakes are stocked at times. But I was surprised to learn that when stocking these lakes our town cannot use the local hatchery. The reason is that the hatchery fish need to be put into streams. So we get our replenishment fish all the way from Idaho!

But the fishing is good here in Payson. So whether you are a little kid with your dad helping you hold up your fishing pole, or an old seaworthy captain on vacation, you will enjoy this activity.

I wanted to share with you readers two other fishing stories that I have from the past that are memorable.

The first story comes from when I had my Bed and Breakfast in Pine. I loved welcoming my guests, and they loved coming to our beautiful Rim Country. I remember certain guests had planned a big fishing trip and their friends had said that they would look forward to hearing their fishing stories about catching “the big one” when they returned home. They were staying a week. But as the days and nights folded into each other, they relaxed with my spectacular views of the Mogollon Rim and the lush green valley below. The fireside treats and the wine didn’t hurt either. They loved my tasty breakfasts and the box lunches that I packed for them to enjoy the day excursions in our Rim Country.

Suddenly, it seemed that the entire vacation time went by so quickly, that it was departure time. Suddenly, they were in shock that they never went on their fishing trip because they were having so much fun. Aghast, they lamented that they were supposed to bring back “big fish” tales to share with their friends. So I came up with an idea. I told them that I had a pond, I had a fishing pole, and I had a lively fish they could “catch.”

There was a puzzled, yet hopeful look on their faces as I explained further. “My fish” was a mechanical one, that when turned on, swam around the pond to entertain my guests (there are lots of animals in our area, who would love to “fish” my pond, so to avoid live fish, I found this one).

My guests were delighted. So, we rigged it up for them to be “fishing” and “catching” my fish. Click, click, click. I took lots of photos for them to relate their big fish story later.

Later, I received an email from them telling me that it was the best “fishing trip” they ever went on!! And better than that, their friends insisted on them telling their fishing story again and again. It made me smile.

My next adventure fish story takes us to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.

A friend and I were at a restaurant in Scottsdale, and I heard the two men sitting at the next table talking about cheetahs. Well, my ears perked up since my late husband was a wild animal trainer who dealt with the big cats and apes and was from Africa. When their conversation quieted, I went to their table and told them of my interest in cheetahs and the wild animals because of my husband John.

The one gentleman said, he imported animals and had a sanctuary for big cats and birds at his home. “Unbelievable, I thought. In Scottsdale?” He gave me his card, and said he would show them to me if I wanted. I returned to my friend, and she said, “You DON’T believe that line, do you?” I thought what he said was true.

Later that week, I went to his compound (in Scottsdale) and sure enough, there were caged cheetahs and big cats! And a huge aviary of birds. I was astounded. I brought some photos of my husband’s animals that I had taken, to show that I knew about the animals. He liked my photos, and said, “Some friends and I are going on a fishing trip to Cabo San Lucas later and I am looking for a photographer to take our pictures of catching the marlin on a fishing trip. Would you be interested in being the photographer for that trip?

I said I would think about it. All expenses paid? All I have to do is take pictures and be on the ocean in beautiful Cabo? A great time for a paid vacation! I also learned that the famous Jacques Cousteau and his Calypso would also be mooring at the Bay! So, I arrived at the destination with my overloaded bags of cameras and lenses to shoot the photos of all the “big catches.”

For days nothing, but the azur blue sea and their conversations of their great catches of the past.

The day wore on. Fisherman Jerry, boasted, “You’’ll have your work cut out for you, Annie, when I hook the big one. I’m well known for catching trophies!” as he smiled, showing a broad set of perfectly capped teeth. The day wore on without any catches. Six more empty days ensued with no fish to photograph.

Finally, January 21st arrived and someone found out it was my birthday. They suggested that I be harnessed up in the rig chair and try my luck. I’m sure it was amusing seeing an amateur fisherwoman trying to catch a fish. Fifteen minutes clicked by. “I’m done,” I thought. But suddenly a quick tug caught my attention, vigorously shaking my line and hand.

“Hang in there, gal!!” they shouted. The line zigged back and forth. Several men shouted their advice, “Give line, reel in, don’t let go, hold tight, it might take an hour, she’s tough, I’ll take over.” I thought, “this is my fish, and I’m not letting go!”

The marlin’s silver and blues sparkled brightly as it fantailed above the water’s edge. It took all my strength to continue reeling it in. Finally, it was near the yacht and reeled in and then laid in the back of the boat. I went back to see it and all I could see was the eye of that great fish that fought me for its life.

All I could see is his eye looking at me and silently saying, “Why me?” I was humbled instantly and knew I would never fish again!!

Then, more sun-soaked days and star-studded nights. No fish. The guests looked gloomed. More margarita rounds. More wild stories of the former catches. Only the birthday girl’s catch lay in ice below.

When we docked, one guy said, “You gotta have your photo taken with your fish, Anne.” I didn’t know that was a tradition. So I posed and condescended, but said, “I don’t want the fish, so take it!” and proceeded to go up to the hotel. I glanced back and saw that my fish was now still hanging, and each of the guys were having their individual photos with the fish! But then again, I told myself, “It isn’t MY fish!”

Spider Webs and Your Mind

Mon, 21 Oct 2024 23:40:03 GMT

Weave you life into a strong, useful work of art...

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

Ever thought about a spider web? As the beads of dew reflect the sun’s light, it carries a message. Its thin structure belies its strength. Even though it is spun from strands of silk, it can support the weight of the dew and create a trap for unwary insects. This also brings to mind a symbol of the weaver, the spider herself.

She reminds you that you too can weave your life into a strong, useful work of art. You also have the reminder that what you do is temporary. The spider’s web will last only for a time. Then it is gone. And what you create in your life will be the same — as good as you can make it for that time, and then poof! It’s over.

Among Native American traditions, creativity is the hallmark of spider medicine. The spider’s eight legs represent the four winds of change and the four directions of the medicine wheel. Her body is the shape of an infinity symbol, representing countless possibilities. Just like the Fates in Greek mythology who weave the tapestry of life, spiders are reputed to weave the creative forces that develop the patterns of our lives.

The spider web also reminds you not to get stuck. Just as the hapless fly gets caught in the beauty of those strands, your mind can also get stuck in patterns. While some are positive, others may be no longer useful. Some are quite harmful. Your brain is wired to catch the negative far more quickly and persistently than the positive.

The amygdala is that part of your brain designed to trap the negative ( trauma, accidents, hurts, anger) from your experiences, replaying it over and over again. Ever had an endlessly repeating fear in your mind? That’s a gift of the amygdala. Its purpose is to warn you if something like that negative happening ever comes your way again. But what if?

Want to break that train of thought?

• Pick your favorite song and sing over it. Override the insistent thought . I did this the other day when out for a walk. Negative chatter kept me company, for no good reason I could see. Much to Little Toot’s dismay, I began to sing “Oh, What A Beautiful Morning!” It was gone.

• Heart breathing. Slowly take a breath in through your heart. Then breathe back out. As you do this, focus on your breathing. You could make your breath a color. Or you could make it sparkle. Simply breathing in and out like this will slow your mind.

• Bi-lateral stimulation . Take a water bottle or anything with weight, and slowly pass it from one hand to the other. This movement slows your thoughts and regulates your fight-or-flight response. Your fears subside as your breathing slows, your shoulders drop, and your gut relaxes. You’re in control.

If a spider has wandered into your life, bringing her web energy on a walk or in the corner of your mind, she may have several messages. Perhaps it’s time to open the doors to more creativity in your life. Or maybe it’s time to sweep the hurtful cobwebs from those corners. Remember: the spider web is strong. And you can be too. Live unstuck.

Joan Courtney, Unstuck Living, is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner who helps people end old patterns and get unstuck. She writes for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain. She is also the ghostwriter for Little Toot’s bi-weekly musing on Facebook.

The Call to Adventure

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 23:25:58 GMT

The Hero's Journey

Tucked neatly and claustrophobically inside the narrow cubicle of an emergency helicopter, wired to monitors and having oxygen tubes running out of the nose is something out of the TV show, M*A*S*H*. It was the day that changed my whole life. The day I stood on the precipice at the edge of darkness, hoping to slay the dragon — but I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by everyday heroes. Doctors, nurses, air medics, a helicopter pilot, and a surgeon, all who guided me through the critical situation and saved me. To them, it’s an every day occurrence, however, for me it was a new beginning — and a wake up call.

Here is where I need to stop, look around, and start making major changes. Realizing that we are mortal beings does something to your psyche. I knew that I was burning the candle at both ends, but I had always been in great health and never would have imagined that this could happen to me. It made me realize, too, that life is short and I need to make the most of it.

According to Joseph Campbell, from his book “The Hero With a Thousand Faces,” this would mark the beginning of (in my case) the heroine’s journey. Something that Joseph Campbell calls a monomyth. The cycle that heroes follow in most mythological stories from the call to adventure, through trials and dire circumstances — returning triumphant.

Joseph Campbell, author and professor of comparative mythology and religion, writes “We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. The old skin has to be shed before the new one can come.” He coined the phrase “follow your bliss.” He believed the heroic life is all about living the individual adventure. The call to the life you truly long for. However, “There is no security in following the call to adventure.” He states. By taking that leap of faith you delve into the unknown, but, he adds, “nothing is exciting if you know what the outcome is going to be and to refuse the call is stagnation. What you don’t experience positively, you will experience negatively.”

The first stage of the mythological journey, “the call to adventure,” signifies that destiny has summoned the hero and transferred his/her spiritual center of gravity to a zone unknown. This fateful region of both treasure and danger may have various representations: as a distant land, a forest, a kingdom underground, beneath the waves, or above the sky, a secret island, lofty mountaintop or a profound dream state.

You have to have the courage to begin. “You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path.” Writes Campbell, “Where there is a way or path, it is someone else’s path. You are not on your own path. If you follow someone else’s path you are not going to realize your potential.” But you don’t have to do it alone. If what you are following is your own true adventure, if it is something true to your own spiritual need or readiness, then magical guides will appear to help you. If you are ready then “doors will open where there were no doors before, and where there would not be doors for anyone else.”

Campbell says that when you cross the threshold, you are “passing into a dark forest, taking a plunge into the sea embarking upon the night sea journey. It involves passing through clashing rocks, narrow gates. There will be moments when the walls of the world seem to open for a second, and you get an insight of the other side.” This is when Campbell says you have to “jump! Go! The gates will often close so fast that they take off the tail of your horse!” You may lose everything you have but there will be aids to help. There will be increasing difficult trials as well and you will have to give up more and more of what you were hanging on to.

Advice given to a young Native American at the time of his initiation:

“As you go the way of your life, you will see a great chasm. Jump. It is not as wide as you think.”

Refusing the call to adventure, could cause stagnation. It converts the adventure into its negative. Boredom, hard work, loss of power over significant affirmative action and the hero turns into a victim to be saved. Life seems meaningless.

“It’s by going down the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure. The very cave you are afraid to enter turns out to be the source of what you are looking for.” It’s the road of trials — a series of tests to begin transformation. The hero may fail some tests, which in mythology happens in threes, but eventually these trials are overcome and the hero can move on to the next step. It is during the trials, though, that mythology creates its greatest adventures — in story. Here the hero is aided by amulets or supernatural helpers. He discovers that there is a benign power everywhere supporting him. It’s a long and perilous path of initiatory conquests and moments of illumination. Dragons have to be slain and surprising barriers to be passed.”

But, the purpose of the journey is compassion to experience transformation and then the goal is to bring this jewel back to the world.”It’s all about finding that still point in your mind where commitment drops away.” When the hero-quest has been accomplished, the adventurer still needs to return with his life-changing trophy. This mastery brings with it freedom from fear of death, which in turn is the freedom to live, neither anticipating the future nor regretting the past.

“The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.” — Joseph Campbell

I realize now that if you don’t pay attention to the things that are negative in your life, they will be the things that push you over the threshold. I am ready for the journey, the call to adventure to create my new path, and before long, I will be ready, once again, to enjoy life where I truly find my bliss, among the tall trees and rocky paths of the mountains.

Thanks to the Emergency room staff at Summit Healthcare, the medics and pilot for my helicopter ride, My nurses in ICU at Banner Desert: Bethany, Tony and Andrea, Dr. Ly, cardiologist, and Lu, nurse practitioner. Also, I am truly blessed to have the friends and family that made all the difference in my recovery.

“He who speaks does not know. He who knows, does not speak.” — Lao Tzu

It's Migration Season

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 23:18:39 GMT

Fall in the White Mountains and all things migrating...

By Dan Groebner

Here today and gone tomorrow. That will be the theme of more and more critters as we approach another White Mountain fall season. Many of us consider ourselves blessed with four real seasons, even if it means dealing with winter storms dumping a foot or two of wet slushy snow (well, maybe). But the wildlife that must deal with the full brunt of White Mountain weather has to make a decision, so to speak, on weather to stick around and adapt to the winter conditions or high tail it out of here to warmer climes in the winter.

If you really think about it, why would any bird decide to fly all the way up to the Canadian arctic for their shortened summer only to have to turn around in a couple of months and return south to avoid their brutal winters of freezing temperatures and short days?

But large movements going north and south aren’t the only type of migrations. Here in the White Mountains the large wild ungulates regularly move up and down in elevation, primarily when forced by deep snow that covers the grass, forbs and brush they are feeding on. Along the Mogollon Rim, this means that some deer and elk move south down off the rim onto the White Mountain Apache Reservation while others migrate north where the elevation drops but more slowly.

Deer don’t form the large “deer yards” of dozens of them concentrated in small areas like up in Minnesota, Michigan, and Wisconsin where they can keep escape trails maintained within areas of good food and cover. In Arizona, deer, elk, and bighorn sheep can easily find lower elevations with milder weather and more food available.

Fish migrations are pretty limited in Arizona, you could say these days, but many species have to make short movements to special habitats to spawn and lay eggs, so most of the migration talk in Arizona centers on the bird family. And Arizona boasts a wide variety of migration strategies displayed by our avian residents.

If a bird migrates or not, and how they make the move, is not actually a conscious decision made by the birds. Successful migrations are a result of many years of adaptive evolution that results in the most productive strategy winning out producing the most offspring, which then pass on those successful traits to their offspring.

That doesn’t mean that all animals of the same species migrate in exactly the same way, or that they migrate at all. Mother Nature is famous for usually producing more wildlife offspring that can be supported, including some that might behave a little differently or have just a little different physical adaptation. They’re the ones that don’t read the textbooks or journal publications!

Those slight differences in the wildlife population make sure that some animals are prepared to survive quickly changing conditions. The survivors that are adapted to the conditions then pass on their behaviors and genes to their offspring. But there is definitely a limit to how quickly they can adapt to changes.

So, it is pretty obvious why some birds migrate out of this area in the winter, but the question remains, why do some birds remain here all winter long and never migrate? Most of the birds remaining overwinter are either predators like owls or have stored food in the fall to get them through the winter, like the acorn woodpeckers.

Nuthatches, chickadees, woodpeckers, and jays have a knack for finding seed sources and insects overwintering in the bark of trees. Even though most lakes and streams remain open through the winter, osprey will migrate to Mexico and the Caribbean and feed in the mangrove swamps along the coast.

If we have a relatively mild winter, the lakes around here do not freeze over and provide much needed resting areas for migrating waterbirds, which then attracts dozens of bald eagles from the northern US and Canada going only as far south as they have to. So, the bald eagles you see in the winter on Woodland, Rainbow, Show Low, Becker, and Fool Hollow Lakes are different birds that nest here in the summer.

But the question still remains, why would some birds travel thousands of miles to the Artic tundra and back to the tropics every year when they have enough food in the tropics year-round to support them?

To many birds, especially waterfowl, Alaska is considered the Sunshine State, due to its long and warm days during their summers. The extra hours of sunlight are the secret to so much productivity in the form of bugs, insects, and aquatic larvae inhabiting the multitudes of swamps and ponds. These high protein sources fill the bellies of millions of waterbirds and their newly born chicks, and it offsets all the calories expended commuting back and forth between summer and winter digs. It obviously works for many birds. Sometimes it works so well that more than one hatch of chicks can be raised in the same summer!

Considering some of the amazing distances that some birds migrate and their ability to navigate back to the exact spot they nested in the previous year, how the heck do they do it? The navigation instinct that birds use is not completely understood, but it is obvious that some species use visual clues such as large rivers, topographical features, and even star constellations.

Homing pigeons were thought to be famous for utilizing the Earth’s magnetic field to figure out how to get home, which they may still use for large scale migrations. However, despite the fact they cannot smell very well, scientists found that pigeons who were prevented from smelling at all, couldn’t navigate normally. In most cases, birds probably use a variety of visual, olfactory, and magnetic clues to find their way. Some birds are probably helped by parents on their first migration, but many youngsters amazingly figure it all out by themselves.

Although less than half of all birds actually migrate, the ones that do can accomplish some amazing feats. The highest known migrant was a vulture that was struck by an airliner at 37,000 feet! The Arctic tern has a 50,000-mile round trip every year of its decade’s long life! Some godwits can fly for eight days non-stop, and the diminutive ruby-throated hummingbird has been documented to fly across the Caribbean 600 miles without landing to rest!

By studying these migration patterns more intensively, some new discoveries are being made. For example, Richard’s pipits are beginning to migrate more east and west instead of north and south, possibly due to warming temperatures in their wintering grounds and less of a need to move out during the winter. Other birds appear to make short migrations to areas where they can molt, or change out their feathers, before making the long move to a warmer climate.

To visualize bird migrations, including those of your favorite species, organizations have compiled migration location information from research studies and reports from citizen scientists through the birding app “eBird”. Some of these sites show bird movements in real time, so you can possibly predict when a good day would be to see some northern migrants coming through the White Mountains. Try Googling the following to see these maps: “Cornell Birdcast Migration Dashboard” or the “Audubon Bird Migration Explorer."

These interactive maps also show that different birds migrate at different times of the year, depending on specific cues they sense. For most, it appears to be the daylight length that gets them primed for migration, but then impending storms or inclement weather may be the trigger for the actual start of migration.

Seasonal changes can bring a different cast of characters to our wildlife assemblages in the White Mountains, creating an even more diverse area with richer diversity. And these “snowbirds” don’t even cause traffic delays! So keep your eyes open for some wildlife you may not be able to see at any other time of the year as they pass through our White Mountains on their way to their winter homes.

A Life Sew Cherished

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 23:14:37 GMT

Delbert Forpahl; A man of many talents

Article and photos by Jen Rinaldi

Part goat and part inventor Delbert Forpahl is an Indomitable spirit that has never taken “no” for an answer.

I had the rare opportunity to become acquainted with this rather unusual man as he was getting ready to pack up on a cold fall day at the Local’s Market at Buffalo Bill’s Restaurant. His boxes of sewing supplies had slipped off his walker, and as he struggled to gather his things, I helped this bent but determined man clean up and pack his wares back into his car. I was amazed that he would want to participate in an endeavor as strenuous as a weekly market. He told me that if he didn’t keep moving, he would die. I immediately knew this man had an inimitable spark, and we have been friends ever since.

Knowing I worked in wool Delbert wanted to give me a spinning wheel he had made, so he invited my husband and I to meet him at his shop in Pinetop. Hidden away, on an unassuming street, tucked into the woods we were treated to an amazing walk back in time.

Delbert keeps his beloved sewing machines in pristine working order and has machines from almost every era the oldest from 1889 — a New Home pedal operated cast iron beauty. Most of his industrial machines were not even electrified, but leave it to Delbert, he engineered the belts and motors to run them. The handmade spinning wheel and wool carder he gifted me are made of steel rods from an old box spring mattress set. The spinning wheel from an old bicycle and a chair. It’s so steampunk in its creative use of everyday elements, it roused my artistic curiosity. I had to ask him how an obviously robust man got into Sewing machines in the first place?

He explained, “I was born in 1943 in Oregon. And my early years were spent milking cows and feeding livestock on my family’s farm.” He was just 4 years old and was trusted with daily farm chores. “My father was a donkey puncher making two a week, so everyone had to pitch in and help.” He continued, “I had befriended a steer which I affectionately called Peanut Butter. The steer would follow me around while I performed my chores hoping for a pet or some grain.” Delbert recalls the steer loving attention and liking to take off bucking playfully when he saw his friend.

One day Delbert was in a grain elevator gathering corn for the evenings feeding when Peanut butter came in looking for him. The steer hit the lever to the grain elevator causing the grain to fall from the levels above. The steer was killed, and Delbert lost most of his left hand.

Delbert spent a year and three months at Sacred Heart Hospital in Eugene Oregon undergoing a complete reconstruction of his hand, using goat bone — an experimental procedure. He was the first patient to ever undergo such a revolutionary reconstruction. The prognosis was grim and after numerous surgeries the doctor’s declared his reconstruction a failure and told him that he would be crippled for life.

In 1947 there was no such thing as physical therapy so when Delbert was released, with his mother’s prompting, he set to work helping her by using his hands to sew and spin yarn. Between the sewing, spinning, and driving tractors with a shifter he regained most of the use of his hand all at seven years old. He attributes his sewing and spinning as being the therapy that retrained his hand.

As many young men of his generation, he entered the military in 1964 during the Vietnam war. There his mechanical prowess and reputation brought him to the docks where he worked on Submarine Calibration. The USS Proteus was one of his charges to which he repaired and calibrated its delicate inner workings. He remained in the military for five and a half years honing his mechanical expertise.

Upon leaving the service he was offered a job at Royal repairing typewriters and other office equipment. During his three years with Royal, Delbert became the top field service engineer, but despite his talent, his boss hated him for his disfigurement. Delbert was given an award for his proficiency, then promptly resigned.

The next day he was offered a job at Eastman Kodak repairing projectors and camera and went on to become a leading technician for the Western United States and retired around 1984 as Kodak was scaling down.

1996 after being hit by a drunk driver and nearly killed, Delbert spent 5 years in recovery, it was during this time that he met Irene Gamble who lives in Snowflake Arizona. She needed help on her farm, and Delbert needed more rehabilitation and a new start. On her farm Delbert trained horses and donkeys while taking in stray dogs. He worked with Dr. Despain, a local Veterinarian in Taylor to neuter and spay them, and between the two of them, they would find the dogs suitable homes. At one point Delbert had over 40 dogs in training.

He met his wife Annie in 1998 and they were married in 2011. “We married On April fool’s day.” he recollects kindly. She took him to Lakeside, were they raised Angora Rabbits and chickens. It was then that Delbert decided to take up spinning the rabbit fur, so he made himself the spinning wheel and a carder he gave me using two by fours and old bicycle parts. His spinning wheel and carder though unconventional are machined to do the job easily.

In his shop you will find all eras of machines from homemaker models to industrial equipment. He does upholstery and sews purses, oven mitts, and all manner of durable sewn good. Every weekend he brings his pedal powered sewing machine and does repairs while he talks to customers. Being the machine master that he is Delbert still loves to repair sewing machines of all types and regularly does upholstery work for local businesses.

I will forever be astounded by Delbert’s amazing life. He not only cherishes his days but despite his hardships has always refused to give up. The world is a better place with folks like him woven into it.

If you need a sewing machine repaired, need a custom-made purse, hat or handbag or perhaps a sewing class you can reach Delbert at: 928-243-3584

Table for One

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 23:10:02 GMT

Spend some time alone...

By Susie Griffin, Griffin Wellness Solutions

“I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”

~ Henry David Thoreau, American Naturalist and Essayist

I created the Ladies Two-Wheel Adventures (LTWA) group officially on Facebook in April of this year, (https://www.facebook.com/share/g/HKoDTg33Xx71v1JC/). Although the group made its official appearance on Facebook in April 2024, it initially started earlier in the New Year from organic conversations, personal invites and curious inquiries. The group’s intention is to promote the activity of mountain biking and all the F.E.E.L.s (Fun. Empower. Elevate. Love.) to ladies who currently ride or are curious to start riding. Since its inception only six months previous, membership has grown steadily through word-of-mouth referrals and social media conversations.

The LTWA members are a diverse representation of age, fitness and skill levels. Some live locally, others live in the Valley and still others, beyond the boundaries of Arizona. Despite the geographical, age, fitness and/or riding skill differences, we all share the common desire to be outside, on our bikes, moving through nature, amongst like spirited souls. This social companionship brings more than just learning how to navigate through the twists and turns, and ups and downs of the trail, but of life as

well.

“Our individual relationships are an untapped resource — a source of healing hiding in plain sight. They can help us live healthier, more productive, and more fulfilled lives.” — Dr. Vivek H. Murthy, 19th and

21st Surgeon General of the United States

We glean information from each other on how to move through life more efficiently, whether mountain biking related, (Those are cute shorts! Where’d you get them?), or not, (Where do I find a good human resource that provides x, y, z service?). We carry these helpful takeaways on our bike, in our cars, into our homes and in our brains. In the most meaningful times, we don’t serve as sources of information, but rather, vessels for venting. We, and the natural, open space we’re in, provide a supportive environment to listen as negative emotions or relational experiences are shared. In these incidents, we do not make room to carry them on our bikes, in our cars and into our homes. They are left out on the trail, secretly dissipated in the air or scattered amongst the dust and rocks. Just as our sweat serves as a corporeal vesicle carrying toxins out of and away from our body, the feelings we reveal are our sweat’s intangible counterpart; both cleanse the body, mind and spirit.

The physical, mental and emotional health benefits gained from our little but growing, Ladies Two-Wheel Adventure group, is not exclusive to our group, mountain biking or even exercise in general. Many research studies have proven the importance of social connection in the health and well-being of individuals and societies. The Office of the U.S. Surgeon General further classifies social connection into three vital components of social connection: structure, function, and quality.

Structure is the number of relationships and variety of relationships (e.g., co-worker, friend, family, neighbor), and the frequency of interactions with others. Function is the degree to which others can be relied upon for various needs. Quality is the degree to which relationships and interactions with others are positive, helpful, or satisfying (vs. negative, unhelpful, or unsatisfying).

A person and community that lacks these three social connection components has the propensity to be socially isolated and suffer from its negative effects. Excess Medicare spending, increased hospital and nursing facility stays, and increased stress-related employee absenteeism reflect those negative effects. Additionally, a decrease in community social connection can result in decreased community resilience from natural disasters, and health and safety threats.

Conversely, consciously choosing to spend time alone can also result in improved individual mental, emotional and physical well-being. Specific health benefits include a reduction of stress, enhanced creativity and sleep quality, increase in production and efficacy, and better focus, time-management and self-awareness. (To be clear, there is a distinct difference between being alone, a physical state, and feeling lonely, an emotional state. This is a focus on creating time to be by one’s self – to attain the health benefits)

Be alone, that is the secret of invention; Be alone—that is when ideas are born.

— Nikola Tesla

I recently went on a mountain bike ride by myself. I was on one of my favorite trail systems, neither leading, following, mentoring, coaching, or instructing others. Except for coming across an occasional hiker or fellow mountain biker, I was alone. Just me and my bike flowing through the forested landscape, taking in the sounds and sights of nature. It was blissful. The weather was perfect, neither hot nor cold, my body felt good, no aches or complaints and my bike was responding beautifully. My experience was exactly as Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a professor emeritus and psychologist, describes a flow state, “the state of being in which people become so immersed in the joy of their work or activity that nothing else seems to matter.”

I can’t remember the last time I biked alone. I am usually busy and benefiting from the company of others. However, this time I had no external, internal pressure or incentive to alter my speed or direction. I had no agenda or timeline. I stopped and sessioned several features, made a phone call to my husband, and talked with several trail users a grazing cow and several undernourished, bony creatures. I was completely accountable to no one except for myself. It was surprisingly freeing and rejuvenating. These feelings stayed with me after the ride and positively influenced my mood throughout the rest of my day.

While social interaction and connection is essentially vital to one’s health and well-being, carving out time to be alone can be just as healthy. Need ideas to be alone and fulfill your mental, emotional and physical well-being? Here are a few:

• Take a drive: There is something to be gained from driving by yourself, listening to podcasts, the radio or your favorite playlists. Don’t forget to sing along at the top of your lungs!

• Turn off the electronics and tune into nature: Explore local trail systems, parks, and recreational areas or plan a trip to other natural areas outside your geographical boundaries.

• Practice stillness: Some people call this meditation. I’m not that formal. I just call it an adult timeout or just sitting or practicing stillness. Being aware of and developing skill in controlling your breath in times of stillness, helps to control it in times of stress.

• Be alone with others: You might try being “alone with others” by reading at a library, writing at a coffee shop, or sketching in a public garden. I’ve done this so often that the local Starbucks employees know my name…and my order. They also inquire how and what I’ve been up to if they haven’t seen me in a while.

• Take yourself on a date: Try setting up an amazing date for yourself, including the food, movie, and activities you want to do. We sometimes wait for special occasions to celebrate (mostly others) ourselves. Staycation anyone?

Tally Ho – venturing alone or with your social connections, either way there’s adventure and health benefits to be uncovered.

In The Snake's Embrace

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 23:03:54 GMT

Rafting the Snake River

Article by Rob Bettaso

Photos by Rob Bettaso and Kirk Young

(Part 1)

There is a small store near the uppermost dam above the Hells Canyon section of the Snake River. Inside the store, Scotty, the proprietor, sells basic outdoor gear including fishing tackle and river-running supplies. Scotty also owns a shuttle company so that rafters putting in below the Hells Canyon Dam can leave their vehicles at the top of the river reach in which they will launch, and then Scotty’s crew will drive said vehicles down to the “take-out” point -- some 78 miles downstream.

On the walls of Scotty’s store, there are photos that rafters have snapped and shared with Scotty. I pointed to a photo of a grizzly bear and asked Scotty if any grizzlies had recently made it down as far as the river and he scoffed and muttered: “No griz, but plenty of black bear.” Then he walked over to a photo of a Great Basin Rattlesnake (which he called a Diamondback) and said: “Here’s the real danger though; this season alone, three folks got themselves bit by these guys and one had to be choppered out.” I looked at my friend Kirk and we both smiled faintly.

On the drive from Flagstaff to this spot in Idaho, nearly our final destination, I had mentioned to Kirk my hazy recollections from my one and only trip to Hells Canyon. It had been back in the late 1970’s when I had been a student at the University of Montana and a few friends and I had backpacked along the Canyon’s rim, high above the Snake River, during a “spring break.” On that trip, one of my pals had been surprised by a buzzing rattler and instinctively brought his hiking stick down hard upon the poor reptile’s triangular-shaped head. The four of us on that trip quickly gathered around the gruesome scene, and, because we were all in the University’s Wildlife Biology program, we felt both saddened and guilty for having been part of such a cool creature’s demise (though we all agreed that it had been necessary, given the circumstances). To assuage our guilt, then and there we had skinned the snake, gutted it, cut it into bite-sized nuggets, and then ignited one of our small cook-stoves and fried-up the nuggets in corn-oil. And yes, it did taste a bit like chicken, but it was so tough and chewy that none of us really enjoyed the windfall feast of protein.

And now Kirk and I (plus five other rafting enthusiasts that Kirk knows from his fisheries management work within the Grand Canyon in Arizona) were about to embark on a six day river adventure. To be frank, I was much less worried about bears and rattlesnakes than I was about the two Class IV rapids that we would face tomorrow, after we had spent the night at a campground near Scotty’s Store. Tomorrow, in fact, would be a very busy day because in the morning, we would need to make the 23 mile drive down to the “put-in” site for rafters looking to experience the turbulent waters of the Snake River within the Hells Canyon portion of the overall Snake River’s meandering, multi-state watercourse. In total, the Snake River runs for approximately 1,080 miles starting from high within Wyoming’s Two Oceans Plateau, down through the agricultural lands of southern Idaho, then north through the deepest gorge in the U.S., and then west until it reaches its confluence with the Columbia River. The Snake is the largest tributary to the Columbia, which, in turn, is the largest North American river to drain into the Pacific Ocean.

Not only would we face two formidable Class IV’s on our first day of rafting, but the next day would also contain one Class IV rapid and the entire upper reach of the Hells Canyon would have many tricky Class III’s. By contrast, the lower reach of the Canyon would be relatively mellow, and would be a mix of Class II’s and easier Class III’s.

I have never owned a raft, but years ago Kirk had given several of us (a group of fisheries biologists who all worked with the Arizona Game and Fish Department and were fortunate enough to have Kirk as our supervisor) a literal crash course in white-water river running. Back in those days (the early 1990’s), the Department owned a few primitive rafts and Kirk was keen on rigging them up so that we could do fisheries studies on the Salt and Verde rivers.

Those early Department river trips were both fun and frightening. Most of us beginners found the less dangerous sections of the Salt and Verde to contain natural wonders that were so appealing that several of us eventually bought our own boats (kayaks, canoes, and/or rafts). Once I had my own kayak, Kirk and I would typically take a couple of non-work trips each year down the Salt and/or the Verde so that we could enjoy the experiences on our own time, without having to conduct arduous fisheries studies. Although I’ve never been much of a fisherman, Kirk and some of our other river running companions were handy with rods and reels and caught many a bass, trout, or catfish on trips that had nothing to do with our professional lives as fisheries biologists.

Eventually, I developed a modicum of skill in paddling my kayak through white-water and started to run some of the bigger rapids on the upper Salt. Unfortunately, there is more to running a rapid than having good reflexes and making quick twists and turns in a kayak. Foolishly, I had never really learned to “read the rapids” nor had I learned all that much about the crucial task of properly loading my kayak so that it would ride as high and evenly as possible. As such, back in the early 2000’s I had a disastrous flip in Mescal Rapid on the upper Salt and from that point on, I swore-off all but relaxing floats down gentle portions of various rivers.

Kirk, on the other hand, not only had many more years of white-water experiences in Game and Fish boats; but, he had, over the decades, also bought a few white-water rafts of his own, and had taken numerous off-duty trips on big Arizona rivers (including numerous trips down the Colorado River within the Grand Canyon). In more recent years, Kirk also started running big water in other western states — including Utah, Idaho, and Oregon.

To double-back to more recent days: in mid-August I received a call from Kirk asking me if I would like to join him on his boat (a 14 foot Avon raft) along with five other friends of his (who would be situated in three additional rafts) to enjoy a six day trip on the Snake. I quickly asked Kirk about what kind of rapids we would be running and he replied: “Oh, a few Class IV’s but mostly easy Class II’s and III’s.” I recognized Kirk’s tendency to not dramatize the dangers, but, the part about there being “a few Class IV’s” had lodged in my brain. In the span of just a few seconds, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach while I deliberated whether I really wanted to risk that kind of water again; especially at this phase of my life, where I seldom faced any hazards greater than the occasional greasy burger in a fast-food restaurant.

I asked Kirk if I could give the invitation a few day’s thought and I would call him once I made my decision. His response was the expected: “Sure, no worries.” But, just as we were about to conclude our chat, he added that the Hells Canyon section of the Snake River was world famous for its high density of nesting raptors. Good old Kirk, he may have baited his hook with something that held no more allure to me than a foul smelling chunk of chicken-liver, but, he knew well enough how to sweeten the deal with that morsel about the raptors.

That night as I tried to fall asleep, my mind vacillated between dreadful visions of me being pitched from the Avon in the Snake’s “Waterspout Rapid” and, alternately, my lounging in the bow of the boat in between the various rapids and staring up at Prairie Falcons and Ferruginous Hawks as they soared lazily overhead along the Canyon’s dramatic basalt walls. Was it really such a difficult decision to make? Well yes, actually it was; I am, after all, a 67 year old guy with both a bad lower back and osteoarthritis in both knees.

In the end, after just one fitful night’s worth of carefully weighing the risks and rewards, I awoke on the optimistic side of the pillow and decided to join the expedition. I figured: I have known Kirk for some 30+ years and he is one of the few people I know who I can implicitly trust to skillfully row through Class IV rapids where the odds of him making any dangerous miscalculations will be so minimal that it would be foolish of me to pass up such an opportunity.

On the other hand, I also knew that Kirk could be something of a prankster, and one who might intentionally take us through some of the Class III’s such that we would experience the maximum number of bumps, bounces, and biggest wave splashes possible. Nonetheless, that morning, I called Kirk and told him I was “in” but that he had to promise to take the “cheater routes” on any dicey white-water so that I didn’t further aggravate my bad back…

For good measure, I added that my “dry bags” (the waterproof duffle’s that river runners use to keep their camp gear dry) had long ago suffered from dry-rot and would no longer be any good for my gear. As I expected, Kirk quickly offered me the use of a couple of extra dry bags that he had and even suggested that I use an spare PFD (a Personal Floatation Device, or “life-vest”) that he had that was no-doubt better than my ancient model.

In Part 2 of this story, I will start off promptly with our launching onto the Snake River, just below the Hells Canyon Dam. I will then do my best to recount the highlights of our six day float -- as we slithered down the gorgeous Hells Canyon Gorge; running rapids and watching raptors soar.

Race Prep

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:58:10 GMT

Tips on Bike Race preparation...

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

As race season gears down or amps up, depending on how you ride, I’ve been getting lots of questions on how to prep for a race. As I write this, I’m prepping for a gravel race by riding Zwift on my indoor trainer, typing on my phone, just putting in miles. When I go out and chop wood, I’m prepping for a race. When we go out and do group rides, I’m prepping for a race. When I drive down the gravel roads we’ll be riding, I’m prepping for a race, and strangely enough, when I eat right before, or during a ride, I’m prepping for a race. How is all of this part of prepping for a race, you ask? Well, I’ll try to explain it, but remember that each of us is unique and each of us have different needs depending on our personal physical and mental spaces.

Ride, baby, ride! First things first: the most important component of prepping for a race is riding your bike. Well, duh, you say, but seriously, miles matter and seat time matters. I don’t have time during the week for “real” rides so I substitute with my indoor trainer time and am strict with myself about it. My personal goal is 100 miles and 5000’ climbing per week, no excuses! I try to ride 20-30 miles per ride so my body knows what that distance feels like and I know I can do it in a certain amount of time. This helps me determine the pace I need to ride in order to reach the end at a consistent pace and not burn myself out too early.

I enter virtual races to prove to myself that my steady slower pace quite often catches up to, and beats those who start out of the gate at a sprint and burn out after a few miles. It’s confidence-inspiring to start at the back and eventually pass rider after rider by the end. This is my strategy in a real race also: start at the back and keep my pace consistent. I may not win, but for sure I’ll end up much more forward in the pack than I began. I’ve even had a weird sort of out-of-body experience when I feel like I am the avatar on my trainer when I’m pedaling down a real road. This makes me feel like I’ve done this before and that I can do it again.

Eating…what helps motivate the ride. We all love food. We all need food, but not all of us need all the calories we consume, and when we ride, we need to keep the metabolic fires stoked. I usually eat dinner right before my trainer rides and somehow never get any ill effects. My stomach has learned not to hog all the oxygen for digestion and shares well with the muscles. You’ll need to eat while you ride and it’s important to get used to doing that before trying it during a race. People who ride with me know I always carry cheese sticks on rides and “cheese time” can be any time we stop for a break. I also eat trail cookies (recipe below) and only allow myself a trail cookie during a ride so they remain a special treat reward for pedaling.

Learn what foods your body can tolerate and when it can tolerate them. I learned through bad experiences, that although I can eat pretty much whenever, but if I drink before a big climb, I’ll get disabling stomach cramps, so I wait to drink on the flats or after the climb. Experiment with what type and concentration of electrolytes you can tolerate. I like one bottle with ice and LMNT drink mix in it and one with plain water. As I ride, I drink from the icy electrolyte bottle and refill it from the water bottle so that I am diluting the electrolyte concentration as I ride. Most longer races have midway feed stations and I suggest not drinking or eating anything unfamiliar to your body while riding a race. If you are used to LMNT, don’t try Hammer for the first time during a race. Don’t eat five Twinkies or gulp down gels for the first time at the feed station unless you want to suffer later. Again, everyone’s body is different so it takes preparation and practice to dial in your nutrition and hydration needs. Also remember that once you are thirsty or hungry, you’ve already put yourself behind the curve and it’s tough to recover as you try to continue the ride.

Cross training. What does chopping wood have to do with riding a bike? The further you ride, the more you will notice that you are using your upper body as well as your legs. Many people burn out in their hands, necks, shoulders and arms well before their legs give out. Everyone has a different favorite way to exercise their upper bodies, but to me chopping wood is great exercise for my shoulders, neck and arms and hands plus provides a good stack to keep us warm in winter! It’s a mistake to think cycling only takes leg strength- done correctly, cycling is something that can utilize your entire body so prep for that before embarking on a longer distance event.

Let’s see it! Come on, how is driving down a road prepping for a race, you ask. Well, mental preparation is nearly as important as physical preparation. As I drive down the road we’ll be riding during the race, I let myself envision riding my bike along that same stretch instead. Here is a loose corner, here’s a washboard section. Here’s a long climb but there’s the end that I can focus on when climbing on my bike. As I imagine riding the road, it becomes familiar, and we all know that a familiar trail feels much shorter than an unfamiliar one of the same length. Familiarity breeds confidence and lets me push where I know there’s an end or conserve energy for the next climb rather than just pushing blindly and burning out later.

Rolling along! Of course, you need to get your bike in race-ready shape to prevent in-race mechanical disasters. Check your chain, check for spoke tension, check your brakes, shifting and suspension. If you have Bluetooth shifting, dropper post or electronic suspension, make sure your batteries are fully charged and good to go. Make sure your sealant is fresh and determine if your current tires can survive the planned race course and possibly change them to match terrain and speed needs. A pre-race tune-up is a great idea and I’m lucky enough to have a personal in-house mechanic who makes sure all the boxes are checked.

Check your pack for essentials and ditch unneeded weight. Make sure you are able to carry enough water to get you from aide station to aide station. Check the weather forecast and decide if you’ll need a wind jacket and/or rain jacket. Race day is not the time to be scrambling through the bike clothes drawer trying to find that other sun sleeve or favorite piece of kit at the last minute!

To me, actually entering a specific race is a helpful way to focus rather than just saying I want to “get in shape” for whatever random reason. Having a date as a checkpoint for my prep is motivating and keeps me working.

By publication, I will have ridden my first gravel race so we’ll see how all this race prep does in real time. Eighty miles and 6000 feet is a lot…but mentally, that’s just the riding I do every week so why not? I’ll let you know…

Trail cookies:

Mix:

½ cup butter

¼ cup each- granulated sugar, brown sugar, maple syrup

1 tsp vanilla

1 egg

¾ cup four

½ tsp each-baking soda, salt

¾ cup oats

½ cup each- dark chocolate chunks, dried cranberries, chopped walnuts, chopped pecans

Roll dough out on parchment covered cookie sheet. Refrigerate several hours and then cut into granola bar shaped rectangles.

Bake at 365 for 11 min. Cool and store in individual rectangular snack bags- enjoy on a ride!

Horseback Riding the White Mountain Trails System

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:53:43 GMT

The Blue Ridge Short-cut Trail

Photos and article by Allanna Jackson

Cinnamon was getting bored with the trails that we can ride to from home so the morning of August 30, I trailered her to Blue Ridge trailhead # 2 to ride the new Short-cut trail, which she hadn’t seen before.

The weather was perfect, a pleasant temperature with a few puffy white clouds. Cinnamon loaded, rode and unloaded perfectly. There were four cars in the parking lot when we arrived. Two of them left while I was saddling Cinnamon. It was 10:35 a.m. when we set off up the trail. I decided to go counterclockwise this trip, going up the Blue Ridge trail first and coming back down the short loop of the Short-cut.

Everything was lush and green with the grasses going to seed. The fresh grass at nose level was so tempting Cinnamon snacked as we strolled along, pausing to grab mouthfuls. The sound of my swatting the whip against my boot toe did not deter her. She merely snatched grass while walking. Horses are experts at eating while walking.

We’d gone about a mile up the trail when we met two hikers coming down. They politely stepped off the trail to let us pass. We exchanged pleasantries about the gorgeous weather. They noted that some of the clouds were starting to look like rain. I commented that it was a good thing they’d done their hike in the morning. We continued our separate ways.

A quarter mile or so later there was a grumble from a discontented cloud somewhere to the south behind us.

Cinnamon continued strolling along, snatching grass while climbing the slope. The trail wanders along the east flank of Blue Ridge Mountain before turning northwest to climb the northeast slope. The non-motorized trail crosses the motorized trail several times as it makes this loop. One crossing has the remnants of a butterfly gate that used to block an old road. Back in the late 1980s my first horse, Sassy, helped me open and close that butterfly gate. Now the gate has been uprooted and abandoned, leaning against a pine tree for support.

Cinnamon didn’t find anything to snack on climbing the mountain, though it was just as green as the rest. We heard the rustle of numerous lizards skittering away through the leaves and grasses. As usual, I heard more lizards than I saw. Cinnamon ignored them.

As we approached marker B8 Cinnamon stopped and alerted at something. I asked her, “What cha watching?” She continued staring intently to our right. After several long seconds of studying the direction Cinnamon was looking, I finally saw what she’d spotted. A cow elk was walking away down slope to the west.

The grumbly cloud continued to mutter to itself in the distance. At marker B9 we turned onto the Short-cut Trail. This was the portion Cinnamon had never seen because it didn’t exist the last time I rode her on Blue Ridge Trail. She strolled along, looking around. The New Mexico Locust that had been blooming so beautifully earlier in the summer were now unobtrusively blending in with the general greenery, posing a hidden danger to unsuspecting passersby who might blunder into their sharp thorns.

As we approached the views of the mountains to the south, I could see that the grumbly cloud was raining somewhere on the Apache Reservation. Cinnamon found more grass to snack on while I photographed the peaks, clouds, and rain.

We resumed our stroll down the Short-cut trail. Cinnamon stepped across several small patches of Gambel oak leaf sprouts that are already reclaiming the new trail. I was pleased to see the run-off tracks from the rains showing that the multiple little bumps in the trail were doing the intended task of diverting water off the trail frequently enough to minimize erosion.

We continued down the trail which crossed the motorized route again. A hundred yards past the crossing, Cinnamon snatched another mouthful of grass, then froze alertly listening. The grumble of the clouds, which Cinnamon had been ignoring, had been replaced by the growl of OHVs on the road we’d just crossed. There seemed to be two machines with multiple people, some of them squealing and yelling. Cinnamon continued standing like a statue, holding the uneaten grass in her mouth while listening to the OHVs. I assured her they weren’t coming onto the trail we were on. When they’d gone, Cinnamon continued down the trail chewing her snack.

Half a mile or so later I spotted a buck deer watching us from a small clearing in the forest. To my surprise, Cinnamon didn’t seem to see him, not even when I stopped her to try to take his picture. She was too busy snacking on more grass.

As we continued, I started hearing raindrops in the trees, but we weren’t getting wet. Cinnamon seemed to be a little tired, though we hadn’t gone any further than usual. Maybe it was due to not knowing how long the unfamiliar trail is. She perked up a little when we came to the end of the short cut and turned onto the trail we’d come out on. We heard cows mooing down by the trailhead. I could see my truck and trailer in the parking lot. All the other vehicles were gone.

Back at the trailhead I asked Cinnamon to back up about 15 steps, just to stretch her back and hind legs a little. At the trailer I unsaddled Cinnamon, then groomed her until she was dry. I loaded her into the trailer, and we headed home. During the monsoon season there is always a chance of getting caught by a storm out on the trail. This trip our timing was perfect. White Mountain Boulevard was damp, and it rained enough that I needed my windshield wipers a little as I drove through Pinetop-Lakeside, but it wasn’t raining at my house when I got home, and we had not gotten wet on our ride.

War Zone to Comfort Zone

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:47:05 GMT

Quilts of Valor

Article and Photos

by Annemarie Eveland

“My favorite subject in the world!” she said enthusiastically to me when I asked Cheryl Violin what the Quilts of Valor were. That was how we began our conversation which led to this article. I called her to find out about these Quilts of Valor that I had been hearing about for the Veterans’ presentation in Our Rim Country at the Elks Club in Payson on August 24th.

Cheryl continued, “The history of the beginning of the Quilts of Valor (QOV) was in 2003 with a lady named Catherine Roberts who had a son in the service. Nat was a gunner deployed in service in Iraq. She constantly worried for the safety of her son. She felt she lived every day as though she was ten seconds away from a panic attack.”

One night Catherine had a dream which was as vivid as life. She saw a young soldier sitting on the edge of his bed in the middle of the night hunched over in deep despair. She said she saw war demons all around him pushing him down into utter despair. It was like watching a very bad scary movie. Then the scene changed somehow, and he was still sitting on the side of his bed, but he was covered with a quilt. And his whole demeanor changed to one of comforting and healing. His whole appearance changed suddenly to feelings of hopefulness. She took this as a definite sign for her to do something as she interpreted her dream.

She took her first quilt to the Walter Reed Medical Hospital. There was a chaplain who helped her to present that quilt to a wounded soldier who had just lost his leg in Iraq. The gesture of caring kindness touched him and comforted him greatly. She was affirmed that this was a good thing to make for the soldiers who had been wounded in the service of their country.

The idea of comforting quilts took hold quickly. Soon an organization formed to unite people who wanted to help keep this good dream alive. And the Quilts of Valor Foundation was born.

I was told that this kind nonprofit organization has over 11,000 members in their Quilts of Valor Foundation, throughout the United States. Although, I also learned there are similar groups in various countries around the world now. Their mission statement reads: “Our mission is to cover service members and veterans touched by war with comforting and healing Quilts of Valor.”

A Quilt of Valor® (QOV) is a quality, handmade quilt that is machine or hand quilted. It is awarded to a Service Member or Veteran who has been touched by war. The Quilt says unequivocally, “Thank you for your service, sacrifice, dedication and valor in serving our nation.” It also says, we honor you for your service, sacrificing all you held dear to stand in harm’s way in crisis, to protect us.” Each part of the quilt has symbolic meaning. Freedom is not free, and the cost is paid by our veterans like the ones honored in this ceremony

They like to award these quilts in a ceremony to add the importance of it. At these ceremonies, there is a welcome introduction, then the honor guard present colors, a prayer, a moment of respectful silence for those who have not returned, the pledge of allegiance comes next, and an explanation for those who can’t return, followed by what the Quilts of Valor mean. Then each person to receive one is called up and wrapped in their special made quilt. At the end of the ceremony, there is a reception line to thank them for their service. Also, the recipients stand, one by one, in front of a quilt that says, “Welcome Home!” and their pictures are taken. If the recipient does not want to be awarded in a group ceremony, we make other arrangements for them maybe for a private award in their home.

To use the term Quilt of Valor, Quilts of Valor or QOV, the quilt must be a specific size, must have a label with required information, it must be awarded (it is not a gift) and it must be recorded.

Cheryl said, “My group’s name is Heart 2 Heart Quilts. We meet once a month and cut out patterns and make the quilts. During the summer months, we meet in Overgaard the third Tuesday each month at the Fire Station. During the winter months, we meet in Tonto Basin on the third Tuesday of the month at the Desert Community Christian Fellowship Church.”

Men and women both join this worthwhile circle of quiltmakers. When one receives a quilt, they are presented also with a certificate and pillowcase from QOV. The certificate includes the recipient’s name, service, and award date.

I was interested to find out that the number of quilts made so far is almost 400, 000! On the QOVF website, the number of quilts awarded just in July shows 2,958, the total for 2024 so far is 18,663 and their lifetime total so far has been 392,057.

I asked Cheryl how someone could get more information about QOV (Quilts of Valor), and she said a good source is their website: QOVF.org (Quilts of Valor Foundation.) There are two ways to join the foundation, there is a $10.00 fee to join an existing group or a $40.00 fee to join as an independent member. She added her phone number:

480 229-1486.

For their quilts they always need batting (the foundation recommends an 80/20 blend), thread, financial contributions, fabrics (100% cotton appropriate for a patriotic quilt.) A good way to think about the fabric colors and design is to look at the different services uniforms and colors. The foundation quality statement requires 100% cotton fabrics, and they test them to make sure they don’t fade out with laundering.

The meeting room was filled as our program to present Quilts of Valor began Saturday morning.

I could see how important this event was for the makers of the quilts, the recipients of the Quilts and all the rest of us who came to support soldiers in the ceremony.

At the break, I heard that one service man said, “We really appreciate this recognition today. Often when we come home from serving our country, not only would I not get appreciation for serving in Vietnam, I feel we was jeered, screamed at and ignored. This is the first time I feel we have been recognized and thanked.” So, in the future, perhaps we can do our part when we see a service person, walk up to them shake their hand and say, Thank you for your service!” They’ll love you thanking them, and you will feel good too!

Appreciate the Day

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:42:57 GMT

Tips to slow you down so you can appreciate your days...

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht., Unstuck Living

I admit it. I’m a morning person. That’s my time to appreciate the day . I’m wide awake at 5:00 a.m., even before the birds start chirping. If I sleep past sunrise, I feel I’ve lost something and nothing’s quite right. After I pull on my boots, I step outside to the radiance of soft sun rays. If I’m very fortunate, the sun will light up the clouds. To me, it’s almost magical.

I notice so much. The dusty peach light begins to creep up over the mountains to the east. The variety of light – how it surges with vibrancy and fades into muted tones, the brief appearance of each hue, and the mood it creates – lasts only seconds. Quite soft and subtle, they begin to light the outer edges of the clouds with a soft apricot-colored tinge. The rest of the clouds are lightly illuminated in the anticipated rays of morning. But at that time, the delicate outlines are breathtaking.

Next, the sky slowly comes to light. A hushed, dark morning shifts into a hustling day in a heartbeat, so I savor these brief moments as they pass. It’s as if the world is beginning its new day, filled with hope and potential. And I feel the same. The sun slowly peeks over the horizon, and the clouds turn more colors than I can imagine. Each moment imprints a mini-snapshot in my mind’s eye. The predawn purples, giving way to pink and salmon spilling out onto the landscape. The gold that triumphs as the sun rises in the sky is equally beautiful in amazingly different ways.

That quiet time

Having that quiet early morning time is precious to me. It’s comfortable to be the only human being around for a while. It’s time to put my mind on hold, to appreciate my world. A necessary time for me to recharge my batteries and refresh my ability to enjoy the beauty of nature. This is a familiar pattern for me, and I sink into a comfortable place in my mind. This is a well-remembered delight.

I don’t know if it’s the changing colors, the increasing brightness, or the warming air, but there’s something special about it that encourages moments of unforced calm without effort. I’ll look up at the clouds and realize they were the only things on my mind for a space in time. A time of peace, relaxation, and contentment.

Appreciate the day

Do you hustle through the day with no time to stop? Here are some tips to help you slow down:

When? You may hit your stride in the morning. Or perhaps in the afternoon. Or maybe in the early evening. After you have moved along for a time, stop for a moment. A deep breath in, then back out, allows your body and mind to slow down.
What? Look around you in nature. So much to experience… and appreciate. As you do this, notice the slower pace to this realm too.
How? Use your senses. Be specific about what you see. What you hear. What you feel. Maybe it’s the colors of a spectacular sunrise. Or the lilting song of a bird. Or a gentle breeze against your face. Slow down and savor the wonder.

Enjoy those quiet moments of appreciation. Live unstuck.

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts on Facebook for Snoop., the former Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

Travel Management on the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forests

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:35:48 GMT

Get ready for some travel changes in the forest...

By Dan Groebner

If you haven’t heard anything about the Forest Service’s Travel Management Rule, maybe your spaceship just landed and you’re still getting acclimated to our atmosphere. Seriously though, many folks don’t follow federal bureaucratic rule making processes, but this one could have an impact on hikers, campers, hunters and anglers, especially if you drive some sketchy two-track roads to get to those secret spots.

So, what is the Travel Management Rule of 2005 that all National Forests have to implement and enforce? In the simplest terms, the rule makes changes to bring forest road access and management into the 21 ^st Century. The goal is “to identify a transportation system that is environmentally and financially sustainable while meeting public needs.” The financially sustainable part has been a challenge lately in keeping the network of forest roads in safe driving conditions.

Some people ask why do changes have to be made if nothing is broken? Evidently those people haven’t traveled very widely lately or have a high threshold for human impacts and damage to public roads, camping sites and sensitive wildlife habitats. In the past, even quite recently in some areas, the number of people and their modes of transport did not create the significant impacts we are now seeing in some areas. Granted, there are still untrammeled acres out there, but they are becoming harder to find even with more effort.

As stated on the official Travel Management website, maintained by the U.S. Forest Service, the specific reason for adopting this new road plan is to identify a “system of roads, trails, and areas designated for motor vehicle use — and for that system to reduce impacts to biological, physical, and cultural resources in the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forests.”

After years of planning and coordination with other agencies and the interested public who attended meetings and submitted comments, the Forest Service released a draft Environmental Impact Statement (DEIS) in 2010. Unfortunately, Arizona’s largest wildfire, the Wallow Fire, and the development of an updated Forest Plan delayed much of the work on this project. A revised draft EIS was issued for public comment in 2019.

After incorporating more public comment, the Forest issued a Final EIS in 2024 that described three different possible alternatives to be considered by decision makers within the Forest Service. Most EIS include an Alternative that calls for no action to be taken, primarily to compare impacts from other alternatives, since in most cases, some action must be taken to comply with the law or regulations.

So Alternative 1 is the No Action Alternative. Alternative 2 and 3 are similar, except that Alternative 2 allows for motor vehicle use off-road in some areas to retrieve harvested elk and bear, and it also allows for establishment of special motorized areas in addition to just trails and roads, whereas these are not allowed in Alternative 3. Alternative 2, the preferred alternative, has been identified as the modified proposed action.

Comments from the public and other agencies during the input period identified potential impacts and unintentional consequences. The Forest Service was then able to modify their alternatives when they considered the impacts to dispersed camping and retrieval of big game, as well as potential damage to sensitive resources and habitats. The economic issue of the “Loss of Revenues and Jobs” was also analyzed and included in EIS.

Many people commented that by closing too many roads, favorite sites used for decades by the same family and friends as historic camping sites would be off limits and more campers will be concentrated in a smaller area providing a much lower quality experience. These comments were used to keep as many areas open as possible.

Hunters expressed concern that by limiting off-road travel to retrieve elk and bear, game meat could be wasted without timely cooling and processing, especially in some of the relatively warm early elk seasons. It’s important to note that this off-road exemption only applies to retrieval of legally harvested elk and bear, not just to get into your honey hole of a hunting spot.

Impacts to fish and wildlife, reduction in water and soil quality, and threats to cultural resources were also issues that the public thought were important and needed to be analyzed and avoided. Comprehensive surveys helped identify these specific “hot spots” and plans are intended to minimize impacts.

The final category of important issues that were identified included the economic impacts to the area because of road closures affecting tourism, fishing, hunting, hiking and dispersed camping. The Final EIS found that there was no difference in economic impacts between the 3 alternatives, including the No Action Alternative.

How can that be? The reason is because the affected area already supports over a million jobs in one form or another and provides so much in total personal income, that the effects are negligible, according to the EIS analysis. The EIS also found that low-income or minority populations were not being disproportionately impacted.

So, what will the new plan look like and how will we know if the roads we need to travel on are still open? Once the final plan is approved, an official Motor Vehicle Use Map will be made available electronically on the Forest Service website with hard paper copies provided at Forest Service offices and other locations. The maps are not detailed enough for backcountry navigation (and neither is Google Maps!) but will clearly show roads open to motorized travel.

Since closed roads will have to be clearly signed to avoid confusion this could take some time to get all the roads properly labeled, so don’t count on signage on the roads to keep you out of trouble.

Considering the historical cadence of this project on this Forest dealing with the effects of 2 of Arizona’s largest wildfires, there probably won’t be any changes made in 2024 or early 2025, so planned hunts and fall camping trips should be unaffected.

Enforcement of new road closures could start in early 2025, so visitors on the forest this fall will have a chance to use the new maps of open roads to determine if they will be able get to their favorite camping, hiking, or hunting spot by motorized vehicle once the road closures are enforced next year. Hopefully, maps will also be published electronically so they can be uploaded into GPS apps on your phone or dedicated GPS units to make navigation even more foolproof.

Most National Forests in the US have already finalized their road management plans, so maybe you could say that we are fortunate here in the White Mountains not to have to blaze that untraveled trail first. Fortunately, the current preferred alternative includes some local flexibility to allow retrieval of big game during elk hunting seasons and most historical dispersed campgrounds will still be available.

However, changes must be made to protect the valuable and fragile forest so it doesn’t get beaten into submission and we can’t even recognize our favorite spots anymore. Many of the sensitive wildlife habitats in the White Mountains are also the best camping spots, so be ready to explore new areas for your new favorite spot. And no complaining allowed, or you’ll be sent out east to one of the states like Texas with little to zero public land available for recreation.

For more information on specific roads that are proposed for closure you can refer to the appendix in the Final EIS or maps that can be downloaded from the Forest Service Road Management website in PDF formats. Just search for Apache-Sitgreaves National Forests Travel Management Rule or contact your local Forest Service Ranger District office in Heber/Overgaard, Pinetop/Lakeside, Springerville, or Alpine.

The Wild Rose Trail

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:30:19 GMT

Wild roses and birds...

By Rob Bettaso

Photos by Rob Bettaso and Gary Weesner

Earlier today, I returned home from one of my warm-season, dawn jaunts. This one had been a bit longer than usual because the birding had been wonderfully productive – which had motived me to continue around “just one more bend in the trail.” Not counting my pre-dawn coffee, I had yet to break my nighttime fast and it was coming up on 12 hours since I had last eaten. I toasted bread, slathered it with peanut-butter and honey, and ate it quickly while still standing at the counter. Sated, the time had come to sit and rest.

I filled a tall glass full with water and set it on the table beside my old rocking chair. I sat down and picked up the library book I have been slowly reading the past few weeks: D. H. Lawrence’s “Sons and Lovers.” Over the course of my life, I have read poems, stories, and novels by him and do so mostly because I enjoy the way he describes the natural world (hardly what he is known for; as most fans of “modernist literature” are probably more familiar with his steamy romantic writings -- “steamy” for their time, at least, which was in the early 1900’s).

While reading, I had absent-mindedly scratched a scab on my shin and became conscious of doing so when the scab scraped off. There was no blood underneath as the wound had healed, but, now that my attention has shifted from the book to examining my shins, I realize that most of the minor cuts and abrasions that riddled my lower legs were all just about healed. Soon they will be nothing more than thin white stripes and small white patches. The cuts are interesting, because they really aren’t slices at all, but rather, scratches, and I can see how the wild rose thorns that had inflicted the wounds had caught on the skin and made a stuttering, dragging motion leaving both cuts and punctures as the thorns dipped into and out from the outermost layer of skin. The scrapes, on the other hand, had been deeper and had been the result of knocking my shins a few times on rocks hidden within the thorny brush.

Well, you know what they say: “scars make a body more interesting” and I certainly have my share. I am happy to say that most of my external scars have come from Ma Nature’s love kisses and not from man-made objects (or, worse yet, from man himself).

I take a long drink of water and decide to put aside the Lawrence and reach over on the table to pick up one of my Apache-Sitgreaves maps. I open it to the Springerville Ranger District section and begin pondering the thorny place where my friend Gary and I had gone on a brief backpacking trip several weeks back.

I don’t do many backpacking trips anymore; it’s mostly a matter of aging muscles and bones, and, the discomfort of sleeping on the hard and lumpy earth. Nonetheless, I still consider backpacking to be among the best ways to enjoy Nature. There is something about turning your back on the luxuries and conveniences of car-camping and resigning yourself to a period of mild pains and annoyances so as to leave behind the “teaming masses yearning to be free” (or, in other words: today’s campers, who, rather than achieving any real freedom, instead haul all types of machines, fancy foodstuffs, toys, and high-dollar apparel into the wildlands).

Yes, there is a wonderful simplicity to having only the clothes on your back, plus, stuffed inside the rucksack maybe just a rain-jacket and a change of socks. That is all I generally take, apparel-wise, during a warm-season outing of 1-2 nights. Sure, by the time I return to my truck parked at the trailhead, I have exceeded my “sell by date” but, if I’m with a good chum, and he or she is in about the same condition, who cares; windows can be rolled down. And as far as the other essentials go: well, granola bars, cheese sandwiches, and ramen noodles can cover food for a few days, and, if you bring a water filter you don’t have to carry too much water if you hike along a stream or backpack into a realm that has ponds and/or lakes.

Gear-wise, most of what I bring during periods of favorable weather includes the following: a sleeping bag and pad; the basics of navigation; essential first-aid items; sun-protection; toiletries; and, the just-in-case type of survival items. I also find it well worth the extravagant weight to bring my binos and, since they hang around my neck while I’m hiking, they don’t even add any weight to my backpack. Sure, there are sometimes a few other sundry items in my pack but often times I never even take them from the pack during a quick trip.

On my excursion with Gary, I doubt my pack exceeded 30 pounds and Gary’s was probably only heavier by maybe 5 pounds which included things like his phone, batteries, chargers, and an emergency SOS type of device. Hiking with Gary is reassuring as he keeps up with the latest outdoor gear and technologies and he knows how to use them. He also knows the “old school” tools and is an expert with such things as a magnetic compass and has certifications in not only orienteering, but other disciplines including first aid and first responder levels of backcountry health care.

Add to all of the above the fact that Gary is generally very laid-back, temperament wise, until he needs to spring into action for whatever specific skill or knowledge is required. I’ve gotten to know Gary because both of us volunteer with the Navajo County Search and Rescue team -- although he has been involved for a much longer time than I have. On the other hand, I have lived up in the White Mountains area for a few years longer than Gary and have thus had the greater amount of time to explore our hiking and camping areas.

Essentially, many of the Apache-Sitgreaves hiking trails and camping areas can serve as the launching points for low or high mileage backpacking trips. For our recent trip, I had simply picked a drainage that I had gone bird-watching along in the past, and then looked at my map to see if we could hike further in than the route that most people typically followed. As it turned out, it was a fine plan and we spent about five hours hiking in from where we parked and then picked a site that we both agreed met our minimal camping needs: a reasonably thick tree canopy so we could get out of the hot sun; a place along the creek where we could filter water for our canteens; a patch of ground that was as level as possible for Gary’s tent and another spot where I could lay my pad and sleeping bag so that I could sleep out in the open (tents make me claustrophobic and I only use one if it is going to rain).

Over the course of a couple of days we explored the general area in which we were camped. Our forays including hiking about an hour up a steep slope so that we could survey the higher elevations of our domain. We also spent time hiking further up the drainage and also up some of the side gullies that ran down to the main canyon.

For the most part, the areas we explored were fairly typical of the higher elevation riparian corridors of the White Mountains. We had parked at about 7,500 feet and hiked as high as 9,000. There were a few noteworthy aspects of our environment: First, on our two-night and three-day trip I think I saw about as many Western Tanagers, Plumbeous Vireos, and Western Wood Pewees as I’ve ever seen in one single chunk of habitat. Second, the riparian vegetation seemed to have about the highest density of wild roses of anywhere I have ever hiked and everywhere the wild roses grew, they were blooming and filled the air with their unique fragrance; while at the same time, it was hard not to curse them as they clawed at our bare calves and shins when we hiked anywhere near the stream. Third, if you take the time to get to know a relatively small area (say a single square mile) it is amazing how many springs and drainages one can find in some parts of our high elevation forests.

Add to the above, the fact that I fell into a deep sleep both nights accompanied by the soft hoots of a near-by Great-horned Owl, and, that despite all of the springs and swampy areas that we encountered I never once heard a single mosquito nor felt the sting of its nasty, blood-sucking proboscis. There were a few biting flies but hey, the birds and lizards need to eat something.

Speaking of birds, I’ll end this story with one final anecdote: for several hours late in our second day both Gary and I listened to a raucous bird somewhere deep in the trees and beyond our field of vision. It was frustrating to both of us that the bird would not show itself and its cries eventually became something of annoyance. Eventually we tuned it out as just a bit of background noise and figured it must be a young corvid of one of the five or six types that might be found in the area. On our third and last day in the drainage while we were hiking back to my truck, we finally saw the noisy bird and it turned out to be a fledgling Clark’s Nutcracker, high up in a snag. He was calling for one of his parents and, before long, one of the parents did come and fed him, though the morsel did nothing to quiet him down.

Though the young jay had yet to master flight, he reminded me of a something D.H. wrote (and I paraphrase): A bird swoops and soars also for the sheer joy of movement.

Yes, and backpacking too, can be a joyful way to get around.

Flight to Lake Mountain

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:25:05 GMT

Gravel biking to a local volcano...

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

Its early morning, deep enough into the monsoon season for the mornings to be on the edge of cool, the roosters are crowing and the few clouds in the pale blue sky are streaked with pastel reds and oranges. A light breeze is causing the leaves to bob slightly and the word “freedom” whispers in the wind. I’m up early and excited because last night we decided to do an adventure today. We are going to get on our bikes and take a road trip, see what we can see and appreciate what freedom in the White Mountains means. The dogs feel that something is happening when we start to pack up what we need for the day: water, hydration mix, snacks (trail cookies, cheese, jerky, nuts, gummy worms and granola bars), rain jackets and helmets; but their ears droop as soon as they see what bikes come clicking out of their storage stands. They know, these trail-loving dogs, that a gravel bike means no-go for them. The mountain bikes are what they love, but today is about traveling far, traveling fast, traveling light and traveling free on some of our many hundreds of miles of gravel roads in the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest.

Door locked, dogs reluctantly put in the yard, and we are off, tires crunching in the gravel, soft breeze in our faces and nothing but time out on the bikes on our agenda. Freedom. Gravel biking has a different feel than mountain biking: you are light, the bike feels as if it wants to take control and fly and you develop a cadence, or rhythm as you pedal, almost hypnotic, giving your mind time to wander freely as you move. We pick up a couple of friends at a designated meeting spot and continue up the road, pavement changing to gravel surface changing to packed mud and back to gravel, but the rhythm of the pedaling says the same. The sounds of the crunch of the tires and regular breathing stays the same. Freedom

The road begins to rise before us, leading into the forest, tall pines on both sides, we shift gears to keep the peddling cadence and heart rate relatively the same, shift again, shift again and are almost imperceptibly rising in elevation, pinion-juniper giving way to oak and ponderosa, grass greening up, still rising in elevation. We pass thinning projects, old and new and discuss forest management, we discuss family, life and goals. We pedal, cadence stays the same, breathing controlled, floating, flying, freedom.

We pass an old lumber mill and talk about how it must have been, how it was for homesteading pioneers, how it must have been for native inhabitants when the climate was wetter, how it might be in the future. We pass a spring and talk about how the water from that spring follows a drainage that leads nearly to our start point. Distances that feel long become short, time condenses, and we pedal on, one stroke after another. Freedom.

Ponderosa begins to give way to mixed conifer and aspen, we continue to rise in elevation and grasses are taller and greener, ferns abound, and we see a herd of deer watching carefully from a hillside. We stop for a snack and feel overwhelmingly grateful that we live in this glorious part of the world and that we are able to come out and experience the day. Freedom. Pedaling, breathing, hearts beating, almost as one organism, we rise some more and the explosion of green plant growth seems nearly unreal. Ferns, locust bushes, Arizona rose, thistles, wildflowers of a myriad of types and green moss covering wet logs and roadcuts. The air is fresh and cool and the cloud cover makes it feel like a magical fairyland. Freedom.

Lake Mountain beckons us and then taunts with an ascending rocky road pushing us to the limit of our climbing power. Up and around, the road leads us towards the tower and periodically opens up to breathtaking views of the surrounding trees: millions upon millions of green pines, leafy oaks and trembling aspens. I feel incredibly grateful to live at the edge of the largest contiguous Ponderosa Pine stand in the US. We stop at the fire tower, take pictures and take time to climb the tower. We can see NW to the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff, East into New Mexico, South across the White Mountain Apache lands and N to the northern edge of the forest. We have an eagles’ eye view of this area and imagine how quickly an eagle could travel from one end to the other of this gorgeous land. Freedom

We take a detour on the way down and head off onto the singletrack circling the grassy caldera of the volcano that created Lake Mountain. This meadow is periodically filled with runoff, giving Lake Mountain its name, but today it is a gloriously green, but dry, meadow. The trail we are following evaporates and reappears, causing us to have to hike and push our bikes through the dense vegetation; it feels like we are in a land before time, old growth forest, mossy ground and lichen-covered tree trunks. It is truly a feeling of being a part of something much older, something much bigger and something much less complicated. No clocks, no trails, no agendas, no worries. Just the air, the bikes, the clouds and the breeze. Freedom.

We descend from Lake Mountain and continue on using the 96 road, headed towards an old fire scar. Live trees replaced by blackened trunks, smooth road surface replaced by eroded road and exposed rocks. We talk about the fire, and about the succession that is taking place before our eyes. Locusts and grasses have covered over blackened ground and fallen logs and new young trees are beginning to show up in open ground. The rough road heading downhill diverts our attention, and we are totally focused on the riding ahead. We are not peddling any more, we are coasting and steering, braking and cornering, avoiding exposed rocks and loose material. Conversation stops and concentration is key. No time to think about anything but the present. Freedom

We reach the end of the fire scar and descend back into the green. Those clouds that have kept us so cool all morning are now gathering and starting to look a little threatening. There is thunder beginning to roll in the background and although we are prepared for rain, with rolled up rain jackets in our packs, the idea of getting caught out in a thunderstorm with lightning flashing over the tall old-growth trees and rain and hail soaking us completely, is just not inspiring, so we head for home, luckily mostly downhill and mostly on smooth-riding roads. Our speed increases with a sense of urgency and a boost of adrenalin, resulting in a higher cadence tempo and breathing rate. We know we can make a strong push home since we are finishing the ride. The exhilaration of speed pushes us faster, conversation stops, and concentration focuses. The road surface, the speed, the peddles moving one after the other, the focused breathing, hearts beating and hypnotic rhythm of the sounds of the road and effort take over, and the mind clears. Raindrops begin to fall, large drops, separate drops, cooling drops. We are one, with one goal and move as one unit. We give each other energy and we draw each other on. Freedom. This is the gift we give ourselves.

Please join us for the first annual “Pinewood Showdown” gravel adventure ride. There are three routes/distances to choose from and categories for anyone and everyone, including youth, singlespeed and e-bike. Our White Mountain gravel roads are some of the best in the SouthWest and the routes are designed to give riders a good combination of terrains, habitats and road surfaces. Gravel bikes are specifically designed for these types of roads, but mountain bikes and hybrid bikes would work well too. There will be vendors, music, food and fun at the venue and support stations for riders along the routes.

Visit Zia Rides https://ziarides.com/the-pinewood-showdown/ for registration and more information.

Black Elk and the Peak that Honors Him

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:17:10 GMT

Black Elk Peak (once Harney's Peak), South Dakota's highest peak...

Article and Photos by Ron Miller

"I was standing on the highest mountain of them all, and round about beneath me was the whole hoop of the world. And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being.” —- Black Elk

The quote above is that of Black Elk (1863-1950), recounting a time in his youth when he had a vision on the mountain now bearing his name. The latest measurement shows Black Elk Peak to be 7,231 feet in elevation. It is South Dakota’s highest peak and ranks 15th highest of the 50 state high points. It is, in fact, the highest summit in the United States east of the Rocky Mountains. Black Elk Peak is in South Dakota’s Black Hills.

The Black Hills are sacred to the Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota people (referred to previously using the all-encompassing but misguided French term Sioux). It is a beautiful place to visit and a great place to enjoy wild places. I recently had a chance to return to this area and climb Black Elk Peak for a second time.

There is a remarkable stone tower complete with carefully constructed rock staircases on top of Black Elk Peak that served as a fire lookout until 1967. The tower, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) between 1935 and 1938, is on the National Register of Historic Places. Individual stones for construction of the lookout were hauled to the summit by men and mules from a creek three miles away.

Black Elk Peak is located within the Black Elk Wilderness in the Black Hills National Forest between Mount Rushmore National Monument and the Crazy Horse Memorial. I was attending a four-day Highpointer’s Convention in Rapid City, South Dakota and had the opportunity, as did the other convention attendees, to climb Black Elk Peak as part of the program. I have actively sought out and climbed the tallest peak or highest point in all of the contiguous 48 states of the United States over the years which is why I was attending the convention.

Anne Groebner wrote about this part of my life in an article for her earlier magazine, Get Your Mountain On AZ , in August 2016. The article highlighting these climbs was entitled Highpointing: Climbing America’s Highest Peaks. I hadn’t yet climbed Mt. Rainier when she wrote that article, but was able to complete the Rainier climb in 2019.

The Highpointer’s convention also included a morning at Bear Butte with Donovin Sprague, a local Lakota historian and professor. Bear Butte is another sacred mountain to his people. He did an excellent job of putting history and the Lakota worldview into perspective with all that we were able to experience both during his talk and later with him on the trail.

Climbing Black Elk Peak involves a moderate to strenuous climb. There are several routes into the peak, but the most popular route starts at Sylvan Lake in Custer State Park. The trail quickly leads out of the park and into the secluded Black Elk Wilderness. There, it then ascends past incredibly scenic granite rock formations referred to as the Cathedral Spires. The roundtrip hike from Sylvan Lake is 6 miles with an elevation gain of 1,550 feet. Views from the summit are awe-inspiring as it is possible to see into the neighboring states of Wyoming, Montana and Nebraska from there.

Many people may be familiar with the name Black Elk from a book that was published in 1932. The author, John Neihardt, recorded conversations with Black Elk and then published the widely-read “Black Elk Speaks” from those conversations. The book had a resurgence in the 1970’s. Now there are internet accounts that record some of the best quotes from the book. Many of the quotes share a wider meaning, applicable to many situations in life. “Behold this day. It is yours to make” states Black Elk in the dialogue in the book and “One should pay attention to even the smallest crawling creature for these too may have a valuable lesson to teach us." He encourages people to “Let every step you take upon the earth be as a prayer”, and to remember “All things are our relatives; what we do to everything, we do to ourselves”.

His life wasn’t easy. He was there during both the Battle of Little Bighorn and the Wounded Knee massacre. He saw many friends, relatives, and heroes die. He experienced the loss of his tribe’s way of life, was exiled for awhile in Canada and watched as more and more of his tribe’s land was lost. And yet he also became part of Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West show and talked about his experiences in Chicago, New York and even London where he participated in a command performance to celebrate Queen Victoria’s jubilee. A complicated and even tragic life indeed, and yet he sought to see life at a much deeper level and to seek the divine in all circumstances. And this, he summed up in another of his quotes:

“We should understand well that all things are the work of the Great Spirit. We should know the Great Spirit is within all things; the trees, the grasses, the rivers, the mountains, and the four-legged and winged peoples; even more important, we should understand that the Great Spirits is also above all things and peoples. When we do understand all this deeply in our hearts, then we will fear, and love, and know the Great Spirit and then we will be and act and live as the Spirit intends.” —- Black Elk

Riding the White Mountain Trails System

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:12:43 GMT

Flume Connector Trail

The Flume trail that connects Timber Mesa trail to Panorama trail is close to Town, yet relatively obscure so I decided to ride it again on Memorial Day. I trailered Cinnamon to the Panorama trailhead. On the way I noticed some people shooting in the cinder pit beside Porter Mountain Road, which I expected on a holiday.

At the trailhead a couple was in the process of preparing their OHV for a trip on the Maverick motorized trail. They set off a few minutes later. There were two other vehicles in the parking lot and another one drove down the motorized trail.

Cinnamon backed nicely off the trailer and glanced at the OHV while looking around, wondering which trail we were taking this time. Just then a truck pulling a rattly trailer came into the parking lot, stopped briefly, then made the circle around the trailhead back out to Porter Mountain Road. The driver was careful but Cinnamon was worried by the noisy trailer moving so close behind her so I held her rope and reassured her while it passed then gave her a cookie. While I saddled up Cinnamon faced Porter Mountain where we could hear gunfire in the cinder pit. The noise and busyness were reminders that the National Forests belong to all of us and are managed for multiple uses so we all need to share our public lands and resources by using them in safe, sustainable, responsible ways.

I mounted Cinnamon and we walked out to the Maverick trail then back into the parking lot to the Flume trail. Flume is one of the few connecter trails in the White Mountain Trail System that leaves directly from a trailhead. For about 50 yards the trail angles toward the motorized trail before crossing it to begin an ascent toward Porter Mountain. I was surprised to see quantities of New Mexico Locust in bloom because I’d forgotten how many of them grow here. For a couple of weeks each year the New Mexico Locust trees produce large clusters of gorgeous purple flowers that resemble bunches of grapes. The rest of the time they blend in with the other bushes and trees and aren’t noticeable unless you get close enough to encounter their long, straight, very sharp thorns. I photographed the flowers as Cinnamon walked along. We stopped a few times to get better photos. The shooting had stopped, leaving the forest nicely quiet, but resumed a few minutes later.

Flume trail crosses the dirt road that goes up Porter Mountain below the cinder pit then arcs up and across the south flank of the mountain. This is a serious climb for about an eighth of a mile so I settled deep in the saddle and leaned slightly forward with my upper body at the same angle as the trees growing on the slope. This position keeps the rider close to horse’s center of gravity which makes it easier for the horse to climb.

There are several yuccas growing amongst the pine trees on Porter Mountain. Some of them were already blooming. I took photos while moving so as not to disrupt Cinnamon’s momentum. Just past the yuccas the trail enters a shady tunnel under the trees as it reaches the top of its arc across the mountain. From here the trail makes a curvy descent down the slope to cross the Porter Mountain Loop of the Maverick Motorized trail. Going downhill I remained seated deep in the saddle and leaned my upper body back slightly to match the angle of the trees on the slope. This aligns the rider’s center of gravity over the horse’s center of gravity to help the horse stay balanced over her hind feet as she descends which protects both of us from doing a very dangerous somersault.

After crossing Porter Mountain, the Flume trail settles into a smooth, easy, meander west through the forest to Timber Mesa. It is well-marked at the trail junctions and road crossings, though the signs disagree about whether it is 2 miles or 2.5 miles between Panorama trailhead and Timber Mesa trail. Some of the numbered markers seemed closer together than the usual ¼ mile interval but I’d forgotten my GPS so I couldn’t check. Despite the holiday we had the trail to ourselves.

Cinnamon marched along happily. The forest floor was covered with white daisy-like flowers with splashes of yellow, red, and purple flowers of a variety of species most of which I can’t identify. Birds were singing cheerfully. We saw one Abbert’s squirrel and a few lizards.

When we reached the Timber Mesa trail Cinnamon looked around as if to say, “I know where we are!” Two hikers were approaching the junction just as we got there. We greeted each other and they asked if it was ok to cross in front of Cinnamon. I assured them they could. Cinnamon stood and politely waited while they went by her nose and admired her. After the hikers passed we crossed the Timber Mesa trail then turned around to backtrack along Flume trail. For half a mile Cinnamon kept looking back over her right shoulder as if to say, “Why are we going back this way when I can walk home from Timber Mesa?” She probably remembered a previous occasion when I did ride her home from Panorama trailhead after the trailer got a flat tire on the trip out. This time the trailer was fine. After awhile Cinnamon gave up on walking home and snatched a few bites of grass as she strolled along.

The shooters had gone away by the time we got back to Porter Mountain. The birds were celebrating the quiet with songs. We again climbed across Porter Mountain with pauses to photograph the yuccas. The descent down Porter Mountain is so steep Cinnamon was taking very short steps to stay balanced. I admired and photographed the New Mexico Locust flowers again. Back at the trailhead somebody was just leaving and another OHV drove by on the trail. I trailered Cinnamon home. It was a gorgeous Memorial Day in the White Mountains.

Outdoors Trochilidae Delight

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 22:06:51 GMT

Hummingbirds came to nest...

Photos and article by Annemarie Eveland

Their sound was distinctive, delightful and daring, even dazzling. Whirling and humming, the tiny visitors darted in for the sweet nectar I had made for their food. I am mesmerized and amazed at hummingbirds visiting my feeders.

The biological family name of the hummingbirds is Trochilidae with 366 species, 113 genera. Mostly found in the Americas and now listed as endangered.

But this story -my personal story of the hummingbird vigil began last year when a female bird began to collect “stuff” from our surrounding area and then built a nest. Such a tiny bird for such an incredible task, I thought. But she was undaunted and deliberate.

So, I thought I’d help. I brought a good-sized hummingbird feeder out and hung it about two feet away from her nest building which happened to be my front door area, and her nest was built on string/wire of the tiny white Christmas lights that I now would never take down.

Some friends chuckled at my fervor and fascination, but some encouraged me. I didn’t need much, though, as this was my first adventure in hummingbird nest building.

I noticed that she flew away instantly when she saw movement of my security screen door or heard it opening.

So, I left it partly ajar and eventually she got ok with my coming and going under her creation.

By then the nest was complete and I saw her long beak nodding in and out of the nest- a sign to me she was feeding her babies? And the sugar water level was going down.

I was fascinated when the tiny babies poised their beaks upward with the tiniest tweaky sounds, waiting for mom to feed them. And I was rather astounded when they grew to such a size that both the hatchlings’ wings draped over their tiny nest. “Hey it’s getting crowded in here!”

My desire was to see mom feed them. I climbed up on a step stool with my camera to gently click a photo of the crowded hanging little hometel. Going to be a good shot, I thought. That moment the wind gusted, and their nest gently touched my camera. I was shocked to see those “now teenagers” bolt out of their nest and speed away as if they were filled with jet fuel. I blinked. I was astonished! What about mom getting them out of their comfort zone? Had they been nudged too early by me? I worried about them and found myself climbing the hillside of the direction they flew – just in case I had to rescue them on the ground. But they were not to be seen anywhere. Maybe they were ready to fly? I guess I am going to have to find a Hummingbird expert and find out. It would have been perfect to attend the wondrous White Mountain Hummingbird Festival with their experts held at the end of the month of July this year.

I am fascinated by these tiny birds that “aren’t supposed to fly,” according to aeronautics, but they buzz around beautiful, and they definitely seem to know what they are doing. So, I was inspired to draw one sitting still on a flower-for a moment. And ah, yes, I am still going to leave my Christmas lights strung up with the hummingbird nest--- for next years’ crop!

Are You a Good Friend?

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 21:59:59 GMT

To have a good friend, you need to be a good friend...

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht, Unstuck Living

Who would we be without our friends? From early on, they teach us the ropes. They give us building blocks for learning how to give and love, face life’s ups and downs, and how to laugh at silly stuff. They help us celebrate life and mourn losses. Find tactful ways to bridge differences. Create more peace and joy in the world.

The old saying goes, “To have a good friend, you need to be a good friend.” And it’s true. I got to thinking about what it takes to be a good friend. Not an acquaintance, but someone who is steadfast and true.

You may have other ideas, but here’s my list of some qualities of a good friend:

They’re kind. You’d think this would go without saying, but kindness is often overlooked. This isn’t the “bend over backwards” thoughtfulness, but more the “stand by you.” When I moved, I had so many people help me! Giving up time on a weekend, they packed and tossed. Taped up boxes and helped me sort out what was important. And what wasn’t. One friend even helped me make my bed after everything was settled.
They’re trustworthy. Secrets, fears, and deep thoughts are just some of the things I can freely share with my buddies. These folks are discreet, and I know what I say will stay in the vault. They would not use my private information against me or hurt me in any way.
They make time for me. I have several friends I connect with on a regular basis. One is a football freak like I am. We have our “Sunday morning meet-and-greet” to discuss teams and players. What coaches should do. Or not. We eagerly anticipate the season and count the days when the season is over, ready for fall to begin again. I have a monthly pow-wow with another, and we straighten out the affairs of the world. I am on Zoom with a couple of colleagues and keep in touch with others too. They make time for me, and I am grateful.
They’re playful. If not for good friends, I would never have ridden a dirt bike. Or traveled in an RV. (I never even knew anyone who did that.) Or sprung a practical joke of The Singing Grandmas. They play with me. They make me laugh at the most inopportune moments. To see a twinkle in their eyes is like Christmas morning. The world pretends to be a serious place, but this quality stops it dead in its tracks every time.
They have heart-to-heart conversations with me. We go beyond “small talk” and catching up. We talk about just about anything. The topics go deeper than the fav TV show. Along with that comes respect, for we avoid some subjects that would simply ruffle the waters of friendship.
They are steadfast. A good friend has my back. No matter what happens, I know when I need them, they are present without fail. As James Taylor and Carole King sing:

“You just call out my name

And you know wherever I am

I’ll come running to see you again

Winter, spring, summer or fall

All you have to do is call

And I’ll be there

Yes, I will

You’ve got a friend.”

There’s one more:

They’re fearlessly huggable. During this time, we may or may not wear our masks, quickly coming toward each other. We hug, then let go. There’s nothing quite like it.

So whatever you do, celebrate your friends and live unstuck.

Hummingbird Festival 2024

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 20:57:25 GMT

The Best Time to See Hummingbirds in the White Mountains!

By Dan Groebner, AZGFD

So where else can you feel like you’re part of a living rainbow, even without a cloud in sight or molecule of water vapor in the air? This dynamic dance of prismatic brilliance occurs every year during the Annual White Mountain Hummingbird Festival at the Game and Fish Sipe White Mountain Wildlife Area. Hundreds of acrobatic aerialists entertain attendees by darting from one feeder to another, almost as if they are waiting their turn in line to be photographed or banded.

This year’s festival is on July 27, from 8 am to 12 Noon at the Sipe Wildlife area just a few miles south of Springerville/Eagar off of Highway 191 on the way to Alpine. The entrance to the event will be well signed. The festivities are free and sponsored by the Arizona Game and Fish Department, but donations of sugar in 5 lb. packages are needed and is what keeps the hummingbird feeders full at the wildlife area.

Once again, Sherrie Williamson and Tom Woods, founders of the Southeastern Arizona Bird Observatory (SABO), will invite attendees into the world of their hummingbird banding studies in the 21st consecutive year of this watchable wildlife event.

In addition to hearing from two of the world’s foremost authorities on hummingbirds, the festival will also include a host of displays from different local organizations, kids’ activities, access to hiking trails and the interesting visitor center, as well as informative talks and cash sales of food since there is no cellular coverage at the wildlife area.

Breakfast burritos and tacos will be provided by the local Loncheria El Pelon. Cloth hummingbird bags and Game and Fish shirts will also be sold by the AGFD Employees Association.

As part of a long-term study, Sherrie and Tom band birds throughout the Southwest, hoping that they recapture the same bird, or another bander gets lucky at another site and then reports the recapture in a master database. It is only through this meticulous, time-consuming and long-term work that we know about so many of the amazing hummingbird talents. Trained volunteers from SABO assist Sherrie and Tom with gently transferring birds from a trap to be banded, examined and measured in front of a quietly seated crowd.

Since banding and measuring hummingbirds is such precise work, and only so many people can sit on the benches to see, these activities will be captured by a close-up video camera and retransmitted to a large monitor in the Visitor Center conference room to allow more people to see the skilled work of the banders.

As Tom and Sherrie take and record vital measurement on the captured birds, they explain why they feel it is important to put a few birds through some temporary stress to learn so much about not only that species of hummingbirds, but their habitat and the environment as well.

Booths set up on the lush grass of the front lawn of the Visitor Center will include displays of hummingbird friendly landscaping plants, wildlife education, and photo opportunities with critters from the local R Lazy J Wildlife Ranch and the Arizona Game and Fish Department’s Wildlife Center.

The U.S. Forest Service will host an informational booth as well as providing kids with the opportunity to become a Junior Ranger through an hour-long program hosted in the nearby shaded orchard area with other kid’s activities. This program will help budding biologists enjoy the outdoors more by learning about wildlife, fire safety, navigating with a map, and how to be safe while enjoying the outdoors. On top of that, there might even be a word puzzle or fun maze thrown in just to keep everybody interested.

Youngsters can make songbird and hummingbird feeders as long as the limited number of kits last. Blossoming artists can exhibit their skills by drawing and coloring in the provided line art of hummingbirds or some of the fascinating feathers that will be on display.

During this morning only event, Tom Woods and Dan Groebner, Game and Fish Region I Nongame Biologist, will provide interpretive talks away from the banding activities just on the other side of the Visitor Center to help spread the crowd out and provide another opportunity for questions and answers. Tom will discuss hummingbird natural history and review some of the recent discoveries his Bird Observatory has helped uncover while Dan will highlight some of the best birding hotspots in the White Mountains, how to get there, and how to identify as many birds as possible.

Visitors to the Sipe Wildlife Area can also hike the trails that overlook the nearby perennial Rudd Creek and survey the recent stream restoration efforts intended to stop bank erosion and stream siltation. If the weather gets too warm for you, or rain is threatening, you can always take in the interesting and informative interpretive displays in the Visitor Center.

Following the huge success of last year, Tom Woods will also provide an “encore performance” with a PowerPoint slide presentation on that Saturday evening of the 27th but in Pinetop/Lakeside at the White Mountain Nature Center at 6:00 pm. Tom’s presentation at the Nature Center will be different than his talk at the Hummingbird Festival, as he will be able to show some stunning photographs and will discuss his growing interest in the revolutionary new telemetry tracking system called Motus. This new system allows researchers to track small migrating wildlife thousands of miles from their wintering grounds to their nesting areas.

So, if the buzzing, chipping, chuppiting, tinkling, and twittering songs of nature’s airborne bling at close range doesn’t bother you, spend the morning at the Sipe Wildlife Area on July 27th and get to know our little hummers a little better!

Tom and Sherrie’s presentation at the White Mountain Nature Center and the Hummingbird Festival is made possible through a generous donation from The Kull – Pinetop’s Only Bed and Breakfast, and the Arizona Heritage Fund. For more information about the Hummingbird Festival, call Arizona Game and Fish at (928) 532-2308.

Cruising the Waters of Magical Canyon Lake

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 20:53:16 GMT

A Lake Considered by Many as the Junior Grand Canyon...

Photos and Article

by Annemarie Eveland

Our day trip destination was spectacular Canyon Lake which was nestled deep in the heart of the well-known legendary Superstition Mountains. We passed through the Tonto National Forest with its vast alure of desert panoramas to the Arizona Apache Trail, known as being Arizona’s first historic highway.

We were going to cruise on a dry lake. Well, it was dry long ago with its looming and towering desert formations, filling the canyon with their impressive yet formidable presence.

I learned that when President Theodore Roosevelt was visiting the area, he declared that the Apache Trail and surrounding area (including Canyon Lake) combined the grandeur of the Alps, and the glory of the Rockies.

These canyons had no water when the thousands of Mormon settlers came originally. Yet they homesteaded in those precarious desert mountain canyons and made it their own homeland.Then long after they left, dams were built in areas above, and the whole area of the canyons were flooded with water and appropriately named “Canyon Lake.”

So, today when we came to this area, long after these historic canyon activities, we came to board the Dolly Steamboat for our day cruise amongst the canyon walls and spires from the comfort of floating over water. As we departed the marina, listening to the narrations from our Captain, we began to appreciate the history of the area, the unusual formations of rock cliffs and jutting rugged mountain peaks.

These secluded inner waterways, geological wonders and spectacular 100-foot cliffs cannot be seen except from navigating water vessels on the waters of Canyon Lake.

From our steamboat “Dolly,” you might comfortably view desert Bighorn sheep, bald eagles, mule deer, Whitetail Deer, bobcat, red-tailed hawk, peregrine falcon, osprey, turkey vultures, great blue heron, ravens, mallard ducks. coots and grebe. I did not see any fish, but I was told there were bass, trout, crappie, catfish, walleye and carp.

The wildlife here added to the delights of photographing scenery as the steamboat gently cruised along the shoreline to give us a better glance at nature in action. Many of the unusual formations along the shorelines were created by violent volcanic eruptions of the past. In the springtime, the wondrous magical fields of magnificently bright, yellow and orange flowers blanketed the ground everywhere. It leaves the viewer breathless from the surprising, brilliant beauty gracing the hillsides and clinging tenaciously to rock crevices.

This Canyon Lake is considered by many as Arizona’s “junior Grand Canyon. “

On our voyage around the lake on the Dolly Steamboat, Captain Ron Spence narrated as we passed points of interest. “Dolly” has been cruising people on the lake since 1925 from this premier Arizona destination. Dolly’s name was derived from original owners, Dolly and Paul Kennedy, who began tours in 1983. The Dolly Steamboat is consistently rated as one of the “best things to do in Arizona” by the Official Visitors Guide of Greater Phoenix and considered a premier Arizona attraction.

I also met Cindi DeLoseur who is a partner of this adventure as an owner and operater of “Dolly.” I learned that their goal is to always offer guests an unforgettable experience of geological and natural wonders while teaching the legends and lore of the Superstition Mountains from Captain Ron Spence.

The Dolly Steamboat was built in 1983 and can carry 141 passengers. It weighs 50 tons and is run on two twin HP John Deere Diesel Engines, for those of you who are mechanically curious.

I also learned that they offer Astronomy Cruises to view the constellations of the night skies. Dolly Steamboat is also available for weddings and receptions, company parties and they love to celebrate holidays and birthdays! The Dolly crew offers “Meal Cruises.” They recommend making reservations ahead to ensure guaranteed seating.

Although personal food and drinks are not allowed on the cruise, they do have a concession stand for juice, soda, alcohol, and snacks to buy. Dress code is, of course, comfortably casual.

They operate “rain or shine” except for the holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Canyon Lake is located fourteen miles northeast of Apache Junction along the historic Apache Trail (Highway 88). The Dolly Steamboat is docked at the marina in that area.

For more information on Dolly Steamboat adventures, visit website www.dollysteamboat.com or call them

at 480-827-9144. You’ll want to bring your binoculars and camera too! Have a fun trip with good memories!

Critters and Creatures

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 20:48:31 GMT

Adventures at camp and other critters and creatures...

Article By Rob Bettaso; Photos By Bruce Taubert And Betsy Peck

Last month, I volunteered to lead morning nature walks at “Camp Innovation.” The camp was part of an on-going collaboration between the Arizona Science Center and the White Mountain Nature Center. This summer’s camp was organized by Betsy Peck, who serves on the Nature Center’s Board of Directors and is also the Library Manager at the Lakeside Larson Library. On my concluding day as “Guide,” I was willing to relax the rules a bit and let the kids walk and play along the creek bank rather than insist that they stay on the designated hiking trails. This choice proved to be a productive one as, before long, a small scrum of kids off by a swampy section of the creek, had spotted a good-sized garter snake.

When I first heard their squeals of delight I figured they had found another legged tadpole or bright orange dragonfly, so, when I discovered that one of the kids was agile and daring enough to snag an adult garter, I was duly impressed. For about five minutes I let the youngster show off his catch to the other kids, while I went into the usual spiel about how snakes are reptiles and, despite their fearsome reputation, most are harmless and should be allowed to go about their business of eating, for example, bugs (“eeew!” was the kid’s collective response), frogs (“awww!”), and rodents (and another “awww!,” but with a few “cool!!” pronouncements thrown in).

I wasn’t sure all of the kids would even know what a “rodent” was, given that the children’s ages ranged from 5 to 11; so I made sure to add that mice and rats are examples of “rodents.” I had started off the camp’s first nature outing by telling the kids that there were two basic Kingdoms of Life: plants and animals (naturally, I had to keep things simple). But from that point on I typically referred to any member of the Animal Kingdom as a “critter,” if it was “cute” (so, such organisms as most amphibians, birds, and mammals) or a “creature,” if it was bizarre (like virtually all arthropods and some of the reptiles).

It is always encouraging to me to see that today’s children have not lost their sense of wonder and amazement for the world of Nature. I think that essentially all of us are born with an appreciation of the natural realm and that, for those of us who keep in touch (quite literally) with our wild lands, we retain that respect and enjoyment of not only the plants and animals; but also the non-living, natural components of our environment including such things as: clouds and cliffs; stars and snowflakes; as well as the all-encompassing oceans, vast mountain ranges, and the streams and rivers that link the two.

In point of fact, not too many weeks prior to my doing the Nature Center’s camp walks, I had gotten together with a colleague of mine from my days with the Arizona Game and Fish Department. Bruce had come up to the Pinetop area to escape the concrete jungle of Phoenix and take some photographs of the plants and animals of the White Mountains; including subject matter that many nature photographers pay little attention to: lichens. What, you ask, are lichens? Well, lichens are a symbiotic assemblage of algae, fungi, and/or bacteria. Technically speaking, they are neither plant nor animal, but they are very much a living organism (er, assemblage of organisms).

Before Bruce had retired from the Game and Fish, he had been the Assistant Director of the Wildlife Management Division; which is the Division where I had worked, including my stints within the Research, Fisheries, and Nongame branches of the agency. I had always admired Bruce for his ability to move effectively between the upper echelon of the Department’s Executive Staff (with all of the attendant politics and bureaucracy) and the field (with folks like me – the rank and file biologists).

Because Bruce led such a wide array of personnel (administrative folks, computer specialists, public outreach personnel, as well as the biologists) one might have expected him to be in a state of constant stress; yet somehow, he always seemed to be calm and collected. In fact, from what I could tell, despite his long and distinguished career, Bruce never lost the basic thrill that he felt when out working in Arizona’s diverse habitats and guiding the investigations of the field crews. Somewhere along the way, he also took up photographing what he saw in the wildlands of Arizona, as well as in the other U.S. states and during his travels abroad.

For two and a half days, Bruce and I hiked and explored various White Mountain’s habitats looking for different types of lichen including the most familiar types (or “growth-forms,” as they are known): the crustose, fruiticose, and foliose varieties. Many laymen can recognize the crustose form of lichens because crustose lichens are generally the bright orange and lime-green splashes of dry, paint-like matter that grows on cliff-faces, boulders, and other hard surfaces in all types of habitats (deserts to forests). By contrast, the fruiticose form is generally some tint of green and hangs from tree limbs almost like “Spanish Moss” (though neither true mosses nor “Spanish Moss” are lichens). Somewhere in the middle, is the growth-form known as foliose which sort of resembles a fallen leaf.

Because the crustose form is more common in the deserts near to where Bruce lives, and, because the fruiticose form is relatively common in some of our high elevation forests, I took Bruce to an area I knew that was rich in fruiticose lichens. We had to hike down a fairly steep grade into a shady riparian canyon and then pick our way along a stream that originated somewhere up along the slopes of one of eastern Arizona’s tallest mountains. We were both impressed by the sheer quantity of lichens (of all forms and of several colors) but, between the two of us, only Bruce had some understanding of the species diversity (I know very little about lichens, other than I like ‘em).

We continued hiking downstream and every time Bruce stopped to take a photo, he carefully considered the various components of each photo’s composition including such factors as: lighting, contrast, backdrop, camera angle, and the overall layout of the shot and its depth of field. I was impressed by Bruce’s eye for detail and by his patience; as I tended to be easily distracted by the area’s birds, squirrels, and chipmunks (plus, I was keeping a keen eye out for foraging bears).

Despite having expanded his subject matter to include the plant world and a wide array of invertebrates (“creatures”) over his many years of being a wildlife photographer, Bruce can’t resist a good opportunity to capture other, more traditional, animal species including all types of vertebrates (“critters”). As such, when we weren’t pawing our way through dense forest or hopping around on exposed boulders, photographing various lichens, we also went to various locales where the “charismatic megafauna” reside. I noticed that even when Bruce encountered a commonplace species, say, for example, a Ruddy Duck, he took the time to closely observe the bird, so that he could note any odd physical or behavioral aspects of the species and, in that way, he was able to record on film something that most folks had never seen before.

On our last morning out to find novel subject matter, I mentioned to Bruce that I knew of a local wetland where I had heard chorus frogs croaking all through the early weeks of spring. In response, his eyes grew wide and he said: “Take me there; I want to see if there are tadpoles, as I have a friend doing research on Arizona’s larval amphibians and he would appreciate a few live specimens!” I didn’t want to offend a former Assistant Director of the Game and Fish, but, I nonetheless asked if the researcher had a permit for doing such work. Bruce responded with a quick and decisive “Of course!”— so, off we went.

When we got to the marsh I wasn’t surprised to see that Bruce had rubber boots in the back of his truck along with a dip-net and bucket. Soon we were off in search of tadpoles and I had to smile at the sight of a gleeful, retired biologist plunging his net into the murky water and breaking into a big grin when he pulled up not only tadpoles, but a wide array of aquatic invertebrates as well.

A few weeks after Bruce had returned home, I brought one of my dip-nets along on one of the Camp Innovation field trips. In the ponds and marshes near the Nature Center, I took great joy in watching the kids as they too, broke into big smiles as they pulled up a net full of algae and assorted “critters and creatures.”

Journey by Train

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 20:41:52 GMT

The History of the Roundhouse Resort

and the White Mountain Scenic Railroad

By Anne Groebner

For a state that has only existed for 112 years, Arizona has some of the richest history in the country. Here in the White Mountains, the most wild, wild west stories took place. The mountains hid infamous outlaws and sheltered brave mountain men and cowboys. It was home to cattlemen, sheep herders and lumbermen. In fact, McNary, located on the Fort Apache Indian Reservation was, at one time, one of the largest lumber mills in the state, making the town, named after its founder, James G. McNary, the largest in the county. Folks would drive for miles to shop at the old General Store or watch a movie in the old theatre. There was a hotel, where dignitaries came to stay — and there was a train. It was called the Apache Railway and it traveled from Holbrook to the lumber mill in McNary and then rolled further on through the wilds of northeastern Arizona to a small logging camp called Maverick …and back again.

The Apache Railway was incorporated in 1917, when it constructed a rail line from Holbrook to Snowflake. It was extended south to McNary in 1920. James McNary bought the railway and lumber mill, renaming it Southwest Forest Industries, with extended tracks all the way to Maverick. He operated it from 1935 until 1952, when he sold it to Galbreath and Green. In 1964, a tourist railroad, called the White Mountain Scenic Railroad, started operating steam powered passenger excursions from McNary to Maverick.

Reed Hatch, engineer and owner, bought two steam engines; Sierra 36, from Sierra Nevada, and SMV 100, from California and ferried them to McNary. The passenger coaches were built in 1924 and were purchased from the “Katy” line part of the Missouri, Kansas and Texas Railroad. His original route used Southwest Forest Industries’ rails running east from McNary to a spot 22 miles away called Apache Springs. A wye (a triangle of railroad track used for turning trains), led to a short spur with a turning loop at the foot of Big Cienega Mountain (the old ski hill which can still be seen from AZ Route 260). The train would run daily, departing McNary at 9:00 a.m., running 22 miles, pause for an hour and a half and serve a “cowboy” lunch at Apache Springs and Big Cienega. Then they returned to McNary by 3:00 p.m. The train climbed from 7,200 feet to 9,300 feet in elevation.

When the tracks started to deteriorate, the route was re-directed and then started from Roundhouse Square at Pinetop Lakes and journeyed to a place called Bells Siding. At Roundhouse Square there was an 1880-style depot built in turn of the century architectural design as well as a ticket office, a souvenir shop and a classic boarding platform. Behind the Depot there were the Roundhouse Square’s shops and boutiques and a restaurant. Passengers could enjoy a meal before boarding or after they returned and/or an evening cocktail in the Club Car Lounge in the restaurant. A friend of mine recalled that they had live music on weekends.

In 1976, the White Mountain Scenic Railroad ceased operations, the sawmill burned to the ground in 1979 and all of the track — some at elevations exceeding 9,000 feet — were removed by 1982. The Steam engines were sent to Heber City, Utah to be used on an excursion known as the “Heber Creeper.” Some of the buildings were moved from McNary including the old hotel which sits near the corner of Buck Springs Road and Mark Twain. Although the train and its tracks are gone, the berms left behind can still be seen around the mountain. About 21 miles of the old rail-less berms have been turned into a hiking/biking trail called the “Railroad Grade Trail,” — part of the Rails to Trails Program. You can access the trail at four different trailheads; Big Lake (behind Big Lake), Sheep’s Crossing (off AZ Route 273), Lightning Ridge (FR 116 Near Crescent Lake) and Route 260 (Just past AZ Route 273 Junction on 260). I have biked all 21 miles and it is amazing.

To me, old locomotives are magical. They journey you back to a time of simplicity and grandeur. But this train excursion was elevated to an even higher level of elegance. The White Mountain Scenic Railroad took you through the pristine forests of the Fort Apache Indian Reservation, up higher still to the wilds of a mountain terrain filled with wildlife, snow-capped peaks and rivers surrounded by meadows and fields of wildflowers — and… they fed you lunch.

A few days ago and back in the 21st century, I got a call from Shawn McCullam, General Manager, at the Roundhouse Resort. He wanted to know if I could come do a walk-through and a story about the Roundhouse. At first I thought it was just another resort, but what I didn’t know was that this was the place where the old scenic railroad picked up and dropped off passengers. It wasn’t until Shawn and Dale Webber, Association President, walked me through the older sections of the Resort and restaurant, that I could see and feel the history of the place. It was all still there, like a time machine, like it was frozen in time. It was amazing. The stories are all still there. The Roundhouse Resort has preserved a large piece of history within its walls to remind people of our past.

The Restaurant is reminiscent of the old locomotive days with its round depot-shaped building. There is a large round skylight and hanging chandeliers. The large French doors separate the front entrance from the lobby and its old brick fireplace, the restaurant seating area and the old Club Car Lounge. The band stand is still there with a model train overhead and I could imagine the many memories made here after an amazing trip on the old locomotive.

But the Roundhouse Resort isn’t all history. They have worked extremely hard and have updated many of the buildings and facilities to bring them into the 21st century. With pickle ball courts, pool tables, swimming pool/jacuzzi (with updated dressing rooms and water bottle dispensers), fitness Center, lawn games such as mini golf, giant outdoor chess/checker game and corn hole. There are four fire pit areas, eight barbecue grilling areas and playgrounds for kids — and they are surrounded by outdoor recreation opportunities such as guided hiking and biking on hundreds of miles of trails, paddling, and fishing. The Roundhouse Resort has everything you need to “find your ease.”

So next time you need a place to vacation, check this place out. It’s not your average resort. It’s a journey through time where the magic of trains meets the beauty of the White Mountains.

Taking an Old Dog for a Slow Roll

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 20:25:16 GMT

In his mind, he is in his prime, strong, handsome and capable of anything...

Article & photos by

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

He’s lumpy, his skin hangs loose on him and rolls from side to side as he runs, he smells funny, he can’t really see much more than shapes through a fog and his bark sounds a bit groggy but he’s a member of the family and he has always loved a good bike ride. In his mind, he’s still a puppy, prancing and making goofy noises when the urge to play strikes. In his mind, he’s still a teenager who can run miles in front of the bike, taking side trips to sniff out squirrels and chase rabbits. In his mind, he’s in his prime, strong, handsome and capable of anything. When he sees me getting ready for a hike, he thinks about it now. Sometimes he’s enthusiastically pushing out the door; sometimes deciding to stay lying by the fire or at dad’s feet. In the early pre-dawn light, I now attach a headlight to his collar so he can see the trail and attach a rear light to my pack so he can see me, but still, I have to pay attention so that he doesn’t wander off after something and lose the trail. He definitely slows down the progress but he’s a great reminder to live life to the fullest because it moves by much too quickly.

He’s always up for a bike ride and doesn’t seem to remember that he’s sore for a couple of days after exerting himself that way. He does much better in cooler temperatures and when we load up the bikes to go to find a cooler, high country elevation to ride in, he’s a puppy again, imagining himself leaping up into the truck (although it has taken strategic boosts from us to get him in for years now). He’s panting with anticipation, excitement and mainly from a bit of exhaustion caused by momentarily going back to puppyhood in an old man’s body.

When we arrive, he’s out and ready! A bit of a gallop right off the starting line, excess skin rolling comically from side to side, a teenage prance in his step and joy on his face. A hundred yards later, it’s down to a walk-trot as we ride down the road; Max, the kid, is in the front, leading the way with cheetah-like leaps, dad following, Loki, ever the careful businessman, taking his time and not wasting a bit of excess energy until a squirrel shows its face or gives a squeak as we go by. Odie, the old man comes next, focusing on where he’s headed and me in the back, giving the old guy a chance to feel “not last”. He gives up when he’s last so we let him think he’s faster than last. Faster than last keeps us peddling at a walking pace and is great bike handling practice. It’s much harder to get over even small obstacles when you’ve got nearly zero momentum! Walking might be easier, but in the old dog’s mind, the presence of bikes plays a role in letting him feel he is running with the bikes, adventuring into the wild as in the old days.

I’m riding along as the caboose and my mind takes time to wander. As I look about and watch our old man loving his “run” and pushing his aging body to turn back time, I think about the millions of years of living things that have passed by and the millions of years to come. At one time, before tectonic uplift, this area was an inland sea with untold prehistoric creatures inhabiting the depths. At one time this area was a violently active volcanic field with erupting cinder cones in every direction. At one time this old rotting log was a seedling sprouting in a previous rotting log.

At one time this old rotting log was an enormous stately mature tree with turkeys roosting in it and a native hunter resting in its shade. This rotting log is now home to multitudes of living things from insects to mosses, sprouting new saplings and fungi. It’s a snacking perch for squirrels and will eventually become more of the rich organic soil that surrounds it. I feel humbled by this old log and feel like a tiny blip of matter in this living, evolving ecosystem. Something about this line of thinking makes me feel completely connected and calm. Peddling, thinking, taking pictures of things that amaze me: this is why we get out of our busy lives and take time to slow down to old dog speed. I wonder, does he know that one day it will be his last run in the woods, or does he just live day to day and hour to hour? Is that what makes us “different” from the animals? The fact that we know there was something before us and there will be something after us?

After about two miles, the old guy is beginning to tire. His trot turns to a walk and he’s seeking every mud puddle for an excuse to lie down. He won’t stop on the trail; that would be too much for his stubborn old man pride, but chilling in a mud puddle is totally within the rights of any respectable dog. His stops become longer and we are barely moving on our bikes but it’s ok. He’s loving it and he deserves it.

I look up between the trees and see the grey clouds scudding across an opening in the tree canopy. A gentle misty rain begins to fall and at this speed, the green, wet forest becomes a magical fairyland. Budding mosses cover every stump and log, wildflowers and grasses fill every section of ground and we smell a bear which has passed through. I notice a mosquito which has landed on my arm and watch its tiny abdomen fill with blood- I figure it already bit me so might as well watch it! Squirrels are chattering and birds chirping. I see an enormous squirrel midden and wonder how many generations of squirrels it took to create this impressive pile of pine cone flakes. How many decades have gone by since the first pair of squirrels decided to inhabit that tree? How many squirrel kits took their first steps to the outside on this pile? How many became food for hawks, owls and coyotes?

The young dogs are racing back and forth, smelling, seeing and feeling the freedom out here. They have no concern for the slow progress of the old man but I know if push came to shove, they would not leave him and would come to his aide if something happened. They keep us in sight and I know they are aware of our every move. We are their pack, their family and ultimately their world. They are probably close to the last puppies we will welcome into our family because although it is hard to have a dog pass on, it would be harder still to worry that they might outlive you and lose the only family they have known. In the future, when these dogs have completed their journeys, we will probably adopt older dogs planning for the eventuality that will assuredly come to pass, but for now, being out in the woods erases age, erases worries and lets all of us just be out playing like pups in the miracle that is life on earth. Get out there and enjoy life as part of the whole tableau living things over of time which uniquely separates our Earth from the other planets in our solar system. We are all part of this miraculous evolution from the first cells to the last creatures still to come, all joined by one commonality: life.

Divinely Placed

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 20:20:33 GMT

So long Barbara Bruce...

By Anne Groebner

Photos submitted

She was a young widow from Birmingham, Alabama. She was angry at her husband for dying and at everyone else for trying to tell her what to do. One night, she said “enough!” And she laid out a large map, closed her eyes, took her index finger and circled it round and round the hundreds of thousands of cities and towns in the entire United States, and when it landed, she opened her eyes and it pointed to Snowflake, Arizona. And that’s how we got Barbara Bruce. That’s how she ended up in our community. Now, she has decided to choose family and she is leaving us to be closer to her sister and to gain peace and quiet in the small peachy town of Clanton, Alabama, where she will finally settle down and write her book about her famous 203-pound Tibetan Mastiff — the Doggie Lama.

She didn’t tell anyone she was leaving except a friend, whose response was to ask her if she knew about the movie, “Fire in the Sky” — about Travis Walton and how he was abducted by aliens. She hadn’t, still she packed up her things and her St. Bernard, Zelda, and headed west. When she arrived in Snowflake she stayed at the newly renovated Cedar Inn Motel. The next morning she walked across the road to the Circle K and asked them if Travis Walton was there. “I just knew they thought, ‘oh no, another one of them…”

There was nothing to rent in Snowflake or anything in the surrounding areas and there were people lined up in front of Barbara that had been waiting. She and her 21-foot Ryder Truck migrated to Show Low and started staying at the Thunderhorse Motel, until the Harley Davidson Convention came to town and they kicked her out. So, with a pop-up tent that her brother had given her, she moved her things to Fool Hollow State Park Campground. “I am not a tent kind of gal,” she tells me and to make matters worse, she had to beg the ranger to let her stay because they weren’t open yet. He gave her 14 days. She was the only camper.

One day, Century 21 Realtor, Joel Dinchak told her there was a property coming up for rent at Fairway Park. It was a triple wide mobile home that butted up against the forest and it had a tree growing through the middle of it. “I thought I had died and gone to heaven.”

That night at Fool Hollow, “I got wet in the night.” She tells me. “I didn’t know that you don’t touch the inside of a tent or you will break the seal.” She and her dog were soaking wet. That night she couldn’t stay in the tent, so she and Zelda found a large restroom with a hand dryer. She took a quilt from her truck, laid it out on the floor and slept all night while hitting the dryer. By the next morning she had dried out.

Joel stopped by and said “I have some bad news for you.” “Worse than this?” She asked him. “Yes.” The lady that was renting the triple-wide had just found out she couldn’t leave and had to stay three more months.

Jody was a school teacher in Cibecue. She lived a simplistic life with a bike, a fork, a spoon, a knife, a skillet, a plate and a sleeping bag on the floor. “That’s all I knew about her because of what I saw during the walk through of the property.” Barbara tells me. So she packed up her things, drove the Ryder Truck over to Jody’s and knocked on the door and said, “Jody, my name is Barbara Bruce. I have a deposit on this place and I’m supposed to move in on June 6. Joel just told me that you’re not leaving for three more months. See that Ryder Truck? Everything I own is in it and it has an expiration date. If I don’t return it in time, I will be paying an unbelievable price! You need to move over, because I’m moving in with you.”

She finally had a real place with a real shower and it turned out that Jody was the nicest person ever.

Since those days, Barbara has held some of the most highly coveted and creative positions on the mountain. She helped start the Holiday Inn Express in Show Low but she couldn’t make enough money there, so she answered an ad for a court reporter for Judge Holiday in Holbrook. It required its applicants to be able to take shorthand at a rate of 80 words per minute. She could do 120. However, when she heard about the Navajo County Tobacco Prevention and Education Program, she just knew that she wanted that job! Her husband Sammy had died from smoking and she was a former smoker, so she had a lot of sympathy for it.

The interview required a presentation to see how the applicants would present their message. She won the job with a cardboard cowboy poster that she found and borrowed from K-Mart, stuck an empty pack of Marlboro’s on one holster, and an empty pack of Kool’s on the other. During her presentation, she talked about self-esteem and smoking. Two days later she got the call…and the rest is history.

Most people know Barbara because she had several talk shows on the radio. She talked Jack Jacobs into letting her host a “quit smoking” show at 101.7 KQAZ. She had no radio experience but built it into a show other radio stations wanted and she hosted it for 11 years. She was certified by the American Lung Association, the American Cancer Society, the Hazelden Betty Ford 12-Step Stop Smoking Program and she went to the world Tobacco conference and represented the program there. “It was a fun career.”

Then Tom Troland, who owned White Mountain Radio at the time, asked her to come write and cut radio commercials. “When I slid into that seat at KQAZ Country, I thought, I’m going to do this for the rest of my life. I would rather do this than eat.” And she loves to eat, she tells me.

When the Rodeo-Chediski Fire came along she did so many shows warning the community. She did radio day and night. People would call in and say “we had to leave and our horses are loose, can you help us?” Barbara would get on the air and say “Doctor Ole Alcumbrac, where are you right now?” And he would call in and they would get them help. “We were helping our community. It was gratifying and I knew then that I loved this community”

Then Richard Watkins of Cellular One told her that she should apply for the Show Low Chamber Director’s position and she told him, “I don’t have any experience, and he said ‘you’re southern, you have experience in hospitality!” So she applied and got a call from Victoria McCarthy, who told her, “Barbara, you are our new Chamber Director, character has won out.” It was November 2, 2002 and she had a lot of work to do. The furniture was falling apart and so was the trailer at NPC where they had an office. She found out that nobody signed up for the Christmas parade and after the Rodeo-Chediski Fire, she felt they really needed to have that parade!

They moved the Chamber into the Old Reidhead Lumber Company building (where they are now), she gathered up all of the old members and gave them amnesty, spearheaded Show Low Days to make money for the Chamber, fast-tracked a program through the United States Chamber of Commerce Institute and Organizational Management and started the radio show called “Business Matters,” which turned into a TV show because Mel West with City 4, filmed it. She was on the Governors Council for Small Businesses and head of their finance department. When she walked away in 2007, they had 554 members.

Barbara went back to radio and did six shows a week. “I worked hard…it was the best of times and it was the worst of times.” She spent most of her time promoting businesses through her talk shows. Like the show I remember that was called “The Believe Show; The White Mountain Talk Show destined to empower you to believe you can do anything you set your mind to, if you just believe.” She helped Bob Zellmer at KVSLS develop the “Real Radio, for Real People.” And then she went to work for the White Mountain Independent Newspaper.

She got to write feature stories and when she got a call from ‘Movers and Shakers’ they let her write as much as she wanted until they got a new editor and he limited her to 900 words. “I don’t even get out of bed for 900 words.” She told me.

She wanted to be like Nellie Bly and write all the good news. However, she ended up doing a lot of investigative reporting on subjects such as a story she did in 2016 on a town attorney who was suspended and ultimately disbarred and in 2017 she investigated and wrote 34 stories about the marijuana controversy in Snowflake as well as articles on the Silver Creek Irrigation District Embezzlement. All of which she won awards through the Arizona Newspaper Association (ANA). She quit the Newspaper in 2022 and started freelancing.

Many things happened during and after Covid that changed the world, and that changed Barbara. She had a 203-pound Tibetan Mastiff that had a herniated disc and they bruised his spine so he couldn’t walk. She had to teach him to walk using a hydraulic lift. “The Doggie Lama taught me more spiritual lessons in his seven years and he made me a better person — I loved him so much.” She says. But taking care of him took its toll on him and on her.

She works now for the White Mountain Nature Center as their media person but not for long. She has found a home in Clanton, Alabama. She sent word out into the Real Estate Universe and it answered her with her exact requirements. A small 1937 house, with charm, that is less than 1000 square feet, in a town that has a population less than 10,000 and it’s close to her sister.

Barbara Bruce has never had a plan. She has always rolled with the flow. She told me, “We are all just people. I sat in places that looked important, they didn’t pay much, but they allowed me to do some things that helped all of us. I told everything on myself. I wanted all of the people to know that I was just like them. That I didn’t think I was all that and a bar of soap.”

She was and is one of us, and now she is leaving. But this won’t be the last time we hear about Barbara Bruce. She will write her book on the Doggie Lama and we will line up to read it. That is unless the fortunate people of Clanton, Alabama find out what an amazing, strong and smart woman she is and put her to work. Then maybe, just maybe, that magical index finger might point our way once more — at least for a visit. It won’t be like the first time though…the next time you venture this way, Barbara, we’ll leave the light on.

The Mogollon Rim

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 20:14:44 GMT

Mog-nificent and Mog-ical Land of Adventure

Article and Photos

by Jil Albrecht

The first time I ended up on the Mogollon Rim (pronounced moggy-yawn) was a happy accident. It was my first multi day backpacking trip, and I was taking it on solo. After a few short stints in the Sam Houston National Forest back home in Texas, I finally had enough gear and knowledge to push myself further outside my comfort zone.

Growing up in the suburbs of Houston, TX, exposure to camping or the great outdoors was rare. Much of my knowledge and experience was earned through haphazard planning, misguided mistakes, and hard learned lessons doled out by none herself but Mother Nature.

After finishing a tough Spring semester at the University of Arizona filled with organic chemistry and physics, I desperately needed to go play outside. I meticulously planned a route in the White Mountains of Eastern Arizona, only to be forced to pivot due to thunderstorms in the area. Packed and ready to go, I scoured my maps to find an alternative. There were only three criteria: it had to be above freezing at night, cool enough to escape the desert heat, and have reliable water sources. The Mogollon Rim fit all of these criteria effortlessly, while only being a three and a half-hour drive from my home in Tucson, AZ.

The Mogollon Rim is a geographical feature forming the southern portion of the Colorado Plateau that spans the length of approximately 200 miles through Yavapai County from to Eastern Arizona. The drastic and rugged escarpment provides a dramatic and stunning spectacle to behold. Like a table draped in green velvet, the top of the rim is lush, forested, and smells of ponderosa pine. As the cliff faces descend, red rock and clay peeks through, speckled with manzanita and gnarled and knotted juniper trees. Veins of crystal clear creeks run deep, carving with time into its deep and mysterious canyons. The magic of the Mog is that there seems to be infinitely many ways to enjoy this magnificent place.

My first backpacking trip traversed the 26 mile Cabin Loop Trail, nestled in the forest on top of the rim. The inviting and flowing meadows, babbling brooks, and historic cabins made for a peaceful two nights away from the desert sun. There were plenty of trees to string up my hammock and enjoy a book at the end of each day.

That trip had me yearning to come back for more. The following March, l opted for a lower elevation option where there would be warmer temperatures and no snow. This landed me on The Highline Trail, which is a 56 mile point to point trail that traverses the lower elevation ridge of the rim.

Despite facing blizzard conditions that first day, as a working student I was determined to follow through with the adventure given my long weekend. Into the white, the first day was a 25-mile trek, crunching fresh footprints into the snow. As it does in Arizona, it heated up significantly the following day, melting the snow rapidly. Snowmelt mixed with the rim’s rich red clay made for an excellent day of meandering through the muck and the earths most gloriously dirty slip ‘n slide for another 21 miles. By day three, it was a relief to reach the Pine Trailhead. Memories of the roaring creeks and gentle peace of quiet snowfall never left me. Neither did the bits of earth from my shoes and socks from that trip.

In the years following that trip, I took to the sport of running ultra-marathons (defined by distances of longer than 26.1-miles and usually taking place on trails). For my 30th birthday, I set out to run for 30 hours. Almost exactly three years prior to the first trip I took to the rim, I knew there was no place in the world I would rather spend this special day.

My route began at Pine Trailhead and climbed up and down the rim multiple times. The first ascent took me up the Arizona Trail from Washington Park to repeat the Cabin Loop Trail, where it had all began. The route then followed Rim Road, where I was treated to epic and expansive views of the Tonto National Forest and a sherbet sky sunset. In the dark, I followed Rim Road to the Tonto Fish Hatchery, which then descended back to the Highline Trail. Finally, after passing through Horton Creek and See Canyon, the route concluded at 260 Trailhead.

This epic and scenic route was 72.5 miles with a cumulative 11,722 feet of elevation gain. It took 27.5 hours to complete, and ended with a waffle party hosted by my friends in the parking lot. They took shifts keeping me company all day and all night on that crazy run, helping me with food and logistics, and most importantly, morale. This was far and away the best day of my life, and my favorite memory on the Rim.

These trails are kept and maintained by people who love, care, and use them too. Due to the influx in watershed every season, the rim is an ever shifting and changing geological feature. The work put into keeping these trails functional is back breaking and intensely laborious. So please, do tread lightly and treat this special place and its people with the love and respect it deserves.

Dogs may also come to enjoy the rim, as well as bicyclists, day hikers, car campers, naturalists, bird watchers, young people, old people. Everyone who comes to the rim, loves the rim. The world hosts many beautiful and unique places — and this one will always hold a very special place in my heart.

Resistance and Flow

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 19:51:17 GMT

“When you experience resistance,

you find the lessons that you are meant to learn.” ~ Jon Gordon

Article and photos

by Susie Griffin,

Griffin Wellness Solutions

The word resistance is generally associated with having a negative effect on and impeding forward movement. Its descriptors include strong words such as violent, aggressive, opposition and defend. Resistance is what we, in life, are often encouraged to avoid, such as in the saying, “take the path of least resistance.” Meaning, choose the easiest way to continue with the least amount of effort. If during the majority of our lives we adopt that mindset, we are susceptible to the coaching proverb, “what resists, persists.”

However, in my world of coaching clients through change and teaching massage students, I encourage both groups, clients and students, to do the opposite – lean into the resistance. Just as the quote above alludes to, and similar to my own adage, “sometimes my biggest have-to’s have led to my greatest breakthroughs,” addressing and tackling what we’ve been resisting can result in release, relief, greater flow and momentum moving forward – mentally, emotionally and physically.

In the Therapeutic Massage Program at Northland Pioneer College’s SCC, the students in my class are challenged to use their senses of seeing, hearing, and feeling to discern unproductive resistance in their body, possibly prohibiting full potential in mind, body and spirit. They use assessment, communication and palpation skills in combination with active listening and interviewing techniques to create a treatment plan that aims to address and release resistance. During their current clinical, which is their last program commitment before graduating at the end of July, they have the opportunity to practice this “challenge” with the public. (Visit www.massagebook.com/biz/npc for more information and to schedule a massage appointment in the student massage clinic). After graduating, they are tasked to pass a national knowledge test before they apply for the state licensure. (For more information about the TMP at NPC, visit https://www.npc.edu/therapeutic-massage).

In my March 2024 Outdoors SW article, Life Lessons Learned on the Mountain Bike, I highlighted five life lessons (Look Where You Want to Go, Pedal Pedal Pedal, Light Hands – Heavy Feet, Practice Balance and Sessioning), learned on the mountain bike. Recently, with participants in the Ladies Two-Wheel Adventures mountain bike group I formed in March of this year, we put those life lessons to the test, sessioning difficult trail passages in the TRACKS trail system, Buena Vista. Strewn with natural obstacles – rocks, corners, flora, inclines and descents, these “features” presented a lot of resistance to flow.

There were five of us all taking turns down a rocky section on the Wild Horses trail. We all had our resistance to address and release, be it mental or physical. Amy, whose mantra is “eyes up,” or Lesson One in the March article, is captured putting her mantra into practice. In picture one she demonstrates a quick glance to determine her line of travel. In picture two she is looking ahead at the next section. In picture three we can now see a bit of resistance demonstrated in her straight arms and shrugged shoulders. However, her eyes are still looking forward, helping to offset the resistance in her shoulders, arms and hands, and to maintain momentum down that line of travel she created in picture one. Employing and practicing Lesson Three (Light Hands – Heavy Feet) by releasing and relaxing her shoulders, lightening the grip on the handlebars (Light Hands) and moving that energy down into her legs and feet (Heavy Feet), she can experience success on more technical passages.

If you or a lady you know is interested in joining us adventuring on two-wheels, mountain biking in the White Mountains and beyond, please visit us on our Facebook page: Ladies Two-Wheel Adventures.

Tally Ho!

Tips for Teen Turkey Hunting

Fri, 19 Apr 2024 07:07:16 GMT

Arizona Game and Fish is providing opportunities with a Youth Hunt Camp

By Dan Groebner

Looking for something to get your teen interested in the outdoors this spring? Arizona Game and Fish is providing a couple of opportunities with a Youth Hunt Camp co-sponsored with many sportsman groups as well as a combination of seasons where both adults and teens can get an over-the-counter tag without going through a draw process.

Young hunters who haven’t turned 18 before the start of the Youth Hunting Season can obtain a turkey hunting tag over the counter for Units 1, 4A, 4B, and 27 in the White Mountains area. This means they don’t have to get lucky through the draw system, but they must be over 10 years old and if under 13, must also have a Hunter Education certificate. The season is split into an early half and a late half, separated by a couple of weeks, and runs from April 19 - April 25, 2024 and May 10 - May 23, 2024. Refer to the Arizona 2024 Spring Hunt Regulations for details.

Hunting one of the wariest game birds in Arizona is not easy even for the smoked, cured, and crusty old hunters, not to mention a fresh teenager. To help get new hunters started with turkey, one of the best ways is to participate in the local Youth Turkey Hunt Camp, April 19-21, sponsored by Youth Outdoors Unlimited, National Wild Turkey Foundation, Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, Arizona Elk Society and the Arizona Game and Fish’s Outdoor Skills Network.

The Marvin Robbins Memorial Youth Turkey Camp is held off Forest Road 118 just a little north of Highway 260 near Greer. You must pre-register for the event, as food, activities and door prizes are included. Go to www.youthoutdoorsunlimited.com for more information on the Unit 1 and 27 Youth Turkey Camp.

Camp participants are served up delicious barbecued meals, provided nearby camping sites and bathrooms and educated in outdoor skills activities such as wildlife identification, archery, and other hunter education skills, including calling turkeys. Young hunters are certainly not guaranteed to come back to camp with a turkey, but most will be provided with a “mentor” who is an experienced hunter familiar with the area and how to hunt turkey. Even the most experienced turkey hunting guide does not get a chance at a turkey every time out, so this challenging hunt demonstrates how much skill is needed to be able to survive as a “hunter-gather” type person.

So the main objective of the turkey camp is to enlighten new hunters to the interesting habits of wild turkeys, how to take advantage of their need to communicate through their calls, and open some eyes to the challenges and patience needed to hunt turkey. Wrap all of this information into a camp setting in the gorgeous White Mountains as spring has sprung and you’ll be making memories, so bring the camera.

Unfortunately, you might be in the position where you do not have that weekend available and you also didn’t get drawn for any spring turkey hunts through the normal draw system for most of the best hunts. Bummer. But you still want to get out turkey hunting with that young person who fits the definition for a youth hunt?

You’re in luck if you can shoot a bow, as there is an over-the-counter archery turkey hunt that overlaps the second part of the over-the-counter youth turkey hunt May 10 - May 23 in Units 1, 4A, 4B, and 27. Shooting a turkey with an arrow is more difficult than it sounds, as fluffed feathers provide a deceptively large “looking” target, so practice like you would for a bull elk hunt. Since shotguns are the only legal firearm for turkey, hunting together with an archer limited to a similar short shooting range should work well together.

Turkey hunting is a great way to introduce young hunters to the challenges and rewards of being outside in pursuit of wild game. You can make it more active and exciting with some prior scouting trips to find roosting gobblers the night before your hunt or try a “locator” or “shock” call when it is still pitch dark in the morning to stimulate a response from a roosting gobbler that is just waking up in the tree. Knowing where a gobbler is located for sure greatly increases your chances of having a conversation with him using your turkey calls.

“Talking turkey”, or convincing a gobbler to come closer to you, can be way more exciting than it sounds. The gobblers hardly ever come straight in, preferring to zig and zag, with intermittent and unpredictable gobbles, from one clump of dog-hair ponderosa thicket to another. He’ll remain silent until you’re convinced that he has hi-tailed it over the hill into the next canyon over, when all of a sudden from 10 yards behind you the gobble shocks you like a train horn, even though you were half-way expecting it. Better a turkey than a barking coyote!

You should be proud to have experienced a situation like that, since it means you have remained quiet and motionless enough to call within range the wiley turkey.

There are plenty of YouTube videos out there explaining how to attract turkeys using the various types of calls. They can do a much better job representing turkey calls than this article can, so we defer. But the best advice most experts provide is: “Don’t overdo the calling - listen and look more than you call."

Since turkey hunting usually starts with having to hear the birds, spring weather with high winds can be especially frustrating. At least the swirling winds won’t give away your scent to the turkeys, since they can’t smell very well, which eliminates the need to “play the wind” when hunting to avoid giving yourself away like with deer, elk, sheep and antelope. That’s one less variable to have to deal with when hunting, making turkeys a great quarry to start hunting, even though they are famous for being able to see the slightest hunter movement or non-camouflaged piece of clothing.

To make sure the young hunter stays comfortable during their first hunt, plan for sitting in a small stool or on a comfortable pad for at least an hour at a time. Too many layers of socks that are too thick will restrict blood flow to the toes and will actually not provide the warmth of a single good pair of wool blend socks. Mittens with just a trigger finger are warmer than gloves. And don’t overdo the shotgun load for the new hunter, even though they have shot a few target rounds prior to get an idea of the BB pattern. Many young hunters use a 20-gauge with a full choke, but most use a 12-gauge. To avoid flinching when pulling the trigger, it might be good to stay with standard length shells and avoid the 3” magnum loads.

A great breakfast will help feed the young hunters’ furnace through the morning and is needed more than they think since they will be more active in a cooler climate than usual. A good “guide” will be able to mix up sitting against a tree trying to call in the birds with a little hiking to get a bit closer or into some different habitat. As you’re moving from site to site, make sure to look for those antler sheds that have just fallen to the ground, but don’t forget to keep those ears open for any turkey calls!

For more information call the Region I Game and Fish office at (928) 367-4281 or check the Game and Fish website at AZGFD.com .

Dragons, Dreams, and Space

Fri, 19 Apr 2024 07:00:04 GMT

"May you live in interesting times."

By Jen Rinaldi

What a time to be alive.

With the world so quickly changing and prophesies coming to pass I can’t help but speak of the convergence of a few stunning events that will take place in this year, the year of the dragon, specifically, the wood dragon in Chinese mythology. Wood being a dynamic life force, it is associated with deep roots, and rebirth, something we all need now more than ever.

This year collided with my dreams at nearly the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve. My dear mother took her last breath as year of the dragon dawned, even saying to me in my sleep before she died that she wanted to go home. “Home?” Where is that now without you? I asked her. Ashamed of my selfishness, I assured her that she should go, knowing in my soul that this was going to be a doozy of a year without her, but that her three children would flourish.

Knowing in my soul that this was going to be a doozy of a year without her, my heart was light knowing that she will be able to witness the world from her new vantage point. The experience of her death and it being the year of the wood Dragon brings to mind a not so Chinese curse;

“May you live in interesting times.”

Even though the phrase is thought to be of Chinese origin, it has been attributed to an English expression first brought to light by English statesman Joseph Chamberlain’s son, Austen, regardless it is still a relevant and poignant set of words.

Interesting is far too feeble a description to herald what is coming to pass. On April 8th we had a total solar eclipse. In layman’s terms it means the moon totally covers the sun, those in the path of the eclipse will be able to see the sun’s full corona, a sight that will not be visible again until August 24, 2044.

Scientists should have be able to see much more of the corona than they were able to in 2017 during the last event of this kind. And it’s a two for one. A rare Devil Comet might also be visible from Texas to Maine during the darkness. They call the comet 12P/Pons-Brooks, a.k.a. the “Mother of Dragons” or “Devil comet,” and it is coming relatively close to the sun.

While these rare astrological phenomena are occurring, NASA will be launching a rocket to study the eclipse.

What I find so interesting about this rocket, is its name. APEP. Which stands for The Atmospheric Perturbations around Eclipse Path, will glide into our ionosphere to study the corona. Ra’s halo will be seen by his enemy APEP.

APEP is the name of the serpent lord of chaos in Egyptian mythology. APEP was the sun god RA’s nemesis, also called the evil dragon. Hmmm… an evil sun killing dragon in the year of the dragon being shot up to study RA. Ironic that a rocket with that name would be launched to discover the secrets of the sun’s corona at the same time as a devil comet whizzes by. Wow!

The next stunning event is that of the cicadas “Brood X” hatching. Just as temps in the Eastern US hit 60 degrees. An estimated 100 trillion of them will emerge! The last time two generations of cicadas all hatched together was in 1803. One group hatches every 13 years while the other hatches every 17 years both prime numbers. They only match up every 121 years. I remember collecting them as a kid and marveling at their colors but yikes! I didn’t recall there being so many.

Other interesting events are Earthquakes in Taiwan, and New York. Of course, connections can be made that earthquakes and eclipses foretelling the end of days, but I will keep my head, and just add them to the long list of strange dragon year happenings.

We have this bizarre and extraordinary year to experience and perhaps learn from, and as we watch in deep awareness all the wonders and horrors circling us, let’s make a concerted effort to practice kindness, get involved in our community.

The closest translation to Chinese of the phrase “May you live in interesting times is,”

“Better to be a dog in times of tranquility than a human in times of chaos.”

So hug your dog and don’t stare at the sun!

“May you live in interesting times” is an English expression that is claimed to be a translation of a traditional Chinese curse. The expression is ironic: “interesting” times are usually times of trouble.

Despite being so common in English as to be known as the “Chinese curse”, the saying is apocryphal, and no actual Chinese source has ever been produced. The most likely connection to Chinese culture may be deduced from analysis of the late-19th-century speeches of Joseph Chamberlain, probably erroneously transmitted and revised through his son Austen Chamberlain.[1] — Wikipedia

Antartica or Bust

Fri, 19 Apr 2024 06:55:07 GMT

An incredible Adventure in the Southern Hemisphere

Photos and article by Ron Miller

Sometimes incredible adventures come when you are not really looking for them. Yet, they end up being something to treasure the rest of your life. A dream come true at a time you weren’t even dreaming! Such was the chance for my wife and I to head to Antarctica this January — a winter-time destination from here to head into summer there. Not only are seasons reversed, but the landscape is so delightfully different that it can’t help but make a jaw-dropping impression. Besides the chance to see a portion of this southern-most continent, the journey allowed visits to other countries in the southern hemisphere as well.

On average, Antarctica is the coldest, windiest, and driest continent on earth. (It is considered a polar desert since it averages only 6.5 inches of precipitation per year). It also has the highest average elevation mostly due to an ice cap averaging 1.2 miles thick! This ice sheet is so large that it contains 61% of the earth’s fresh water. Antarctica is the fifth largest continent; forty percent larger that Europe and twice as big as Australia.

Those of us on this voyage are among the fortunate .02% of people who have ever laid eyes on the White Continent. Most people in previous centuries endured unbelievable feats of endurance and raw courage to get that privilege.

Fortunately for us, there were specialists on board who shared their areas of expertise. An ornithologist, ecologists and biologists with advanced degrees, a geologist and a historian, were all there to impart knowledge and love of Antarctica. Who knew, for instance, that icebergs, bergy bits, growlers and brash ice all had exact definitions and that we would pass through all of these frozen formations. We tried not to think of the Titanic as we slowly plied the waters of this southern-most continent!

The cruise itself began in Argentina with stops in Uruguay, the Falkland Islands, two towns in Tierra del Fuego and Chile. Cruising included 4 days in Antarctica.

The Falklands, my favorite stop, allowed us to get up close and personal to huge colonies of penguins. To get to the penguin colonies, we jumped into English Land Rovers and drove two and a half hours from the port to another part of the island. We encountered a huge colony of hundreds of King penguins there, each standing three feet tall and dressed, as it were, in beautiful feathered tuxedos. This species is second in size only to Emperor penguins. These striking birds have bright orange patches on their heads that extend from their ears along the sides of their necks, to their throat and down to their upper chest. Below that orange is a yellow patch which fades into their white bellies. Their back is silvery gray. King penguins walk in a slow, regal manner that helps keep them from overheating. For a bird that returns to icy seawater to eat, land temperatures in the summer can become overwhelming. However, at sea, these incredible athletes can dive for eight minutes at a time to a depth of over 200 feet while searching for food. Their diet includes lantern fish, ice fish and various cephalopods.

Interspersed around the King penguin colony were individual burrows of Magellanic penguins. These penguins are much smaller and stick close to their burrows. We were warned to be careful not to upset them because that might cause them to throw up a day’s worth of food which would require them to go fishing again. The Magellanic penguins have curved black and white bands along their faces and bellies. During the breeding season, a bare patch of pink skin can be seen around their eyes. Folks in the Falklands also call this species “jackass penguins” not because they don’t like them, but because these shy birds make vocalizations that sound similar to braying donkeys.

Finally, we also got to see Gentoo penguins which are the third largest penguin species. They build nests on the ground using local vegetation and are part of the brush-tailed group of penguins so named for their long tails. Gentoo penguins’ head and face are black with the white patch above each eye that meets at the top of the head. The bill is yellow to orange as are their legs and feet. A white eye ring surrounds their eyes.

It was so fascinating to watch these penguins interact with each other within their colonies, hear their calls, and observe adults feeding their chicks. Most pairs only have one chick and the young ones often join together in a creche while waiting for a parent to return from the sea. The chicks in their fluffy down often look larger than the adults. Until the chicks get their adult plumage, they are not waterproof and do not swim.

From the Falklands we headed south across the Drake Passage for four days cruising around Antarctic islands and along the Antarctic Peninsula. Historic islands like Elephant, King George and Deception Island were some of the destinations.

Elephant Island is where Sir Ernest Shackleton in April, 1915 and his men finally found some sort of refuge after their ship, the Endurance, was crushed in drift ice and sank. They used their life boats to get to the island and spent a brutal Antarctica winter until their rescue. To effect that rescue, Shackleton, with five of his men had to battle for 16 days across ferocious seas to reach South Georgia Island where he met with whalers and eventually rescued the stranded party. The 22 men on Elephant Island spent four and a half months sleeping under two life boats and in an ice cave while living on seals, penguins and whatever provisions they had been able to salvage from their ship before it sank. Shackleton’s book, simply called “South,” records all the unbelievably harrowing experiences that his men lived through. It is a fascinating read and one that I purchased upon return to the White Mountains.

Breathtaking scenery was around every corner especially when we entered calm bays such as Admiralty, Charlotte, and Wilhelmina (named after a Dutch queen) where it was mandatory for the captain to proceed very slowly due to Antarctica Treaty requirements. The speed limits are designed to protect the whales, orcas, and seals and of course avoid any sudden impact with the numerous floating icebergs.

Gentoo and Chinstrap penguins swam around the ship, porpoising in and out of the sea with incredible speed. It was a challenge to try and capture them on film just as they popped completely out of the water. We also saw hundreds of Adelie penguins simply floating on icebergs or resting on Antarctic shorelines.

We also spotted many humpback whales and a pod of orcas. Seals, too, could be seen swimming or resting on icebergs. The icebergs provide a convenient conveyance to new hunting grounds while the seal rests but orcas have also learned how to dislodge seals from some icebergs to satisfy their own nutritional cravings.

Black-browed albatrosses and giant petrels could be seen daily in their search for food in Antarctic waters gliding on wing spans the height of a man.

Weather could change, and did, many times a day. Passengers were constantly bundled. I often had three layers of clothes on with two pair of gloves when proceeding outside. We looked more like penguins than people aboard a cruise ship! The weather warmed up to a balmy 32 degrees Fahrenheit in Antarctica. While that doesn’t sound real exciting, it contrasted with temperatures back in Pinetop on the same days which registered a high of nine degrees. We were, therefore, 23 degrees warmer in Antarctica in January than if we had been back home!

We proceeded almost as far as Latitude 65 degrees south as we slid through the Gertache Strait along the Antarctica Peninsula before rounding Anvers Island and heading northeast. We weren’t back to the relative safety of the tip of South America until we once again crossed the Drake passage and rounded Cape Horn. There we entered the Beagle Channel to head to Ushuaia, Argentina, a fascinating place billed as the southern-most city in the world.

I have now had the privilege to visit all seven continents on this earth and while each continent has unique and fascinating attributes, Antarctica’s raw, wild beauty can be summed up as both terrific and somewhat terrifying.

Bird 'Til You Drop

Fri, 19 Apr 2024 06:51:24 GMT

A Birding Camping Trip

By Rob Bettasso

My first camping trip of 2024 was an early spring excursion. It was so early in spring, in fact, that winter had not yet received word that its time was over. As such, when my friend Mike arrived at my place at 6:00 a.m., we loaded my camping gear into his truck during the beginning of a snow squall. The inclement weather persisted as we drove through the White Mountain Apache lands, crossed the Salt River, traversed a portion of the San Carlos Apache Rez, and finally, around Globe, Arizona, the snow and sleet began to taper off. All signs indicated that we were about to have a memorable trip!

During that initial period of travel, Mike and I had only noticed the occasional raven, or sometimes, flock of ravens, as we made our way south under gray skies and through a very wet landscape. It was in Globe, while waiting in line at a fast-food drive-through, that we finally saw our second bird species, a gang of Brewer’s Blackbirds, as they perched alertly on a nearby powerline, just waiting for somebody to drop a tater-tot.

By the time we reached Aravaipa Creek, much of the rolling hills and mountainsides were thick with wildflowers; mostly various types of lupine, penstemon, brittlebush, poppies, and a dozen or so other varieties that we knew only by their botanical family names, or not at all. We stopped near Aravaipa Creek to stretch our legs and scan the cactus country for desert birds; including the generally common types such as Cactus Wren, Curve-billed Thrasher, and Phainopepla, and we were surprised not to see, nor even hear, any birds at all.

We got back into Mike’s truck and continued our way south with the Galiuro Mountains to our east and Signal Peak and the Black Hills to our west. The San Pedro River weaved back and forth on either side of the highway and Mike and I reminisced about the many work trips we had made to this area back in the early 1990’s when, while working for the Arizona Game and Fish Department’s “Native Fishes Program,” we conducted fisheries sampling trips to the various tributaries of the San Pedro River. Back in those days, we were either too busy netting and identifying the local fish species, or, we were so exhausted from having spent a long day doing our fisheries work, that we scarcely had the energy to do much bird watching.

Now, with both of us enjoying very active retirements, we can afford to partake in any type of nature study that we choose and, with the spring migration just gearing up, we had opted to focus on finding, identifying, and observing as much bird life as possible over the course of our three days of traveling in southeastern Arizona. A few weeks from now, should either one of us once again be in Gila, Pinal, Pima, or Santa Cruz counties, we might just as easily shift our attention from birds to the emerging amphibians and reptiles, which are also richly represented in the southern portions of Arizona.

As the morning wore on, we departed from the San Pedro Valley and headed up to Oracle, Arizona and then traveled along the west side of the Santa Catalina Mountains and on through the hectic metropolitan Tucson area. Because of an enjoyable stop at the very birdy, but urban, Sweetwater Wetlands, we didn’t make it to our first wild destination, the Santa Rita Mountains, until mid-afternoon. Mike is an excellent driver, being both alert yet calm at the wheel, so even after the long drive neither of us felt fatigued as we traveled up and into the legendary Madera Canyon. I use the term “legendary” with good reason, since at least as far back as the late 1970’s, when I made my first birding trip to Madera Canyon, the area was already well established as a birding “Mecca.” Additionally, when my dad retired and settled in Green Valley, Arizona in the 1980’s, I would visit him frequently and always made a point of exploring Madera, as well as several of the other birding hotspots within the Santa Rita’s.

For the remainder of that first afternoon, Mike and I sought out rare birds at two of the well-known accommodations in the canyon, since those establishments cater to birders and, even if you are not a paying customer, they still allow you to observe their many seed- and sugar-water feeders for birds of all sorts. Because it had been many years since I had last been to Madera Canyon, I was stunned by how many bird-feeders now festooned the area and, naturally, by the increased number of birds that had become accustomed to being observed by large numbers of bird watchers. Can you say: “eco-tourism?”

We took our place near the hummingbird feeders while Broad-billed, Anna’s, and Rivoli hummers whirred near our heads as they flitted from one sugary fix to another. Later, after a brief rain shower had cleared out most of the people, Mike and I were lucky enough to watch a rare Berylline Hummingbird lap-up the sweet liquid while appearing utterly unconcerned that he was the sole representative of his species in the area; the Berylline Hummingbird being a more common resident further to the south and especially in the mountains of Mexico.

Before the sun dropped too low, we left Madera Canyon and headed to an area that Mike had camped at last year, when he had taken a solo trip to southern Arizona to enjoy the spring bird migration. We had about a half hour of light left when we arrived at a “dispersed” camping portion of the Coronado National Forest and while Mike set up his tent, I found a nice, level place to set up my cot; complete with my tarp-in-waiting, should the evening’s partly cloudy skies let lose any rain during the night. Next, we took advantage of some mesquite firewood left by a previous camper and got a small campfire going. After eating tuna and noodles for dinner, I stayed up long enough to hear Mike “call in” a nearby Western Screech-Owl, although he had hoped to attract the closely related, but more localized, Whiskered Screech-Owl, which has (surprise, surprise) longer facial bristles as well as a few other subtle distinctions.

The morning dawned clear and cold and, after a quick breakfast of coffee and muffins, we left some of our gear at the campsite and headed further south for some additional birding down along the Santa Cruz River, near the town of Tubac. For whatever reason, the riparian corridor there seems to be a funneling area for raptors of all sorts as they migrate north. The local nature center hosts an annual “Hawk Watch” and birders from all over come to see upwards of 15 different raptor species as they soar near and far overhead. Although we were not so fortunate as to see the very rare Short-tailed Hawk or the uncommon White-tailed Kite, we did have excellent viewing of the area’s characteristic Gray, Black, and Zone-tailed hawks as well as several other raptor species. Perhaps most memorable, were the huge numbers of Turkey and Black vultures as they soared so low that you could hear the loud rustle of their enormous wings.

Later, after we had had an eyeful of big, soaring birds, we hiked along the much diminished Santa Cruz River, where we walked underneath a thick canopy of towering cottonwood trees. This stretch of the Santa Cruz still has water, unlike much of the over-drawn system; which has to give up its liquid treasure to the unquenchable growth of towns running from Tucson to Nogales. Nonetheless, due to the brave and sustained efforts of a relatively few ecologically aware citizens, portions of the river still flow and the resulting life-forms are both high in diversity and in abundance. It was in this area that Mike caught sight of a Northern Beardless Tyrannulet (a diminutive species within the family of birds known as Flycatchers). Ever the patient fellow, Mike was able to precisely describe to me the location of the clean-shaven birdlet and I was thrilled to have a good, long opportunity to study the field marks of this uncommon visitor from Mexico.

After some very productive and rewarding birding within the “gallery forest” of the Santa Cruz River (and “gallery” seems a very apt term to me, since within its “walls” hangs some of the most precious works of living art on planet Earth), we visited a few other key birding habitats on our way back to our campsite. Upon arriving at camp at nearly 9:00 p.m., the day having been so wonderfully full of exercise and beauty, I was simply too tired to cook dinner or enjoy a campfire, so I promptly and joyfully went right to my cot and slid into my sleeping bag. The big moon would be late to rise above the Rita’s and so, for maybe 10 minutes, I forced my eyes to stay open while I watched the stars. But, my efforts at amateur astronomy were futile, as my lids were heavy and I quickly fell into a deep sleep and didn’t stir until an eager Northern Cardinal and a boisterous Lucy’s Warbler woke me up with their earliest songs the next morning.

Our third and final day was also a full one, with forays to several distinct ecotypes of the Upland Sonoran Desertscrub and the Semi-desert Grassland biomes. Suffice to say, we again saw a wealth of bird species, plus, widespread and lovely floral displays and the emergence of all manner of insect life. Nonetheless, by later in the afternoon it was time to start thinking of returning to Pinetop. Mike, being as happy in his family life as he is in his various solitary or small group nature excursions, was looking forward to returning home and so once the sun dropped low, we drove non-stop and made it back slightly before 10:00 p.m.

The next morning, I carefully flipped through my tattered copy of Peterson’s Field Guide to the Western Birds and was impressed to discover that between Mike and me, we had seen approximately 100 bird species during our travels. I guess that should hold me for a few weeks, about which time our own woods, meadows, and riparian areas will once again be filled with the sights and sounds of myriad beautiful birds.

Time for a Bikepacking Adventure

Fri, 19 Apr 2024 06:47:31 GMT

Get on your bike and ride...

By Janice Rubin

If you love the great outdoors, camping and cycling, you might be interested in a bikepacking adventure. Bikepacking combines all three into a neat rolling human-powered package.

A few years back my friend Karl introduced me to the crazy world of bikepacking and hammock camping. I took the bait, hook, line and sinker...

thanks Karl LOL!

What Karl and I would like to know is if there’s any interest out there to join us on some bikepacking adventures. What we would do is notify those interested in bikepacking rides with details like dates, meeting times and start locations, as well as route information.

Those of you that have bikepacking experience know what you need and how to pack your bike. For those that would like to give it a try, below is a basic list and information of what you need:

• A bike in good, reliable condition. Mountain bike or gravel bike will work but if riding a gravel bike, keep in mind there is likely to be some singletrack and possibly rocky sections on route.

• Being able to carry what you need for an overnight (or multi-day) adventure. To accomplish this means you will most likely need a handlebar bag, seat bag, hydration backpack at a minimum.

• The ability to carry enough water, extra bottle cages and or a handlebar water bottle bags. We do try and camp near a water source and will let you know if there’s water available prior to ride.

• A water filtration device. Even though it might be tempting to drink directly from a beautiful flowing creek, I don’t recommend it.

• Camp stove (MSR or Jet Boil to name a couple)

• Sleep system of your choice. Karl and I use hammock setups.

• Food/snacks. We will sometimes stop by Subway, pick up a sub and eat that for the first night’s meal. There are many decent dehydrated meals out there, just add boiling water, easy peasy!

• Clothing is your choice, how much or how little, but I do recommend a jacket of some sort, nights in the forest up here get chilly.

• Personal items, toiletries

That’s the Readers Digest condensed version. It’s up to you what you bring, experience will tell you what you need and what you don’t need.

So, if you’re interested and would like more information feel free to email us.

Thanks, and hope to see you out there!

Pedal On!

Janice Rubin

uphillpeddler@yahoo.com

Karl Billmeier

wolverine85929@hotmail.com

Spring (or not) in the White Mountains

Fri, 19 Apr 2024 06:44:37 GMT

Spring Biking in the White Mountains

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

Happy Spring! Let’s go ride, it’s sunny, trails are dry and…oops, never mind, it’s snowing.

Spring in the White Mountains is a fickle thing. Science says it was the first day of spring a few weeks ago, but Nature has a way of playing with our emotions by giving us warm days long enough that we start to put our winter clothing away and begin dreaming about starting seeds. The feed stores tempt us by filling galvanized tubs with adorable peeping chicks and Easter just keeps adding fuel to the fire with pics of baby bunnies frolicking in fields of green grass dotted with flowers, fluffy white lambs and waddling ducklings. But…don’t be fooled.

Here in the White Mountains, its not spring until the March winds blow in the April showers and the first May flowers have bloomed. The local lore is that you shouldn’t plant until the oak leaves are the size of a squirrel’s ear. I generally try not to plant any sensitive garden plants until June and despite my best efforts to restrain myself, I usually fall prey to the intermittent balmy days of spring and end up losing a few early attempts at planting to late freezes. I’ve spent more than one frigid night racing around in a bathrobe trying to save the plants I mistakenly left out, not thinking it would freeze. Oops!

What’s an outdoor person to do when trails are muddy, meadows are brown and even gravel roads are either icy or muddy?

Cut your losses: March winds combined with April showers equals downed trees. The saturated ground has a tough time supporting the weight of wind-blown and/or snow-laden trees and many spring storms result in windfall trees. I recently traveled the Land of Pioneers trail looking for trees blocking the trails. There were quite a few that needed cutting and moved and most of them were cut easily using the portable folding saw I routinely carry in my pack. Bigger trees can be marked and cut with a chain saw once the trail dries enough to travel on. Everyone can help keep our trails cleared and early intervention prevents people from creating work-around trails when the season really begins.

Rock and roll: Here’s an activity that can keep kids happy on a hike. Go on a rock hunt. Rocks in trails are hazardous to hikers, bikers, equestrians and anyone else out there on the trail. Be sure to throw rocks off on the downhill side so that they don’t just end up rolling back to the trail. The challenge for kids is to find a few prize rocks and then bring them home to decorate and return to a trail with rock art, like the Buena Vista or Woodland Park. Kind of an Easter egg hunt all year-round!

Smooth sailing: The elk and other wildlife can really damage muddy trails. We’ve found that fat bikes easily smooth the tracks right out of the trail when its just a bit wet for riding with regular tires. This has got to be the easiest trail repair work duty of all! All you need to do is ride your big tires over the trail at the perfect Goldilocks time of year (not too wet, and not too dry) and you leave a smooth clear trail bed behind you.

Just a trim: I carry clippers with me as spring growth begins in earnest. Clip fresh leaders that are encroaching onto the trail before the plant expends too much energy into growth in the wrong direction. If you are hiking, remember that the head of a cyclist is quite a bit higher than the head of a hiker and the head of an equestrian is higher still, so clear and clip accordingly to keep the trails usable for all. I have found that areas that have experienced a prescribed burn need a lot of trimming as trees which previously lined the trail in an orderly upright fashion, now, once burned, bend unpredictably into the trail, needing pruning as they begin to grow again.

Mud, mud, go away: No matter how tempting, please do not ride wet trails. If you are leaving tracks, its too wet. The Snowflake trails are usually dry much sooner than the high country trails. Trails generally dry in ascending order: Snowflake, Buena Vista, Panorama, Land of Pioneers, Los Burros.

TRACKS organizes trail work days and gets our trails into great shape for summer. Join TRACKS and participate in their work days, or when out working trails on your own, log hours so that you can be a part of the end-of-year volunteer hours total, important for grants in the future. All White Mountains trails users, local or seasonal, should join TRACKS so that we have a large base of both passive members and active participants to assist in having a strong united vocal voice in the use of our public lands. https://trackswhitemountains.org/

Save the Buena Vista Foundation ( https://stbvf.org ) concentrates on the upkeep of existing trails in the Buena Vista/Secret Trails area and members can sign up to be the stewards of trail sections. Please keep track of volunteer hours and report them to TRACKS, as TRACKS is the official trail maintenance organization of the White Mountains and coordinates efforts with the USFS.

Spring will come eventually. Here’s hoping we get enough moisture now so that the forest stays open all summer. Group rides will start in the middle of April as soon as the Buena is dry. See you then!

Pleasant Vally Veterans' Retreat

Fri, 19 Apr 2024 06:38:36 GMT

A Peaceful Repite Place for Veterans

Text and photos

By Annemarie Eveland

The purpose of this Veterans Retreat is to provide a peaceful respite place for veterans and their families. When service people must leave to serve their country, they are not the only ones affected by such a change. The mates and families of our service people are also impacted. This retreat was created as a safe, enjoyable space with facilities to restore their sacred union with each other.

Several people are noted for their devotion to getting this property for the veterans. Woody Cline is a Gila County Supervisor whose jurisdiction covers over half of the County. The Board of Supervisors handles all monies for the districts. Woody worked for the Forest Service at the old administrative site which now has become the offices of the Retreat Center. Nancy Simmons handled the Pleasant Valley Administration’s many aspects in that district. It was noted that regarding Pleasant Valley— it was kind of out there on its own and a little ignored.

Woody said, “We knew when we lost our district ranger, we would lose all the property.” Then, in 2016 everyone moved out and the buildings sat empty. When Woody took office in 2017, he asked the supervisor if he could rent one office. They told him, “We want to rent you the whole building, as there are no plans for it, no money to fix things. The thought was to auction off all the buildings and whatever was left over to bulldoze it down.” Woody said, “That’s not going to happen.” Someone asked, “What about veterans?” Woody said, “Yes!” But he didn’t know how to get it for the Vets.

So, he took a trip to Boulder Crest in Sonoita, AZ to see about this organization that specializes in PTSD. They bring people in from all over the United States. He spent a day there and noted that it was really very nice and peaceful, essential ingredients for many veterans. He has talked to many different groups and organizations.

Getting this special property to its present state was a six-year journey. But we can give kudos to them as getting anything through the Federal Government in six years is a monumental success! There are currently two bills that have passed out of committee in both the Senate and the House and are now on the floor and waiting for a vote to be passed into law.

In a quick review, there was Supervisor Woody Cline, Congressman Paul Gosar, Senator Sinema, Senator Mark Kelly, and Congressman Eli Crane who got the bills through committee and presently waiting for a vote probably along with other bills.

They were told the bill they proposed needed a reversionary clause to state that “If it ever ceases to be used for the vets, it goes back to the government.” All parties agreed.

In Payson, Veteran Art Schaier and Jim Muhr are local Payson contacts who are involved with support for the Veterans Retreat.

So, what comprises this great find, the Pleasant Valley Veterans Retreat? It is important to know that at first, they thought they were being given 23 acres; it turns out to be 232 acres in the Young area of Arizona.

The main office, very nicely appointed, was formerly the Ranger’s station with 6000 sq ft. of room. It has a fireplace entry room, several meeting rooms of various sizes, office areas, a kitchen, and more. It is a perfect meeting place for small groups or Veteran meetings. At present, about fifty veterans from Young meet there.

Located on 232 acres of land, this project includes two fully furnished houses for veterans to use. They are completely refurbished and very nicely supplied, with dishes, cookware, bed linens, towels, etc.

There are also two barrack homes in which there are ten private bedrooms for ten individuals including bedding, towels, and fully equipped common areas- kitchen, bath, dining room, and living room. I even saw outside BBQ and covered decks. All the homes are beautifully furnished and decorated.

RV sites are available to rent to anyone with electric, water, and sewer hookups. They are presently on a donation basis; time of stay max to be determined, suggested up to 7 days. Additionally, there are about nineteen Ramadas that came from Roosevelt Lake sprinkled about the land with shelter covers for anyone to use. The Administration building can now accept veterans, events, and reservations for meetings.

Regarding the retreat property, Woody then mentioned, “At present, it is in our plan to complete that back part of the property where there are two historical buildings which will be restored according to the historical preservation guidelines.” One building is the original ranger’s office, a home, and a barn. The hope is to turn the original ranger’s office into a museum commemorating the Pleasant Valley Ranger Station, the town of Young, and Gila County history. The property also has its water and wastewater system and Helipads.

The Retreat has also received support at the state level. Rep. David Marshall presented a bill for one-time special funding for the retreat and the bill passed unanimously in the amount of $3M. Those funds will build a community center type of building that will include a commercial kitchen for special events and a handicapped accessible home for veterans with disabilities. It was decided to use their 5013c to handle the cost issues.

The Administration building can now accept veterans, events, and services. The RV park can now provide seven campsites for groups, families, or individuals.

The Retreat Center’s main administrative office is the former Ranger Station office which has 6,000 sq. feet. The area is currently used for the local veterans’ monthly meeting. There are about 50 vets in the Young area. Also, there is a business center in that building that their 5013c organization uses.

I was pleased to also learn that last November the Majestic Rim held a silent auction and was able to raise $30,000 for the Veterans Retreat cause. If you wish to donate any amount to help them, contact them directly.

The Retreat is still in its new beginnings stage. They are open to ideas of what activities would be good for visiting vets and their families. As one vet put it, “We are thinking beyond today. What else do we want for our vets?” Some suggestions have been: nature trails, historical area sites to visit and learn about, visiting presenters on various helpful subjects, pickleball, baseball, volleyball, ropes, indoor game room, riding stables, game room, and a playground facility for young children.

This is a time when the Pleasant Valley Veterans Retreat is open to suggestions as to what other amenities can be added to the property to make it welcoming and entertaining for visiting vets.

In conclusion, these politicians who represent Gila County did an outstanding and efficient job with all political parties working together beautifully. A good example of the true American spirit!

For more information on this incredible dream come true, you can visit their website: www.pleasantvalleyveteransretreat.com . If you are planning on visiting the Retreat, you may wish to contact, Woody’s daughter Lacey Cline, Event Coordinator. Her email: Icline@gilacountyaz.gov. The phone number is: 928-200-5517 .

Spring Clean Your Mind Set

Fri, 19 Apr 2024 06:32:20 GMT

Time to get moving and “Marie Kondo” your mind!

By Joan Courtney, Unstuck Living

In the middle of January, spring cleaning was a distant chore. Now, birds are chirping and the windows are open. With longer days, the cobwebs are oh-so-so visible. Time to spiff up where you live. When you clean your place, you take stock of what you have, organize what is left, and clear space to bring in new things. It’s the same with your mindset. When you follow these four easy steps, you’ll be well on the way to a happier life. Time to get moving and “Marie Kondo” your mind!

1. Take stock of everything. Take a look at your life. Stop to consider what’s not working in your life.

• What’s draining your energy?

• What’s holding you back?

• Where in your life are you wasting your time?

Jot down a list of what’s bothering you the most, and consider each issue. Pick the ones that are the most troublesome. Then ask yourself what it would take to change each one.

On the other hand, take a look at what’s working for you.

• What are you accomplishing?

• What makes you happy?

• What do you want more of in your life?

Make a list of what really matters to you and do more of it. (I keep this list on my refrigerator.)

2. Clean out the old. Have useless junk in your life? It can come in many forms: a negative attitude or bad habit, a draining relationship, or a way of doing things that doesn’t work anymore. You can get so used to living a certain way you forgot what it was like to sparkle and shine as yourself.

• Need to apologize? Bite the bullet and do it.

• Waiting for an apology? Time to let it go.

• Grudges contaminating your world?

Time to clean them out.

Toss out those habits no longer useful to you and clear the way for fresh adventures.

3. Tie up loose ends and get organized. Sometimes inertia creeps in, and life can get messy. Half-done tasks and endless to-do lists clutter even the best of minds. Delay and procrastination can set you up for frustration. Take five minutes daily to prioritize what you want from the day. You will automatically align with your priority list. Done deal!

4. Do something new, something different.

Change takes action. Want more than just the life you end up with? Experiment with new habits, work your “mind muscles” in a different way, and you’ll create the life you truly want. Here are some ideas:

• Enjoy the person you are. If you don’t like yourself, figure out why and shift gears.

• Use inspirational quotes to remind you of the new you. It’s like training a puppy. Consistency works.

• Act more friendly toward those you meet.

You will gain more friends and draw in positive people. What could be better than that?

Time to spring clean your mindset and get unstuck!

Need a boost to “get the clean on?” Unstuck Living can help you build new patterns in as few as 1-3 sessions 90% of the time. For more information or to make an appointment, call Joan Courtney at (928) 367-8208 or e-mail online at www.unstuck-living.com. Bringing over 35 years of experience to her practice, Joan is a highly qualified NLP practitioner and a certified clinical hypnotherapist. In a confidential way, she uses that knowledge to help her clients become no-limit-people. Many have found her friendly ways and precise techniques to be the easiest road toward a better life.

Many Backroads Aren't Ready!

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 18:28:07 GMT

Use common sense when traveling Spring backroads...

By Dan Groebner

When was the last time there were three rescue helicopters all operating at the same time in the same area of the White Mountains, at night, nonetheless!?

Believe it or not, that was the case recently when multiple groups of people had to be rescued after becoming stranded in vehicles in the snow, all on the same evening. And each case demonstrates the most common mistakes made when traveling our backcountry roads this time of year.

Many people are lured onto the forest roads by dry and dusty conditions when they start, but all roads eventually wind into the shade of pine trees where snow banks survive longer into the spring and many roads meander into an open meadow where snow drifts have been accumulating all winter long and are in no hurry to percolate into the bedrock.

The Arizona Department of Transportation and the US Forest Service regularly close areas of the White Mountains during the winter since they just can’t keep up with the expensive snow plowing, with all closures clearly posted. However, it’s possible to get into areas that still have drifts preventing further travel that are not officially signed and closed.

That’s when common sense is supposed to kick in, considering how expensive, tiring, painful, and just plain time-consuming it will be to try and dig yourself out of a snow bank or muddy ditch. Unless you enjoy that kind of thing. Most people don’t realize that the tow truck recovery companies charge by the mile to retrieve your vehicle, so the deeper into the woods you go, the longer you’ll be paying for it!!

Some folks appear to be over confident in the abilities of their fancy expensive off-road vehicles to navigate snow and mud, while other folks put too much confidence in the GPS navigation directions they were following. Yup, one vehicle got stuck when they followed computer directions to take roads from near Heber south to Cibecue over and down the Rim. That was definitely a trip where you did NOT want to take the shortest route!

In that case, the lost folks were all saved successfully, but just barely. One person had left their vehicle and walked miles trying to make a phone call before their phone eventually died. Navajo County Sheriff’s Deputies had a rough idea of where that phone call originated by using a crude “ping” location. That ping came from the National Forest south of Heber where a search was started.

Unfortunately, the DPS helicopter based in Flagstaff was already busy with a rescue so the local Guardian Flight medical transport helicopter offered to help with their bright spotlight used to search roads below. As the search developed, another call for a group of different stranded motorists was received for the same general area.

Navajo County Search and Rescue was called out for the mission but just had to stage since backcountry travel was impossible in the area of the search due to deep and slushy snow.

With another group needing rescue, the DPS helicopter based in Kingman was dispatched to the area immediately. Deputies then learned that the person walking with the phone left the stranded vehicle down on the Fort Apache Reservation closer to Cibecue at about the same time a helicopter saw flashing headlights from over 4 miles away. That helicopter was able to find the vehicle and amazingly landed nearby at night to pick up and transport all of the stranded motorists. And despite odds against survival when you leave the safety of your vehicle, the person walking back up the rim was also rescued.

Meanwhile, the Flagstaff DPS helicopter became available to assist by locating the other stuck vehicle occupied by two elderly couples. The trees in the area prevented a landing at the site so the stranded folks had to be hoisted into the helicopter from the ground. It took two shuttle trips to drop off the rescued people at the Heber Fire station for medical evaluations, but a DPS emergency medical technician stayed back at the vehicle with the stranded motorists while they waited for the helicopter to return.

Another rescue call just hours later was not quite as technical, as Deputies were able to reach the stranded vehicle in their off-road equipped County Humvee.

So what does it cost to get rescued like this? Actually, the rescues have always been provided free of charge by the Sheriff’s office and cooperators. The complimentary service is provided to encourage people to call as soon as possible to start a search mission, since the quicker a search gets started the more successful it will be.

Once lives and limbs are safe, then there is time to consider the safe recovery of the vehicle that got stuck. But don’t expect any assistance from the Sheriff’s office, the Forest Service or Game and Fish on this task. This is where those adventures get expensive as vehicle recovery companies have to use specialized equipment, drive long distances, and always risk causing more damage to your vehicle during the recovery process.

You can try the do-it-yourself technique, but you better contact the Sheriff’s office to let them know you have not abandoned the vehicle, otherwise it could be towed and you could get fined. Amateur recovery of stuck vehicles always make great YouTube fail videos, so be sure to post yours!!

Unfortunately, the cost of your mis-adventure may not end with the tow recovery charges. Causing damage to public roads can result in fines and restitution charges to make the repairs so the road is safe to drive on again. On top of that, when public agencies have to constantly repair roads to make them safe, it gets too expensive to keep them open so they are often closed, limiting motorized access for future users. It’s easy to figure out who created the road damage when the tracks lead right up to the culprit!!

Backcountry travel conditions at this time of the year are deceiving. Most roads are clear and dusty. But the snow drifts that remain turn into arctic quicksand since the snow has been thawed and frozen for many nights into a “popcorn” or bean bag styrofoam type structure. Digging out turns frustrating as you watch the snow fill in what you just removed as fast as you shoveled!

Many roads that have been open in the past are now being closed due to vehicle rutting, resource protection and wildlife habitat. If traveling in the National Forest, check out this site to see which roads are open for vehicles and which roads are closed and would make good hiking routes: https://www.fs.usda.gov/main/asnf/maps-pubs Or search for “Apache-Sitgreaves National Forests Road Maps.”

Whatever you do, do not trust any phone or vehicle GPS navigation maps if things don’t look right. It’s impossible to keep these maps up to date with the latest conditions and closures. The best way to use some of these navigation aids to get you out of a pickle is to back track the route you took that got you into trouble in the first place. And don’t select “Shortest route” unless you’re ready for an adventure with a full tank of gas in case you get stuck.

Nevertheless, any backcountry travelers should always be prepared since you never know when you might get two flat tires on the same trip! Phone service is so spotty up here that a satellite connected personal locator beacon or communicator can bring some significant piece of mind and safety factor. Many of the basic models are very affordable and some even allow for two-way messaging.

Rescue personnel and multiple helicopters are not always available to help people in need in the White Mountains. Luckily, things have worked out successfully in some recent incidents, but our weather often prevents search efforts, so personal responsibilities and common sense are still the gold standard in preventing the need for rescue efforts in the first place.

The Heart of Dogs

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 18:21:52 GMT

Our Walk with Man's Best Friend

By Jen Rinaldi

Their form is portrayed in the form of petroglyphs pecked into the rocks at Shuwaymus in Saudi Arabia, to Cave paintings in France, Africa, Indonesia, and the Americas. With mentions in the bible and the Quran, he is a symbol that represents a partnership between animal and man. Despite criticism from religions or occasionally one’s neighbors, they have remained a constant in our lives. Primitive and domestic canines have been acknowledged for hundreds of years in images created by us portraying our love and devotion to them.

Early images roughly painted with minerals and charcoal show dogs with tightly curled tails, sometimes on leashes and sometimes loose, helping hunters provide for their families.

The ochre shape of a human and a canine from the Lascaux caves comes to mind because it is iconic, so indicative of today, A man and dog together — a connection — unbreakable through time. What a poignant image of where we began our walk together 30,000 years ago.

Even though dogs get a bad rap in biblical texts both Christian and Muslim as being associated with filth and evil forces, canines persevered in the images created of them, living on the fringes of society while always helping from a distance. Among the Bedouin tribes of the Sinai, wild Canaan dogs still guard and protect livestock. Rock carvings from Har Harif, first to third century CE, show Canaan dogs chasing ibex even though these dogs still live on the fringes of their society.

The Persian Zoroastrians of the fifth to third centuries BC revered dogs and often buried dogs in special dog cemeteries. One of the largest of these was in the city of Ashkelon in Israel. More than 1,300 dogs were buried there, most of them puppies. The cause of death was not sacrificial and is believed to have been because the dogs lived before veterinarians. These primitive dogs were close relatives to the modern Canaan Dog.

St. Francis made it his mission to communicate with animals and between him and the dog’s cousin, the wolf a truce was forged between us opening the way to a deepening understanding between man and beast. Images of St. Francis and the wolf from Gubbio are still popular today.

In one of the few positive pieces in the bible that mentions dogs is the curious story of Tobias and the Archangel Raphael in the Old Testament. Tobit asks for an Angelic companion to escort his son Tobias on a journey. The escort is granted much to the relief of Tobias’s mother who is reassured that her son will have not one but two guardians, an angel with wings and one with a tail.

Dogs were seen in art as healers by the natural properties of their tongue, Lazarus’s wounds were licked and he was healed by dogs that may have been Canaan dogs. When it came to depicting dogs in medieval art, the dog took on some of its classical attributes of watchfulness and fidelity. In the Renaissance dogs were often painted next to married women, symbolizing the woman’s faithfulness.

Black and white dogs became symbols of the Dominican order or St. Dominic. This is in part due to a Latin phrase (Domini canes, “dogs of the Lord”) that closely resembles the Latin name of a Dominican friar (Dominicanus). There is a story from the life of St. Dominic that said his mother had a dream that she would give birth to a dog with a torch in its mouth that would set the world on fire.

English poet Francis Thompson is well known for his poem “The Hound of Heaven,” which pictures God as a dog who looks for souls to bring to heaven. God after all is Dog spelled backwards.

I like to think that early on there was a tangible connection between us. A spark of the divine calling for us to walk together. Their intelligence — the look in their eyes that belies a protective nature and loyalty that their counterparts the felines rarely afford us. Cats can be loyal, offering us many of the same attributes that we find in dogs, the difference being that cats flatly refuse to perform on command as dogs do.

I say this with great humor. Our Canaan dog will perform all his rally moves for anyone who will watch him, while our cats run at the first sign of a guest. Our dog and cats have a stable relationship, but many dog and cat households coexist only through an unstable truce between the mystical and maniacal cat, and the loving protective willing-to-do-anything-for-you canine.

As much as our Burmese cat Elle and our 20-pound rescue cat Zac strive to please us, when the doorbell rings, it’s our dog that answers the call, ready to meet friend or foe. Zac as big as he is will gladly hide all day long if he senses a change in the force…Sully his dog brother is always ready to protect the home fires, letting Zac know when it is safe to reappear when the coast is clear.

Please don’t think for a moment that I could or would demean our feline family members, as cats also serve an important purpose in a household. They are skilled vermin killers, while dogs are hard-wired to be loyal protectors. In fact, the most popular name early on in dog domestication was “Fido” which was taken from the Latin word fidus, meaning “faithful.”

It’s funny because my husband and I both had cats first and will defend to the end the attributes of our feline companions, but like it or not, dogs serve a purpose that our domestic cats cannot. Protection, love, and safety. Not only that they are fearless and remain true to us, but dogs will also stay until the bitter end if called to do so. We all remember the images of the dogs that risked their lives after 9/11. Dogs serve us in so many ways.

One of the most well-known and humorous depictions of the dog is the iconic “Poker game.” Painted by Cassius Marcellus Coolidge. It depicts four dogs playing poker. My best friend’s parents had the very same painting on black velvet hanging in their basement when we were kids. My friend and I would speculate about what the world would be like if our canine companions had thumbs and could play cards.

In a world where dogs would rule, there would be indoor fire hydrants, and red meat at every meal, and if you smelled OK there would be world peace. “I will walk with you another 30,000 years if you promise me peace my canine friend.”

Smarter Than A Bicycle

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 18:15:41 GMT

Comparing horses to mountain bikes...

By Allanna Jackson

The White Mountain Trail System was originated by horsemen for non-motorized use. I’ve ridden all the trails in the White Mountain Trail System on horseback and hiked most of them. I’ve bicycled only a few. Why do I prefer a horse over a bicycle for trail riding? One word: Companionship. Yes, I do hike with other people. Yes, I could find a group to bicycle with. I’m not talking about human company. The bicycle itself is not a companion. A horse is a living, thinking, emotional, social creature that I can have a relationship with and that’s what fascinates me.

My bicycle has never pointed out a flock of turkeys running up the slope beside the trail the way Cinnamon has several times. My horses have shown me deer, elk, pronghorn, lizards, squirrels, birds, snakes, foxes, coyotes, rabbits, and more. On a bicycle I must focus on the trail to avoid crashing. On a horse I can admire the scenery. A horse can see the scenery and the trail simultaneously. Cinnamon sometimes lets me know I’m not as observant of our surroundings as I could be while riding her.

My bicycle has never helped me find my way. Yes, I could put a GPS on the bike, but it requires functional batteries and satellite signals. My first horse, a Tennessee Walking Horse mare nicknamed Sassy, was 80% blind in her left eye, but that didn’t prevent her from being an orienteering expert. Sassy helped me find our way out of the maze of old roads on top of Timber Mesa numerous times before there were marked trails there.

One day I trailered Sassy out to Linden to go riding with a friend. We saddled up and set off on an unmarked route my friend and her husband used. After a while we decided to swap horses, just for fun. My friend was riding Sassy when we got to a junction where she admitted she wasn’t sure which way to go. I told her, “Just give Sassy her head. She’ll go back to my trailer.” Sassy walked purposefully down the route to the right, though my friend thought maybe we should go left. five minutes later Sassy stopped at a barbed wire fence. My truck and trailer were straight in front of us on the other side of the fence across a small wash. We followed the fence line about 50 yards to the gate into my friend’s property.

One sunny winter day I was riding Cinnamon in Scott Reservoir area on a foot of new snow. I’d been taking Cinnamon for walks over there all her life, but that day she kept looking up the canyon wall beside the trail so I let her pick our route. She promptly turned left, climbing up a slope I hadn’t considered passible for a horse. On top, Cinnamon wandered through the snow, looking all around. She went left to look over the edge into the canyon, then right to where she could see the familiar trail, back and forth through the trees. When we reached a familiar trail junction I realized Cinnamon’s wander had a purpose — she was exploring to fill a gap in her mental map of the area.

My bicycle has never helped me open gates. That’s why TRACKS has installed rollover ramps on some of the trails. The usual way for a horse to help with a gate is to sidestep beside the gate so the rider can reach the latch, and then sidestep and pivot to open the gate, go through it and close it again.

Cinnamon’s sire, Koko, was 24 years old when I imported him from Alberta, Canada. Koko was trained and used for trail riding, herding cattle, pulling a cart, and exhibition in shows and parades. Koko was a very amiable, cheerful stallion with a kindly sense of humor. Even at his advanced age Koko enjoyed trail rides and was always eager to see what was around the next corner. Koko wouldn’t admit to knowing how to side pass so I led him through gates. One day on our way home from the Ice Cave, Koko sped up as we approached the gate at the trailhead. Instead of stopping to let me dismount, Koko flung the gate open with his nose and marched through. He strutted home as if to say, “See, I don’t need your help to open gates!” I laughed, which made Koko even happier. This is hereditary, Cinnamon opens gates with her nose whenever she can.

I’ve never lost a shoe while hiking. Sassy pulled off only one shoe in 10,000 miles of riding in these mountains. I found it and the farrier put it back on. Cinnamon sometimes lets me know when her boots come off. We’ve only lost 2 of them in 17 years. My bicycle was getting flat tires every half mile until I had shields put in the tires. I don’t know if that solved the problem or not. I’ve been hiking or trail riding Cinnamon.

You may wonder, isn’t it dangerous to ride a half-ton animal with a mind of its own? Yes, but a bicycle can also cause life-altering injuries or death. My full-suspension mountain bicycle has bucked me off! My Dad, sister and I were pedaling through a rocky section on the road below Timber Mesa when my bicycle got both wheels jammed in the rocks with all shocks fully compressed. Boing! The bicycle launched me straight up in the air! I landed on my feet unhurt with the bicycle leaning against my leg.

My horses are smarter than my bicycle. The bicycle is merely mindless, mechanical transportation, not a thinking, sociable companion. On the other hand, the bicycle is better for commuting. The bicycle can’t care when I lock it in a closet for hours while I’m working. The only mischief the bicycle gets into is falling over on the other things in the closet.

Before (and after) The Fall

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 18:11:09 GMT

Winter's Outdoor Recreation

By Rob Bettaso

Photos by Mike Lopez

and Anne Groebner

Perhaps you will recognize this experience: you suddenly take a fall (slipping on the ice, tripping on a rock, blundering into a hole, or whatever) and as you hit the ground, your first thoughts aren’t about injury, but instead, about how embarrassed you are going to feel if anyone witnesses your tumble. There you are, down on all fours, and immediately your head swivels around to see who might have observed the event. Eventually, your mind shifts to more important things and you begin to assess where and how badly you may have been hurt.

This happened to me recently but in my case, since I had slammed my right side against the ground, I instantly knocked the wind out of my lungs and was gasping for breath like a beached fish. It took several seconds but once I could draw in some air I was so grateful that I could breathe, I didn’t focus too much on the humiliation. And then, when I had fully regained my composure, I quickly determined that if I hadn’t cracked a rib or two, I had at least seriously bruised them. Ominously, a Tolstoy novella I had read years ago (“The Death of Ivan Ilyich”) crept into my thoughts.

For several days I was in pain but slowly, the pain transitioned to discomfort and before long I was able to take careful, gentle walks along our local trails. Nonetheless, I was also hesitant to become too active and, as such, I was spending more time indoors – both at home, and, at my home away from home: the Larson Library.

As a kid, I spent a lot of time in our school library and eventually, when my mom got her later-in-life college degree in Library Sciences, I also spent some of my after-school hours at the public library where she worked. Back in those days, libraries were focused almost exclusively on books; as the era of videos, CDs, and the internet had yet to be invented. My reading interests had commenced with animal stories (John and Jean Craighead-George were among my favorites); progressed to adventure lore (Jack London was an early hero); and eventually, spread into numerous genres of fiction as well as a wide array of non-fiction.

Now days, because I’ve never had (or particularly want) a smartphone or home internet, I rely on public libraries as the place to do all of my emailing. Not only do I enjoy staying in touch with family, friends, and former co-workers who are scattered all over the world, I also belong to three local community groups (Search and Rescue, the Audubon chapter, and the Nature Center) — which means that I frequently coordinate with folks in these organizations via emails.

Additionally, because friends often send me emails with photos that they have taken during trips we have made, my mind will often wander back to those excursions while I’m using the libraries’ internet connection. Just before I smashed my ribs, I had two memorable experiences with local friends at nearby wildlands. Today, those friends sent me their photos from our outings. I will now relate those two tales.

The first outing was with my long-time pal, Mike, whom I met back in the early 1990s while we were both working as fisheries biologists at the Arizona Game and Fish Department. Mike is not only a very skilled and knowledgeable biologist; he is also an avid outdoor enthusiast and spends a significant amount of time out fishing, hunting, birding, and just generally enjoying the world of Nature.

The other day Mike mentioned that he was going to meet a few of his fishing buds out at Willow Springs Lake so that they could try and catch some “Tiger Trout” (a hybrid of Brook and Brown trouts). Because our Pinetop area lakes had thawed weeks ago, I was surprised when he told me that Willow Springs was still frozen and that the crew would be ice fishing. Mike knew that I wasn’t much of an angler, but he thought I might enjoy getting up over 7,500 feet and cross-country skiing while they spent a few hours fishing. Naturally, I jumped at the chance to go ski some new terrain.

When we got to the parking area (just a pull-out off of Highway 260) I quickly put on my skis and made a brief test run of the snow while Mike and his friends got their gear ready. The anglers had to bring big backpacks as they needed to carry such things as augers for drilling into the ice, poles and fishing tackle, plus the usual things one brings when plans call for spending several hours standing on a frozen lake. Soon, the fishers were ready and, after strapping on their snow-shoes, we all headed away from the pull-out and into the nearby woods. The snow conditions were good and it didn’t take us long to descend to the frozen shores of the lake. I marked my companion’s approximate fishing site on my GPS and left them to drill their ice holes and commence fishing while I was off to ski first along the shores, then back up into the woods, and then eventually along a hiking trail that local skiers had been using during what must have been an exceptional winter’s worth of skiable days.

Everything about the outing was perfect and when we finally reunited, over three hours later, we were all satisfied with our efforts (the crew had caught both Rainbow and Tiger trouts). The drive back to Pinetop was uneventful and by the time I got home, the day’s exertions made for a lazy evening and eight hours of very deep sleep.

Within a few days of the fishing/ski trip, I had an invite from two other friends (Anne and Cathy) who wanted to ski in an area that was in the opposite direction from Willow Springs; namely, the Railroad Grade area just off Highway 260 and about 40 minutes from Pinetop as you head east. If the first ski trip was unique in that it also involved ice-fishing, the trip to the Railroad Grade was also somewhat novel in that we did our skiing at night; under a luminous full moon.

Because the Grade area is in between two chunks of conifer/aspen forests, the sky is open and offers an expansive view of the heavens. The moon was at apogee (which means as far from Earth as it gets) but you wouldn’t have known it based on the intensity of bright light that was shining down upon the winter world. The Grade area is also fairly high in elevation, over 9,100 feet, and the amount of contiguous acres of snowfall in that part of the Arizona is often more extensive than it is anywhere else in the state.

The moon was already well above the horizon when we clicked into our skis, and the terrain was so well lit that we knew that we would have no trouble with navigation or with any surprise hazards. In fact, we turned off our headlamps as soon as we past the initial rocky area at the start of the trail. Within minutes, we had skied away from the crater holes made by walkers who had been using the trail to climb some nearby slopes where daytime sledding is popular. And a while after that we also left behind the tracks of the snow-mobiles, so that we could ski across snow that was smooth and without spore of any kind. Our nocturnal world took on an almost mystical quality when, off in the distance, along the edge of the woods, we could hear a Great-horned Owl calling, perhaps wooing an unseen mate. Oddly, that owl (or perhaps two owls) wound up flying parallel to our route, somewhere out of sight yet within earshot for most of the two hours we skied near the Grade but down upon a vast plain of smooth but icy snow.

Usually when I ski with others we ski in a single file line. But that evening, perhaps because we all craved an unimpeded view of the snow field out ahead of us, we skied side by side; but, with a significant distance between each of us, so that we each felt that we had the illuminated snowscape to ourselves. The snow was crusty and we covered the terrain surprisingly quickly. Before we knew it, we had made it to the Rez boundary fence line and so we turned around and made the two mile jaunt back to our vehicles.

My dominant memory of that excursion was not only the bright moon and the shadows it cast, but also the curious lighting that was created by moon-glow reflecting off of brittle snow -- because it made for an eerie bluish light in all directions. When the three of us returned to the parking lot, we were all hopped up on adrenaline but also uncharacteristically taciturn. I think we were all afraid of talking too much, as we didn’t want to break the spell that we had been under by being out and moving through such a strange but beautiful realm.

I guess I was the one who finally broke the mood when I started talking about how hungry I was; and that got us wondering if there was someplace back in town that might still be open when we returned, so that we could enjoy a fancy dessert. I had tiramisu in mind and was disappointed when we pulled into Pinetop and saw that the local restaurants had already flipped their signs to the side that said: “Sorry, Closed.” Well, nothing could put a damper on the fun we had had skiing that night, and besides, I knew I had a Milky Way bar waiting for me when I got home.

It's Spring! Let's go Ride...

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 18:04:26 GMT

Mountain bike ABC’s & FAQ’s

By Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania in Show Low, AZ

So you’ve heard that mountain biking is one of the “things to do” here in the White Mountains. You’ve heard it’s lots of fun and that it will make you feel younger and stronger. You’ve heard that it’s the best low-impact exercise for your joints and that is great for cardio-vascular conditioning. You’ve also heard that you can spend anywhere from $179 to $14,000 on a mountain bike and, you are pretty sure you want to try local single track without doing anything “too crazy”, but you want to give it an honest try. Where do you start, and what can you expect? I am not a certified Mountain Bike (MTB) coach, a professional, a mechanic or even a very accomplished rider, but I want to share what I have learned along the way in my MTB journey, beginning about 7 years ago.

What kind of mountain bike should you get? A good entry-level hardtail bike will cost you about $1200 (sorry to say, that $179 big box bike will be heavy, hard to handle and uncomfortable to the point of not wanting to ride on a regular basis). You should look for a “1x” drive train, which means that there is one gear in the front and up to 12 gears on the cassette on the rear wheel.

Having a front derailleur complicates shifting for a beginner and is prone to mechanical failures. You should try to get an air-based shock on the fork. If possible, you should look for a bike with “tubeless-ready” wheels and a dropper post, both of which I will discuss later.

Getting a name brand bike rather than a big box bike will save you headaches later and will provide you with a much better riding experience overall. Shopping at a local bike shop will get you the right fit as well as the expertise and support you will need as a beginning rider.

I’m short. What wheel size do I need? In general, wheel size has little to do with bike size. 26” bikes are generally found only at big box stores and are not suggested for an optimal trail experience. Most riders are using 29” wheels with some smaller frame bikes being also available in 27.5”. Larger wheels roll a lot easier over obstacles while the smaller wheels are somewhat more nimble. Most beginners will appreciate the 29” wheels on a mountain bike. If possible, visit your local bike shop to find out which bike frame size is best for you.

What is the difference between a hardtail and a full suspension bike? A hardtail bike is one that only has suspension on the front fork. This front suspension is usually either spring-based or air-based. An air-based shock is more adjustable, more responsive and more efficient. A spring-based shock is usually only adjustable by tightening or loosening the spring and is not as responsive.

A full suspension bike has shocks both in the front fork and within the frame of the bike. An entry-level full suspension bike will generally begin at a cost of at least $2500. Be very wary of those $275 coil-spring big box full suspension bikes. They are extraordinarily heavy and not very responsive.

I’m a beginner, why would I want a full suspension bike? It is somewhat counterintuitive, but a full suspension bike is much more forgiving for a beginner and is easier to ride. It takes more skill to ride a hardtail and is more difficult for a beginner to handle technical areas of a trail. The suspension on a bike is designed to keep both wheels on the ground over rough terrain. A rider can stay seated while peddling on a full suspension bike whereas the rider often needs to use their legs for suspension on a hardtail and will need to be off the seat while peddling over rough terrain. In general, you should try to purchase as much bike as your budget will allow to give you the best possible experience and ride feel. The more comfortable you are on your bike, the more you will enjoy the experience and the more likely you are to continue riding.

What is a “dropper”? A dropper is a set-up where you can lower your seat with the push of a lever. The purpose of a dropper post is to allow you to lower your center of gravity when riding downhill or over rough terrain. A dropper post makes your ride safer and more controllable. The correct seat height is set for you at the shop and the post will lower to any point below this height with the push of a lever. The seat will return to the correct height, again with the push of a button, when you return to peddling.

What is the “lock-out” and when do I use it? Locking out the shocks means that you have a way to disable/restrict the movement of the shock. You would want to do this when riding smooth terrain or climbing, so that you don’t waste effort in shock movement as you pedal. You will open the shocks when descending or going over rougher terrain.

My butt hurts! What can I do? Like any new activity, you body needs to get used to pressure in unfamiliar areas. You will be sitting on the saddle using your pelvic bones, “sit bones”. Letting your body get used to the pressure gradually is important, as is getting a saddle that fits correctly. Wearing padded shorts, either alone or under MTB shorts helps tremendously as does concentrating on staying out of the saddle as much as possible while riding. In general, the only time I am sitting on the saddle is when I am peddling normally.

If you are coasting, you should put your pedals at equal height, legs slightly bent and flexible, one leg forward and one back, and the rear foot slightly in a heel down position. I practice this position with both left foot forward and right foot forward to give both Achilles tendons a chance to stretch between peddling sections. Use your legs to support yourself and you will see that this also takes pressure off your hands.

This technique is similar to riding a horse. A good rider will not be plopped in the saddle all day, instead that rider will be using their legs, standing in the stirrups as the horse moves under them. In our case, riding the bike, you are standing on the pedals and allowing the bike to move under you as it goes over the terrain.

How do tubeless tires work? Instead of having tubes inside of the tires, you will have a special sealant. This sealant works by containing particles in suspension which are forced out of a puncture. The particles seal up the hole and no more air can escape. You will need to refresh your sealant every three to four months with regular riding, but you are very unlikely to experience a flat with proper maintenance.

In my opinion it is very well worth it to spend the extra money to get tubeless ready wheels/tires. The only time I ever got a flat on my bike was when I forgot to add sealant to a bike that had been sitting idle all winter. Oops! It’s not fun to carry a bike out 5 miles…

Why do some bikes cost more? I see two bikes side by side which look similar, but have a big difference in price. One thing that drives prices is the way the frame is constructed. Big box bikes are generally made of aluminum that is thick and heavy. A name brand aluminum bike is made from a proprietary aluminum alloy that is hydroformed, resulting in a thinner but stronger aluminum, welded more efficiently and weighs considerably less overall. Bikes with carbon frames are lighter, stiffer and more expensive overall.

The other thing that drives prices is the quality of the components (drive train, brakes etc) on the bike. Better drivetrains will shift cleaner and quieter. Better brakes will stop more effectively and quietly, hydraulic disc brakes are exponentially preferrable to rim brakes. Better hubs and cranks will interact with your peddling more efficiently and will allow you to use backpaddling techniques over rough terrain. Ride both bikes, and you will immediately be able to tell the difference. Again, save up and budget for the best bike you think you can reasonably afford. Purchasing a lower level bike and changing out components is another way to go, but in the long run this is the more expensive route to the same level of bike.

How do I care for my new bike? Keep it clean. A quick rinse after a ride to get off road grime is helpful, but do not pressure wash because you don’t want to force water into sealed areas. Lube your chain every ride or two to keep it running smoothly. Check for chain wear periodically and make sure that the head set, cranks and hubs feel tight. Check your air pressure before every ride and know what pressure feels comfortable for you. In general, you can run with lower air pressure with a tubeless set-up, which give your more engagement and comfort on the trail. Listen to your bike. If it is making strange or unfamiliar noises, see if you can pinpoint what might be wrong to catch small mechanical failures before then turn into major repairs. A professional annual checkup/tune up is a worthwhile investment in the life of your bike. You new bike is a major expense and worth taking care of for years to come.

What if I want to look for a used bike? Bikes are expensive and understandably, used seems a great way to get started. Here are a few suggestions. Look online and see what is available locally. Ask if you can meet the seller at a local bike shop to have the bike examined before you purchase it. Often the shocks on an older full suspension bike will need servicing, derailleurs and shifters will need work, you might need a new set of tires/tubes and the bike may be very outdated. Your local bike shop should be willing to give you an honest evaluation of the cost to get the bike in safe running condition. New bikes come with warranties while used bikes are generally “buyer beware”. That all said, finding a great used bike as a super way to get into the sport without spending more than you can afford.

Where do I begin riding? The best thing for a beginner to do is to start out riding on dirt roads. Get a feel for the bike and your balance. Practice flat-pedal coasting, practice shifting gears, practice making curves and turns on your bike, get comfortable on your seat little by little. I usually pick one thing to work on during a ride: maybe foot position on the pedals, maybe the techniques of the peddle backstroke, maybe it keeping cadence up or just using one gear for the whole ride. I’ve done rides where I never sit down and rides where I ride in an s-pattern practicing balance for turns. Find roads with both uphill and downhill sections and gradually increase the speeds you feel comfortable riding. Start off small with 3-5 mile rides and gradually work up to 12-15 mile rides. After you are comfortable on your bike, begin exploring local singletrack or cattle/wildlife trails. If you come across a section that looks sketchy, walk your bike across it and watch how the wheels roll over the rocks. Notice the way your bike is handling the obstacle and imagine that you are now a passenger on the bike. If you can see that the bike is capable of rolling across the area with out pitching or bucking, give it a shot riding or move on. Don’t beat yourself up over anything you want to “hike-a-bike.” Your safety is paramount, you will be able to easily roll over this same obstacle with some practice in a few days/months/years. Leave your ego out of it and be safe to ride another day.

When should I start joining group rides? One of the best ways to learn to ride trails and make riding fun is to ride with groups of similarly-minded people. TRACKS is an excellent local group that hosts group rides several times a week. Your local bike shop often will host weekly group rides. New riders wonder if they will be able to keep up with a group of more experienced riders. If you have done the first rides as described in the last paragraph, you will most likely be just fine joining a local group ride. If you begin joining group rides early in the season, you will grow in strength and ability along with the group as most riders have taken a slow off-season and will take a few rides to get back to speed. As long as you have a great attitude, a working bike, and the ability to ride basic single-track, you will be fine. Most group rides are “no-drop” which means that the ride leader will stop at forks in the trail and wait for slower riders to catch up. There is usually a “sweep” rider in the back to make sure that nobody gets lost or has a break-down.

Go for it! At the worst, you might have to turn around and go back to the meeting point, At best, you will have a great time and will be looking forward to the next time you can meet up and ride again.

What else to I need? There’s a lot you will eventually want to have, but to start out with, a bike, a helmet, a floor pump, chain lube, a way to fix a flat and a way to carry water and snacks is enough. Other things you will probably want are biking shorts, gloves, lights, repair tools, clipless pedals/flats, cycling shoes, a cycling computer, heartrate monitor, jersey, fitted saddle, bike rack, bike lock, repair stand…

What can regular riding do for me? I began riding about seven years ago in my mid 50’s. I am in better overall condition now that I was in my 40’s. My weight is down about 10 lbs and I’ve added muscle and core tone, heartrate down, blood pressure down and endurance up. I find that riding is a safe space for me mentally as I need to concentrate on many things to stay upright and safe on the trail so there is little room to worry about family, work, and life in general. I enjoy looking for photo opportunities and stop to take pictures along the way. After a stressful day at work, it is tempting to lay on the couch, but I’ve found that taking even a short ride will reset the day and give you a new outlook and energy boost to finish into the evening. In the winter, when trails are muddy, we switch to gravel biking and I use an indoor trainer whenever I can’t fit in an outdoor ride that day. In short, I am 100% positive that cycling has both lengthened my active lifespan by a decade or two and has made me a better person overall. I am very grateful that my husband and I began this MTB journey together so that we will have so much more time to enjoy life together.

If you have any other questions or just want to talk about how cycling can change your life, stop by your local bike shop and they will be glad to share their experiences with you.

Life Lessons Learned on the Mountain Bike

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 17:53:01 GMT

Why many of life's analogies, metaphors and similes exist about bikes...

By Susie Griffin

I love analogies. I use them often in my professional life when coaching clients toward change. They help communicate a point, lesson or idea in another way that might be more relatable, evoke deeper meaning and greater understanding to the client. Analogies typically are used as away of describing something by comparing it to something else. They can contain metaphors, comparing things in a rhetorical way, or similes which include the words “like” and “as” – as represented in the quote above by Albert Einstein. Other common metaphoric life analogies that involve bikes, such as “the best view comes after the hardest climb,” colorfully describe the inherent rewards that accompany perseverance and determination. Capitalizing on, or not capitalizing on potential is summed up by Charles M. Schulz’s quote of,

“Life is like a ten-speed bicycle; most of us have gears we never use.”

There is a reason why so many life analogies, metaphors and similes exist about bikes; they are vehicles that we must direct, control and move through the world, over and around obstacles that are placed – either known or unexpected, in our way. To get where we are going, either in the short or long run, we need to keep moving forward, find the energy and breath to do so, and pick ourselves up off the ground when we fail to do either one of those.

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”

— Albert Einstein

The years I’ve been tootling around on a mountain bike are few compared to my trips around the sun. However, in that short time span I’ve accumulated a grand list of importantly relevant life lessons learned from being on (and falling off) the mountain bike.

1) Look Where You Are Going Because You’ll Go Where You Look.

Many people who have a history of playing and competing in sports can relate to this one.

Where the eyes lead, the head and body will follow, or to sum it up shorter: where you look, you go. This order (eyes, head then body) creates a streamlined direction and efficacy in energy expenditure and movement that is applicable in any sport – dance, horseback riding, gymnastics, skiing, etc.

In mountain biking, this order is even more important to play out since there are often obstacles, or features, in the way. Rocks, stumps, roots, and other natural phenomenon pose a challenge and distraction to our focus. If we look at the feature, we usually will stop at the feature. However, if we just notice, size up the feature to quickly calculate a navigational strategy and then look up, out and down the trail, our focused intention usually carries us over.

This is imperative when considering speed: the faster you go, the farther down the trail you need to look. This lesson is also applicable in everyday living. Life throws us curveballs, obstacles, or features that we need to quickly sum up the energy and strategy to get through. If we spend our time focusing on the feature, instead of the path on the other side, it will take more energy to not only go over, through or around the feature, but to recover from our focused effort. To add to our short and sweet mantra “where you look, you go,” consider “know, then go.” Know your direction, know how much energy its going to take to get there and then, go.

2) Pedal. Pedal. Pedal.

I can still hear the voices from my early mountain bike mentors in my head, who with encouraging words shouted “Susie, pedal, pedal, pedal!” This was usually attached to approaching a feature, narrow bridge, hill, or tricky spot in the trail. To go down the trail, you need to have momentum and you’ll only get that by moving the cranks or pedaling.

In life this looks and feels like fear or doubt. The obstacle or feature can make us hold our breath, pucker, and stop our forward momentum. So, when you come upon a feature that stops you and makes you reconsider, employ number one above: eyes up, chin up, chest up and pedal, pedal, pedal and instill the mantra, “when in doubt, pedal it out.”

3) Light Hands. Heavy Feet.

I vividly remember when I was first told this lesson. I was in my first year of mountain biking, maybe four rides in. I had come from years’ experience of road biking, so I thought to myself what’s the difference? At the time, I really didn’t understand the importance. It took years and miles later to discover the relevance and the words to comprehend the lesson.

In biking, your hands (and torso) are the directional tools, and everything below (butt, thighs, legs, feet) is your power tools. In mountain biking, specifically, sometimes you need to use your legs and feet as levers, pushing against the pedals to free up and lift the front wheel over features.

If your hands (grip) are tight it not only creates a barrier to this action but causes unnecessary tension throughout your arms, shoulders, and upper back. Employing light hands and heavy feet when climbing is also important in ensuring all your tension is productive – aiding the movement up the hill rather than gripping the handlebars.

In life this is a message to let go of unnecessary tension (who clenches their fists when they’re angry?) and solidly ground yourself. This helps give you stability (heavy feet) in uncertain times and mobility (light hands) to go up and over life obstacles.

4) Practice balance.

In mountain biking, there are times when momentum needs to be varied by choice, preparing to navigate a feature or when it becomes altered un-expectantly like in the case of spinning out. During these times it is helpful to know how to “track stand.” Track standing is a skill of keeping your balance on the bike standing still. So, opposite of Albert Einstein’s quote, you can (practice) maintain balance without the aid of forward momentum. Ratcheting the pedals, or by making micro movements (not full pedal strokes) alone or in combination with moving the handlebars back and forth can help you stay balanced on the bike in one place.

In life, this lesson looks a little different, but the effect is the same. We can apply it when preparing to overcome a known life obstacle or recover from an unexpectant one. We just need to take a moment to stop our forward momentum, breathe, relax, and slow down. Any overreaction or undue tension can cause us to move in a direction that is unhealthy, resulting in physical, emotional, or mental pain.

5) Sessioning.

This is a term that is near and dear to every mountain biker’s heart. For every feature a mountain biker makes or cleans, there are a lot they don’t, especially when just starting out. Sessioning is when you practice a section of trail or specific feature over and over until you clean or clear it, or best yet, when you understand what you need to do to clean it. When I first started mountain biking, I used to fall a lot. My mentors would encourage me to redo sections of the trail I was struggling with. They would stop, wait, and watch me, giving me feedback and celebrating my success. I thought sessioning was reserved only for the inexperienced, unskilled newbies. It wasn’t until I was watching a RedBull extreme downhill competition, where I witnessed the professional riders scoping out the trail, picking their line of travel and then sessioning their lines, that I understood I was wrong. Sessioning is a tool that yields benefits to everyone who utilizes it.

In life, the sessioning version shows up in the mantra, “when at first you don’t succeed, try, try

again.” Our greatest growth doesn’t necessarily come from our greatest failures, but the courage to “fall down seven times, and get up eight.”

Women’s Mountain Biking Community – starting in March!

I would love to share these life lessons in person and create a local mountain biking community ride for women of all abilities. If you are a woman interested in exploring the world of mountain biking, already mountain bike and need a group to ride with, or just want to move outside, have fun and explore our local trails, please contact me via text/phone at 541.705.5710, Facebook message me at Griffin Wellness Solutions, LLC or leave a note on my website contact page:

www.GriffinWellnessSolutionsLLC.com

Tally Ho!

Paying It Back

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 17:42:51 GMT

Paying back Veterans by honoring their time and devotion

by Annemarie Eveland

or as Credited.

Our Veterans have put their time in (and sometimes their lives) to keep our country safe so it is fitting that we “pay it back” by honoring their time and devotion in many ways. For example, I recently attended a Veterans Affairs (VA) meeting in Payson, Arizona that covered many different topics related to being a Veteran. I have chosen several Vets to interview in this article — a two-part article on our Rim Country Veterans. The next article will feature coverage of their Pleasant Valley Veterans Retreat Center, a newly acquired large property open to all Vets free of charge.

When I researched the word “Vet” I found that the Latin origin “vetus” means - “old, a person who has long experience in something.” I discovered, however, that most Vets I meet are still active (despite age and injuries from their duties in the service) and they like contributing meaningfully to our community. Many Vets have past work histories with very responsible executive jobs. So, I first talked with Art Schaier, a Navy Vet. He is the former co-owner of the Earnhardt Auto Dealership and the current owner of Schaier Auto in California. Schaier is also a 16-year board member at Hanover Foods, a NASCAR affiliate, and a member of the Country Music Association. He is Chairman for Vets of the Payson Elks Lodge, Greater Payson Moose Lodge, and Payson Lions Club.

Schaier also currently serves on the Board of Directors for the Pleasant Valley Veterans Retreat, located in Young, Arizona, which is a monumental project started six years ago. It is a property of over 232 acres with buildings which have been designated as a special retreat center for Veterans and their families. The devoted effort to obtain this retreat center and the journey to get it open for the Vets will be in next month’s issue, not to be missed. He is now working to get the other 42 Lodges in Arizona to participate in this program. He fostered an impressive movie, “The Thin Red Line” for a special showing at our Sawmill Theater. He relayed to me his deep admiration for County Supervisor Woody Cline, who pursued this possibility of the Retreat Center in Washington DC enjoining both political parties in a common cause. We will visit with Schaier again.

Another Veteran, Jim Muhr, also serves on the Board of Directors for the Pleasant Valley Veterans Retreat Center. He has been instrumental in relaying good information on possible uses for the Retreat Center and has given me some great ideas to include in our upcoming issue.

Muhr was a Combat First Lieutenant in Vietnam. He was wounded in battle twice and then sent back to the States for his final two months of enlistment. He shared with me his recent focus on devoting his time to working with the state legislators and state senate to bring forth bills that are beneficial to Veterans. In the political arena, he got a bill passed that now gives Purple Heart Veterans free license plates. He is also a Purple Heart Veteran himself.

I sat down with Veteran Chuck Marinak. His long list of credentials includes Ambassador for Veterans Helping Veterans (VHV), founder of Rim Country Veterans, hosted Coffee Time, Payson Hometown Heroes Recipient, Prior Chairman for the Annual Payson Stand Down for Vets, a charter member of American Legion Post 147, service officer of American Legion, Blanket Drives for homeless, activities with the Take A Vet to Lunch program, master of ceremonies for Softball tournaments for Vets, member of Payson Military Honor Guard, Lifetime Member of Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW), Board of Directors for Veterans Helping Veterans (VHV), and nominee for the Arizona Veterans Hall of Fame.

Marinak shared, “When we moved here years ago, I met a Veteran named ‘Shaggy,’ a 6-foot-statured biker, who was providing help for Veterans on a kitchen table out of his own home.” Their meeting had a profound effect on Marinak. He is an Air Force Vet and Shaggy helped get him get benefits for hearing loss and hearing testing done. The results took a while, but now he receives a 10% disability because of his loss of hearing. When Marinak asked how he could pay it back, Shaggy told him “Just pay it forward.” He thought about Shaggy’s instructions, “Put the word out,” and he has been doing that ever since.

He then met former marine, Roscoe. They brainstormed how to use his Payson church for open meetings for the Veterans. Soon they outgrew that space and moved to the present Mount Cross Church location on Highway 260. Hospice of Payson then heard what they were doing to support Vets, and now they buy the donuts for their meeting every other week — a sweet touch. Marinak also started producing T-shirts that display “Rim Country Veterans.”

“The VHV was first put together for camaraderie and to help Vets get needed services,” Marinak stated. “We were renting an office space in the mall near Tiny’s Restaurant. Then we bought that Suite #10 office space where Shaggy and his wife Michelle work full time.” There are now seven people who are involved with Veterans Helping Veterans, Marinak tells me. “We bought a van to transport Vets and then someone bought us a Mercedes van. We use both vans to transport Vets around. Every Wednesday, we drive our van with Veterans down to Carl Hayden’s Hospital in Phoenix for Vets’ appointments for eyes, ears, etc. where they do the testing. All our services are free to our Veterans. We give our service now to those who served us in the past.”

I found Marinak to be an unassuming, devoted, and humble person who says, “I’m just a volunteer. I help Vets every day. We have Coffee Time, which is every Tuesday morning at 8:00 a.m. at the meeting hall at the Mount Cross Church, 601 E. Highway 260 on the south side, across from Tiny’s Restaurant. It is open and free for anyone to attend.” He usually finds more Veterans to help there too. Marinak also joined the VFW and then got Tonto Basin Vets to join them. I could see that the work for volunteers grows with new Vets coming to the meetings. David Small, another Veteran I met, is the current moderator of Coffee Time, and Commander of American Legion 147.

“I run the weekly Tuesday morning meetings and am commander for American Legion Post 147,” David said. “I am also the facilitator for the Post-traumatic Stress Group, ‘Bridges to Healing.’” He told me that post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a very serious and prevalent issue for Vets. There are 21 Vets a day that commit suicide. I was astounded by that sad information. However, I also learned that in all of Gila County, there are 7,500 Veterans, and in Payson alone, there are 5,500. A truly incredible number for our small mountain town.

Veterans Helping Veterans had their third anniversary five months ago. They started with three Vets and a vision. Last week, 115 Vets came to Tuesday’s “Coffee Time” meeting, and it consistently welcomes well over 100 veterans each week. Ken Coldwell assists David with the meetings. Veteran David and Veteran Shaggy are both on the Board of Directors for VHV. The weekly meeting is a great way to connect with fellow veterans, enjoy coffee and donuts, and listen to the speakers and presenters about things that affect Veterans and ongoing resources for Vets. Call the Veterans Helping Veterans (VHV) office at (928) 978-5238 or just come join the many other Veterans who look forward to each Tuesday fellowship to stay informed.

Another way that Vets help other Vets is by accepting challenges that stretch their current abilities. For example, Veteran David Small and his brother Jeff, have planned a bike ride starting on May 4th,. They will be leaving home, for a journey of one thousand miles and be out on the road camping for two weeks.

The first day they will stop at Jakes Corner, on Highway 188 (Globe-Roosevelt Highway), at noon where there will be a large gathering to support this adventure — everyone is welcome to join in the celebration. Former Mayor Tom Morrissey’s band, The Oxbow Revival, will be playing music and Pastor Isaac Bradford from Calvary Chapel and David have written songs to be played. Mayor Morrissey also permitted them to use the CDs that he had produced for music. The entire ride will be documented with hopes of inspiring other Veterans to also meet new challenges. These documented videos will be posted on Facebook and YouTube.

The brothers bought their motorcycles on a budget from a company that sells motorcycles in a box on Amazon — the XPro Hawk 250 dirt bikes — for a delivered price of $1982.00. They have two support vehicles to meet them at certain points along the route for food and supplies, any issues that may occur, and to provide help with their bikes.

“Our campaign,” David says, “is titled Long Way from the Box. We have cameras, and drones, and two support teams. We will take video of the trip, edit it, and put a portion of the ride on YouTube and Facebook each week.” There are fourteen different segments in this challenging ride. Both of the men in the support vehicles, Rod Rockman and Bill Carr, are professional actors who were in the movie, The Pleasant Valley War. Both are Veterans whom David will interview about their time in the military.

They will put it on YouTube as the “Small Brothers Adventures.” Dave added, “My brother and I agreed no holiday gifts, and instead, get together each year and do something similar like sailing his boat for a year at Desolation Sound in Canada.” On this ride, David and his brother will stay days two and three at the Pleasant Valley Veterans Retreat near Young.

For more information about this ride, you can email David at davidesmall1965@gmail.com or call: 928-978-2740. David hopes to inspire other Vets with this trip to show them that they are never too old to tackle something new or do something they normally wouldn’t do.

Veterans Helping Veterans is a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization with its office located at 400 East Highway 260, Suite 8 in Payson, AZ 85541. Office open: Monday-Friday 8:00 a.m.-5:00 p.m. Call: 928.978-5238, or visit, www.vhvinc.org. VHV provides free transportation for Veterans in Payson, Star Valley, Pine, and Strawberry.

When Veterans return to civilian life, many seem to get lost in the system, feeling they have few choices to help them and often isolate themselves. VHV’s main goal is to help Veterans adjust through counseling for PTSD and give them assistance in disability claims and other Veterans’ benefits they deserve. All programs are 100% free to Veterans. The free Tuesday 8:00 a.m. open meetings have been an incredible boon to the morale of veterans. There is early open time before the meeting for camaraderie with other Vets. VHV is a supportive organization that relies on charitable, tax-deductible donations and every cent goes to support veterans’ programs.

Since these support programs and services are run by Veterans, they easily understand and empathize with the problems and changes Vets have to face in their return from serving in our military to a changing world. Several Vets have told me they feel comfortable and supported by another Vet helping them. Why not? For it seems it is not that we like someone, but we are very much like them which makes it easier to get things done. A big thank you to them for their service that has kept us free!

Be An Imagineer!

Tue, 19 Mar 2024 17:34:45 GMT

Re-create your life...

By Joan Courtney, C.ht.

Unstuck Living

Spring is on the way! Although in fits and starts, it seems to have arrived early this year. Trees have already begun to bud on their branches. Flowers starting to poke their heads above the soil after the long winter. Songbirds came in over a month ago. Very early for them. They keep me company on my early morning walk, and in the evening as I watch our breathtaking fluorescent sunsets. Their sleepy chirps are bidding the day farewell.

With spring, there are many chances for growth. Changes of where you put your attention. New avenues of happiness you never even considered before. Different opportunities from years past. Each growing season has its particular beauty.

I’m inviting you to be an Imagineer this spring. I have a highly creative friend in Tucson who coined this phrase for herself many years ago. She can gather up the most unusual pieces from here or there, estate or yard sales, or even findings from friends, and create the most elegant, one-of-a-kind pieces.

As I thought about her as an Imagineer, I thought about the many times I have had the pleasure of reimagining myself throughout my life. From a worker for the County to an internal auditor, to a provost for a Chinese-American medical university, to a neurolinguistic programming practitioner and a business owner. All of these used that talent of picturing myself as something or someone different.

I wonder how many times in your life you have re-imagined yourself. I’ll bet in your younger years, you were busy doing just this. How about:

• when you moved from school into a job?

• when you were single and became a couple?

• when you became a new mom? Or a new dad?

Life was totally different as you moved through each phase. Those skills of re-imagination are well-developed within you. But they may be a bit dusty or tarnished, and need a bit of spiffing up. Your life may have become more stagnant. More sedentary. You may be more set in your ways. Who needs to change, you ask?

Be An Imagineer!

What would happen if you shifted mental gears this springtime? Doing this is simpler than you think.

• Close your eyes and relax with a few deep breaths. Go back in time to when you remembered true happiness. It may be yesterday. Or a year ago. It may be 10 years ago. Or when you were a child.

• Vividly imagine that time. Where were you? Were you alone? With others? What did you hear? Was there an important taste, like your aunt’s black walnut pie? How did you feel?

• Compare that time to your current lifestyle. What was going on in the past that you can bring to today? How can you be happier in the present moment?

It’s delightful!

Do you feel the warmth of that time? Want to go back and chase some dreams? I have a friend who was ecstatic when she got her first kayak. She learned how to load it on top of her car. And the rest is history. Another friend? Canoeing in the moonlight with girlfriends. Change the picture in your mind and you change your world.

Be an Imagineer. Get unstuck!

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and an NLP practitioner who helps people end old patterns and get unstuck. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for MacDuff, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

The Romance at Navajo Bridge

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 19:29:58 GMT

A Love Story of Two Endangered Condors

By Emily Leikam

Photos by : Alan Clampitt.

The complicated love story unfolding between two endangered California condors at Navajo Bridge shows us the remarkable lengths these birds are willing to go to ensure the survival of their kind in the face of extinction — and it might be just the story we need to hear on Valentine’s Day.

Last year, the bird flu known as Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza (HPAI) claimed the lives of 21 California Condors and significantly hindered the species’ recovery, setting it back by at least a decade. This not only impacted the health and numbers of the condor population but also disrupted the mating dynamics among these birds. But at Navajo Bridge, a story that started two years ago, reminds us that even in the face of extinction, there is hope.

At first, a pair of condors, male #619 and female #775, were first spotted together in February 2022 and laid an egg later that spring. When it broke the eggshell, the young chick was the #1150th condor hatched in the recovery program meant to prevent the species from going extinct.

After months of growing up on a cliff edge, the condor #1150 made its first flight on November 12th, 2022. He had another 12 months left to spend with his parents, to learn ‘how to be a real condor’, but his mom died in March 2023, due to the avian flu.

In the face of such loss, the male condor #619 raised his chick by himself.

‘Fortunately, #619 is an incredibly devoted father. He continued to feed #1150 and keep a watch on him when he began to explore the Grand Canyon, while both escaped the grasp of HPAI. #1150 is now fully independent and able to find food on its long flights over the high desert country,’ says Tim Hauck, Project Director for the California Condor Reintroduction Program.

California condors mate for life, but the loss of a partner often marks the beginning of a quest for continuity of the species. For #619, this quest led him to #741, another female condor and a potential new partner.

The odds turned quickly against them when a health check revealed that #619 had lead poisoning, likely from eating animal remains on the landscape that were shot with lead-based ammunition. Just after he was treated and released into the wild, to resume his courtship with his new partner, the female condor #741 had to be trapped and treated for lead poisoning as well.

After getting treatment, the female was released, with everyone hoping that the bond could be rekindled and the species perpetuated. However, a couple of days ago, another condor, male #354, came into the picture and started courting the female #741. With a history of successful mating, the new male seems set on disrupting the budding relationship between #619 and #741.

This twist in the story is a clear reminder that our awareness, choices, and actions can contribute to the conservation narrative, fostering the continued flight of these magnificent birds.

Time will tell how this story unfolds, but this Valentine’s Day, KÜHL and The Peregrine Fund invite you to be part of the love story of Navajo Bridge and donate to support the ongoing work to protect the beautiful and endangered California Condor. Go to https://www.outdoorssw.com/featured-stories for complete article.

READ THE COMPLETE STORY HERE. ..

Not A Big Dog

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 19:21:38 GMT

A horse and a dog and the differences...

By Allanna Lea Jackson

When trail riding, I often meet hikers with dogs. They generally get off the trail as they should, probably because horses are big enough to intimidate people who aren’t familiar with them. Some people tell their dog(s) or even their small children, the horse “is just a really big dog.” I don’t think anybody is fooled by this piece of fiction though it is useful for safely sharing the trail.

Dogs and horses are both social species who are willing to get along with other species, but the social order and communication within a dog pack is not the same as a horse herd. Both species respond better to positive training than negative training. Both horses and dogs can form strong bonds with the people they trust, as well as within their own pack or herd. If dogs are man’s best friend, horses are man’s most loyal servant. Despite these similarities, horses and dogs have very different mentalities and instincts.

A quick internet search for “dog training” immediately hit 10 articles focused on the importance of curbing and re-directing the innate aggressiveness of canines. These articles said dogs are predators who instinctively bark, charge, chase, jump, bite, and chew. I guess that explains why so many dogs seem to enjoy terrorizing lizards, squirrels, rabbits, and people walking on the far side of a public road minding their own business. Effective training redirects these instincts into the positive behaviors that contribute to dogs being “man’s best friend.” I admire service dogs, working or sporting dogs, therapy dogs, and companion dogs that have been well-trained for positive activities they enjoy. I just wish all dogs were so well-trained and socialized.

A quick internet search for “horse training” yielded ads for tack stores, internationally famous clinicians, and a few local horse trainers, though the internet’s definition of “local” encompassed a radius of 500 miles. That was surprising because many thousands of articles and books have been written about horse training. I’ve read hundreds of them and written several articles and a book about horse training myself.

In our mechanized, digitized society more people have more dogs than horses. After all, you can’t keep a horse in your apartment, condominium, town home, or quarter-acre suburban backyard. Yet horses are still used for work, sport, pleasure, physical and emotional therapy, leadership training, and yes, even as service animals.

Yes, horses are big. The average horse is 5 feet tall at the top of the shoulders, which is where we measure equine height, and weighs 1,000 pounds. Horses are strong, and have very quick reflexes, yet in some ways horses are quite fragile. Horses are very sensitive - they can feel a fly landing on their hair. Horses are experts at reading body language, even at a distance. They are so emotionally astute they respond to and mirror human emotions that the person may not be aware of. But horses are not aggressive! Horses are prey animals with high situational awareness and very wary of anything that might be dangerous. When a horse feels threatened it runs away. Curiosity might bring the horse back to reassess the situation later. Most horses are very willing to do whatever humans ask of them. In the rare instances when a horse resorts to aggression it is defending itself.

Horses willingly follow a trustworthy leader to find food, water, shelter, and keep them safe and comfortable. Some scuffling between horses occurs to establish herd order and stallions will fight over mares, which is dangerous for the horses and anything else that gets in the way. However, the calm, steady, trustworthy horse is the leader, not the toughest, scariest, bully nor the flightiest airhead.

Horses do think. They easily learn patterns. Horses are capable of very simple reasoning and making some generalizations. Some of the associations horses make are not what we humans expect. Because of the way a horse’s eyes are positioned, what the horse learns and experiences on its left side is not the same as its right side. Horses also have very keen hearing. The way horses perceive the world has both advantages and disadvantages when training and using horses. Horses learn very quickly. A frightening or painful experience is indelibly imprinted in the horse’s memory and may never be fully overcome. Pleasant experiences build the trust and confidence we need to handle horses safely. It takes multiple positive experiences to overcome a horse’s innate wariness and build its confidence. One negative experience can set the horse’s training back several steps.

Good horse trainers minimize negative experiences with good planning and positive methods to make the training safer for everyone. Though we can’t always prevent negative experiences, such as a gust of wind blowing a plastic bag in circles under the horse’s chin. The horse trainer needs to be as situationally aware as the horse is, and be intentional about what the horse learns. Horses need to practice new skills and need multiple positive experiences to solidify their training, but they do not need to be drilled with dozens of repetitions in a single session. Too much repetition becomes a negative experience for the horse.

We cannot eliminate the instinctive prey behavior of horses just as we cannot eliminate the instinctive predator behavior of dogs. For both species we manage their instincts by redirecting the behavior into safer expressions. It’s quite astonishing how many frightening things horses learn to tolerate. However, we can’t desensitize horses to everything in the environment that might frighten them and attempting to make a horse totally spook-proof has unintended negative consequences. The better way to deal with equine anxiety is to become the horse’s trustworthy leader. Why? Because a trust relationship transfers to all locations and situations. Trust is built with kind, calm, consistent, horse-logical, step-by-step training that respects the intelligence, sensitivity, and willingness of the horse.

Well-behaved dogs and horses have handlers who have invested the time, patience, consistency, and self-discipline involved in building a positive relationship with their animal.

Calling all Birders!

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 19:17:05 GMT

Anybody interested in birds can be part of this Arizona Bird Conservation Initiative birding group!

By Dan Groebner

You may not think it’s birding season in the White Mountains with the weather we’ve been having lately. But some birding activities take time to plan and execute, so local folks interested in different aspects of birds will be gathering soon to discuss their projects, including any results, and try to recruit participants to help with field projects.

One local group holding a coordination meeting from 1:00 p.m. to 4 p.m. on March 20 at the Game and Fish Regional Office in Pinetop is called the Arizona Bird Conservation Initiative (ABCI). Anybody interested in birds can be part of this ABCI birding group, including private citizens just wanting to learn some new birds all the way to professional ornithologists who help guide the group. There are no membership requirements and some people come to the meetings just to hear about the latest information on White Mountain birds and have their questions answered.

The White Mountain ABCI group brings together biologists from Arizona Game and Fish Department (AGFD), the U.S. Forest Service, State Lands, the local Audubon chapter, and the White Mountain Nature Center, as well as local citizens who just have an interest in birding. This unique assemblage mimics some of nature’s more diverse habitats, providing the same stability, productivity and creativity found in nature.

The purpose of the group is to share the most current information on birds in the White Mountains as well as actively plan and implement various bird conservation projects that need volunteer help to accomplish. Updates will be provided on local projects such as eagle and pinyon jay monitoring.

In addition, volunteers are needed to help with surveys that are looking for secretive birds that live in some of our lushest marshes. Since this habitat is so thick with vegetation during the summer breeding seasons, the best way to find some of these birds is to listen for their calls, especially very early in the morning.

To increase the chances of hearing these birds, their calls can be played over a speaker intermittently, sometimes eliciting a jealous response from a nearby territorial male bird of that same species. Using this callback method of survey should only be conducted in short durations by trained and certified volunteers, so as not to disrupt a breeding pair and jeopardize their annual production of eggs from abandonment.

These marshbird surveys often get responses from Virginia rails, sora, pied-billed grebes, and American coots. Sometimes a great blue heron will grunt and groan in response but they are usually silent outside of their rookeries. American bitterns may be breeding in Arizona but we still have yet to hear them respond on these surveys in the White Mountains.

Of course, this is a great way to learn about some of the other songbirds that call marshes and wetlands their homes, but are not technically surveyed in the marshbird surveys. These would include both the red-winged and yellow-headed blackbirds, yellow warblers, marsh wrens, common yellowthroats, or maybe even a blue grosbeak or lazuli bunting. If the surveys are adjacent to a pond or lake, there are usually countless species of waterfowl with the males displaying their vibrant nuptial plumage trying to impress the females.

Another project conducted annually with citizen scientist’s help is the colonial bird nesters survey, which counts the number of great blue heron, black-crowned night heron, and double-crested cormorant nests in some of the White Mountain “rookeries”. Bird rookeries are communal or colonial assemblages of a bunch of nests in a small area, comprising maybe a dozen trees closely arranged to each other. Sometimes there are 10 nests in the same tree, so you can imagine it is quite a “zoo” when the young hatch.

This interesting reproductive strategy of nesting in a large group is obviously the opposite of highly territorial birds like eagles and blackbirds, but works for the herons and cormorants. Usually, there is a plentiful food source of small fish and amphibians nearby to support this high-density housing. But you’ll still see plenty of squabbles and scrambles and raucous rattling when the adults bring in food to one nest and not the others. Somehow, most of the chicks get fed enough and start flying relatively quickly.

These colonial nesters don’t have any problem constructing their stick nests in almost any type of tree, but other bird species are a little more picky and not as industrious when it comes to their nesting home. Some birds require a cavity such as a hollowed out dead tree to nest in. These cavities provide more protection from the elements but can also be in short supply in the forest. Most birds, other than woodpeckers, can not excavate their own holes so they depend on other “subcontractors” or a rotted spot in the tree where a branch broke off.

Many dead trees are removed due to a safety or fire hazard, so sometimes this nesting habitat can be replaced with artificial structures. Bird nest boxes are one example, with each species preferring a specific sized box with the correctly sized hole as an entrance. Local species that appreciate our efforts in building homes for them are both the mountain and western bluebirds as well as American kestrels.

Kestrel boxes are larger in dimensions and have bigger entrance holes than bluebird boxes, but both types should be cleaned and maintained every year. That’s where more citizen biologists are needed. There are now about 70+ bluebird and kestrel boxes erected in the White Mountains that need to be monitored and maintained. Some of these boxes were “adopted” from a couple who were retiring from maintaining them and some houses were built and erected by another volunteer.

The bird houses are distributed throughout the area on the National Forest, AGFD wildlife areas, and also on private lands. Volunteers are needed to periodically check on the boxes to see what kinds of birds are using them and then verify if any chicks were produced later in the spring or summer. At the end of the season the boxes need a quick cleaning and some minor repairs. All results will be included in Cornell University’s NestWatch program (NestWatch.org).

During the ABCI meeting, instructions to build and maintain your own bluebird or kestrel box will be made available, in case you just want to try one on your property.

Another project that is just getting started involves radio-tracking birds, bats and insects that happen to fly by the Pinetop Game and Fish office within range of a radio receiver set up there. The system is called the Motus Wildlife Tracking system (Motus.org) and utilizes tiny transmitters that are even small enough to place on a butterfly. Transmitters for birds can be solar powered and last for years so they are able to track these birds as they migrate long distances over multiple seasons.

There are now thousands of radio receiving stations like the Pinetop Motus Station that are all constantly listening for a transmitter to fly by. As soon as a detection is made, the information is relayed over the internet to a website that can display the information in almost real-time. This project is currently looking for cooperators who may want to host more receiving stations in the White Mountains area so that we can build a series of receivers to listen along the entire Mogollon Rim.

To learn about other birding activities in the White Mountains and make contact with some fellow birders plan on attending the Arizona Bird Conservation Initiative meeting at the Pinetop Arizona Game and Fish office at 1:00 p.m. on Wednesday, March 20, 2024, or call (928) 532-3208 for more information.

The end of a Legacy

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 19:11:42 GMT

A mountain treasure closes its doors after 31 years.

By Jennifer Rinaldi

On a busy street that grows busier by the year, stands a plaza that you may have missed because of quickly moving traffic. Next to the Timber Mountain Fire Department and across from “Annie’s Bistro, stands Mountain Legacy Gallery, located in the Trails End Plaza. The Plaza has been its home since 2021. The Owner of the business is Wylie Glad.

As a teen Wylie had always been enthralled with Native American art and studied and collected it voraciously. So when she moved to Tucson and began working at the “Desert House,“ she let her tenure there teach her about her new community. During her time at that venue, she purchased many fine works of Native American art, tucking them away in her nest of treasures.

Before delving into the art world, Wylie had a 15-year career as a successful Saddlebred Horse Breeder at Glad Farms in Kolby Kansas. Her Stallion “Worthy Son” gained prestige in the breed, so much so, that the price of him as a three-year-old was used to purchase a window for a church. Her love for horses and her education in art was a natural segway into her future career. Her horse business giving her the acumen to open a business in Tucson.

Back home in Tucson deciding to make a fresh start in 1993, after retiring from the horse business, Wylie knew she was on the right track, considering her college experience and business knowledge. She found a small store front off Grant Road. Eager to get started, Wylie knew her strengths and took the plunge.

As the Owner of Desert Legacy Gallery, LLC ( DBA Mountain Legacy here) Wylie Glad brought southwestern treasures and her artistic expertise to her various store’s locations for many years. From her early days in Tucson, 1993- 2010, then to a small vineyard encrusted town in 2010 -2019, and finally to our White Mountains, Wylie has been gracing her adopted communities with her rare treasures and talent.

She says wistfully remembering the location and why she chose it, “They come into town with money, so you need to be on the right side of the road.” Little did she know that her first steps into retail would forever change her life.

With all her training, Wylie soon learned that selling art and artifacts was just a sliver of what she could offer her clients. What started out as an interior design consultation for a friend turned into a business on its own which included interior design along with faux painting, and framing — all art forms on their own.

Soon business was booming, and Wylie realized that she needed more space to accommodate not only her artifacts but her faux painting, and framing business, as well. She found a larger and even more perfect space on Campbell Avenue, which at that time was one of the main roads coming into Tucson. The building had three floors and allowed for each of her sectors of business to have the space that each needed to thrive.

As housing boomed in Tucson Wylie found herself busy with a healthy client base in both her store front and her interior design business. She says of this time “Men didn’t like red walls then, but once they agree with their wives, they always like the result. I helped transform their homes into showplaces for their art.”

She was well met in Tucson as a leading businesswoman and art dealer. In 2010, Wylie, tired of the city, decided to move to a small wine community called Sonoita, located south of Tucson, 39 minutes from Nogales Mexico.

Desert Legacy thrived in Sonoita for years. Clients from Tucson still needed her services, and her framing business was the only one in their small town. Wylie’s store was their favored attraction before wine tasting, and her Kokopelli mascot attracted attention to her store front.

COVID hit just as her store was beginning to become known here in the White Mountains, and as many businesses here, she found it hard to recover.

Sadly, Mountain Legacy Gallery will be closing its doors for good at the end of March. Wylie is heartbroken but feels that it is time to go on to new things. Before she leaves, go and visit her. She still has many fine examples of Native American art and will be available for consultations. Most of the items in her store will be deeply discounted, so don’t miss your chance to own part of her legacy.

Mountain Legacy is located at 2964 W. White Mountain Blvd. #1

She is open Tuesday -Saturday 10-3

(520) 881-7787

Having Snow Much Fun

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 19:06:47 GMT

Enjoying the splendor of winter

Text and Photos by Rob Bettaso

It’s a temperate day in early February. The snow that fell earlier this month and in January has mostly melted and turned our local trails to mud. Because mountain weather can be unpredictable, especially winter weather in the higher elevations of Arizona, I am not especially optimistic that we will see significantly more snow in what remains of winter. And even though I’m not a fan of winter’s short days and cold temperatures, I do enjoy the snow – not only the visual beauty of it, but also moving through it, either on skis or wearing good winter boots. So, just in case we don’t get much more snow this season, I am going to write about one of many pleasurable outings I made in earlier this year, when, after a series of moisture laden storms delivered tons of snow across the high country, I spent some of my time hiking in deep drifts and along blanketed trails near my home.

Prior to describing just that one memorable snow day, let me first briefly describe the night before: It is one of the simple joys of winter to end your day knowing that the snowflakes that are steadily falling when you take that last look out the window just before bedtime, might transform the landscape come morning. It can be especially exciting when, off and on during the night, you stir slightly from your slumbers and hear the lonely sounds of an icy breeze blowing snowflakes against the windows. Then, when you awaken well before first light and are not quite ready to start your day, you linger for a moment in bed and notice the utter silence that has entombed your home. It is then that you are sure that when you get up and flip on a porch light and look out the window, that you will witness a new and wonderful world of very still whiteness. So, let me now describe one of my big snow day of 2024.

When dawn finally came, I was so energized by coffee and buttered toasted that my hands shook as I donned my winter gear. The last thing I did prior to leaving the house, was pull on my knee-high winter boots that I had pre-heated by having placed them near a furnace vent during the time I waited for first light. I stepped outside and was not surprised to see that a tiny kinglet was feeding at the suet-cage that hangs a mere 10 feet from my front door. The kinglet has learned that his best chance of getting a good breakfast is if he rousts himself from his night-perch extra early, and beats the other birds to the block of suet. I paused to watch this tiny mite of a bird as he inserted his needle-like beak through the mesh and chipped away at the frozen fat. It was a nearly a religious experience to observe such a speck of life, with legs and feet as delicate as the tiniest of watch-springs, as he faced the cold world with such spunk and determination.

Because I didn’t want to unduly disturb the kinglet, I opted not to start my outing by first shoveling the walkway from the house to the front-gate. There would be plenty of time to throw snow, not only from the walkway but also from the driveway, since it is generally some time before the city plow gets around to clearing the dirt roads in my neighborhood. Really, the only debate in my mind was whether I should greet the fresh and powdery snow on skis or on foot. But because my feet were already nice and warm in my boots, I decided to hike instead of ski. For that matter, skiing from my house and around the local streets would be easier later on, once the new snow was tamped down by a few vehicles; be it the city’s snow-grader, or a few local residents who anxiously want to demonstrate the power of their 4WD trucks.

By the time I reached the end of my neighborhood and was hiking along a two-tracker road, my feet were no longer toasty warm, but, they were not cold either and as long as I kept moving, I knew that I would remain comfortable. It was still a bit before sunrise when I began the slow-going process of breaking trail and ascending a steep hill. I was hiking in a portion of pine and juniper forest that marks the transition from county lands along the Mogollon Rim, on down to the Apache lands and the trackless wilderness that is off-limits to non-tribal members.

When the sun finally did strike my back, I was already warm from having hiked up a portion of the hill. I took care not to over-heat and unzipped my heavy outer jacket and also stopped frequently to rest and to enjoy the stunning scenery. I also managed my core temperature by sucking on the occasional handful of snow, which also kept me hydrated. Had I intended to spend a prolonged period of time out in the cold, I would have brought a backpack so that I could shed layers, as needed, and could drink water from a canteen. But, I knew that this first hike of the day wouldn’t take very long and my plan was to return home to rest and eat, prior to other hikes I would take later – around noon and again around dusk. A day such as this, with its deep and fresh snow, was most fully appreciated if it was taken one or two hours at a time, and in different types of habitats.

I was not alone as I continued to make my way through the snow: although I was the first person to hike the two-tracker that day, the snow was riddled with animal tracks including deer, elk, and coyote. There were also myriad tiny tracks of various small creatures (birds and rodents) who had ventured forth in hopes of finding food in the twilight of the early morning. Above, I heard the rough croak of a raven and looked up to see that the bird which was calling was closely trailing another raven, which had a chicken-bone in his beak. The lead raven was clearly fleeing his pursuer in hopes of finding a private perch on which to consume his prize of somebody’s discarded KFC. Nothing edible goes to waste in the winter woods.

At the highest point along my short trek, I knew that I would only go a bit further along the two-tracker road. The road does continue along in a big loop that, for many years, I used to hike in its five mile entirety; but, over time, some of the county land has been sold and one particularly ornery owner decided that he could block the road with a fancy new gate. Additionally, based on what I had heard from other folks who also used to hike the loop, the ornery owner gives hikers a hard time if they enter the gate and walk along the road – this, despite the fact that the two-tracker road is a public thoroughfare. So, a while back I decided that there are other places to hike where I won’t have to argue with an unpredictable land-owner, and so, whenever I reach his gate I simply turn around and return the way I came. On that particular day, I must admit that when I reached the gate, I didn’t mind turning around and going back the way I came, since it allowed me to not only walk down-hill, but also in my own tracks through the deep snow.

Once I had returned home, I rested for a spell before venturing forth again to hike through pristine snow in another piece of wild land near my neighborhood. And after that particular hike, I again returned home to rest. Towards evening, I made my final snow-trek of the day at yet another tract of open-space near the hood. All three of the hikes I made that day were through untrammeled snow. Sometimes I struggled in deep snow along well-known “White Diamond” trails that were now unused due to the amount of effort required to make one’s way from marker to marker. Other times, I walked in places that were windswept such that they had sections of shallower and easier to traverse snow. Some areas, because they were shaded by thick forest, took on an arctic blue color; other locales, such as open fields, glittered in the bright sunlight, which hurt my eyes despite my dark sunglasses.

At every place I visited, I was greeted by fascinating textures, hues, shapes, and shadows as I pondered the splendor of snowdrifts, frozen water, ice crystals, cold steel fences, and the warm fur and feathers of my only companions out in that wintry realm. When I finally returned home for the final time that day, it was getting dark. Again, the kinglet had waited until he finally had the feeder to himself, and, he was certainly making the most of his unfettered access. Even as I stood very near to him and watched him gorge, he remained solely focused on stuffing hunks of fat into his miniature maw.

For whatever reason and throughout my adult life, I have to admit that I don’t generally get choked-up by the many sad things we see all around us; but, I do find that when I witness something truly beautiful, well, that can nearly bring a tear to my eye. And what, I ask, is more beautiful than the smallest of creatures fighting to survive in the face of an unforgivingly frigid winter world.

Purpose, Priorities and Passion

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 19:02:56 GMT

Having the substance to follow through on resolutions

By Susie Griffin

It’s February 2024. If you were amongst the 37% of the U.S. adult population who made goals or resolutions for the New Year, you may now, in February, find yourself in the good company of quitters. By the second week of January, and most certainly by February, 80% -90% of Americans who created New Year’s resolutions, find themselves quitting. In fact, if you are a short timer with goals, quitting your resolutions by the second Friday in January, there is something to celebrate — Quitter’s Day. However, if you have made it this far with your resolutions intact, you already knowingly or unknowingly have the substance that those other 80 to 90 percenters failed to fuel their resolutions.

In the Winter Semester Business and Communications class at Northland Pioneer College’s Therapeutic Massage Program, the first assignment I had the students complete was a self-assessment. Within that self-assessment, they were tasked with discovering and writing about their purpose and priorities. In a class the previous semester, they had already identified their core values – the words that describe what is important or valuable to them. Businesses typically have these core values – or deeply ingrained principles that are supposed to guide all the company’s actions, on their social media platforms, websites, printed marketing materials, and walls, etc. Words such as authenticity, compassion, innovation, honesty, respect, service, and trust are commonplace. These core values, or principles, the students have defined will serve as a barometer or litmus test to whether a company, co-workers, peers, or clients are a good fit – regardless of place of employment or self-employment.

While the students found defining their core values a challenge, crafting their purpose and priorities served to be even more difficult. This is a very understandable hurdle - it isn’t every day we stop to contemplate and sum up our unique contribution to this world in one sentence, let alone the priorities (or goals) that support it. I relayed to the students how this one sentence - a defined purpose, is applicable in the professional world, often finding its way into a business’s mission and vision statements. To help stimulate creative thought and to show an example, I shared my purpose, “I see potential” and my business’s mission statement, “Inspiring humans to fulfill and share their potential with the world” and vision statement, “To create a world full of inspired, engaged and fulfilled humans.”

The purpose sentence in life or the mission statement in business helps direct focus and attention

to what is important, either to the individual or the organization. The priorities, or goals of a person or business, are the barometers that provide assessment of those purpose sentences, mission, and vision statements. Goals, or priorities, measure individual or organizational success and ensure movement in a direction that supports and gives energy to the purpose statement or mission and vision statements. In short, goals are meant to be tied to a greater purpose.

Considering this, along with one other important component, brings us back to addressing the 80 to 90 percenters who quit their resolutions by February. The important component this majority is missing in fulfilling or “fueling” their resolutions, is passion. Passion, as defined by Frederic M. Hudson and Pamela D. Mclean in their book, Life Launch: A Passionate Guide to the Rest of Your Life, “Your passions are your internal energy source, the fire or determination you have for reaching some destination up ahead.” Your passion will give you the internal resolve to overcome doubt, shame, fear, and other negative emotions that can show up when initiating change. It gives you a turbo boost to go over those hurdles, mountains, and energy to rebound from difficult conversations and people. Passion is the pivotal piece to the puzzle that contains core values, purpose, and priorities.

To best teach my students and clients the power of purpose, priorities, and passion, I best put into practice my purpose, priorities, and passion. In the past month, I’ve been attempting this practice through my participation in the MBAA (The Mountain Bike Association of Arizona) XT mountain bike races. Despite earning medals in almost all the MBAA races I entered last year, I felt unsatisfied. My level of success wasn’t tied to a medal around my neck or my feet on a podium step but on the feeling of fulfilling my potential. So, this year, I put forth the attention and effort to make progress on my purpose.

I implemented the techniques I coach my clients in when implementing change: identifying lesser strengths, construct and turn statements into questions related to those lesser strengths (get compassionately curious about becoming better), seek answers to those questions, develop strategies that support those answers, and then reassess the outcomes. I identified my lesser strengths: my spinning efficiency and cadence, proficiency in cornering and climbing, my conditioning and fitness and body balance on the bike. I then got compassionately curious in getting better by constructing questions around my lesser strengths. What do I need to adjust to spin efficiently and faster? What mind set do I need to conquer technical climbs and what does that feel like in my body? How can I center myself better around corners? I followed up with developing several strategies per question, implementing those strategies, and then reassessing the outcomes.

I noticed a lot of positive changes and progress towards my purpose with the strategies I’ve implemented. There have been two races I’ve entered so far this year. In both races, even though I did earn a spot on the podium, I felt my best improvement was something that no one could see or measure, but that I could feel – how far I’m progressing towards my purpose and honestly expressing my passion. Those feelings contribute to my priorities of being a better friend, four-legged kid mom, coach, teacher, and therapist. I look forward to the rest and best of 2024, far away from Quitter’s Day and closer to our purpose, priorities and passion.

Quoth the Raven

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 18:56:07 GMT

The myths about Ravens

I never really paid attention to ravens until I worked for the International Wolf Center, Ely, Minnesota and learned about the symbiotic relationships among the moose, wolf and raven. When I started watching Northern Exposure, an Emmy-winning television drama-comedy from the 1990s, about some interesting characters living in a remote town in Alaska, the Native stories stirred my interest in their mythology. Like the Tlingit, who played a prominent role in the show, other tribes of the Pacific Northwest hold ravens in high esteem. Ravens are credited with creation, the bringers of light, the stocking of salmon in rivers and much more. Marilyn Whirlwind, Dr. Fleischman’s secretary on Northern Exposure, was a quiet, but wise, Tlingit tribal member who loved to tell stories about her culture. The Christmas episode, in season five, featured the raven in all of their holiday celebrations — including raven ornaments and all types of raven decorations. The reason? According to Tinglit mythology and Marilyn, it was the raven who brought light to the world.

In my search to find more information about Native stories that include ravens, in particular the story of Raven’s bringing light, I came across a book whose forward was written by Joseph Campbell. I studied Campbell in college and have many of his books on myths. He was a driving force in the popularization of myth study in the 1990s, even influencing popular culture, including George Lucas’s Star Wars series of movies.”So, when I saw that Campbell had endorsed this book, so I bought it.

Ironically, the book I found is written by the same person, John Smelcer, that Northern Exposure used to obtain the Christmas story in the show. The name of the book is The Raven and the Totem; Alaska Native Myths and Legends. Smelcer is the son of an Alaska Native, and he interviewed Native elders across Alaska for his book. When he started collecting the stories, there were 20 Native Alaskan languages — there are fewer now. Smelcer’s language is Ahtna and he is the only tribal member left who can read and write it fluently. In 1998, he edited and published the Ahtna Noun Dictionary and Pronunciation Guide in an attempt to ensure future generations with Alaskan Native cultural heritage that included their language.

Smelcer befriended James Michener, who was doing research for his book, Alaska, at the same college and same time Smelcer was attending. It was Michener who suggested that Smelcer put these stories together in a book, which he did. Then in 1991, Alaska Magazine named it one of the best books about Alaska. Soon after, Smelcer was contacted by the Northern Exposure producers to adapt one of his stories for their Christmas episode. It was the traditional myth about the raven who brought light to the world. Smelcer flew down to Washington to meet the cast and remembers how he developed a crush on Janine Turner, who played the bush pilot, Maggie O’Connell.

Many of the stories in his book come from a study of comparative mythology, defined as the comparison of previously recorded narratives in an attempt to identify shared themes and characteristics. In other words, some of the stories are told differently by different tribes. The story of how the raven brought light to the world told on Northern Exposure is considerably condensed compared to the story in Smelcer’s book. On the television show, the raven tricked the chief into giving him the ball of light by pretending to be a boy. Once he got the ball of light, he turned back into a raven and flew up into the sky and gave light to the world. Smelcer’s story was much more complex and included the moon and the stars. The Chief kept the stars, the moon and the sun in cedar boxes. The raven turned himself into a hemlock needle and fell into the Chief’s daughter’s drinking cup. She drank the needle and the raven became a baby and eventually the Chief’s grandson. The grandson, who was really the raven, wanted to play with the cedar box. Once he got the box with the moon and the stars, he threw them up into the sky. Since he was the grandson, the Chief couldn’t be angry with him. Then, the boy wanted the box which held the sun; once he got the box, he turned back into the raven, flew up into the sky and gave the world light.

Myths about ravens are pretty interesting, and in reality, ravens are pretty smart birds. By the time they are four months old, they have full cognitive skills. They can plan for their future, and make tools out of sticks and stones to help find food. They have extensive memories: during studies they have remembered the faces of the researchers. They remembered which researcher gave them food and which ones took food away from them.

“Ravens are highly regarded for their social skills, a complicated communication system, and excellent visual recognition. These vocal birds make lots of noise when they find a dead animal, drawing attention to the carcass so that larger, more “tooled” scavengers can open up the hide and eventually provide food for the ravens. Some scientists have theorized, through research, that individual ravens may even develop special bonds with individual wolves within a pack — especially pups and yearlings.” (https://www.yellowstone.org/naturalist-notes-wolves-and-ravens/)

They haven’t always gotten a good rap, however. In Europe, they have been considered a dark omen, especially when they showed up on medieval battlegrounds. In the ravens’ defense, however, people weren’t really sure which side the ravens were on. Still, they have been considered such bad luck that a group of ravens has been dubbed an “unkindness.” Similarly, a group of crows (also of the genus Corvus) is called “a murder.” They are also the subject of the famous and dark poem written by Edgar Allen Poe in 1845 titled, “The Raven.” However, in a twist, it is believed that King Arthur of Cornwall, a British legendary hero, didn’t really die, but was magically transformed into a raven.

There are many stories about why ravens are black, too. In Greek and Roman mythology, they started out white, but were turned black because they were telling tales that weren’t true. The North Pacific Natives tell a different story, The peacock and the raven were best friends. One day they decided to paint each other’s feathers. The raven did a “splendid job,” and created the vibrantly colored peacock. However, the peacock was jealous and didn’t want to share his magnificence with anyone, so he painted the raven black. (https://treesforlife.org.uk/into-the-forest/trees-plants-animals/birds/raven/)

Ravens have lived to be about 45-years-of-age, but in the wild they average about 30. That’s a pretty long life, for a bird, even a clever one. They are playful and smart: I have watched them in my front yard trying to fit their large, sleek, purple-black bodies under the spruce bows to get to the suet I leave for woodpeckers. Sometimes they will help themselves to an overflowing garbage can. I think of them as full of character to match their size. They sit outside my window and make funny clucking sounds, and according to scientific studies, they have about 33 different categories of sound. (www.bbearth.com)

So, if you are ever “pondering, weak and weary, upon a midnight dreary,” and you hear “a tap, tap tapping on your chamber door,” it just might be a raven…and nothing more.

Get Away From The Snow!

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 18:50:48 GMT

Ride the Snowflake-Taylor Trails!

Snow, beautiful pristine sparkling snow! Can’t wait to get out in it and play. My first plan…snowshoes. Don’t get me wrong, snowshoes are great, but in this deep, powdery snow with virtually no crust, my magical walk turned into a max-effort slog to get home after just a few miles. Every step was sinking into the snow and every sunken step immediately filling with six inches and a pound of fresh powder. Whew… Snowshoes need to wait a few days till the temps rise, melting this powder a bit, and then fall to freeze a crust to hold me up.

Next day, my next plan…fat bike! Surely the fat bike can be used in this snow… I’m not sure why I thought snow, which could not hold up my weight on 24-inch snowshoes could hold my weight plus a bike on five-inch tires, but hope springs eternal. Not a chance, not enough power in these legs to push through this snow, so new idea! Maybe we can ride in the tracks of vehicles that have driven down the road first, so off to the Vernon-McNary Road.

Someone must have driven this road! Well, they tried…so it was fun cruising down the road with studded tires, zinging across the compacted snow in the tracks of a truck who went before us. Wahoo!…until the truck who had ventured ahead got stuck, took a 57-point turn to get out of there and abandoned ship. No going any further for us, but I did get a cool show pic near one of the wind-blown snowbanks by the road (see front cover)!

Now what? Knees can’t ski and I’m getting restless stomping around in the paths I have dug around the house. Got it! Let’s go where there is no snow right now, where the ground is sandy and the trees are sparse so we can absorb some sunshine. Where can you go locally to find no snow? Why, Snowflake-Taylor of course! If you don’t want to drive for hours and want to ride some great trails, Snowflake-Taylor is the place to get away from winter for a bit of a northern tropical vacation of sorts.

“It’s the only game in town right now”

-Janice Rubin

So off we go, bikes loaded up and hopes high! Temps in the low 40’s at home, we drive north and watch the thermometer fall… it’s not an uncommon temperature inversion as we drop into Taylor, and when we arrive, it’s in the low 30’s. A couple of layers, including a windbreaker and good gloves, cut the chill and we are perfectly warm to completely enjoy our ride — pretty much forgetting that we are in the middle of winter.

The Snowflake-Taylor trails impress me for many reasons. Disregarding the creativity and complexity of the system for a minute, I would like to thank and congratulate the people who have the foresight and conviction to bring these trails to life. Starting with a network of “wildcat” trails, the two main co-conspirators on this project, Brandon Hatch and Rick Brimhall, along with an assortment of dedicated volunteers, began developing amazingly professional and stimulating mountain bike (MTB) trails at an unbelievably rapid rate, by hand and miles at a time.

Through cooperation with the landowners and the town of Snowflake and Taylor AZ, a $400,00 match grant was secured and a long-term lease of the area was agreed upon. There is constant ongoing work and new improvements to be added as the park grows, including nature paths for walking, a half-pipe for BMX, scooters and boards, restrooms and a cross-country MTB racecourse. This is just an excellent example of how towns and citizens can work together to improve the quality of life for all.

When we visited, there were dozens of kids from toddlers on Striders to teens on BMX bikes, dirt jumpers enjoying the bike park in Snowflake and multiple groups of MTB riders shredding the single-track extending from Snowflake to Taylor — enjoying life in the White Mountains.

This area is where the Arizona Cycling Association has held one of their interscholastic races the past two years and it has quickly grown to be a favorite destination for locals and visitors alike. These sandy trails dry quickly and are perfect any time of year, although the openness prefers evening and morning rides in summer. In fact, this is the automatic answer in our shop when folks ask where to ride this time of year: “Go North and ride Snowflake/Taylor! Have a great time!” Because these sandy trails dry quickly, they are ridable shortly after a storm system

moves off.

We began our ride from the Taylor side, off Papermill Road, parking at the Northeast Arizona Training Center (NATC). This side is beginner-friendly and is a great warm-up before for heading towards the Snowflake side, which presents a little more challenging ride. The single-track leads out from the west side of the NATC parking lot, goes down to a dirt road, where you take a right for a few hundred yards. Pay attention to the bike tracks ahead of you and be alert for a single-track leading east off of the dirt road. Once you hit that trail, just keep riding, making decisions to take a left or right turn at each intersection to build a unique trail experience every time you ride.

We found a newly-flagged section and followed the new, raw trail in sweeping curves across the open grasslands, feeling the ease and speed these trails would develop once thoroughly ridden in. The advantage of having rider-built trails is that the trails are built with exactly the right amount of curvature to build up and maintain speed as you ride. Gradually we were led up into the cobblestone knoll, climbing higher and passing by fantastic sandstone formations and eventually to a panoramic view of the area, from the Petrified Forest and painted Desert to the North and the White Mountains proper to the south.

These trails keep you on your toes as a corner can lead you to unexpected adrenalin inducing downhills or punchy climbs so keep your wits about you and practice your bike handling skills. Stay alert also, for fun trail objects placed strategically, from interesting signs to old bikes in unique spots, demonstrating the local passion and love for these trails. I have noticed that there is never any trash or graffiti on these trails, again showing the respect and love riders and hikers have for this area.

Eventually, the trail will lead you to the Snowflake/Taylor boundary fence and you will pass through a gate which connects the two trail systems. Please be sure to keep gates closed, or as you find them. Landowner buy-in depends on respectful treatment of their lands.

The entrance to MTB trails on the Snowflake side is a bit hidden, but begin from the eastern corner of the bike park and curve quickly down the west side of the Jake Flake drainage, the main land feature dividing the two sections of trail. Heading up Pinhead Knoll, there is a thumbprint of trails that curl up and around the knoll, cleverly designed. Riders can pass within a dozen feet of another rider curving down the trail, however, there are very few intersections. This trail definitely exercises the brain as well as the body. Short punchy climbs demand attention to peddling and gearing and the weather-worn sandstone formations provide fully navigable but thought-provoking climbs and drops. This section of the trail is lined with fun rock art lines and balancing piles of cobbles.

Many of the sandstone formations have jutting edges which require attention as you pass by. The trail often passes directly through forks in old gnarled junipers and immerses you into an ancient landscape. As you climb to the top of the knoll and look across the eroded bowl encompassing these trails, you can imagine the prehistoric inland sea landscape this area is a remnant of. Imagine water filling most of what you can see from the top of the knoll, and the sandstone you are standing on, being a sandy beach, during the Triassic period 200 million years ago. Phytosaur fossils can be found to the east in Saint Johns, Arizona, and petrified palms and fossils of prehistoric aquatic crocodilian reptiles are found in the Petrified Forest to the north, a place well worth a visit.

Work in progress: The connection for the MTB trails between the Snowflake and Taylor sides is currently under construction and you will just have to head South across the wash and through the dozer disruption and down a two track road leading South to reach the Taylor side. This area is currently being worked on as part of a paved walking nature trail system that will follow along the wash and be a part of the Snowflake Parks and Recreation system. There are grand-scale plans for the prominence to the Southwest of the bike park and ramadas and new trails are in the works.

Please support these trails by being respectful of both trails and landowner’s fences. Contact Snowflake and Taylor governments to show your appreciation and support, and ride, ride, ride! The more people ride and appreciate these trails and the more business these trails bring to these small towns, the more their governments will realize that the project is worthwhile and self-sustaining. MTB trail systems have been literally life-saving to small towns across the United States and the trails in Snowflake-Taylor have the definite potential to become Southwest ride-destinations that will help rejuvenate these towns through tourist dollar infusions.

Have a great winter everyone! See you on the High Country Trails once the snow melts and the

trails dry.

Bon Iver

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 18:47:18 GMT

Good Winter, my friends!

By Anne Groebner

Many, many winters ago, my husband and I packed a very large trailer with all of our belongings and, in mid-February under a “snow” moon, we drove across snowy and icy roads in northern Minnesota, towards a new life in sunny Arizona. When we left, it was minus 54 degrees. When we arrived in Phoenix, it was in the eighties. I thought I would never miss the frozen and busted pipes under our house, which had resulted in using a makeshift bathroom outside at night, while maneuvering in a down-filled jumpsuit and while being eight months pregnant. Or the deer mice that ran through the walls at night just over my head. That is, until I recently started binge-watching Northern Exposure again. (I’m just starting the sixth season.) I had always thought that Cicely, Alaska (a.k.a. Roslyn, Washington) resembled that old, small town where we used to live.

Our home in Ely was about five miles from Canada (as the crow flies). It was where I really began my love for winter. I grew up in Wisconsin and it was cold but not as frigid as it was living just miles from the Quetico. It’s where I met and married my husband, who taught at the college I attended. I was a non-traditional student, and worked for him through a work-study program at the International Wolf Center. It’s where I tweaked my cross-country skiing and snowshoeing skills while leading groups out onto frozen lakes and cross-countrying across frozen tundras. It was also where my love for sled dogs originated.

I was studying wilderness management, so we spent about eighty percent (or more) of the time outdoors. Even so, I don’t remember ever being cold. Not only was I too busy to think about it, but the people of this small northern Minnesota town taught me how to dress to stay warm in winter. Not to mention the warmth that radiated off of them — a community that looked out for each other, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

We didn’t have television up there so we watched movies occasionally on my roommate Nancy’s VHS tape player. Her mom would record Northern Exposure and send us the tapes so we could watch it. It was a major event when those tapes showed up. We would all gather around her TV to watch the next episode. It reminded all of us of our surroundings — we were winter people. In fact, I didn’t meet my roommate for months when I first got to school because she was in Antarctica working with scientists. They would come to northern Minnesota to hire their workforce because the residents there were always subjected to extreme cold and could handle it. It was just as Garrison Keeler always described it on his show, Prairie Home Companion, “where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.”

One of my neighbors, Jim, was a wilderness author who lived “off the grid.” Some of my classmates and I would trek or ski over to his house to read Thoreau or Emerson or just talk wilderness in his snug cabin, warmed only by a wood-stove. There was no running water or electricity — pretty primitive. I loved the smell of the wood and I loved the coziness and camaraderie of our group talks. These were the years of my greatest learning, the years when I had nothing weighing me down. I was free to experience everything that influenced my future in so many ways.

One night, after one of our group talks at Jim’s cabin, I had to leave before everyone else because I had a test the next day. It was snowing very hard and as I was skiing down the long, twisting drive toward the gate, I noticed a set of tracks just ahead of me. They were fresh tracks and looked as if they were made by a very large canine. I knew right away that it was a wolf. The tracks stayed in front of me all the way to the main road. It was one of the many times I had experienced their presence. The next day, Jim called me to let me know that a deer had been taken down by a wolf in front of his cabin.

I discovered Ely, Minnesota watching public television while living and working in North Carolina. I followed Will Steger and Paul Shurke, Ely residents, as they drove dog sleds to the North Pole. In preparation for this amazing feat, the entire town of Ely took part in making it happen. Will’s wife Patti Steger, who owned Steger Mukluks in Ely, designed moose-hide mukluks based on Siberian Native patterns. Since then the boots have been worn by numerous expeditions from the North Pole to the South Pole, and on the Iditarod Race Trail in Alaska. She has made boots for cast members of the Disney movie Antarctica and her boots have also appeared in the movies Iron Will and Grumpy Old Men, and were regularly seen on Northern Exposure.

Susie, Paul’s wife and owner of Wintergreen, designed anoraks and fleece garments, including gloves and hats, that Paul and Will wore to the Pole. When I was attending school there later, I worked with the Shurkes for a while designing trim and merchandising the International Wolf Center’s inaugural store. I also helped feed their sled dogs, which was an achievement in itself, chopping up frozen-solid meat. From my home in North Carolina, I was impressed as I watched an entire town help prepare Steger and Shurke for their incredible trip, and people and students, young and old, from all over the world, watch them via satellite broadcasts overcome life-threatening obstacles and accomplish amazing feats.

I do miss northern Minnesota, the people and maybe even the cold. But because of our intolerance to heat, we landed in another remarkable small community in the north woods of Arizona, and at quite a higher elevation and much colder temperatures than the desert where we started our Arizona adventure. We raised our son here and have been a part of the community for over 28 years. Each year, we get some snow, and the last two years have been better than most. I love grabbing my skis and heading out into the woods and trekking through a winter wonderland of white trees, feeling the peace of winter and the camaraderie of fellow skiers.

There is an episode in Northern Exposure where the town is waiting for the snow to fly. Its arrival is late and is mentioned occasionally, until in the end, when Maggie O’Connell, a bush pilot on the show, is talking to Joel Fleischman, a misplaced Jewish doctor from New York City (pretty much the basis for the entire show), looks out her window, and sees snowflakes falling. They both walk outside and are under the spell of the first snowfall of winter. They wander downtown, where everyone has come outside, including Chris Stevens, their local radio DJ, and they greet each other with “Bon iver, my friends, bon iver!” which derives in the show from the French phrase for “good winter.” It’s exactly how I feel about winter and all of its beauty and peace.

So, to our friends, neighbors, and visitors in the small communities, the Cicelys, of the White Mountains,

I say, “Bon iver!”

White Dove of the Desert

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 18:43:29 GMT

The San Xavier del Bac Mission

Text and Photos

By Annemarie Eveland

“White Dove of the Desert” is a historic Spanish Catholic mission named San Xavier del Bac Mission. It continues today as the only functioning parish church for the native people of the first nation. “Bac” in Tohono O’odham means – “a place where water appears” as the mission is located near natural springs and the Santa Cruz River. The indigenous people who lived there were called the “Papago” – which means Bean Eaters, but their name was changed to fit them more respectfully.

Mission San Xavier del Bac is located on the Tohono O’odham Nation reservation about 10 miles south of Tucson. To this day, it is the finest example of Spanish Colonial architecture that still exists in the United States. Its building is one of the most culturally significant buildings worldwide. As a National Historic Landmark, it was among the first sites to be classified.

From early on in its history, it was referred to as “the White Dove of the Desert.” Its pure white finish contrasts with the wide expanse of brown desert and Arizona blue skies. The mission was founded by Padre Eusebio Kino, a Jesuit Padre, who started the mission for the River O’odham who lived along the banks of the Santa Cruz River. The mission was named for Francis Xavier, a Christian missionary who founded the Jesuit Order in Europe.

During the long reign of Spain over this area, which was called New Spain, Charles III of Spain distrusted the Jesuits, so in 1767 he banned them from all Spanish lands in America and replaced them with the more “reliable and pliable” Franciscans, who were forced to leave as well, for Spain in 1837.

Unfortunately, the Mission decayed until 1853 when it became part of the United States through the Gadsden Purchase. The church reopened in 1859 and Santa Fe Diocese added it to their jurisdiction. Then in 1868 the Diocese of Tucson was created, and San Xavier began having regular services again.

A school was opened in 1872 by the sisters of Carondelet for the children. And Franciscans returned in 1913. Since 1872 the Franciscan Sisters of Christian Charity have taught school there.

Built in the classic cruciform (shaped like a cross), the mission was built between 1783 to 1797 and is a pristine example of Spanish Colonial architecture surviving in the United States — it is the oldest European structure in Arizona.

Four different nations have flown their flags over this land, beginning with New Spain until 1821, when Mexico won its independence. However, in 1854 the Gadsden Purchase brought the church and land into possession of the United States. And since 1937, the Tohono O’odham Nation has flown their own flag over the Mission.

I sat down to talk with Friar Ponchie Vasquez of the Franciscan order, currently pastor and guardian of the mission, to appreciate how things are “today” in this iconic mission. He cares for the people and, in his words, “the work of the mission of the church, its purpose, is to help people in their sacrament of life

— it is a living community.”

The School teaches children through the eighth grade. Unfortunately, the school was closed in 2022, but will be open again in August of 2024. In the small classrooms, teachers focus on academic excellence, culture, and student excellence.

Friar Ponchie said that the “Patronato” of this church are patron-volunteers formed to raise funds for the preservation and restoration work at the mission. They have raised well over fifteen million dollars for restoration of this historic mission.

The mission structure was built of clay brick, lime mortar and stone. Many of the original pigments (iron-oxide red, ochre yellow, manganese black and white lime wash) are still clinging to the mission’s façade. Most of the statues, frescoes, paintings and carvings that still reside in the mission are originals from the 1750s.

The mission fell into total disrepair and was abandoned from 1837 to 1859. Then Santa Fe Diocese started fixing up the mission. However, history shows it has endured much. It suffered earthquake damage in 1887 within the mortuary wall and church areas. Then there was lightning damage, but because the mission survived a lightning strike in 1939, they used fiberglass reinforcing rods for the legs of the tower, avoiding metal to resist future lightning damage. Then on August 27, 1964, a severe tornado went through the area and although much around the mission was destroyed, the church itself was miraculously spared. There are two towers. One is still unfinished, and has been in disrepair and has needed extensive restoration for a very long time.

When conservation teams began their work, even the brushstrokes and colors, which had been exposed for over 200+ years under severe weather elements and other harsh conditions, still remained intact. In 1940 to 1950 conservation efforts coated much of the mission with concrete plaster made

from Portland cement. After it dried, the concrete plaster was then repainted in bright colors, differing from the original paints. It was discovered later that this actually damaged the walls and inside areas because concrete retains moisture and it disintegrated the original materials.

On a hill near the mission is Grotto Hill. It is a quarter of a mile walk from the mission. When you reach the top, it gives you an impressive overview of the mission and the surrounding mountain ranges of Tucson, Catalina, Rincon, and Mount Wrightson peak.

Inside the church is displayed many original statues and murals. A visitor could easily spend a day at this mission to understand it all.

In the west chapel, there is a glass case with a statue of crucified Christ, originally at the Tumacacori Mission, but when the Apaches were leading raids on them, they moved it to the San Xavier Mission and brought their saints with them. By 1890’s it was referred to as the “entombed Christ.”

The Mission does have docent tours. You can visit the website: www.sanxaviermission.org or call 520-294-2624 for Church hours and Mass schedules. South of Tucson, take I-10, exit I-19, which brings you directly to Mission Road to the Xavier Mission.

(1950 W. San Xavier Rd.)

This mission is intriguing, awesome, powerfully historic and humbling. A visitor can easily feel the sacredness when entering the mission. I was there with a lot of other visitors, and yet the atmosphere was peaceful and sacred with reverent silence as people wandered around visiting and praying. With hopes that you can experience this White Dove of the Desert sometime, have safe and sacred travels.

Out of Sync with your Valentine?

Sun, 11 Feb 2024 18:40:17 GMT

How to spice up the relationship with your valentine

By Joan Courtney, C. Ht

Unstuck Living

Heart Day is on the way. As if you could miss it. You walk into a store, and hearts and flowers are right in front of you. You start to think of your sweetheart and realize you want to do something special. But what? You’ve been together a long time. Your routine is comfortable in oh-so-many ways. You want to spice things up, but how?

Fix Him

A while back, I heard this story while practicing NLP in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. (These clients gave their permission to share their dilemma.) A lady had been married to her husband for many years. She was bored. Tired of doing the same things they had always done. “I’ve been married for 50 years. And I want a change. I’m considering divorce. I’m going to send my husband in so you can fix him.”

A while later, this very nice fellow came into the office. I asked how things were going. He was puzzled. “Darned if I know. I have been a good provider and a great father. I have been close with my family, and we do great things together. Now, she’s tired of me and what we do.”

What did you do when…?

I thought for a moment and asked what he did when he courted her. Suddenly, his face morphed into a young nineteen-year-old man. He described taking his guitar and a buddy, and serenading her as she stood on the second floor of her apartment building. After singing, he would toss a rose to her. “Do you still have the guitar?” Oh, yes.

After three months, she had another session. “You fixed him! He’s courting me. This time, it’s many more roses.” Five months later? He came in, and said, “You’ll never believe the weekend I just had.” His wife had picked him up after work. Blindfolded him and told him she was going to kidnap him for the weekend. She then started a cassette tape (yes, it was a long time ago,) and played the songs they loved when they were first together. The kids also shared the many memories they had from those bygone days as a family — camping, kayaking, board games, Baseball and Picnics. They were both in tears, flooded by those wonderful memories. They both felt treasured, seen, and heard. Last I knew, they were still happily married.

Wander back in time

Think back to what you and your sweetie did when you were first together. Here are some ideas to get started.

• Recreate that first meal together. Maybe it was a three-course extravaganza. Perhaps it was hot dogs. The taste will bring back those precious memories.

• Make a playlist of the songs you both enjoy . Take the scenic route and enjoy your conversation, companionship, and the serenades. Evening light is special.

• Tell a back story about a gift. A friend gifted me with a lovely cameo, made even more special with the story of the woman who had gifted it to her many years before.

• Go camping. One couple used to camp a lot when first together. Now, they have little time to travel, and it turned out the backyard worked just fine.

• Tickets to a concert. Your love is a Journey.

Get tickets and surprise them with the evening.

Get unstuck and have a great (and memorable) Valentine’s Day!

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, She also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for MacDuff, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

2024 White Mountain Eagle Fest

Mon, 22 Jan 2024 19:46:32 GMT

Some call it Eagle Season...

Dan Groebner

The full moon in January is often called the Wolf Moon but here in the White Mountains you could probably also call it the Eagle Moon thanks to the abundance of migrating eagles using local lakes and streams that are not completely frozen over yet. You could say that eagles are the true snowbirds as they fly south from their summer nesting areas in Canada and the northern US every winter just far enough to find the open water, which provides waterfowl and fish for a food source.

Although the number of summer nesting bald eagles in the area continues to rise, winter in the White Mountains is the best time to see more of our National Symbols perched along the shoreline of almost any lake with open water. That’s why the White Mountain Eagle Fest always takes place in the “dead” of the Arizona winter (Minnesota visitors: please don’t send any “lols” as we survived 8 winters in Ely).

This year’s Eagle Fest will be held on Saturday, February 3, at the White Mountain Nature Center, 425 S. Woodland Road in Pinetop-Lakeside at 9:00 a.m. This year’s sponsors include the Arizona Game and Fish Department, The Arizona Heritage Fund, Liberty Wildlife, Lazy Oaks Resort on Rainbow Lake as well as the White Mountain Nature Center. Nature Center members are admitted free with a $10 recommended donation for others.

Game and Fish will provide a brief update on current eagle populations and management in Arizona to start out the program. A dedicated crew of 3 biologists and numerous seasonal contracted “Nest-watcher” technicians monitor nests and eagle populations statewide through a variety of methods, including long hours of observation, climbing tall ponderosa trees swaying in the wind, and hovering over nests from a safe distance in a helicopter to check on nest or chick status.

A new feature added to this year’s Eagle Fest is the viewing of the award-winning documentary, “The Weight of a Feather”, which details Liberty Wildlife’s Non-Eagle Feather Repository. In addition to providing state-of-the-art wildlife rehabilitation and care as well as conservation education, Liberty Wildlife also coordinates the collection, storage and distribution of feathers from protected bird species to Native Americans for religious and ceremonial purposes. This program recognizes the value of even deceased birds by making them available in a legal and controlled manner.

Melani Walton, Executive Producer, along with Rob Melani, stated “‘The Weight of a Feather’ is the story of how nature, people and culture are linked, and we hope that this inspires viewers to reflect on their own connection to the environment and how they can protect the planet.” The Rob and Melani Walton Foundation, as well as the Virginia G. Piper Charitable Trust, made this film possible through a cooperative effort with Arizona PBS and Quantum Leap Productions. “The Weight of a Feather” is narrated by Peter Coyote and is currently offered as an incentive gift for supporting Arizona PBS.

Since black market trade in bird feathers have threatened some rare populations in the past, permits and licenses are required to collect or possess these feathers from a bird, even if it died from natural causes. So don’t be surprised if you get those owl feathers hanging from your rear-view mirror confiscated during a traffic stop, if you don’t have the proper permit from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

Liberty Wildlife will then describe all of their important work, using their ambassador bald eagle Sonora to help tell their story. Peggy Cole and Max Bessler, two of the most experienced animal handlers at Liberty, will explain how Liberty Wildlife attempts to rehabilitate and release every animal they take in, if possible. Max has been working with Sonora for years, since she arrived at Liberty Wildlife with a broken wing as a nestling in 2007, after being chased out of her nest by a swarm of killer bees. The wing was broken so severely that she would not have been able to survive in the wild if released.

Peggy and Max will reveal some interesting eagle behaviors they have observed and answer all your questions about eagle biology and natural history. Following the presentation, Sonora will pose with Eagle Fest participants for photographs so bring your own camera or phone. There will also be an opportunity to view the Nature Center’s new bald eagle in the recently completely raptor housing facility following the formal indoor talks.

The 2024 White Mountain Eagle Fest will conclude with the traditional field trip to Lazy Oaks Resort on Rainbow Lake, weather dependent, of course. For that matter, the entire Eagle Fest could be postponed, as it was last year, due to a winter storm. Since so many people travel for the occasion, organizers don’t want folks driving in bad winter conditions.

Weather conditions for the field trip have ranged from near blizzard warnings to a balmy, sunny, calm, and picnic-worthy day during past Eagle Fests, so make sure you dress for the occasion for a better-quality experience. There will most likely be at least a light White Mountain breeze in your face.

Seasoned biologists and birders will be on hand along the shore at Lazy Oaks Resort to show participants nearby perched and hunting eagles with their binoculars and spotting scopes. Bring your own optics if you have them, or just use some provided by the Eagle Fest and learn how to use them properly.

Festival attendees will also be provided with White Mountain eagle watching hotspots where they can be safely observed without disturbing them. Tips on eagle photography will be shared and biologists will suggest activities that the public can engage in to help eagles.

With a little luck and good weather, Eagle Fest participants are likely to see at least a few migrant eagles biding their time on Rainbow Lake, waiting for winter to pass so they can get back to raising chicks on their summer digs up north. With even more luck, you might see eagles fighting over a meal or perched just across the bay in a leafless tree, posing for that perfect portrait.

During most winters, many different kinds of ducks also make RaInbow Lake a temporary home, providing not only a food source for the eagles, but also the opportunity to see some types of waterfowl rarely found here during the summers, like the intricately colored wood duck.

Unfortunately, Eagle Fest organizers haven’t figured out how to schedule this event on the perfect weather weekend, so cold, windy and snowy conditions could reduce the chances of seeing eagles to near zero. At least you’ll be able to get close to Sonora under controlled conditions at the Nature Center. Directions to the viewing area at the Lazy Oaks Resort will be shared at the Eagle Fest program along with a printed map.

So even if you have faithfully attended previous White Mountain Eagle Fests, this year’s schedule has fresh information, including the viewing of the inspirational documentary “The Weight of a Feather” and timely updates on local eagles. See you there!!!

For more information, call 928-532-2308

White Mountain Villas Food Pantry

Mon, 22 Jan 2024 19:39:56 GMT

Adding some heart to your shopping cart while helping seniors.

Text and photos by Jen Rinaldi

Now that the holiday season is in the rearview mirror, we tend to forget about giving locally.

According to Marsha Grombly, property manager at FLS White Mountain Villas and head of White Mountain Helping Hand.org, “Winter Is the most challenging time for seniors here on the mountain. Our summer visitors, who support the seniors in summer, have returned to the valley, and with food prices rising every day, seniors on a fixed income are finding it harder and harder to make ends meet.

Before the social security check arrives is the most difficult, and many seniors run low on the basics. Social Security has only increased by 3% while food costs have skyrocketed causing many to have to go without. That’s where the White Mountain Villas Food Pantry steps in. Marsha has been running the local pantry for three years, and since July 2022, she has made it her quest to ensure that the people in her care never go hungry.

She explains, “We make sure that our residents have items such as laundry detergent, milk, or eggs to stock their shelves, and coming here also gives them a sense of community.” While I was with Marsha, one resident there explained that she had to ration what she had in her pantry after her rent was paid and was glad that she could take some fruit and a dessert home after speaking with us.

Local businesses who know about the food pantry also lend a hand. While I was interviewing Marsha, the two Tammy’s from Bin Time, located behind Domino’s Pizza, stopped by with an arm full of woven shawls. Marsha explained that it is more than just food that our seniors here need — basics such as blankets, cooking utensils, and company help keep this community thriving.

Marsha gave me a tour of the Kitchen, which she explained was empty when she arrived. Now, every surface is covered with valuable donated items. From baskets with snacks to a coffee pod machine and baskets of condiments, the Kitchen is an inviting space. Near the Kitchen is the pantry, accessible day or night by residents who enter through the laundry room with their keys.

Weekly, the pantry needs community help so that it can provide meats, bacon, sausage, fresh fruits and vegetables, soft canned fruits such as peaches and puddings, and even pet food, both cat and dog, as many retirees have small pets.

These simple items are all it takes for residents to live with dignity. If you would like to help, donations are taken at White Mountain Villas located at 307 E. McNeil Road, behind the Show Low Senior Center. Monetary donations are also accepted so that individual needs can be met.

Marsha has boundless energy, and while running the Villas, she also finds time to raise money for the Vernon Fire Department and local schools. Through White Mountain Helping Hands, she is planning a once-a-month dinner theatre at the Elks Lodge to raise funds for school supplies. Another cause that she is helping raise money for is a UTV for the Vernon Fire Department so that they can access remote homes during emergencies. For more information on donating to the UTV or attending the dinner theatre, contact the new website in February at WMHH.org. (White Mountain Helping Hands.org)

If you have room in your heart and in your cart, please consider a weekly or monthly donation to the food pantry. Know that your gift will fill a belly and warm a soul. Consider an ongoing gift if you can.

Nothing at the pantry ever goes to waste; The Villas Food Pantry often trades with other organizations when certain items are surplus.

Food donations can be made M- F from 8 a .m. to 3 p.m. at 307 McNeil at the White Mountain Villas main building. When you stop, consider staying for a bit and visiting. If you happen to be there on a Wednesday, it is Coffee and Donut Day, with many of the residents spending the day in the lounge, so consider dropping by with your donation and

stay a while.

Dawn, Dusk and the Time In-Between

Mon, 22 Jan 2024 19:34:29 GMT

A time-lapse study of Woodland Lake Park, Part 2

Rob Bettaso

I have never been a gym-rat but I do enjoy my work-outs at the Outdoor Gymnasium that we more frequently refer to as Nature. In last month’s edition of this magazine, I began telling the story of my recently having spent several hours at Woodland Lake — a local recreational hotspot in the town of Pinetop-Lakeside, Arizona. My goal for that day was simple, elemental, even as it consisted of doing nothing more than walking. However, I did stipulate that my walk would entail 10 laps around the lake, and, since each lap is approximately 1 mile, my goal also included testing the soundness of a recovering sore knee without unduly taxing it. As such, the 10 laps/miles would be separated into three shifts: one starting at dawn, another during midday, and the last ending in the early evening darkness (three laps in the first shift, three in the second, and four in the third). I ended Part one of this story having completed the first shift. I will now tell of the remaining two.

With a sigh, I clicked off the TV, happy that I had spontaneously caught a re-run of one of my favorite films: Treasure of the Sierra Madre, a Huston/Bogart classic. Looking up at the clock, I noted that it was about time for me to head back to Woodland Lake to begin shift two of a project I had dubbed: THE TEN MILE KNEE TEST. I had already eaten a fortifying early lunch, but I decided to follow it by wolfing down a hunk of chocolate brownie. I didn’t want to embark on my second set of laps without plenty of fuel in the tank.

Unlike my early morning hike, the midday hike saw the presence of many more people enjoying time along the lake’s paved, very level trail. This may have been due to the pleasant increase in temperature, though, both the cloud cover and the breeze had increased noticeably since my first set of laps earlier in the day. No sooner did I hit the trail when, suddenly, two kids ran up from behind me and jostled me as they passed me in their haste to get to wherever. Though my recovering knee was feeling strong, I couldn’t suppress the envy I had for their boundless energy. Naturally, it is in our senior years when Oscar Wilde’s quip that “youth is wasted on the young” makes the most sense.

Up ahead, the same kids that had startled me were now worrying a small flotilla of ducks and, before long, the birds lifted from the water, took a quick couple of spiraling laps upward, and then came fast over my head close enough for me to hear the whir of their wingbeats as they made their way to the northwest. I wondered if they might settle at nearby Rainbow Lake, where there is no walking path around the lake and the ducks can drift and feed in greater peace.

I continued on my way and crossed the uncovered bridge and then passed the fishing pier that was being used by a few families dutifully attending to rods, reels, and assorted tackle. The angling public essentially paid my salary for many years, back when I worked as a fisheries biologist for the Arizona Game and Fish Department. Back in those days I worked more with endangered, native fish species than I did the sportfishes that, in past decades, were imported into our state’s waters. Both the native and the introduced species are beautiful and interesting; and I only wish that the latter weren’t virtually wiping-out the former — the nonnatives having quickly established themselves in our lakes and streams. But I suppose that is more our fault, than any of the fishes.

My mind turned from fishes to birds when up above, I heard the drumming of a woodpecker high in a pine. I stopped and used my binoculars to search out the industrious bird, suspecting that it was a Hairy Woodpecker, since that is the species I most frequently observe in this little section of the forest. Before long I found the source of the hammering, chipping, and chiseling; sure enough, it was a Hairy. The Hairy’s presence was not as antagonizing to a nearby Abert’s Squirrel as another common woodpecker species often seems to be: had the Hairy been an Acorn Woodpecker instead, that same squirrel would likely have gone to great lengths to chase off the Acorn Woodpecker, because the two compete for the same vital winter food sources – pine seeds and oak acorns. The pines, mostly Ponderosa Pines, in turn have to compete with the oaks, mostly Gamble’s Oaks. Whether it is pines, oaks, fishes, woodpeckers, squirrels, or humans; life often involves a great deal of competition and there are, all-too-often, winners and losers. And sometimes, losing means extinction.

Snapping out of my suddenly gloomy mood, I picked up my pace and moved quickly through the rest of my first lap. The remaining two laps passed with numerous other observations pertaining to the wonders of Nature but with no interactions between me and my fellow humans; who continued to increase in number not only along the lakeside trail, but also in the playgrounds, ball fields, and along the disc golf-course (all of which are visible to varying degrees from the trail).

It used to be that on the Woodland courts I would see mostly tennis being played but anymore, it’s mostly pickle-ball. Both sports would be too risky for my old, tattered knee joints and I’m absolutely sure that I won’t be taking up any game that involves rackets. Why risk my ability to walk along a gorgeous lake, hike through a serene forest, or scale a lofty peak just so that I can smack a little ball around? Besides, I’ve never been very competitive; but then again, I’ve never really been skillful enough at anything to become competitive.

I finished up my remaining two laps without mishap and my knees felt as sound after a total of six miles as they did when I started. So, it was time to run a few errands and then return home and rest up prior to my end-of-day visit back at Woodland Lake.

After stops at Safeway, the Larson Library, and the Lakeside Post Office, I returned home for a quick nap followed by some reading from a collection of poems by Randall Jarrell. Time passed quickly and soon I was back at Woodland for my final set of laps. I had saved the batch of four laps for the last shift since I had figured it would still be comfortable hiking weather and it would also be fun to watch the various birds settle into their twilight routines.

The first two laps were pleasant and relatively uneventful. By the time I started the third lap dusk was approaching but there were still plenty of people enjoying their visit to the lake. A couple of Great-blue Herons flew in from who-knows-where and landed along different parts of the shoreline to do their evening fishing. I stopped to watch one but he seemed distracted by my presence and never unleashed his dagger-like beak to harpoon a fish.

As I walked in the direction of the second heron, a quarter mile from the first heron, a person walking toward me noticed my binoculars and correctly assumed that I’m a bird-watcher. He enthusiastically informed me that just a little ways back he saw a tall, wading bird that he thinks is a Great-blue Heron. I feigned excitement, and told him that I would watch for it. Folks who aren’t birders are often times quite thrilled to see a heron, as they seem to think that the dramatic species is something of a rarity. I don’t dispel their erroneous notion, because, while Great-blues are still very common throughout their range, a day might come when they are not; so it is best if folks place as much value on all birds at all times and not be complacent with short-term ebbs and flows in avian populations. This applies to many different kinds of wildlife, really, because so many species have been ebbing since about the time Homo sapiens laid waste to our early contemporaries and competitors: the Neanderthals.

By the time I was into my fourth and last lap, most of the people had left the Park (though, despite the growing darkness, a couple continued to whack a ball around on the pickle-ball court) and the waterbirds were becoming very vocal. The sky was lit-up in the direction I was heading (west) and even though I was snapping photos every few minutes, I would never keep up with the evolving colors and intensifying beauty. I came to the end of my route and was hesitant to head down the hill and back to my truck. But, it was nearly dark and the rocks, logs, and stumps that lay upon the ground in between me and my truck while I headed cross-country would be tricky enough even using my head-lamp, and I certainly didn’t want to aggravate my bum knee after having passed the acid-test that I had concocted to assess my knee’s recovery.

When I returned home and walked in my front door it was with a real sense of accomplishment. Sure, 10 miles pales in comparison to something the legendary Bob Marshall might do (50 miles with 50 pounds on his back and hiking up and down the mountains of western Montana) but it was still pretty good for a 66 year old guy with a trick knee. Moreover, I was satisfied in knowing that when 10 miles eventually becomes beyond my ability to do, Woodland Lake will still be a fantastic place to stroll for a mile or less while watching the birds go about their lives at dawn, dusk, and every moment in between.

Closing Note: for those of you who may have missed Dan Groebner’s update on efforts to purchase the remaining 400+ acres of Woodland Lake Park, please read his November 2023 article in Outdoors Southwest Magazine or online at outdoorssw.com/featuredstories. Dan’s article is an excellent summary for those folks who would like to join the many others who have come before them in the goal of protecting the entire Park for countless generations to come.

A Walk in the Woods

Mon, 22 Jan 2024 19:26:17 GMT

And into the forest I go...

About four years ago, I wrote an article similar to this one. However, some things have changed since then. It was during the 2020 pandemic and we were all supposedly house-bound. However, our little mountain town of Pinetop-Lakeside and the surrounding areas were bustling with hundreds of people wanting to get outdoors. You might say,

“we were discovered” and it really hasn’t slowed down much.

The threat of house arrest created panic among the dwellers of major cities and the focus was getting outdoors — and what’s better than fresh air and strolling through a canopy of towering ponderosa, aspen, juniper pine, Gamble oaks, wildflowers and grassy meadows. Most people in the United States live in overstimulating, stressful urban or suburban environments. So, it makes sense — considering our evolutionary history of living in nature — that there is a strong urge to escape to the woods. And, with the pandemic fear in the back of our minds, it’s no wonder that getting back to nature is like a psychological and physiological homecoming.

There are some of us, however, that don’t need a pandemic to get us outdoors. We are addicted to the primordial environment capable of injecting us with bountiful energy and the freedom from four walls — while freely subjecting ourselves to the beauty of nature. The added health benefits gained from the benevolence of trees and other plants is a gift of great magnitude and very much appreciated by us humble mountain wayfarers. For years, research has found that even a casual urban walk — for a mere 15 minutes! — can help drop blood pressure, reduce stress levels and improve concentration and mental clarity. Every study revealed a reduction in stress, anger, anxiety, depression and sleeplessness. Getting out amongst the trees is even better.

The American Cancer Society study found that those walking/hiking seven or more hours per week had a 14% lower risk of breast cancer than those who walked three or less hours. Another research article from health.harvard.edu, states these surprising benefits of walking: that it can reduce arthritis-related pain and that “walking five to six miles a week can even prevent arthritis from forming in the first place.” In the same article, they claim that walking/hiking can boost your immune system and help protect you from the flu season.

According to an article written by Greg Seaman for eartheasy.com, Yoshifumi Miyazaki, Japan’s leading scholar on forest medicine, states that, “walking in the woods can boost the body’s immune system by increasing anti-cancer proteins and enhancing the activity of certain cancer-fighting cells.” The research suggests that “humans benefit from breathing in phytoncides, the volatile organic compounds plants emit to protect themselves from bacteria, fungi and insects.” This research on the healing properties of forests has led to the development of 44 accredited Shinrin-yoku (forest bathing) forests in Japan and has spread throughout the world.

(The Healing Power of a Walk in the Woods by Greg Seaman - eartheasy.com)

I’ve always known that a tree is a superhuman hero. They have the ability to provide us humans — and every living, breathing creature on our planet — a life-giving essential, oxygen, and “the power to remove harmful gases like carbon dioxide making the air we breathe healthier.”

It’s a basic biology lesson that we learned in elementary school: Through a process called photosynthesis, leaves pull in carbon dioxide and water and use the energy of the sun to convert this into chemical compounds such as sugars that feed the tree. As a by-product of that chemical reaction, oxygen is produced and released. “It is proposed that one large tree can provide a day’s supply of oxygen for up to four people.”

Trees also store carbon dioxide in their fibers helping to clean the air and reduce the negative effects that this CO2 could have had on our environment. According to the Arbor Day Foundation, “In one year, a mature tree will absorb more than 48 pounds of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and release oxygen in exchange.”

(The Power of One Tree — The Very Air We Breathe by Joanna Mounce Stancil, U.S. Forest Service).

Based on the research (that is being disputed) of Suzanne Simard, professor of Forest Ecology, University of British Columbia, and Ferris Jabr’s article, “The Social Life of Forests,” trees appear to communicate and cooperate through subterranean networks of fungi. What are they sharing with one another?” The article states that “an old growth forest is neither an assemblage of stoic organisms tolerating one another’s presence nor a merciless battle royale. It’s a vast, ancient and intricate society.”

Simard believes that “these trees are very perceptive.” She says, “Very perceptive of who’s growing around them.” And she is really interested in whether they perceive us. Simard explains that “trees sense nearby plants and animals and alter their behavior accordingly, such as plant roots growing toward the sound of running water and flowers increasing the sweetness of their nectar when they detect a bee’s wing beat.”

Simard studies the way trees exchange carbon, water and nutrients through underground networks of fungi (wood-wide web hypothesis). “There is conflict in a forest but there is also negotiation, reciprocity and perhaps even selflessness. The trees, understory plants, fungi and microbes in a forest are so thoroughly connected, communicative and codependent that some scientists have described them as super organisms.” In the book “The Secret Lives of Trees,” author Peter Wohlleben writes that “trees optimally divide nutrients and water among themselves, that they probably enjoy the feeling of fungi merging with their roots and that they even possess ‘maternal instincts.’”

Simard is in search of “mother trees.” Large, older trees that help keep other small younger trees healthy. Her research on mycorrhizal networks (subterranean networks of fungi) is changing the way we think about forests and forestry. “Everything is connected. Absolutely everything,” she says.

Recently, however, Simard’s findings have been disputed by other Scientists such as Dr. Flynn, biology professor at Baldwin Wallace University.

“Most experts,” Dr. Flinn wrote, “believe that groups of organisms whose members sacrifice their own interests on behalf of the community rarely evolve, a result of the powerful force of natural selection among competing individuals.” Instead, she suspects, fungi most likely distribute carbon according to their own interests, not those of trees.

However, according the the U.S. Forest Service, there is proof that fungi play an important role in the lives of trees and plants by forming a mutualistic symbioses with host plant roots, increasing plant water and nutrient uptake in exchange for carbon. They can reduce or eliminate plant species and cause gaps in the forest canopy that may increase plant species diversity, and they recycle carbon, minerals and nutrients for use by other organisms, and contribute to the soil matrix physical properties. Not to mention being a wildlife food source. I still like to believe that even though fungi may be competitive, it ends up benefitting the forest as a whole.

https://apps.fs.usda.gov/

“Trees have always been a symbol of connection,” writes Jabr. However, there is now a material reality. “Wherever living things emerge, they find one another, mingle and meld,” he writes. And in one of the best lines I have heard in a great while, Jabr expresses at the end of his excellent article (New York Times): “There are no individuals. There aren’t even separate species. Everything in the forest is the forest.”

So, the next time you head to the woods for a psychological and physiological healing stroll through the woods, make sure you are in a present mindset. Look around and take in all of the benefits that nature, and especially trees, have to offer.

As I am re-writing this, I am recovering from an acquired flu-like illness — of the many that are lurking around town. Hopefully, the year 2024 will be the year of healing and I can’t think of a better way to heal than to breathe in a breath of fresh air while absorbing all of the magnificence of our beautiful mountains and our resplendent trees.

"And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul. — John Muir

Horseback Riding the White Mountain Trails System

Mon, 22 Jan 2024 19:16:31 GMT

Juniper Ridge: Short Loop

Photos & text by Allanna Jackson

Friday, December 29, 2023 was unseasonably warm and sunny with a light breeze. Perfect weather for a trail ride. I trailered Cinnamon to the Juniper Ridge trailhead beside Farnsworth Ranch Road. The western trails in the White Mountain Trail System have sandy soil and direct sunlight so they dry out faster than the central and eastern trails.

Someone else had the same idea. A truck and horse trailer were parked at the trailhead when I arrived just as a pair of riders were returning. Three domestic horses watched each other curiously. We humans said a brief hello and returned our attention to our horses. While they prepared for their trip home, I saddled Cinnamon for my ride.

Cinnamon was a little sluggish and worried starting out. I couldn’t tell why. She’s been out here before. It’s about three-quarters of a mile from this trailhead to the loop trail. The ecological mosaic left by the Rodeo-Chediski fire is evident here. The trailhead is shaded by Ponderosa Pines that survived the fire but leaving the parking area, the trail immediately enters a burn scar that has recovered with oaks, junipers, manzanita, and a few new pines. The trail angles down into, across, and out of a small wash which has Ponderosa on its banks. The trail crosses a road to the fence corner where the Forest land abuts private property just before the J2 (J)uniper Ridge white diamond trail marker. It follows the fence through another patch of undamaged pines for about a quarter mile before meeting the loop portion of the trail just before J4 marker.

At the junction we turned right at a sign to Lewis Canyon Campground. The trail is quite sandy as it goes through a pine-shaded meadow to Pinedale Road/Forest Road (FR) 130 opposite the entrance to Lewis Canyon Campground. There was a traffic barricade and “road closed” sign across the campground road with a smaller hand-lettered sign saying the outhouses were closed. Trail markers J5 and J6 are on the campground road going to the Juniper Ridge/General Crook Connector Trailhead at the southwestern corner of the campground. Cinnamon perked up and relaxed when we turned left toward the J7 marker after passing General Crook Connector marker GC1 on the right.

From J7 to J9 the trail wanders across hills that reveal the erratic nature of wildfire. Climbing up the hill from J7 to J8 is undamaged ponderosa pine forest. The hills between J8 and J9 burned and have recovered as oak, juniper, and manzanita, with a few young pine trees growing between the fallen remnants of their ancestors. After paralleling FR 130 for half a mile or so the trail enters another patch of undamaged Pines at J9, turns left, crosses FR 130 again and goes through more pines before emerging into a meadow at J10.

The trail follows a little power line briefly before abruptly turning left to cross Mortenson Wash. Cinnamon slowed to carefully navigate the tricky footing of the round, smooth, hoof-sized, river rocks. She paused at the edge of the deepest spot of the wash and inspected the route up to J11. The wash was dry. After studying the situation Cinnamon continued confidently across and up the hill to the horse gate near J12.

When we reached the gate Cinnamon poked it with her nose, but it had fallen off its hinges so she couldn’t help me with it. I dismounted and lifted, dragged, and pushed the gate open, then led Cinnamon through. She very neatly stepped over the bottom bar and stood groundtied perfectly while I pushed and dragged the gate closed. That’s when I discovered I’d failed to bring horse cookies. Cinnamon gave me a reproachful look as I praised her and mounted.

From the gate we climbed the hill up to J13. I consider this the most interesting portion of the short loop. The bright green manzanita leaves made a beautiful contrast with the orange-red rocks of the hill. Cinnamon huffed and puffed her way to the top.

Between J13 and J14 the trail follows the shoulder of the ridge with panoramic views of the surrounding canyons with hills on three sides. We followed the trail as it began its descent to J14 where the Short Cut Trail turns left to J50 and the main trail turns right to J15.

The Juniper Ridge Short Cut is about a mile long, counting down from J50 to J47, before converging with the main trail again at J43. The Short Cut can’t decide whether it’s a trail, a water course, or a meander through the manzanita. The route crosses a couple of hills and washes that are covered with manzanita and oak before climbing up into another undamaged patch of Ponderosa Pines before rejoining the main trail. We turned left at a sign that directed us to the “trailhead."

Between J43 and J44 Cinnamon abruptly stopped and stood at full alert as a herd of four or five horses trotted and loped across the trail in front of us on a well-worn path of their own. Part way up the slope to our right they stopped to stare at us staring at them. One of them blew loudly — the equine “Danger!” signal. Cinnamon stood silently, unperturbed by their warning.

Sighting these free-roaming horses turned my thoughts to the emotionally charged, ecological, political, and economic conundrums and absurdities we humans have created for ourselves with our categorizations, demonizations, idolizations, and mythologizing about horses. Cinnamon is a registered horse. Breeds have been developed for specific traits so registration does add value, but many domestic horses are not registered and domesticated mustangs make excellent trail horses. What is the difference between domestic, wild, feral, unauthorized, wanted, and unwanted horses except the circumstances of their birth and management? The lives of all of the horses at marker J43 on Dec 29 were influenced by the Rodeo-Chediski Fire 21 years ago. The herd staring at Cinnamon, and the other free-roaming horses in Pinedale, Linden, and Show Low, are undoubtedly descendants of horses that were displaced by the fire. Twenty miles away, in Lakeside, Cinnamon was only 5 weeks old when she had her first trailer ride to evacuate from the fire.

Cinnamon and I continued down the trail through a steep but small wash near J44 to the next gate. This gate was in good condition so Cinnamon happily helped me open and close it, and again let me know she was disappointed I’d forgotten her cookies. She picked her way carefully across Mortenson Wash again and we followed the little powerline back to J46 where we met marker J3 along the private property fence and backtracked our way to the trailhead in time to make it home before dark.

To reach the Juniper Ridge Trailhead off of Farnsworth Road, from Show Low take AZ State Route 260 towarad Heber-Overgaard, drive 9.9 miles until you reach Farnsworth Road (Old Highway 160) on the left. Follow Farnsworth Road two miles until you reach the Juniper Ridge Trailhead.

Setting Goals for 2024

Mon, 22 Jan 2024 19:09:22 GMT

Here's to being SMART this year...

Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

Happy New Year! Here’s to a new you, new goals and new opportunities…for a few days. Most of us have long ago given up on “New Year’s Resolutions” because we shoot too high, miss the mark, and give up by February.

I’ve been in education for a quarter of a century and have been bombarded with the most confusing and ridiculous acronyms. I probably need an acronym to be able to remember the acronyms, but there is one we’ve been taught that might be helpful in making it more possible to ensure our resolutions for the New Year stick.

SMART goals: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, Time-bound.

About three years ago, in February, I made myself this goal: “Do something STRAVA-worthy every day.” This goal was very Specific in that the activity I would do had to be something that would take enough effort to feel decent about posting online for others to see. It was Measurable because there was something posted each day to look back on. It was Achievable because I allowed myself to bike, hike, chop wood, exercise inside, or whatever. It was Relevant because studies show that we need at least 25 minutes of exercise per day, or 300 minutes per week of at least moderate physical activity. It was Time-bound because I required myself to do activities per day rather than one long activity at the end of a week.

Altogether, this was a successful goal and the next year I made it a little more specific by telling myself that I had to now make riding my bike a specific part of this goal —that I had to ride 100 miles indoors or outdoors and climb 5000 feet every week along with whatever other daily activities I had been doing. Again, very measurable but with enough flexibility that it was achievable. Three years later and I am still chasing and achieving this same goal. Maybe it’s time for an upgrade!

Be Specific: What are you trying to accomplish?

Are you wanting to get into shape for a specific event? Are you wanting to lose a certain number of pounds? Do you want to lower your resting heart rate? Do you want to explore every trail in a 20 mile radius? Do you want to be able to join group rides in the spring and be able to keep up without trouble? Decide what you want to accomplish and make it something you care about enough to focus on. Choosing goals like “I want to get in shape” are too nebulous to get a grip on and are easily pushed aside in the confusion of daily life.

Measurable: What technique can you use to keep yourself accountable? I am very good at trying to talk myself out of doing something I really don’t feel like doing, and having a concrete indicator that the thing I didn’t want to do was done, is a great way to get myself motivated. The best measuring tool I have found is the STRAVA app, but there are a lot of ways to keep track of your progress. I like the STRAVA app because it gives me recorded time and/or distance for nearly every exercise activity. You can record walking, hiking, biking, kayaking, cross-training (it’s what I used for wood-splitting and gardening), skiing, gym or indoor cycling, virtually whatever gets you moving. It allows you to post pictures of the activity you are doing so it motivates you to do something interesting. It also makes you accountable to friends and family who ‘follow’ you on the app. No wiggling out of a day or cheating, you have to do it! This is the definition of Measurable.

Achievable: Think about the goal you want to set for yourself. Yes, you can do anything you set your mind to, but are you really going to set your mind to achieving this goal? I can say I want to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro like Margureite and Rick, but am I really going to train, get the equipment, buy plane tickets and do this thing? Probably not. Do I really want to take the time to ride a million miles on my bike this year? That’s like 300,000 miles a day so that’s a hard no. You aren’t going to give up eating your favorite food for a year because the first time that you break down and eat that food, you are done and feel like a failure — so think before you goal-set.

Choose something you know you can actually do, so that you will be motivated to do it. Good examples might be something like the goal I discussed and choosing a number of activities per week or miles per week that you will have time to accomplish.

If you want to lose weight, choose a reasonable number of pounds to have lost by the end of each month (1-2) and record it. If you want to begin a new complex event, focus on one part at a time and reach out for support from like-minded people. Small achievable steps are much more effective than huge unachievable leaps.

Relevant: Make sure your goal is your goal and something you want for yourself. Having a workout “

partner is motivating, but your goals need to be your own. Do you really want to benchpress 200 pounds by the end of the year like your friend does? No? Then choose something else that you can do while the other person chases their own goals.

Maybe you want to ride a certain number of miles on local single-track and your friends invite you to go ride downhill trails at Sunrise. You turn out to be a miserable failure at the more technical trails and feel like you might as well give up on your goal. Is it relevant that you couldn’t ride those trails? No, your goal was different and you can do that one, so keep on keeping on.

Maybe you choose the goal of giving up chocolate for a year but in reality you hate chocolate so you really aren’t accomplishing anything. Maybe you have always wanted to learn piano. Get a piano and a tutor, set aside a time frame for practice and do it. Choose something with meaning to your life.

Time-bound: You need to set an end date and periodic checkpoints along the way. If you allow yourself a vague ending date, you will be able to talk yourself out of completing the task. I began with requiring myself to do a daily activity. That was pretty easy but still something that I could potentially talk myself into by letting me do two activities on one day and nothing the next. I had to be strict time-wise, because then three activities could count for three days and pretty soon the goal would become irrelevant. At least one per day. No wiggle room!

When I moved on to adding the 100-miles-per-week condition, I could do 20 miles each day for five days or 25 miles in four days, giving more flexibility but still accountability by Sunday night. If I’m at 96 miles by the end of the week, I make myself do the extra four before going to bed. No wiggle room!

I made a goal this year of finishing 100+ miles on my single-speed bike in a December race event. A year of persistence, dedication and focus on the race date paid off with a podium finish.

Choose specific accountability dates/times and stick to them. You want to learn guitar? Sign up for a class and do the homework. Taking a class automatically sets time-bound limits on you and requires accountability. Letting yourself slide week after a week causes goal failure and lets you cheat yourself. Don’t let anyone cheat you, including you.

So, this year let’s all be SMART . This year let’s all get something done that we want to do. Whether its summiting Mt. Kilimanjaro, bike-camping across the state, starting a new business, hammock camping for the first time, helping a talented young athlete get a start or just successfully making it through the year without injury, make goals and work towards them. Mile by mile, day by day, incremental progress by incremental progress, your goals can be achieved!

Simple Joys: A memory

Mon, 22 Jan 2024 18:57:42 GMT

Thoughts of winters past

Annemarie Eveland

Winter snow storms came in like a lion. Dumping almost six inches and turning a townscape into a white silent wilderness. Suddenly everything stood still. It transformed everything it touched. The fire hydrants wore thick white stocking caps. Rooftops groaned under the frozen blankets of white. The streets were silent except for the soft whispers of the falling snow flecks that floated gently down from the equally white covered skies.

There were no walkers around Green Valley Lake. No autos were moving in that early morning where my out-breath sent clouds of mist into the air.

The only sound I heard when I took that morning walk was the occasional thump as a clump of snow fell off the heavily laden tree branches. To be truthful, it was my faithful friend, my doggie, that got me bundled up like a stuffed something to take him out. Dogs are very smart, you know.

I was glad he did. For the morning had not yet dawned but the street lights shone brightly, revealing scintillating and twinkling tiny silver-white specks falling to the ground. We walked in silence, not wanting to shatter the breathtaking view with any unnecessary sound. I looked down at my black companion now prancing through the drifts and getting spattered quietly with snowflakes. He shook them off from time to time and I noticed his short legs made his belly skim on the snow but they disappeared with each step he made. But neither of us minded.

Our feet crunched past the boat dock, now frozen, with one lone boat tied to a post. Launching was impossible for today with snow packed in it and ice forming on the water surfaces.

I thought of my scientific-minded friend and that, if he was on our walk, he might be saying something like, “You realize that snow is really little water vapors that freeze into tiny crystals high up in the sky in the cloud cover and then attach to each other, descending and turning into snowflakes. Even though snow and ice are made of the same stuff, snow is composed of crystals with regular shapes and the ice forms as solid chunks or sheets of ice. It’s all about how the water freezes into its form.” And, he would add, that snow isn’t white even though it appears that way to our eyes. It is colorless and appears as white from any and every tiny reflection from the sun.

Well, that would be enough to zone me out. I like the understanding that came back to me from the little children and their new, fresh, non-analytical way of experiencing snow instead of identifying it.

We continued our walk and saw many families beginning to arrive with their kids dragging their new toboggans uphill. Then, taking respectful turns, they slid downhill, giggling and squealing with delight. The onlookers cheered too, as if they were party to the planning of the activity.

I paused and looked at a family introducing their toddler son to the magic called snow. In front of our town’s Christmas scene lights, they had helped him erect his very first snowman. Certainly, a moment to remember. With an approving nod from his parents — snap, snap — I took his photo. He laughed. I thought this was a profound moment but he added frivolity.

Somehow, this little boy creature stirred memories for me — of snowball fights, bigger snowmen (and women, yes, appropriately proportioned) and nostalgic Christmas carols and bedtime story tales.

I’ll admit I had become curious about the nature of snow — and the amounts of snow falling. So, later, from the internet, I learned that the most snow recorded in one year was 2,334 inches on Mount Rainier in Washington state. And the world’s largest snowflake was measured at Fort Keogh, Montana on January 28, 1887. It was measured at 15 inches across and 8 inches thick and did indeed make the Guinness Book of Records. And that was enough research for one day, I thought.

As we left the snowbound lake to the energetic young ones, I ruminated: The walk was well worth it today. I scooped up a fist full of snow and let it fly. Felt good to be a kid again.

The Quiet Between the Years

Mon, 22 Jan 2024 18:52:19 GMT

The time of year to do nothing...

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

It was the quiet time between Christmas and New Year’s. I had finished my morning walk for the day in the dark. It was cold. It was windy. This is the time of year when I usually give myself the gift of time and begin work on business taxes. This year? I was stuck. Not motivated. I was lounging on the couch with the Duff, thinking about stuff. College bowl games. Laundry. Snoozing a bit. You know that time. Spacing out and reveling in it.

As I thought about the upcoming year, I felt weary. I kept reading about other people’s ambitious goals. (Hibernation sounded good.) Instead, I looked back over the past year, seeing what the high points were. Checking out the low ones. Deciding what I wanted to change. I’m here to tell you, that walk down memory lane was a time of sorting and tossing. Discarding and modifying. When I got to my taxes, it was the same process.

Let me share how this went. I started with:

What worked last year?

• Top of the list was my morning ritual of a walk and cup of tea, followed by brushing out the Duff’s coat. This calmed my mind and set the tone for the day.

• Making a schedule… and sticking to it. It relieved my mind of remembering all those tasks over and over.

• Expanding my mind: taking writing classes, studying about topics related to my clients, applying what I learned to my life. So many positives.

What didn’t work?

• Sleep procrastination.. When my evening phone alarm went off, I ignored it. Much more fun to play around. Read yet another chapter. Finish those “important tasks.” Bleary-eyed, I paid dearly for this the next day.

• Did I mention buying too many books?

What was fun?

• So much! Playing with the Duff. Knitting while watching sports. Buying rubber ducks to play Duck, Duck, Jeep! (And imagining the surprise of a driver when I left it in their door handle.) Getting together with friends to have deep conversations. Christmas lights throughout town.

What wasn’t fun?

• Cleaning out my garage. By the time I got to it, the job felt like a huge mountain to me, impossible to climb. I kept prioritizing something else, like sorting my sock drawer, over chipping away at the challenge.

What’s next?

During this lazy time, I began to jot down where I wanted to be at the end of 2024.

• The positive. I started with the things that worked, figuring out if I wanted to continue them or not.. That answer was easy. Yes, indeed.

• The negative. I took a long look at sleep procrastination and asked what I was getting from this late-night delay cycle. Aha! There was a need for more breaks, more fun times during the day. Next? Make more trips to the library to meet my “book fix.”

• Expand fun? You bet. This year I am scanning the horizon for things that intrigue me. Delight me. Amaze me. I want to learn something new.

• A shift? Change my attitude about cleaning. Anything. My garage. My bedroom. The kitchen. The office. The more I buck the system, the worse it gets. Time for a reset.

After finishing, I felt a little boost of energy, like a log jam breaking up. I had a direction for the new year. I was unstuck! And you can be too.

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for MacDuff, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

Looking for the Lost Elderly

Thu, 28 Dec 2023 19:54:49 GMT

Navajo County Search and Rescue Volunteers searching for the elderly

Dan Groebner

The first call-out came at 1:41 pm on November 24. The third call-out was sent at 6:16 pm on December 5, just 12 days later. Three calls for missing elderly folks that required organized search missions in less than 2 weeks kept the Navajo County Sheriff’s Office and Show Low Police Department busy during this buildup to the holiday season. Down in the Valley, they may get this many calls in a single day, but at this time of the year in the White Mountains, exposure and hypothermia can be more dangerous than heat exhaustion.

It’s that time of year when we can have a lot of visitors to the White Mountains. Some of these folks are unfamiliar with the area and not always dressed for the conditions. Fortunately for local authorities, there are available dedicated and trained volunteers willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice and try to help their neighbors. The Navajo County Search and Rescue posse, as well as the White Mountain Sheriff’s posse and the Hashknife posse, all had members respond to one or all of these recent searches.

In Arizona, the local Sheriff’s office has the responsibility and ultimate authority to conduct searches, and often even coordinates with Tribal officials to assist on sovereign Tribal Lands. Each county has a Search and Rescue (SAR) coordinator within the Sheriff’s office responsible for coordinating search missions using deputies and other agencies, as well as volunteers. These officers all coordinate within a state-wide organization.

Unfortunately, many searches are unsuccessful in finding a live subject. Friends and family might be hesitant to involve official searches for fear of being charged or taking up valuable resources. County-organized searches never come with a bill for the lost folks, as much of the effort can be accomplished with volunteers. Mutual aid agreements with other agencies, such as the Department of Public Service, can relieve the pressure on local resources and make available some advanced technology that the County simply could not afford in its budget.

Thanks to a quick request for help in locating some lost elderly people lately, 2 of 3 lost folks were quickly located and brought home. Authorities are still looking for ? “Stoney” ?? from Chevelon Retreat. See ?? for more information.

So how were these individuals located so quickly? Family and friends initiated searches but quickly realized that they needed help so they called 911. On the latest mission, the Show Low Police Department conducted a “hasty” type search looking in all the obvious places and asking local businesses to announce a Silver Alert and page the missing people over their intercoms. Navajo County Search Coordinator Deputy Vince Palazzolo interviewed the missing person’s family and made the decision to call in the volunteer search posses.

About half of the calls that the Sheriff’s office receives are resolved through old-fashioned detective work, sometimes including a third or fourth search of a house, where the person is eventually found. Other times the deputies determine the person isn’t really missing or doesn’t want to be found and is in no danger.

After a thorough interview with the immediate family, including a description of the boots the subject was wearing, Deputy Palazzolo located the exact boot model at a local store, photographed the tread, and sent it to the search crews on the ground.

“Ground pounders” searching roads and trails along with K-9 teams were able to locate the same tracks in an area where a wandering elderly individual was reported by a local resident. The trackers focused their efforts in an area where the tracks reversed direction several times and wandered off into the woods. Ground surveyors calling out the missing person’s name eventually heard a response from them and were able to quickly extract the individual to Summitt Hospital.

In another recent search mission, the individual wandered away from a relative’s house in the middle of the night and fortunately found a warm home nearby to let themselves into, where they evidently spent most of the day until the homeowner returned after work to discover them. Search crews were canvassing the neighborhood knocking on doors, so residents were aware a person was missing and who to call if the subject was seen.

Search missions can involve many different strategies, depending on the situation. The Navajo County Search and Rescue Posse trains monthly, integrating certified K-9 teams who can find both live and deceased subjects. A drone team utilizes thermal and high-resolution cameras, when conditions allow, and all team members use 2-way radios and GPS to regularly report their position and any clues found.

The ground-pounding track teams are usually assigned to a specific search sector or segment, and often just engage in “purposeful wandering”, looking for clues such as cigarette butts, candy wrappers, and especially footprints. Former Border Control agents as well as other talented trackers have trained local searchers at the statewide SAR training convention held near Heber every 2 years.

Depending on the nature of the search, crews may have to be deployed immediately, in the dark or rain, especially with vulnerable individuals like the very young or old. Therefore, training must occur under these conditions also. Locating and following footprints on the ground through our ponderosa needle-carpeted forest is a skill constantly refined in the monthly training sessions. Tracking at night can actually be easier than during the day if your flashlight is held low to the ground so the beam shines across the tracks, highlighting details, instead of just into the tracks which washes out all the track details.

But trained searchers are not very effective if they are never called out, so the most common denominator of successful searches is a quick and timely call out of search crews. SAR personnel would much rather be notified early of a possible search and then have it called off, rather than waiting until it gets dark and late before 911 is called for help.

Another common factor in successful searches is public involvement with reporting possible sightings of the missing individuals. Navajo County’s Silver Alert broadcast to area cell phones made people aware of the missing folks but the residents who actually took the time to report the wandering elderly people had a part in saving their life possibly.

Too many times, family and friends delay their request for help because they think they can find the missing person themselves, sometimes even making a search more difficult in the dark looking for tracks that have already been trampled on and destroyed by family searchers. Inaccurate or incomplete information about the missing person, including places that they frequent, and not having a current photo can also hamper efforts for a quick resolution.

The excitement and chaos of everyday life, much less the holiday season, can create challenges in keeping track of some elderly folks who are living with dementia and Alzheimer’s disease, which can cause disorientation and wandering in people. Fortunately, modern technology today can help avoid the tragic consequences by keeping track of the important people in our lives with a simple wristwatch device using cellular networks to keep track of loved ones. Prices range from less than $100 to under $300 for units with more features. Cell phone apps are also available, such as Life360 or Bark, among many others.

For those of us with serious orientation issues still pending, we can increase the chances of being found if we get turned around in the woods and the rest of the world isn’t where we think it should be. Being prepared for a worst-case weather scenario can buy you lots of time for SAR crews to find you, which means carrying extra clothes, rain gear, a fire starter, extra water or a filter, a signaling device, and a basic first aid kit.

If you want to hike and recreate in the White Mountains with the least amount of stress and anxiety, make sure you tell someone where you are going and when you will return. That way you will have peace of mind that even if something bad happens, it won’t take long for help to arrive.

The most important thing you can do if you think someone is missing is to call 911 and let trained professionals help you figure it out. Don’t worry about asking people to help you in your time of need. The volunteers who respond to search requests are paid back many times over by the appreciative words and thoughts often expressed by family members of the lost.

For more information on the Navajo County Search and Rescue, Inc. posse see: https://www.navajocountysar.org/ or on Facebook at NCSAR .

Keeping It Alive

Thu, 28 Dec 2023 19:49:10 GMT

Sustainable Growing on the Mountain with Meadowlark Farms

Jen Rinaldi

Our Mountain holds many secrets to those who listen. Native Americans who called this land their home were aware of the various food sources and could survive instep with nature. We have manzanita bushes and their berries, which hold medicinal properties; we have pinion trees, which shed their nuts, which are nuts that can help prevent heart disease. And, of course, our forest is a perfect home to mushrooms.

For the past three years, Meadowlark Farms has grown mushrooms, microgreens, and other products. When I asked Nicole Peters one of the owners about mushrooms and why her family decided to grow them, her answer was simple. Nutrition and sustainability.

Market gardening is where we started, Nicole says. "The market gardening principles helped us recognize how valuable food production on a small scale can be. Three years ago, when my husband retired, we launched ourselves into the world of sustainability. We learned about cultivating gourmet mushrooms on a small scale, 50 -100 a week. We decided to make gourmet mushrooms our main product from our small operation, and It's been an enormous success."

"From liquid culture to grain spawn, we inoculate sterilized wood substrate. 4-6 weeks later, we harvest a high-quality protein low in calories and high in all the minerals we need to be healthy. All in a small 2000 square feet space. Once composted, our wood ‘waste’ becomes soil for our gardens. It's a full-circle operation we're proud to call ours."

The mushrooms grow on a wood substrate that they make themselves. Sterilwood lab work involved. They buy the cultures from Petrie dishes to the liquid culture. They would work with other farms, keeping with the industry's best practices.

Keeping it alive! is the mantra of mushroom growers. Nicole adds, "Mushrooms are a really unique thing. They are forgiving and have power and energy. They always grow. We grow them in a tent on oak and pine substrate. Their four kids help with folding the substrate bags during sterilization and filling the fogger." Nicole is learning from Dan, her husband. They are in love with the process of growing. Oyster mushrooms 4-5 weeks. Lions mane 6-8 weeks temperature driven. 65 degrees, some hotter, some cooler. "Our mountains are perfect for them and very sustainable. Mushrooms take longer to grow in a colder climate pattern but grow better when it is cooler. Trycaderma is a fertilizer for wood that has been contaminated and can be used in their garden with very little waste. Meadowlark farms have found species originating from the wild that work here in our climate. Oyster mushrooms grow in nature. Nicole sees a more sustainable way of life in the future. "I want my own forest, a food forest," Nicole says. A food forest focuses on places that grow food in a way that mimics a forest ecosystem.

Types of mushrooms grown are:

Oyster

Lionsmane

Sithaake

Bears head

Chestnut

We still produce vegetables in season.

Now, we run a year-round farmers market in the Buffalo Bill's Tavern and Museum.

It's held Every Saturday from 8 AM to 12 PM.

Get in touch for the date of our annual one-day gardening class.

Every March in the Show low area. The date and location TBD.

Meadowlark Farms

Instagram: Meadowlarkfarmsaz

Facebook: Meadowlarkfarms

Dawn, Dusk, and the Time In-between

Thu, 28 Dec 2023 19:42:26 GMT

Hiking and Birding Around Woodland Lake Reservoir

ARTICLE & PHOTOS BY ROB BETTASO

In the predawn darkness, I’m scraping frost from my truck’s windshield and listening to the honking of geese on the shores of nearby Rainbow Lake. I finish the windshield and move to the side windows, then the back, and then conclude my efforts by clearing the side-view mirrors. Safety first, doncha’ know. By the time I take my seat and start the engine, I see that it is 30 minutes till sunrise. Putting the truck into gear, I crunch the gravel on my driveway and begin the short drive to Woodland Lake. I park just off “Deadman’s Curve” in the dirt lot; my truck is the only vehicle there. When I open my door I can hear geese again; presumably different geese than Rainbow’s honkers.

I do a quick inventory of my gear: GPS, check; camera, check; binos, check. I step outside the truck and decide that I will leave my headlamp behind and also my water (only after first taking a long drink; why carry water in a pack, when I can carry it in my stomach). Speaking of packs, no need for that either, as I doubt things will warm up enough to allow me to shed any layers. I start the short walk up the gentle hill in the faint morning light and make it to the shoreline trail with not long to go before sunrise. My project for the day has begun.

And what is my project, you ask? Well, today, a calm day late in autumn, I plan to hike 10 miles around Woodland Reservoir in a series of shifts: 3 laps (which will be slightly more than 3 miles) starting just prior to sunrise; later, 3 laps during the midday; and, later still, 4 laps in the late afternoon and early evening. I will finish my last lap after sunset, and will probably return to my truck shortly after darkness falls. In between each of my 3 sets of laps, I will engage in the typical activities of one of my in-town days, which is to say, I’ll run errands; attend to tedious chores; read; watch TV; and eat, drink, and be merry.

Your next question, perhaps, is why, exactly, am I embarking on such an odd little plan to walk around Woodland Lake 10 times? Would it do to answer: Because it is there? Probably not; first of all, most people will probably recognize that line as being the words of the great mountain climber George Mallory, who had something significantly more substantial in mind (namely, Mount Everest) when he uttered that famous phrase. To be sure, a stroll around Woodland Lake, even one consisting of 10 laps, is child’s play compared to scaling any peak in the Himalayas, let alone Everest. Nonetheless, I sometimes like to have a goal, and 10 miles around Woodland seemed as good as any, especially since Woodland is so close to my home; given that my plan involves doing the 10 miles in 3 separate installments.

There is a second reason for my choosing to walk laps around Woodland; namely, I’ve been nursing a sore knee for the past week and yesterday, my recovering knee felt fairly strong hiking along a local trail, except that every time I had to hike down a significant grade I would feel an occasional twinge of pain. So, today, I’m going to test it by doing a reasonably long walk on very level ground (the Woodland Lake trail not only does not ascend or descend any grades, it is also paved and therefore there are no sudden dips in the trail that might cause me to move my knee in such a way that could cause a setback in my recovery). Additionally, should I decide at any point during my project that my knee is beginning to act up, well, I can simply abandon the whole idea and save the hike for another day.

When I reach the southwestern portion of the lake there is nobody visible in any direction. This is surprising to me, given how many people I usually see here in the early morning, but then again, it’s quite brisk and still several minutes until sunrise. I pull my GPS from my pocket and reset the odometer to zero because I’ve heard varying estimates for the distance around the lake ranging from 1 mile to 1.25 miles, and I want to see how closely my GPS compares. Next, I draw up my binos and begin to scan the lake to see what birds are on the water and along the shores. In the dim light, it is nonetheless easy to make out the 3 most common species: the ever-present coots, Mallards, and Canada Geese. Less common, but still abundant, are American Widgeons, Gadwalls, and Ring-necked Ducks. There are other waterfowl species present but I can’t quite make them out yet. I know I will have a better look at them soon enough. I enjoy the tranquil mood for a few moments and then begin my first lap, taking precise note of my starting point and marking it with an unobtrusive rock cairn.

I walk a minute or so and then remember that I want to start and end each of my 3 shifts by taking a photograph across the lake. I do so, and then continue on my way, enjoying the squeaky-toy vocalizations of the widgeons as they float along on the lake’s surface. Many of the ducks seem cold; their bills wedged into their back feathers. Then again, duck-down is an incredibly warm insulator, and given that the temps are probably not much below freezing, I can’t imagine that they are actually all that chilly. Perhaps it is just their rubbery bill that is susceptible to the cold, so they tuck it into their feathers like we might tuck frigid, gloveless hands into our pant pockets when we are warm everywhere else on our body.

Now that I’m thinking about the cold, I realize that I have neglected to bring a scarf and that my face is getting slightly numb. Luckily, I have a bandana and tie it up Jesse James style to help warm my face. I also pick up my pace and am soon passing the enormous python that folks have been making by placing decorated rocks, one after another, along the edge of the paved walkway. I visit Woodland frequently enough that I’m quite familiar with the snake’s rapid “growth,” but it is always fun to see what new artwork adorns the serpent’s latest rock segments. I wonder if eventually this snake might do like the enormous python of ancient Egyptian lore and find itself eating its own tail. My thoughts turn to us humans, and our irrepressible need to create; to cry out and be noticed. It’s just part of the genome I suppose, and many of us seem very susceptible to it: as exemplified by Egyptian mythology, the artsy rock python that lies at my feet, or even the featherweight article I am writing now in an attempt to describe something as commonplace as a morning walk.

I hike quickly for a while but eventually stop to watch the ducks that are now becoming easier to see in the developing light. At a distance, a small flock of Buffleheads are readily identifiable by their small size and strikingly simple black and white plumage (especially in the males). One might consider these little ducks our local version of penguins; though, other than their dichromatic feather pattern, they really are not very similar.

Absorbed as I am in watching ducks, I’m startled when I suddenly become aware of the sound of footfalls and turn to see a jogger coming my way. Actually, he is more of a runner, as he is moving swiftly and is as graceful as a deer. He has a mixed-breed, herding-type dog at his side, unleashed but well-trained, and the two pass me in silence. I note that unlike many a jogger, this runner is so comfortable in his efforts that his face is serene; and does not possess the anguished look of so many joggers who struggle along in a tortured gait.

I continue along my way and remember back to my youth, and how much I loved to run back in those days. But, despite being a good runner, I was utterly inept when it came to team sports. I had undiagnosed myopia and when I played any game that involved a ball, especially baseball, I was invariably slow to react to the approaching ball and would generally bungle the catch or the hit. Sometimes the ball would even strike me as I fumbled with my mitt. Needless to say, I was typically the last kid picked for any team; often times with the team’s captain dejectedly stating: “Aww, we’re stuck with Bettaso.”

Speaking of sports, before long I have crossed the second bridge, this one the covered bridge at the inlet to the lake, and I am bearing down on the section of the trail where all the ball fields are -- including tennis courts and baseball diamonds. When I get to the baseball field nearest the walkway, I notice that far off, in center field, a worried mule deer is stotting along the outfield fence. Hopefully, he or she will realize that the only way out is back the way he or she had come.

By the time I reach the final parking lot of my first lap, there are a few cars parked there and I assume their owners will eventually become evident somewhere along the trail. The weather has not changed much in the 30 or so minutes that I’ve been walking but I’m quite comfortable and see no reason to take a detour to my truck in the most distant parking lot. I forge on ahead and when I get to the uncovered bridge (a genuinely impressive bit of construction, being both functional and aesthetically pleasing) I notice that the frost that had been on the wooden planks earlier has now melted off. I note also that the two eagles that had been perched in one of their usual snags during my first lap are now gone. Yes, there are more and more people beginning to arrive. Woodland Lake is always one of the most popular destinations in Pinetop.

My second and third laps pass as quickly and effortlessly as the first, with many an interesting bit of natural history to observe. Additionally, people-watching is beginning to become a vivid part of my experience as I conclude my first shift at the Park. In next month’s article, I will complete the tale of my 10-mile day at Woodland Lake (oops, did I blow the suspense; well, the real story is not whether I achieved my goal, but rather, what I learned along the way). So, please stay tuned and I will “see” you again in the January edition of Outdoors Southwest.

Horseback Riding the Ice Cave Trail

Thu, 28 Dec 2023 19:37:25 GMT

Winter Trail Riding with Cinnamon

The stormy weekends the White Mountains had for Thanksgiving and the first weekend of December interfered with my notions about trail riding someplace different. I’m not going to complain about receiving a little much-needed rain and snow!

Saturday, Dec. 2nd dawned with a light covering of snow on the ground, sub-freezing temperatures, and clear skies. It looked like Cinnamon and I might be able to sneak in a morning trail ride on a trail close to home before the snow melted into mud. I took a walk myself while Cinnamon ate breakfast.

It was late morning by the time I saddled Cinnamon and we set off for the Ice Cave. Good stewardship of trails involves staying on the trail and hiking or riding only on durable surfaces. But what’s a durable surface? Here in the White Mountains, the dirt trails are a durable surface when they are dry, but when those same trails are muddy they are extremely fragile and very easily damaged. Furthermore, our clay soil changes from hard-as-concrete to a sticky, soupy mud bog very quickly. Snow counts as a “durable” surface when it’s thick enough to protect the trail because it erases all the user tracks when it melts off. But melting snow creates mud. How much snow does it take to make the trail usable? That depends on the temperature since a frozen trail is more durable, but it’s more comfortable being outdoors when the temperature is above freezing. Add it all up and it’s challenging for trail users to figure out when the trail has made that abrupt transition from being dry enough to be durable to being too muddy to use.

The Ice Cave trail was still mostly covered with about half an inch of snow when Cinnamon and I set off, though in the sunny areas the snow was already melting, adding to the thin trace of mud created by the trace of rain we had before the snow. Cinnamon’s boots were leaving only tracks in the snow. We stuck to the most heavily compacted trail where a thin layer of mud was just beginning to form in the sunniest spots. Cinnamon’s boot tracks were no deeper than they are in the dust when the trail is totally dry.

We crossed Porter Creek, then the spring feeding into it, and climbed the small hill between Scott Reservoir and the south fence line. Part of the way up the hill we met a woman and her dog crossing the trail as they picked their way in the snow. They continued across the snow toward the lake to get out of our way.

Cinnamon and I continued up the trail to the gate in the east fence of Scott Reservoir Recreation Area. The gate was standing wide open. As we approached the gate Cinnamon alerted to a couple of hikers with two dogs. They immediately caught the dogs. One of the dogs started barking at Cinnamon. The man held and reassured the dog and explained to me that she was a 4 -4-month-old puppy who had never seen a horse before. It was a large puppy! I was grateful when the hikers and dogs stepped well off the trail, staying mostly on the snow, to let us by.

I was pleased to see that Cinnamon’s boot had not collected any mud by the time we reached the gate. That quickly changed as we rounded the turn where the trail crosses a spring aftermarket IC6. That area is muddy even when the rest of the trail is dry so finding the most durable route is tricky any time. So we did the best we could but got muddy anyway.

The snow was melting in the sunny spots while it was still snowy in the shade. Cinnamon was a bit sluggish and getting slower. I generally let her pick her own speed through tricky sections of trail, but when she got so slow she tripped instead of stepping over a rock I informed her sleepwalking was not acceptable! I urged her a little faster and she woke up and paid better attention to where she was walking.

As we approached the Ice Cave I heard chainsaws in the distance but couldn’t tell if it was woodcutters or residents of the nearby neighborhood. We followed the official trail around to the right aftermarket IC9, then took the unmarked but heavily used loop in front of the Ice Cave. The cave had a little bit of snow around the edges but no icicles. The contrast of the black rock with the snow made the entrance look darker than usual.

Cinnamon perked up as we rounded the loop and turned toward home. The trail was already getting muddy, but there were tracks where some sort of OHV had crossed the trail on a logging route in the few minutes since we’d come the other direction. The green Dodge pickup truck that somebody abandoned in a logged clearing several months ago was still there with its two flat tires.

The sunny portions of the trail were getting muddier by the minute. The best we could do was stay on the marked route and continue back toward the trailhead. The shady spots were still snow-covered. Cinnamon and I had the trail to ourselves until we got back to Scott Reservoir. The recent storms have raised the water level in the lake. Someone was walking along the east shoreline, calling a dog who was about halfway between us and the hiker. The dog was far enough around the shore it didn’t matter.

Cinnamon and I had the trail to ourselves the rest of the way home. It was a pleasant ride on a nice sunny day. I was glad I’d opted to do my hiking and riding in the morning before the snow melted and the trails got too muddy to use.

The Best Gift

Thu, 28 Dec 2023 19:33:01 GMT

Gifts of unmeasurable value...

Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

What is the best gift you have ever gotten? A thing that has unmeasurable value and yet costs you nothing to get. A thing that keeps on giving and that truly comes with a lifetime guarantee. A thing that you share with others but with that sharing only increases its value. A thing that brings you joy, brings you gratitude, brings you frustration and loss, and brings you from beginning to end. This is a thing that is not for sale, nor for trade, and not something you have complete control over keeping long term, yet is the most valuable thing you have. What is this thing, and where do I buy one?

This thing is your life of course. This is a gift my parents gave me literally a lifetime ago, and taking good care of that gift has been a challenge, sometimes forgotten, sometimes taken for granted, but now appreciated and something I desire to hang onto for as long as possible. For me, one of the best life expansion packages I have ever gotten, besides my husband and kids, of course, is the introduction to cycling into my life; Mountain Biking specifically.

In our lives, we often get caught up in the living of our daily lives with jobs, kids, creating a home, and surviving day-to-day. I know that for me, the different chapters of my life, childhood, college, job, kids, empty nest, more work… all begin to blend together and feel like that time before… As we get older, and see the clock ticking along alarmingly, we begin to see that the time now is so incredibly important and valuable so here’s where mountain biking comes in for me.

What does cycling do for me?

Relaxation: Although it may seem counterintuitive, physical exertion is relaxing for me. I have always enjoyed hiking, splitting wood, yard work, etc and mountain biking is an extension of that. Being outdoors, moving through the woods on a trail snaking through trees, and across meadows is a great way to live in the now. Worries melt away as you focus on what the trail is doing, how the muscles in your legs are moving, and how the air moving across your skin feels. Focusing on riding safely and smoothly lets your brain relax and clears the mind. Letting yourself follow some random game trail to see where it leads is a great way to let yourself drift back into childhood and the excitement of exploration.

Fitness: I am in close to the best shape I have been in decades largely thanks to cycling. I’m a firm believer in the saying “A body in motion stays in motion” and my answer to just about any complaint is to ride a bike. Your joints hurt? Start peddling, and as your mind relaxes and starts to focus on the mental part of cycling, the pain seems to melt away. You have a headache or had a bad day? Just peddle. You are worried about a problem at work? Peddle it away, and often a solution appears somewhere along the trail. Too tired after work to ride? Ride anyway and just see how a new day is born as if the old one never happened. Burn energy to get energy. If you can’t ride outside, ride inside, but keep on moving.

Friendships and Community: I’ve never been a very good friend-maker, somehow my preference for hiking alone outdoors never really led to having like-minded friends (who were also enjoying hiking elsewhere outdoors, imagine that!). I never really fit in with the make-up, heels, and shopping crowd and never really felt like hiking counted as a sport so I didn’t fit in with the athletic crowd either. Becoming part of the mountain biking community here in the White Mountains gives me a chance to get out with others, enjoying an activity that all of us love. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we need to focus on the trail and ride together, silently, somewhat alone in our focus, but together as a group. We understand each other and appreciate each other’s strengths and support each other’s growth. We celebrate each other’s life triumphs and support each other in difficult times. We understand looking like a sausage in a chamois, having helmet hair, and licking dirt off the spout of a water bottle. Friends, thanks for letting me get to know you!

Learning and growth: I now know I am never too old to learn something new and chasing new knowledge adds excitement and anticipation to my life journey. Who would have thought that at 60 I’d be riding a mountain bike on singletrack trails? 10 years ago I thought that a dropper was something to dispense food coloring and that a saddle only went on a horse. Letting myself learn something new is great for my brain and keeps me challenged. Trying new challenges and eventually conquering obstacles one at a time helps with feelings of accomplishment and willingness to try the next new thing.

Feeling “worth it”: Surprisingly, the age demographic of mountain bikers is higher than one would imagine from seeing YouTube videos of 20-somethings careening down trails with a rooster-tail of dirt spraying from the rear tire. Now that we have two kids successfully on their own, the house paid off, and multiple jobs between us, we can begin to think about taking care of US. You cannot buy skill, but a good mountain bike, appropriate for the trail, can help you achieve your goals more quickly and with more safety than an older outdated model. 29’ wheels, 1x drive train, good shocks, and appropriate sizing are a joy to experience. I realize that I only have so many really strong mountain biking years left so why not enjoy it on a great bike? I came into mountain biking on an old 26” bike that was “good enough” for me, and it took a lot of convincing and mindset change to come to realize that “good enough” isn’t where I deserve to leave myself. I worked hard caring for others during those early life chapters and now it’s time to take care of this life I was given so long ago. Why not? Can’t take it with you, right?

Accomplishment: Growing up in the 60’s and 70’s as a middle-class girl, I never really felt like I was very important. Men did all the strong, intelligent, worthy things, and women…were women. Things have since changed, but being strong on my bike is fulfilling to me. I enjoy making goals and meeting challenges. I love being part of the women’s mountain biking Facebook group and seeing other women riding and loving the sport. I love supporting and cheering on our local women riders and really enjoy being able to keep up with local co-ed group rides. Around here, a rider is a rider; I neither see nor feel any sexism, ageism, or prejudice from anyone and feel a worthy member of the group. Feeling this strength through Mountain biking has given me more confidence and strength in other life and career situations.

Ice cream, good chocolate, and tacos: Wait, what? Getting all philosophical and you bring up tacos? Well yeah! What’s life without good food and what’s good food without calories? Cycling burns calories and burning calories lets me eat good food without turning into a pumpkin. After I enjoy tacos for dinner, I ride my trainer a taco’s-worth of miles. If I burn a bowl-of-ice cream worth of calories, then there’s the reward before bed. I make special trail cookies, only allowed to be consumed on the trail (see recipe below), so there’s a motivation to get up and ride. Too often older people, women especially, limit food intake to watch their weight, and as a result forego the enjoyment of treats and lose muscle tone and nutrition. My theory is as long as you burn it, eat it, so get out there and peddle! Yum…ice cream.

Thank you: Thank you to my parents for giving me the gift of life. Thank you to my husband for giving me love in my life. Thank you to my kids for giving me a purpose in life. Thank you to friends who understand me and make my life better. Thank you to Cycling for renewing the love, purpose, and excitement in my life during this next chapter. Thank you to ice cream for being so delicious. Keep on peddling! Lots of trail time to be had.

Trail cookies: Warning calories expended must equal or exceed calories consumed! (no idea how many calories per cookie, but it’s a lot lol)

Mix:

½ c butter, softened

¼ c each: white sugar, brown sugar, maple syrup

1 tsp vanilla

1 egg, slightly beaten

¾ c flour

½ tsp baking soda and ½ tsp salt

¾ c normal (not quick) oats

½ c each: dark chocolate chunks, chopped walnuts, chopped pecans, Craisins

Form into granola bar-sized bars and bake at 375 for 10-11 min.

Store in separate snack-size zip-loc bags and freeze until that next ride.

Hiking is Safer than Easting, Data Shows

Thu, 28 Dec 2023 19:24:04 GMT

How big is the risk of hiking National Parks?

More than 300 million Americans visited our National Parks last year, and while this staggering number underscores their rising popularity, it also comes hand-in-hand with the possible risks involved. But how big of a risk is it?

To answer this question, we conducted an in-depth analysis of America’s national parks to determine the safest and, by contrast, the 'most dangerous.' This research aims to offer peace of mind to even the most cautious adventurers by highlighting the high safety numbers of our national parks.

We’ll delve into the specifics of how we got those numbers later in the article, but first, let’s take a look at the results:

What Are the Safest and Most Dangerous National Parks?

The top five parks, including Gateway Arch National Park in Missouri and Petrified Forest National Park in Arizona, scored highly on the safety scale due to their low numbers of missing persons and fatalities, minimal trail closures, and adequate ranger presence. While it's expected to find Gateway Arch National Park at the top due to its central city location, the other national parks on the list might be a surprise.

Consequently, the bottom five parks, such as Grand Canyon National Park in Arizona and Wrangell-St. Elias, in Alaska, scored highly on the danger scale due to a higher number of search and rescue missions, higher incidents of trail closures, and fatal incident rates.

While the rankings suggest a certain level of peril in the lower-scoring parks, it’s crucial to interpret 'danger' as indicative of higher risk exposure rather than inherent unsafety. This leads us to an important question:

Who’s at Risk?

Looking at the shadow side of the data, we wanted to know the leading causes of fatal incidents and the risk groups.

The numbers suggest that falls, claiming 20.3% of lives, emerge as the leading cause, followed closely by medical issues and drowning, accounting for 15.4% and 12.9%, respectively. Motor vehicle crashes also represent significant risks.

A striking aspect of these statistics is the gender disparity: males are overwhelmingly more likely to be victims, with a staggering 74.1% of fatalities compared to 19.5% for females. Age-wise, the elderly (65 and over) face considerable risks, but the danger spans all age groups, with those between 55 and 64 and 45 to 54 also significantly affected.

Despite the risks associated with exploring the outdoors, the numbers from our research imply that such incidents are, fortunately, more of an exception than the norm.

Hiking and Camping Safety: Putting Things in Perspective

According to our research, the average odds of a fatal incident in national parks are about 1 in 664,099 visitors. That is incredibly low, so much so that...

You are safer in a National Park than…

Walking Down the Street

The odds of a pedestrian dying in a traffic crash are 1 in 485, according to the National Safety Council . Hiking in a National Park usually presents fewer risks than going to your local coffee shop.

Climbing Ladders

Fatal falls from ladders happen with odds of about 1 in 680, according to the National Safety Council – again. Climbing a ladder in your backyard can be more dangerous than climbing a rock in the backcountry.

Eating a Meal

The odds of choking to death on food are approximately 1 in 2,659, according to Statista . This means that enjoying a meal is more hazardous than exploring national parklands. What if you were to eat a meal in a National Park? Hm…

Your chances of a fatal incident in a National Park are lower than you…

Having More Than 10 Fingers or Toes

According to the National Center for Biotechnology Information , the odds of being born with extra fingers or toes (polydactyly) are about 1 in 700-1000. So, statistically speaking, you’re more likely to have an extra digit to count the number of safe trips to National Parks.

Living to 100 Years Old

In the U.S., the odds of living to be 100 years old are approximately 1 in 3,407. You're more likely to join the 1% centenarian club than to face the Grim Reaper in a National Park.

Seeing National Parks From Space

According to NASA , the odds of being selected to train as an astronaut are around 1 in 1,200 for qualified applicants. Looking at the American wilderness from the Earth’s orbit might be more within your grasp than becoming a part of its statistics.

How to Stay Safe While Hiking and Camping

While the likelihood of facing danger in the National Parks is remarkably low, understanding the safety measures is still considered good practice. By taking these simple precautions, visitors can ensure their outdoor experiences remain thrilling, only in a positive way.

Planning is Everything: Before you head out, check your national park's website. Go to 'Plan Your Visit ' and look for ‘ Find a Park ’ . Then select the State you want to visit and browse from the list of national parks. After finding the one that looks the most interesting to you, click on it. All current alerts and weather conditions will be displayed at the very top of the page, below the header.
Weather Watch: Outdoor weather can be fickle. Use park webcams to get a real-time view of what you’re walking into. Pack for all scenarios !
Stay on Marked Trails: Sticking to designated paths and trails is key for your safety. Venturing off-trail can lead to unexpected hazards and increases your chances of getting lost. Plus, staying on the trail helps protect the park's natural habitat.
Gear Up: The right gear can make or break your trip. This isn’t just about comfort, it’s about safety. Think communication devices, suitable outdoor clothing , and enough food and water.
Stay in Your Comfort Zone: Pushing your limits is tempting, but knowing your physical and mental boundaries is crucial for outdoor safety. Overconfidence can make a difference between a successful hiking trip and one gone wrong.
Listen to the Pros: Park staff are there to help. Their advice is invaluable and can steer you clear of trouble.
Emergency Prep: Have an emergency plan . Know the nearest medical facilities and basic first aid, and have a way to call for help. It’s better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.
Leave No Trace: Don't litter. Keep our beautiful parks clean! Remember to pack out what you pack in, and leave nature better than you found it. The future adventurous you will be thankful.

Methodology

Our research began with compiling a comprehensive list of 63 National Parks across the United States. We gathered information on the key safety indicators for each park from two primary resources: the National Park Service website and Google Maps.

Total Deaths (2007-2023): The mortality data recorded in each park over these 16 years were compiled. This data offers insight into these environments' overall safety and potential hazards.
Number of Missing Persons: We reviewed records of cold cases in each park from 2007 to 2023. This metric is a crucial indicator of potential risks within the park boundaries.
Search and Rescue Missions (2013-2020): The frequency and scale of search and rescue operations conducted between 2013 and 2020 were evaluated. This measure indicates the frequency and severity of emergencies in the parks.
Visitor Statistics (2007-2022): We analyzed the number of visitors to each park over 15 years. This helped us understand the scale of human activity in these parks and provided context to other safety metrics.
Trail Closures, Alerts, and Cautions due to Animal Presence: We assessed the frequency of trail closures and the issuance of alerts and cautions due to potentially dangerous wildlife. This factor is key in assessing the risk posed by animal encounters. This data is accurate as of 24/10/2023.
Number of Park Rangers: We utilized the U.S. Department of the Interior database to ascertain the number of park ranger employees at each National Park. While we could obtain exact figures for some parks directly, for others where such specific data was unavailable, we turned our attention to the ranger staffing levels of the nearest cities. This approach helped fill in the gaps, ensuring a more complete picture. A higher number of rangers can imply better surveillance, faster emergency response times, and improved overall visitor safety. These figures don’t include the number of volunteer park rangers.
Proximity to Hospitals: Each park was evaluated for the presence of a hospital within a one-hour travel radius by car that operates 24 hours a day.

After compiling all the collected data, we averaged the numbers. We used the linear scaling formula to get the normalized scores for each national park for six out of seven key indicators.

Proximity to hospitals was not normalized but was included as a binary (yes/no) factor in the final rating, reflecting immediate medical care availability in emergencies.

Each indicator was then assigned a different weight score that impacted the final results of our analysis.

Number of Missing Persons - 0.05
Total Deaths - 0.50
Visitor Statistics - 0.00
Search and Rescue Missions - 0.20
Trail Closures, Alerts, and Cautions due to Animal Presence - 0.05
Number of Park Rangers - 0.05
Proximity to Hospitals - 0.15

Then, we sorted the results by the final score, and that was it! You can see the complete list of national parks and all the data gathered here

Conclusion

It’s important to underline that there is nothing inherently dangerous about America’s national parks. The research has clarified that visiting national parks is exceptionally safe with proper preparation and respect for park guidelines. The perceived risks of these wilderness areas often stem from unpredictable natural elements rather than the parks.

This reassurance is backed by the low incident rates relative to the millions who visit each year, underscoring the National Park Service's commitment to visitor safety and the success of its conservation efforts.

So, dear adventurers, we can take solace in the splendors of America’s national parks, which can be enjoyed with peace of mind.

Research done by Andreea Anton.
Data analyzed by Oded Gross.
Written by Ivan Slovic.
Featured image by Andy Feliciotti .

Gifting Magic this Holiday Season

Thu, 28 Dec 2023 19:04:46 GMT

"This time of year is indeed magical"

Text and art by Annemarie Eveland

Photo: A walk around our own Green Valley Lake displays incredible beauty in an evening photo by D.J. Craig, well-known for his nature

“It’s magic time!” said one little snow bunny to his little bunny friend. They sat very still and they gazed in awe up at the ribbon decorations on the Christmas tree, and the magical snow falling around them.

Yes, this time of year is indeed magical. We celebrate our outdoors with Nature’s winter wonderlands and feel the magic of the Christmas holidays. It is easy to kindle the spirit of this season with all the glitter of fresh snow, strings of colored lights, cheerful traditional songs and music, our local festivities, and the good cheer all around us.

But this is the holiday month that also begs us to buy, wrap, and gift give to those whom we love. Yet, I propose another way of telling someone you care and love them. I call it gifting “outside the box.” Instead of tangible gifts that are sometimes not fitting to the situation or person, I instituted giving gifts that “keep on giving.” Here are some examples.

When my gal friend Jodie was having her December baby, I created a “Good For” gift certificate to babysit her newborn ten times. I made up a little coupon book with each coupon for one of the visits. This gave her some freedom so she and her husband could go out to dinner, or even for the daytime when she had to run errands. She was elated and said she wanted to use the idea to “gift” her friends also. I was pleased to see that the “Good For” Certificate that I made up became a template for others to use also.

In looking back to childhood, I see it was my mother who started us with the giving of self. She had us visiting elder neighbors, doing yard work for them, doing dishes and housework, and as we got older, running errands for them too. Without saying much about why we were organized to do these things, it instilled in me a desire to help others. Making life easier and better for others was a natural habit that I and my ten other brothers and sisters learned and still carry on today. Rarely a day goes by when I don’t notice someone who needs a little lift in their spirits or a little help with something.

In my adult years, I learned how to include myself in the giving. Including myself makes it feel balanced and rewarding. Sometimes when someone makes a request that requires too much of my time, energy, or money, I have surprised myself pleasantly by thinking through what portion I CAN do to still be helpful. I have been doubly encouraged as each time I share what part of their request that I could do to help them, they are very appreciative, and it works out best for both the giver and receiver. Neither have sacrificed.

Often it takes such little of our resources and time to help someone. Recently I was in the grocery store in the drinks aisle and shelves filled with wines. A lady was standing perplexed staring blankly at the many bottles of wine. When I inquired what she was looking for, she sighed heavily and said, “A friend from out of state is coming to visit and told me to get a particular bottle of wine for our dinner.” Well, when the store didn’t have that wine label scribbled on her note, I suggested another one that I felt would be very comparable. Now that is a very simple thing. But this is my point: it only takes a moment to be aware of someone else’s needs. And in one more minute, she had her dilemma satisfactorily solved.

She turned to me and said “Oh, thank you so very much! And then asked, “Can I give you a hug? I am very relieved now.” “Sure,” I answered, “There’s value in a hug.” Then she handed me a little typed note about hugs. This is her little typed version of The Hug.

She blessed me with her happiness at choosing wine and then with a hug too. Pretty stellar evening in the row of wines at the local market. Life often seems to be made up of tiny moments that gift us with the good feelings of a shared memorable moment with another human being.

In the last few years, my idea about holidays and how to celebrate them has changed. I have given away almost all my Christmas trees and many decorations but kept the lovely strings of white lights. Now maybe you are thinking, “Ah, she still likes to decorate with outdoor lights for Christmas!” You are partly correct, but I leave my soft lovely tiny lights up all year. It is such a comforting and pleasing sight to come home to welcoming lights! It also makes me feel like I am celebrating every evening, not just in wintery December’s Christmastime.

I wish for you a relaxing holiday season, sharing with people that make your life significant and meaningful. If you share gifts that is wonderful too. But the best gift is YOU! There is only one of you created, and what you can give to others, outdoors and indoors, is the very best. Thank you for the immeasurable and unforgettable gift of YOU! Share your happy self and remember that you are an original!

The REAL magic of this holiday season never ends

Happy Holidays!

5 Tips for Enjoying the Holidays

Thu, 28 Dec 2023 18:58:57 GMT

Score some "calm" over the Holidays...

“Some of the secret joys of living are not found by rushing from Point A to

Point B, but by inventing some imaginary letters along the way”.

— Douglas Pagels

Joan Courtney, C.Ht., Unstuck Living

Been doing the holiday thing for years? You know what I mean. The decorating, hosting, gift shopping, traveling…and stressing yourself out to the max. And women in particular feel the crunch. Count yourself as one of them? From past experience, you know the end result. Missing out on the joy of the season. Depleting your energy level. Getting the flu. Snapping at the kids. And Old Man Depression hovers in the background from overwhelm. Bah humbug!

What’s The Good News?

Did you also know it’s possible to score some calm over the season? No chef, no personal shopper, or holiday miracles required. It’s your gift to yourself. Here are a few tips to help you on your way:

Do a good deed daily. Researchers have long known that altruism (volunteering in a hospital, giving a neighbor a ride, visiting a shut-in) raises levels of the “feel good” brain chemical. And no selfless act is too small. Aim to perform a simple act of kindness every day.
Check off completed tasks. A to-do list organizes life, so nothing falls through the cracks. That same list can also feel overwhelming, because it reminds you of all that is yet to do. Balance things by starting a “did it” list, noting completed projects and tasks. Acknowledging what you’ve done can turn feelings of anxiety into feelings of accomplishment. You can also adjust expectations by reflecting on how much you really did get done. And when, exactly, have you done enough for one day?
Send sincere greetings. Yes, it’s easier to send a one-size-fits-all message to those on your holiday greeting list. But it’s also a missed opportunity. Select a handful of loved ones and take an extra moment to pen a personal note, perhaps a shared memory from the past. By communicating in a warm and heartfelt way, you can reduce stress by reinforcing connections in your social circle. Talk about special delivery!
Bake a batch from scratch. An energetic, 97 year old friend told me she was baking Christmas cookies with her granddaughter over the weekend. She reminisced how she and her mother had done this, and that it was a precious family tradition. There is something special about getting in the flow, measuring, and mixing ingredients in a series of steps while chatting and visiting. Not to mention continuing that wonderful tradition.
Take a breather before bed. An hour or so before bed, turn off the TV, the computer, and any unnecessary lighting. Doing this will promote relaxation, and prime the body for restful sleep. Taking a step further, let those evening chores go and spend a few minutes in front of the fire or gaze at Christmas tree lights. A “do nothing” break allows you to clear your head, and be ready for a calm and productive tomorrow.

Yes, this time of the year can be the busiest, the most hectic…but the most precious if you make it that way. Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah!

Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for Outdoors Southwest and other publications on the Mountain, she also ghostwrites bi-weekly posts for MacDuff, the Canine Executive Officer for Unstuck Living.

re•sil•ience, noun: resiliency

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 15:29:35 GMT

Resilience: The capacity to withstand or to recover quickly

the capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties, toughness.

the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity.

Susie Griffin

Resilience is a key component of a being’s ability to thrive, not just survive, but to grow, develop, and prosper. Resilience contributes to mental, emotional, and physical well-being by supporting one through and helping bounce back from stressful and traumatic experiences. Ingredients necessary for building resilience early in life are a consistent and safe environment, accessible and healthy nutrients, and symbiotic relationships.

However, even if these essential resilience building blocks are absent early on in a human’s life, there is still hope in developing resilience. Implementing several skills can instill or reinforce existing levels of resiliency in an individual. These skills include practicing a positive perspective - focusing on what is going right and letting go of what is going wrong, reinforcing your trusted human resources, and expressing humility - asking for help when your personal mental, emotional, or physical assets are low.

One of the premiere examples of resilience in the natural world is the alligator juniper. This slow-growing tree, native to higher elevations in Arizona, is a presence here in the White Mountains. Alligator junipers’ resiliency begins early – from the seed. Studies have shown that high or alternating temperatures – freezing and thawing, destruction of the seedcoat, or exposure to chemicals had little effect on the seed’s germination. Sprouting, or the germination of the alligator juniper’s seed, can occur even if the aboveground vegetation has been scorched by fire. (An example of alligator juniper resiliency to fire that was aided in that effort in 2013 during the Doce Fire by the Granite Mountain Hotshots – rest in peace, is a juniper outside of Prescott reported to be over 1,000 years old.)

Another contributing factor to the tree’s resiliency is its slow-growing characteristic. This trait improves the tree’s ability to survive in rocky soil and arid environments, including short-term droughts. An additional characteristic of the alligator juniper is the one that helped earn the tree’s moniker. The bark of the tree resembles that of an alligator’s skin. This distinct bark contributes to the tree’s resiliency, in particular offering protection from fires.

The alligator juniper’s resiliency is also reinforced through its symbiotic relationships with local fauna. The tree provides shelter, shade, habitat, and nest sites for many birds and mammals. Birds and mammals are also attracted to and eat the juniper’s berries. In return, alligator juniper seed disbursement is propagation by those birds’ and mammals’ digestive processes.

On the human side of resiliency, this representative has close ties to my heart and my DNA. My mother was seventy-three years old when she was struck and run over by a truck while in a crosswalk, crossing a street. My mom at the time, was 5’3 and maybe 110 pounds – soaking wet with several winter layers of clothes, boots, jacket, scarf, and mittens. She was small in stature, yet mighty in resiliency.

‘Though she be but little she is fierce.’ – William Shakespeare

She was unresponsive when emergency medical workers arrived on the scene, beckoned by heroic eyewitnesses who had immediately called 911. The medics rushed her to the nearest hospital where nurses and medical personnel urgently assessed her condition and state of needs. My oldest sister, who was my mom’s emergency contact, had called me to let me know of our mom’s situation. Unfortunately, I was unavailable and out of state at the time, enjoying a massage while visiting my old stomping grounds, The Dalles, Oregon, nearly ninety miles away. Needless to say, the positive effects of the massage quickly dissipated with the news of the negative repercussions of my mom’s accident.

The hospital staff had placed my mom in a medically induced coma, to help stabilize and protect her body and brain from further deleterious effects from her traumatic accident. She had suffered a severe head injury from being slammed onto the concrete and a degloving injury to her lower leg. By the time all five of her children had arrived at the hospital, she had already been through several surgeries to clean and debride the remaining tissues in her injured leg. The medical team apprised us all of an important decision we would have to make. My mom’s body was fighting hard – too hard, to heal an impossibly healable limb. They could keep performing debridement surgeries or they could amputate. We spoke for our mom and voiced our decision: amputation.

My mom’s body, being rid of the weight from her severely injured lower leg and the energy to try to heal it, started improving immediately – just as her medical team predicted. She was taken out of her induced coma and regained consciousness soon after. After awakening and through communication, the extent of my mom’s head trauma became clearer. She had lost almost all her hearing in one ear and partial hearing in the other. In addition to her hearing loss, she suffered both short- and long-term memory loss. She would “loop” her sentences, repeating the same thing several times in a minute. Even though she recognized her family and friends, she couldn’t recall events, occasions, or holidays spent with them a week, a month, or years ago. In a flash, my mom turned into the ultimate example of living in the moment.

Despite my mom’s traumatic accident and the lifelong dramatic changes it brought, my mom took it all in stride, one step at a time - literally. Her new leg, a prosthetic one, fits her current below-the-knee amputation and her previous lifestyle perfectly. Outfitted with trekking poles, given to her by one of my sisters, she had additional support to do the walkabouts she had done religiously before her accident. Relatedly, it was her walking routine to church that helped determine the direction of her travel within the crosswalk and the culpability of the driver.

My mom’s accident was over ten years ago. Since then, she has survived a fall that broke the femur in her amputated leg, a fall that broke her hip, and a flat-lining incident that occurred during surgery as a result of her allergic reaction to fentanyl. Just one of those incidents alone would have sidelined anyone else. However, my mom bounced back from each one with a positive perspective, wit, a twinkle in her eye, and a smile on her face.

I’ve heard many people proclaim a solemn vow to be as unlike their parents as possible – in life philosophies, mannerisms, and looks. They don’t identify with or desire to have any shared traits or beliefs with their parents. I, on the opposite spectrum, do not align with this perspective. I often say to myself, family, friends, clients, and peers, that if I had just one ounce of the resiliency my mom has, I’d do alright in this world. Her body’s innate ability to withstand and recover from physical trauma and her brain’s capacity – albeit a forced gift, to stay in the moment, supports her in processing the world through movement while not becoming lost in the past. My mom’s traits not only inspire me to work on my resiliency skills, but to advocate for my clients to do the same, one step at a time.

Photos:

My mom displaying her prosthetic leg and sense of humor.

The Giant Alligator Juniper (and memorial) near Prescott, AZ

"Sadie" the Smiling Snake at Woodland Lake

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 15:22:23 GMT

The Serpent of Peace, a community project

Jen Rinaldi

Often, the sign of a healthy community is reflected in the art left behind by its people. When we think of early man, we think about cave paintings and petroglyphs. Now, we have urban art and graffiti, which, in some cases, although destructive, can be quite well done and impactful. As a rock painter, I heard about a curious phenomenon that coalesced right here on our mountain and needed to see for her for myself.

The rumors about the snake at Woodland Lake piqued my curiosity, so I decided to meet her for myself on this lovely fall day. Stretching about a quarter of the way around the 1.25-mile loop trail, the snake meanders along the path to the delight of both dog and human.

Bursting with fall color and inviting breeze scattered golden leaves along the path leading around Woodland Lake Park in Pinetop, AZ. Just as I stepped from the bridge in an inauspicious place, the smiling serpent's head was next to the pet cleaning station, complete with googly eyes. She looks up at the viewer with a smile, inviting you to add to her length.

During my research, I met Cindy Fielding through NextDoor and Facebook, and Cindy told me the history of Sadie.

"We all became friends through AZ hiking sisters and through others Cindy Fielding says." Her friends. Gee Nana , Terry Burnette , Debbie Rippee, Debbie Anglemyer, Cheryl Brock, Mary Ellen, Stephanie and Martha Roberts, Leanne Andreasen, and Suzanne Perkins comprise Sadie's core group. They had seen similar snakes created across the US and Europe and decided to try building one here.

Sadie was born on June 29, 2023. Cindy says that their goal is to make the Guinness Book of World Records, and at 1027 feet in 4 months, averaging 30 rocks a week, we will keep an eye on her growth and keep our fingers crossed.

Sadie is a perfect way to add our thoughts and inspiration to a lovely lake hike. With bad news swirling around us daily, having a positive outlet for expression is admirable. Children and adults can enjoy not only watching her grow but can also add to her. Personal thoughts, prayers, and devotional sayings help us all.

Stretching about a quarter of the way around the 1.25-mile loop trail, the snake meanders along the path to the delight of both dog and human. The messages range from hopeful messages, funny sayings, and cartoons to epitaphs dedicated to loved ones.

Even the resident ducks seemed to have learned to coexist with their new stone guest. I look forward to revisiting Sadie often. I want to see her grow to a full mile and beyond.

So why not spend a sunny afternoon? Grab a rock and some paint and add to this unique creature.

Below are a few hints on painting rocks so that they will withstand the elements.

Find flat stones with a smooth texture. Always wash your rock first and allow it to dry overnight. You can start with colored spray paint, or I use a clear gesso that helps fill in the holes and gives the paint a better surface to adhere to. Use enamel or acrylic paint and finish with a clear UV spray to help protect your art from the elements. Be kind and place your rock in a blank space or at the end. Take pictures of your favorites; do not take stones. Let's allow Sadie to grow with more messages of hope and love!.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/816718156705710

Facebook link to Sadie's page.

Later this month, Sadie's keepers will be spraying her rocks to protect them for winter. If you would like to help, visit Sadie's Facebook page. In spring, stay tuned for a Sadie clean-up day when we will straighten her out after the winter and get her ready to grow.

What's Up at Woodland?

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 15:18:26 GMT

The future of woodland Lake Park in Pinetop-Lakeside

Dan Groebner

Aerial view by Dan Groebner/Vulture View Videography

What’s up at Woodland Lake, other than the water levels!? The lake is full and the paved path is smooth and wide. Maybe you noticed all of the recent improvements at Woodland Lake Park?

The developed portion of the park, about 108 acres, with the softball fields, playground, and tennis courts was recently secured by the Peter and Nancy Salter Family Foundation, Inc. with the generosity of many other local supporters who have been raising funds to purchase the park from the Forest Service for years. This part of the park was then promptly donated to the Town of Pinetop-Lakeside for the enjoyment of the community.

The Town didn’t waste any time in polishing the jewel of this area’s park system by upgrading the trail around the lake, adding a challenging disc golf course, deepening the lake when it had to be drained to fix the outlet valve, and installing new playground rides and equipment. And this is just the start of their plans.

Since the heavily wooded park is surrounded by urban developments, the forested portion has to be managed with a Firewise approach, including mistletoe and bark beetle disease management which can kill thousands of trees making them vulnerable to catastrophic wildlife. Sometimes this is best done with prescribed fire, but other times mechanized methods with heavy equipment are required to get the job done. Young “dog-hair” thickets of pine and oak can be minimized and spaced out to prevent the easy spread of wildfires.

Even with the securing of the southeastern part of Woodland Park into Town ownership, there was concern about the remaining 400+ acres, including the unique riparian corridor of Walnut Creek. Save Our Park, the non-profit organization formed in 2007 to raise funds to purchase the portion of the park that was just donated to the Town by the Salter Family Foundation, shifted gears to raise funds to purchase more of the original park still in Forest Service ownership, including Walnut Creek.

Outdoor enthusiasts in the area could again be the benefactors of some generous donors who have offered to make a legacy purchase of the remaining portion of the park and donate it to the Town for the long term benefit of all. The potential donors are in discussion with the Town of Pinetop-Lakeside over terms of the donation but it will probably not include portions of the Big Spring Area due to its important cultural values.

Sounds like another great deal for the community right? Millions of dollars worth of prime greenspace with recreational developments and trails running through it just given to the town, free of charge? It is, unless you are charged with maintaining all this property and ensuring the safety of its users since you now have full legal liability! Although the Town has an additional tax of 3% at restaurants and hotels to be used for area recreational expenses, the large addition of this sized park was not factored into budget estimates.

This presents the challenge of garnering community support to create an endowment fund that can use interest payments to pay for the maintenance of the park. In addition to the periodic forest management activities, additional expenses to the Town could include more public safety patrols, improvements to reduce legal liabilities and increase access for the disabled, and other staff workload issues associated with more activities and responsibilities.

Along these lines, Save Our Park and other Woodland Park supporters, have started discussions on possible ways to raise the funds for maintenance purposes and potential uses of the newly acquired acreage. Preliminary discussions have included ideas such as a bike park, campground, pedway, and other recreational opportunities.

The bike park would be located on the west edge of the park near Mountain Meadows Recreation Area to make use of existing parking and access. The facility could resemble something like the Fort Tuthill Bike Park, put together by the Flagstaff Biking Organization and Coconino Parks and Recreation. These new bike parks include flow trails to enjoy long carving turns, pump tracks where you roller-coaster the course with minimal pedaling, drop zones for the brave, and various skills features for folks with good health insurance coverage (since a waiver form will probably have to be signed in blood!).

A potential method to raise revenue to pay for maintenance might be to establish a small campground around the edge of the park, aimed at the tent and small camper-type clientele since these types of accommodations are in short supply in the nearby area. The campground could encourage more visitors to use the bike park and even Woodland Park in general due to its proximity and affordable offerings.

Other topics involved with managing this unique opportunity is maintaining water levels as high as possible in Woodland Lake Park and helping the Forest Service maintain the Big Spring Environmental Study area on the west side of the park. Big Springs is also currently being used under a special use permit by the Blue Ridge School District as an outdoor environmental classroom and includes newly replaced interpretive signs along the trail and other modest improvements made during a recent work day.

Informal additional workgroups could include discussions of fund-raising, fire and public safety, bike park, publicity, and government coordination.

Anybody wanting to learn more and possibly lend a helping hand can check out the Save Our Park website to get the latest information at “WoodlandLakePark.org”. You can also contact Save Our Park President, Eric Kramer, at erickramer102@gmail.com.

Results will be considered by the Town Council and management, amongst other public input, before they decide on final management activities if the sale and donation goes through as planned. So get engaged now if you want your ideas considered or you want to lend a hand to a very worthwhile project.

Horseback Riding Pole Knoll

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 01:02:06 GMT

Riding through fall colors at Pole Knoll Recreation Area

The Pole Knoll Cross Country Ski Area has been on my list of trails I’ve wanted to horseback ride. Last year Cinnamon suddenly went lame on Labor Day weekend. For the first time in her life, she had the fall and winter off. I eased her back into work last spring. This year our warm autumn has the leaves changing color slower and later than usual. October 21, 2023, the weather was perfect, and the aspen leaves were at their peak color, so I trailered Cinnamon up to Pole Knoll.

It was a popular destination that day. There were a dozen cars in the parking lot when I pulled in with my truck and trailer. I’d brought a picnic lunch from Subway, planning to eat at one of the picnic tables but they were all in use. Several people had dogs. I was happy to see the dogs were all properly leashed. After unloading Cinnamon, I ate my lunch there at the trailer. Cinnamon sniffed my sandwich, so I offered her a piece of spinach which she politely declined, probably because it had a bit of mayonnaise on one edge. She sniffed my cookies but didn’t want them either. She eagerly ate a horse cookie instead. I wanted her to drink some of the water I’d brought, but she only dabbled in the bucket.

After lunch, I groomed and saddled Cinnamon. We set off across the parking lot, going by the kiosk on our way to the Pole Knoll Loop where we headed east. I’ve hiked Pole Knoll several times, but Cinnamon had never been there. She strolled along looking around and occasionally snatching a bite of grass. She also sampled some aspen leaves. She considers tasting a new trail an essential part of the experience.

We took the Meadow Lark trail and did a little foxtrotting, trotting, and cantering. We’d dropped back to a walk when Cinnamon alerted us to a couple of ladies standing at a trail junction looking at the signs and their GPS. They looked up as we approached and one of them exclaimed, “What a surprise to find someone I know out here!” We attend the same church. I stopped and dismounted to show them my paper map. We chatted for a few minutes, then they continued their walk to the trailhead. Cinnamon and I continued along Meadow Lark trail. There are very few aspens on Meadow Lark trail so when Meadow Lark re-connected with Pole Knoll Loop we followed it to Raven trail where there were more aspens.

We strolled down Raven Trail with Cinnamon snatching grass when I was distracted by my photography. She had stopped completely to graze an especially tasty patch when a man coming slowly up the trail on a mountain bicycle greeted me and asked if the horse was okay with bikes. I assured him she was and told him I appreciated his consideration. He went carefully by us. Cinnamon was so busy eating she ignored him. After the bicyclist was safely past I interrupted Cinnamon’s snack and we continued down the trail at a more purposeful walk.

Raven Trail took us to a junction with Osprey Trail which we took up to Red Tail Trail and then to the Summit Trail. Cinnamon looked around as we climbed, sometimes watching something behind us, though I didn’t see anybody when I looked. The aspens were quite colorful there too. We met the bicyclist again.

When we got to the junction with the Viewpoint trail we took its single track through a tunnel of evergreens and aspens. Both Summit Trail and Viewpoint Trail are rated “most difficult”. The Viewpoint trail was narrower, steep, and rocky. We had this trail to ourselves. Several trees had fallen across the trail. We went around the first one. I ducked alongside Cinnamon’s neck to get under the second one. Cinnamon neatly stepped over the third one. We passed the trail to the actual Viewpoint and began the descent. The trail continued to be narrow and steep, surrounded by golden aspen. A fourth tree had fallen and been caught by its neighbors, propped up much too high to step over but too low to duck under. On the downhill side, the tree was high enough that Cinnamon could walk under it. I dismounted on the uphill side and led her a few feet around and through the aspens that were holding up the snag. Cinnamon hesitated briefly, then followed me. Back on the trail I mounted again. We resumed following the narrow singletrack switchbacks down the hill. The spaces between trees were so narrow and the switchbacks so tight I wondered how anybody could ski this trail! Cinnamon seemed to be enjoying the challenges of the trail as she marched carefully downhill to the junction with the Pole Knoll Loop trail, which is wider, smoother, and rated “easiest”.

By this time, it was late in the afternoon. I wanted to get home before dark, so we took the more direct but steeper Grouse Trail. Part way down Grouse trail we met some hikers and their dog coming the other way. We greeted each other and they got off the trail to let us pass. A few minutes later we met another group of hikers. They had to call their dog who started following us after I wished them a nice hike. The woman explained that the dog’s name was “Hi”, so the word “hike” confused him. When Grouse Trail merged with Pole Knoll loop again we took the slightly steeper but more direct route back to the parking lot.

Most of the vehicles had gone by the time we got back to the trailer. I thought Cinnamon would be thirsty after our 3-hour, 9.4-mile ride but she again only dabbled in the water. While I was unsaddling a young family approached and greeted us so their little boy could see Cinnamon, but he was content to watch from a distance. After a few minutes, they thanked me and departed. I loaded Cinnamon into the trailer and went home. Our ride on Pole Knoll was as lovely as I had imagined it would be.

Gratitude for Pinons

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 00:57:50 GMT

Gratitude for the Piñon nut tradition and more...

Carol Godwin, Cycle Mania

As I was out sitting under the Piñon trees the other day, snacking on the sweet meat of the nuts, feeling the soft fall breeze on my skin, and listening to the elk bugle in the distance, I felt so incredibly grateful to be alive in this place at this time. This being the season for thankfulness and gratitude, my mind begins to explore this concept and it takes me on a much more complicated journey than planned.

I am grateful, first of all, to the Timber Knoll Piñons. Despite the abuse they have taken over the years from misguided thinning and burning, are still producing nuts every 6 or 7 years. Piñons have been producing nuts for millions of years and humans have been taking advantage of their periodic mass drops of nuts for many thousands of years. I’ve lived in the Timber Knoll area for nearly a quarter of a century and have experienced 3 productive piñon years. Every time, large numbers of native collectors arrive from surrounding areas and New Mexico to harvest the nuts, demonstrating the historical importance of the trees in this area.

The traditional method of gathering the nuts involves laying blankets or tarps under the trees and beating the trunks and branches to release the nuts. This year, a major wind storm beat us to it and scattered the nuts far and wide, making collecting a little more of a challenge, but worthwhile nonetheless. As I gather nuts and snack on a portion of what I collect, I think about Timber Knoll and the archeological evidence I have observed over the years. The most productive trees are concentrated on the North Eastern slopes of the knoll and this is also where most of the pottery I observed was concentrated. Prior to the thinning project on Timber Knoll, there were thousands of shards scattered here, ranging from simple coil pots to complexly painted white/black and red/black shards as well as plain-ware shards representing large storage containers. I imagine that this area was central to people gathering during mast crop years and collecting nuts. Nuts can be stored several years in dry containers or pits and are highly nutritious, containing both essential fats and compact calories. In ideal conditions, one acre of trees can produce up to 250 lbs of nuts, equivalent to nearly 30,000 calories, making it an important historic staple for native peoples.

But then I think, as I am grateful to the trees, is this gratitude misplaced? Do the trees really care about humans who, in the past, depended on their seeds for nutrition? Of course not! The trees care nothing about us harvesters. In fact, if they did, they would not put such a hard shell around the seeds and would make them available annually. It is one of the wonderful intricacies of nature that we humans enjoy eating what the tree produces. All living things require calories as energy to keep them alive. A tree provides its own calories by using photosynthesis to produce carbohydrates, which can then be stored for later use. It takes several years for a tree to gather enough carbohydrates to be able to reproduce and this timeframe is dependent on environmental conditions. Drought years lengthen the time between mast crops and good winters encourage preparation for reproductive years. The last good mast crop year was 2015, a space of time lengthened by continued drought and probably brought to an end by the wet summers of 2021 and 2022. It takes nearly 26 months for the entire seed-producing process to be completed, which would coincide with these wet summers as a trigger for trees. It is incredible to me that all the Piñons in their SW range can produce and drop nuts in a coordinated way; both wild and backyard trees reproducing on the same closely timed schedule dependent on weather and carbohydrate availability. Trees communicate using pheromones to coordinate reproductive efforts so that maximum pollen dispersal is concentrated in a short time period. This year was a great pollen year for piñons and a terrible allergy year for humans! Carbohydrates are concentrated in the seeds inside the cones and provide nutrition for the potential seedling trees. Humans have evolved with a “taste” for carbohydrates and thus enjoy eating and harvesting the nuts. The trees care nothing for us.

Listening to the elk sing makes me realize that the silence surrounding the bugling is a little too silent. Where are the flocks of screeching jays that normally accompany a Piñon mast crop drop? Piñon Jays are an essential part of the Piñon life cycle in that they store the nuts in the ground, and those that are not eaten can sprout the next spring. Scientists are alarmed that the numbers of Piñon Jays have dropped an incredible 80% over the past decade and show little indication that they are recovering. They were recently listed as a species for consideration to add to the increasing list of endangered species. It is shocking and eye-opening to me that just a few years ago, there were large rowdy hordes of these birds squawking through the trees the last time I was collecting Piñons and now it is silent… Reasons for this population drop include massive losses (40-80%) of Piñon forest stands to bark beetles in the early 2000s, deforestation of Piñon stands for development, clearing by the Forest Service for fuel reduction and fire safety, elimination of Jays because of annoyance to humans (when I looked up “Piñon Jay” online, the first many entries were about how to kill or remove Jays!), and because of the continued drought causing longer periods between Piñon mast crop drops. Historically, Piñons had mast drops every 3-5 years; the spacing now nearly double that and is exacerbated by a fertile seed production drop of nearly 40%. I found that although there are countless piñons on the ground, many are empty and infertile, worthless for tree reproduction or for nutrition for Jays (or humans). All of these things are affecting Jay reproduction and the result is…silence.

Why does all of this matter? Historically, humans, Piñons, and Jays are linked. Piñons produce carbohydrate-rich nuts to reproduce but nuts laying on the ground cannot germinate. Jays, as living things, need carbohydrates so that they can reproduce. In the process of storing the nuts, they plant them in the ground where they will sprout in the spring. Piñons without Jays cannot effectively reproduce and without the ability to reproduce, are doomed; Jays without Piñons cannot reproduce and without the ability to reproduce, are doomed. Native humans who relied on hunting and gathering would be hugely affected by this loss of a calorie-rich resource and would have to leave the area and find other ways to gather carbohydrates. In the era of Walmarts and Safeways, it is easy to forget how precarious the balance of life is, but sitting under a tree, I am grateful that nature is forging ahead on this beautiful day and I make a decision to replant nuts, at least on this one hill, that over time has supported so many living things from Piñons to squirrels, jays to elk, coyotes to mountain lions, Pines to butterflies, and humans to hawks, all of which are entangled in a complex web of interdependence.

I am grateful to feel part of this web on this one day in the amazing White Mountains. I am grateful that my ears can pick up the sounds of elk competing to reproduce. I am grateful that my skin can feel the movement and temperature of the air moving past as if moves with the thermal changes caused by the rising sun. I am grateful that my muscles can carry me out into the forest for some time away from the worries of life and I am grateful to have the time on Earth to be grateful for it all! Take the time to appreciate the colors of the leaves, the sounds of the elk, the taste of the Piñons, and the feel of the cool air. Take the time to appreciate the small things around you this fall, life is amazing and beautiful. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

The True Story of Thanks-Giving

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 00:52:11 GMT

The True history of the Thanksgiving Holiday

ANNE GROEBNER

As part of National Native American Heritage Month, I researched how Native Americans celebrate Thanksgiving. After reading write-ups about it from the Smithsonian Magazine, the National Museum of the American Indian, and a blog called “Nativehope.org,” I discovered the true story of Thanksgiving — and it’s not the story we were taught in grade school.

Growing up, I envisioned the Pilgrims and the Indians sitting around a table feasting peacefully on the fall harvest. I always knew that the feast was possible because the Natives taught the Pilgrims how to grow crops, hunt, and other rites that made it possible for them to survive. However, according to school book history, the focus was always on the Pilgrims and it reduced the Wampanoag Indians to supporting roles and erased the “monumentally sad” history.

“The true history of Thanksgiving begins with Native Americans.”

According to the Smithsonian and the National Museum of the American Indian, four years before the Pilgrims landed, British fishermen were already in America spreading havoc among the Native villages. They kidnapped Native people and sold them into slavery. They also brought with them epidemic illnesses that wiped out many villages (at a rate of 90 percent) which made it easier for the settlers to overpower them.

“This initial explosion of death is one the greatest tragedies in human history because it was unintended and unavoidable and even inevitable.”

The Wampanoag Tribe, at one time, had 69 villages scattered throughout the area now called Rhode Island and Massachusetts. They, like many Native Tribes, had a “reciprocal relationship with nature.” They believed that as long as they gave thanks to the bountiful world, it would give back to them — “Long before the Pilgrims arrived, the Wampanoag held frequent Thanksgiving-like celebrations, giving thanks in the form of feasts and ceremonial games.”

By the time the Pilgrims showed up, the plague had wiped out entire villages and the Wampanoag were struggling to fend off their nearby enemies, the Narragansett Tribe, who were less affected by the spread of diseases and outnumbered them. At this moment, the interests of the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag aligned. With little food and no knowledge of the land, the help from the Wampanoag was a life-saving partnership for the Pilgrims. The Europeans exchanged weaponry for food. With the help of an English-speaking Patuxet Indian named Tisquatum* (not Squanto) the Pilgrims produced a bountiful supply of food.

The feast of indigenous foods that took place in October of 1621, after the harvest, was one of thanks. Most notably, it symbolized the rare, peaceful coexistence of both parties.

Today, some Native Americans choose to reject the Thanksgiving holiday entirely, and instead honor it as a “National Day of Mourning.” However, some embrace the positive message that it represents knowing that the idea of giving thanks is and has been central to Native Americans and their culture. Thanksgiving is a chance to appreciate the good things in life, like family, community, and the riches of the land.

Long before the Europeans landed on the shores of this country, Native Americans celebrated the fall harvest and the gift of Mother Nature’s abundance. Native American spirituality traditionally emphasizes gratitude for creation and the care for the environment as well as the importance of communion with nature and their people.

Our Thanksgiving holiday originates from the Native American philosophy of giving without expecting anything in return. Even the food is inspired by indigenous agriculture and the teachings of the Wampanoag Tribe to hunt turkey.

In honor of National Native American Heritage Day, we give thanks for their abundant and incredible contributions then and today.

*Tisquatum spoke English because he had been kidnapped and sold in the European slave trade before making his way back to America.

The burros and the gold

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 00:47:41 GMT

Welcome to Oatman, Arizona

Article and Photos by Annemarie Eveland

I recently overheard a conversation between a donkey and a burro. They were comparing their worth to each of them. The donkey was bragging that he was domesticated and a hoofed-type animal. The burro knew he was a wild animal and smaller than the donkey. The donkey has a long narrow face with long ears and is a herbaceous feeder of fruits, veggies, straw, and grass. The donkeys have short hair on the tail, short mane, and a dark stripe along their back. The donkey boasted that it is found worldwide, especially in third-world countries. The use of donkeys as transportation originated in Spain and Northern Africa. They were brought to modern-day Mexico and the US in the 15 ^th century and were later used heavily in the gold rush.

However, the burro is basically from the southwest. He has long hair, large ears, cow like tail, and gives out that Hee-Haw sound. Burros reproduce in the wet season. Burros only live 25-30 years. The donkey on the other hand can live 40-50 years. Donkeys can reproduce and they breed year-round. Burros, still today, are found in southwest dry and shrubby regions, not high mountains. The differences between the burro and the donkey, as well as their extended families, are often discussed. However, both the burro and the donkey are the same species Equus Asinus. Although they are from the same family, they do have some different defining characteristics. So, we have set the record straight.

The burros today at Oatman are descendants of the gold miners and were used as pack animals. Their smaller size fit well in the mines and they had good stamina for hauling the gold out. You can still find some of the burros roaming the streets of Oatman, Arizona. At the busy time of the gold mining, there were 3,000 burros. When the mining stopped when World War II came, all those burros were turned loose into the desert around Oatman. So, now from the burro’s point of view, they are superior because they survived living in the desert on their own foraging from the severe desert offerings the land provided ever since that time.

We now know that the burro and the donkey are the same species. The burro is a specific type of donkey but is wild, not domesticated. The burro is a smaller animal. Although the burro and the donkey are the same species, they do have some different defining characteristics as we mentioned. I learned that the burros can find water as they can smell water two miles away. Burros can also dig for water.

You can visit the burros in the little village of Oatman, Arizona. I tend to agree with the cute burros. They have had to survive on their own ever since being turned loose into the Arizona desert. Now some of them come down to Oatman’s village Main Street and almost every day they will see tourists wanting to pet them or feed them anything (which now is verboten.) There are grass pellet cubes the shop owners have created to properly feed the little burros.

Located at 2710 ft. elevation in the northwestern part of Arizona, the unincorporated village of Oatman lies in the Black Mountains of Mohave County of Arizona. It was once a booming gold mine that boasted 100 gold mines, many more prospectors, and the burros. I heard that over ten million ounces of gold were removed from the Oatman area during its heydays. Silver was also mined. So, a visit to this historic spot on the historic old Route 66 would be a welcomed journey.

Now for your adventure in Oatman. I did not do it justice. I had a limited time so I plan to return in the future and spend more time enjoying and discovering its history and the colorfulness of this thriving ghost town.

There is much to see: lots of color-filled stores, a post office, an old mine, and a hotel where purportedly Clark Gable and Carole Lombard spent their honeymoon. There is also much mining memorabilia lying around. It is a place that holds a lot of history from the gold mining days.

Founded in 1909 with five different post offices for five different peoples who formed little towns. Today you can get mail stamped with a cancelled stamp. Eleven-year-old Olive Oatman and her sister Maryann (who later died) were captured by the Apache who murdered their family. Eventually, she was traded to the Mohave who befriended her and even tattooed her face with symbols, which I understand meant they considered her special and she was eventually repatriated to a town. This town was named after her.

There is also the Sitgreaves Pass not far from town which has the memorials on the hillsides. Many who lived in Oatman have asked that their ashes be spread there. People have created memorial altars that commemorate their loved ones.

I did not make it out to the Fishpond and the Shaffer’s Spring or the Gold Road Mine either. Next time.

And I missed the gunfighters’ shootouts/showdowns that happen on Main Street, Thursday-Sunday at 1 p.m. and 3 p.m. with the Red Ridge Mauraders or the Oatman Outlaws.

There are some other special events in Oatman: The last Saturday in January, there is the Bed Races. It used to be each brought a bed and all lined up and then raced to the finish line in the town street. “Too many injuries!”, said the insurance people. Currently, there is one bed, and they have five controlled courses. So, contestants run the bed course and then make the bed up on the platform; all is timed of course.

The old hotel hasn’t been open since COVID-19. I heard the walls inside are covered with paper money. In the old days, the miners would post their money with their name written on the bills, so when they needed something (likely a drink?) they would remove their bill to pay. This tradition started in the gold mining era.

Then in October, the last Friday and Saturday before Halloween, there is the Haunted Mine and the Haunted House. This is definitely not for children and faint-of-heart adults!

Another popular event happens in the sizzling time of the Fourth of July. The sidewalk is the scene of many hopefuls frying their eggs in the sizzling summer heat. The winner gets something refreshing and very cool, I hope.

For other activities contact the Chamber of Commerce or historian Leanne Toohey.

Most stores are open every day from 9:30 a.m. -5:30 p.m. I did manage to visit some of them. Plan to spend the day and enjoy this historic ghost town village.

May you and your family or friends just enjoy getting there on historic Route 66 which runs right through the town. Have a memorable, fun day returning with an appreciation for this ghost town too tough to die but is today still alive with the history of its past.

Maintain Your Road

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 00:42:27 GMT

How signs and roads are like life

Joan Courtney, C.Ht., Unstuck Living

So many signs along the road as I go for my morning walk! Some are about upcoming events (Dance! Friday night!). Others to locate a lost pet, complete with picture, description, and contact number. Then, there are road signs. Dead End. No Right Turn on Red. School Zone. But the one that intrigued me was: Primitive Road. Caution. Use At Your Own Risk.

Roads, especially the dirt ones, are a specialty of our rural areas. What makes for a well-built road? First, they are graded to become flat and smooth. The best ones have a slight crown in the middle to allow rain or melting snow to drain away. A very durable material of surface gravel, stones, and fine dirt is then dumped on the area and smoothed with massive pieces of equipment. Next is a layer of finely compacted earth, designed to be long-lasting to the weather.

But after a while, there’s washboarding. That’s the choppy ride you get when traveling over five mph on this jarring surface. The road itself resembles an old-fashioned washboard, hence the name. If you speed along, it can even be hazardous. Potholes can be menaces, threatening axles and alignments of cars. But to repair and maintain them, huge graders are brought in. They take about an inch from the top of the surface, blend it with new materials, and lay it back down. The road is smooth again.

The sign and the road are like Life. At a very early age, you begin to build a foundation of belief and knowledge. This is similar to creating a smooth road and is indeed Primitive. The sources of this base usually come from your mom and dad, other family members, school experiences, and sometimes your church. As a baby and toddler, you are cautious, for the world is new to you. Slowly, you build a framework of know-how. What is successful you keep, while you toss that which is not useful. Over the years, you develop a pattern of life for yourself.

But every now and again, a pothole pops up, or you hit a washboard. Life is bumpy, or even treacherous. Your experience from the past cannot cover this new event. Perhaps it’s the death of someone close to you. Or the failure of a business you started up. Or the frustration of not dropping those pounds that appear to be glued on permanently.

You can choose to stop there. After all, the sign says, “use at your own risk.” But then you take a chance on getting stuck where you are, never venturing out to new horizons or trying new venues.

But how to positively maintain your road? Here are some ideas :

Check out your beliefs. What was useful in the past may not always be what works in the present. And may not fuel those dreams for the future.
Test your risk quotient . Take a chance and venture to somewhere new. Do something you’ve never tried before. Stretch your horizons.
Take a look at your personal potholes and washboard situations. A relative rub you the wrong way? A friend try to put limits on your life? Start the day with a negative outlook? Time to grade the top layer! Or perhaps dig deeper and sort through some of the stones and gravel of learning placed there years ago. Take an inventory and make some changes.

Life is an adventure. You can keep on traveling the washboard of past experiences. Or begin new adventures to smooth your life and enjoy growth for your heart and soul. The time is now. Live unstuck!

Borders and Boundaries, Near and Far

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 00:34:45 GMT

Hiking Fool Hollow Lake Park

ROB BETTASO

They say that “hindsight is 20/20.” If so, then why, when I look back on October, is it such a blur? I guess it is fuzzy in my mind because it passed so quickly, and it passed quickly because I was unusually mobile. My travels took me to the Arizona borders with Old Mexico, New Mexico, the Navajo lands, and, I suppose I could also include the border with the White Mountain Apache lands – though the latter doesn’t really count since that border is only a quarter mile from my house. Had I ventured to see the recent annular eclipse at its prime viewing spot in Arizona (and one of the best eclipse viewing places in the country), I would have also traveled to the combined borders of Arizona, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico -- at the only location in the U.S. where four states meet (the logically named: “4 Corners”).

The eclipse was one of the few days last month when I wasn’t exploring beyond my own general neighborhood. In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed experiencing the eclipse just the way I did: near my home, solo, walking along the boundary of the Apache lands, and marveling at the weird lighting and the bizarre shadows that the occluded sun created as its mighty, but diffused, rays bounced between the leaves of our local oaks and the needles of our various conifers. The altered light gave the world around me an eerie glow and everything was truly surreal; at least for a brief moment in time.

The reasons for my greater than normal amounts of travel in October were as varied as my destinations: there was my uncle’s memorial service in Pomerene; camping and nature study with my biologist brother while we visited wildlands in the Whetstone and Huachuca mountains as well as the San Pedro River; joining friends for their elk hunts in the juniper country near the Navajo Nation; and lots of hiking, biking, and birding within the White Mountains but at more remote locations than I typically visit.

As the month came to an end, I welcomed the fact that I had completed my more distant travels and was able to shift my focus to enjoying LOCAL outdoor time with such longtime friends as Anne, Dave, and Mike; plus the folks I have gotten to know more recently via the Nature Center and the Audubon chapter. When one doesn’t have to waste time being cooped up in a vehicle getting to a natural area, it means that one has all that much more time to spend actually enjoying nature! Sometimes it occurs to me that I need not even leave my own backyard, as I could easily grab my hand-lens (a magnification tool that is as important to botanists and the folks who study invertebrates as a pair of binoculars are to birders and hunters) and spend a day crawling through the weeds of my small yard, admiring myriad plants and animals of the micro-variety. But of course, I can’t really imagine that any of my friends would want to join me on such an expedition….

One of my more recent local forays was with Gaston, as we rambled through the backcountry of Fool Hollow State Park. We met at 7 a.m. and, since we could tell right-off-the-bat that there were very few species of water birds to identify at the Park’s primary feature (a large reservoir), we opted to head out for higher ground and look for critters that might be active in the mixed oak/conifer habitat of the Park’s upper elevations. Around the reservoir, the willows and cottonwoods were in various stages of color change; and, as we hiked up into the conifers, only the oaks, wild grape, and wild rosebushes were sporting autumnal hues – a mix of yellow-greens, gold, rust, and brownish-reds. The cool, quiet air was pierced occasionally by the calls of flickers, jays, and the croak of a raven.

Once we had reached the higher ground, we meandered along the tops of sheer cliff faces and along the edges of several boulder fields. We also enjoyed spectacular views of the dark blue reservoir, contrasted with the anemic blue of the autumn sky. Most of the trees were pinyon and junipers (PJ); and the chickadees, titmice, juncos, and sparrows were very actively foraging in their dense foliage. At one point, Gaston was admiring a tall and noble snag when he noted that there was a hawk perched on one of its many gnarled branches. We could tell that it was a Sharp-shinned Hawk despite the fact that it had its back to us. As Gaston set up his tripod and camera to take some photos of the unperturbed raptor, we agreed that I would slowly close the 50 yards or so of ground between us and the hawk.

I walked slowly and quietly and was able to get quite near to the snag but the sharpie never did shift his position to face us (though he did occasionally turn his head nearly 180 degrees to keep an eye on me). Once I had reached within 30 feet of the snag, he suddenly hopped just slightly from his perch, opened his wings, and immediately dropped down; within the blink-of-an-eye he disappeared. Even though we could no longer see him, we knew that he must have flown low and wove through the thick stand of PJ until he found a more private perching site. No doubt, the hawk had perceived us long before we noticed him. To wild creatures, humans must seem like lumbering oafs, who are as noisy as they are smelly.

Later, we hiked to some cliffs that were above the reservoir’s inlet – the point where Show Low Creek feeds water into the reservoir. We stayed on the plateau and maneuvered in an upstream direction. The now dry floodplain of the stream was wide and there were brown meadows and weedy fields in many portions of the valley. We were still hiking mostly through PJ, but the sandy ground was now also heavily vegetated by various cacti and yucca species. At one point, while Gaston was absorbed in taking a photo, his shin brushed a prickly pear. Very casually, he finished composing and taking a few photos, and then he sat down to pluck cactus spines from his pant leg and then from the skin underneath. Like many successful photographers, Gaston is a calm and patient man.

Just outside of the Park boundary, there were still a few of the old ranch properties; but, other former ranches had been sold and were now being subdivided into neighborhoods of “ranchettes.” I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret that the old ways were inevitably transitioning into the new; and it was obvious that as such changes continued, many beautiful wild places would be lost to the city’s growth. How is it, that when we love a wild place that we have been lucky enough to stumble upon, we almost immediately commence to building on said place such that, before long, it no longer resembles the original place that we loved? Then, all too often, we pull up stakes and move to the next wild place, because the old place has become too crowded. In many ways, humans seem to resemble the social insects (colonial bees and ants, in particular) in that we suffer from an affliction of restless industriousness.

By the time we returned to our vehicles, the sky was equal parts azure-blue and puffy, white clouds. I checked my GPS unit and saw that we had done a total of 5 miles within the Park. We chatted about the different birds we had seen and estimated the number of species to be in the mid-teens; not especially high, but given that waterfowl numbers were minimal, it wasn’t too surprising a tally for a morning that had gone from breezy early on, to quite windy by hike’s end. We munched on some snacks and watched bluebirds and robins fly back and forth between open fields and the adjacent woodland of pinyon and junipers.

When we finally decided to say our goodbyes and head to our respective homes, we noticed that about half of the formerly cottony-white clouds had taken on a more moisture-laden, blue cast; almost like they had been bruised. One can always hope for rain, even at a time of year not known for much precipitation. When I got home, it was not raining, so I puttered about the yard, admiring small bugs feeding in the seedy grass-heads.

The Case(s) Against Ebikes… and Coming to Terms with El Diablo

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 23:57:41 GMT

Ebikes are for Everyone

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On the Rocks - An Inward Journey

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 23:52:13 GMT

The Spirit of Sedona

ON THE ROCKS- AN INWARD JOURNEY

Article and Photos by Annemarie Eveland

I stood spellbound on the famous red rocks – a thick layer of red to orange-colored sandstone. I have learned that this is the only area where this sandstone is found. The uniqueness of their formations and the blazing colors of their pigment are paled by the structure that now sits atop them. Yes, I am in Sedona (the origin of the town’s name deserves another writing.)

I have driven other times to Sedona, intending to stop at this place but got distracted by the myriad of wonderful artistic endeavors in equally distracting boutiques and stopping to imbibe in tasty restaurant morsels.

But this trip, I coaxed my travel gal friend to stop, and we turned off and headed up Chapel Road. Soon the destination that I desired came into view. I craned my neck to get a glimpse of it. The Chapel of the Holy Cross sits mountainside atop massive rock formations and juts out of a thousand-foot solid red rock wall. The incredible 250-foot height of this creation is awesome. It is said it was built to follow the words of Christ to Peter, “Thou are rock and upon this rock, I will build my church.”

But the story of this impressive chapel goes back to Marguerite Brunswig Staude, a local sculptor and rancher. She got the vision and inspiration after seeing the construction of the Empire State Building in 1932. It was years later that she hired the architect Richard Hein and Architect August Strotz to collaborate on the project. Since the chapel was to be built on National Forest land, it was a daunting undertaking to get permission to use the land from the Forest Department. It was made possible with the support of the late Senator Barry Goldwater who helped her get a special use permit from the Forest Division. Under Fred Courkos, construction supervisor, the chapel was completed in 1½ years in April of 1956 for $300.000.

The walkway up to the chapel is a wide smooth cement walkway with the enclosed side walls being an aggregate of stones and colored cement. Easy for walking, good for pivoting strollers, wheelchairs, and toddlers’ little footsteps. Pets are requested not to enter the chapel. Also, food and drinks are not permitted inside. The atmosphere of entering the Chapel is respectful and reverent silence.

The Holy Cross Chapel welcomes several million pilgrims and tourists yearly who come to enjoy the beauty of the surrounding nature and the peacefulness that permeates the chapel.

When I visited, I was struck by the sweet somberness and gentle movements of all who entered, as well as the heat from the hundreds of vigil lights that had been lit with prayers from visitors. When I gazed up at this bronze 250’ form of Jesus Christ hanging from the cross, I could not help but feel the strong importance of the sacredness and the journey of inner peace here. As I knelt at the altar, I felt humbled and safe at the same time. Then I stood in the bronze footprints in front of the altar. As I looked up and saw that the crucified figure was looking down at me (and anyone who stood there) with such compassion, it brought tears to my eyes. It was like feeling an image of hope for our humanity.

Some people may not have a religion they are aligned with nor profess a certain dogma, but from what I saw of the varied people, races, ages, and religions that came to this little chapel in the mountains this morning, I would say that the experience certainly touches them and somehow, in some way, they leave with a feeling of being lifted up for having visited.

The Chapel has a gift shop downstairs that includes original artwork done by local artists and is open from 9:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. seven days a week. The Chapel of the Holy Cross is open 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. seven days a week as well. Parking is limited. Park on the right side of the roadway. No RVs or trailers. Golf carts assist people up to the chapel ramp if you don’t wish to walk. Porta-potties are located at the bottom of the hill.

USA Today rates this Chapel as #1 of the 10 best attractions in Sedona to visit. For more information and times of religious services, www: chapeloftheholycross.org or by phone at (928)282-4069.

As you exit the chapel and see the breathtaking surrounding Sedona red rock scenery, breathe in the clean refreshing air and notice all the natural beauty for your eyes to behold. And let your cares be further away, just for this day during your visit to beautiful, historic, and magical Sedona.

A Change of Perspective

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 23:47:05 GMT

See Things a Different Way

A Change of Perspective

By Joan Courtney, C.Ht.

Unstuck Living

I’m playing with taking some pictures on my cell phone (and “playing” is the operative word). If I see something that strikes my interest, I take a shot. Or two. Okay, quite a few, for I have heard professional photographers take thousands of shots to find that perfect picture.

The other day, I was at the local library and saw the roses in front of the building. Breathtaking. At first, I took a close-up shot. The yellow pistils were so clear, the petals so perfect. Then I wondered what would happen if I stepped back and took a different view. That shot showed more roses, but lost the intensity of the close-up perspective. When I stepped back even further , I had the view of the entire bed of roses: vibrant, alive, bursting with color. And a very different point of view .

I found this to be similar to how I live my life . If I get frustrated about something, I lose my perspective. I can only feel the intensity of my emotions. My negative thoughts persist and stop me cold. When this happens, my breathing gets shallow, my thought process shuts down, and I begin to ruminate about what’s happening. Just as the close-up of the single rose, my feelings ramp up and get more and more intense. Perspective gone .

One remedy? Take a walk. Some fresh air and a change of scenery change my perspective in a flash. So can a phone call to a friend or some snuggling with the Duff. As I come back, I have some distance from the situation. My emotions are calmer. Similar to taking that second shot of a few roses, other options begin to surface . I can sort them out and see what’s better for me.

If I need to distance myself even further, I turn the problem over to my subconscious mind as I drift off to sleep at night. That marvelous part of my mind sorts through strategies and other ways of doing, usually arriving at a solution by morning. Not taking this for granted, I thank that part of my awareness for solving what I thought to be a hopeless problem. (I found this part of me likes to be complimented.) A simple change of perspective can make a huge difference and save my energy for the more fun things in life.

On the go and need a quick reset? Here’s what I do . When an issue returns to my mind and I start on the hamster wheel of those “same old thoughts,” I picture myself sitting in a theater. The problem, with all its players, is on stage. I watch and listen, seeing what’s going on from a very different point of view. My emotions are not clouding what I see. Quite often, I realize it’s not all about me ; that other people have their own issues playing a part in this drama. A change in perspective is then quick and easy. I have some distance and am able to clearly figure out what is going on. I love the flexibility of each outlook! And you will too. Living unstuck .

Having over 35 years of experience, Joan Courtney is a clinical hypnotherapist and NLP practitioner. Writing for publications on the Mountain, she also writes bi-weekly posts as MacDuff, the Canine Executive Officer of Unstuck Living.

HOT TIMES IN DESERT CLIMES

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 23:40:17 GMT

Find Your Spot in Nature

HOT TIMES IN DESERT CLIMES

BY ROB BETTASO

In the mid 1970s, I enrolled in the Wildlife Biology program at the University of Montana (UM). Back in those days, the Wildlife Bio program was small, but it had several relatively well-known professors -- including John Craighead (highly regarded for his pioneering work with raptors), Chuck Jonkle (a grizzly bear specialist), Philip Wright (a mammologist), and Richard Hutto (an ornithologist).

In my first semester, I was required to take a class fittingly titled: “An Introduction to Wildlife Biology” and two of the required texts were Aldo Leopold’s “A Sand County Almanac” (1949) as well as his “Round River” (1953). I was very impressed by both books and have re-read them a few times since then. To this day, Leopold’s writings are acknowledged classics and are familiar to students studying not only wildlife biology but also forestry, ecology, natural resource management, and outdoor education. While Leopold’s books are built upon a foundation of science, several are written for a general audience and are often assigned reading for classes ranging from literature to history to politics.

There is an oft-quoted passage from “A Sand County Almanac” that goes as follows:

One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen. An ecologist must either harden his shell and make believe that the consequences of science are none of his business, or he must be the doctor who sees the marks of death in a community that believes itself well and does not want to be told otherwise.

Leopold’s sentiments recently came to mind when I was visiting friends in St. George, Utah. I have been to the St. George area a few times over the decades and from the 1970s through the 1990s the growth of the town and surrounding environs had been quite noticeable but it paled in comparison to the growth I saw between my August 2023 trip and the one previous to that, in the spring of 2015. Today, one doesn’t need to have a background in ecology to see that the St. George area looks more than wounded; indeed, to me, the area looks like it has taken a shotgun blast right to the face.

St. George is in Washington County and the primary river system of the region is the Virgin River; which runs from the highlands north of Zion National Park to its confluence with the Colorado River near Las Vegas, Nevada. In the early 1990s, I had been one of the Arizona Game and Fish Department’s representatives to the Virgin River Fishes Recovery Team (despite my getting a B.S. degree in Wildlife Bio, I wound up spending most of my career working in the field of Fisheries Biology). Said team had been formed to reverse the declining population trends of six species of native fishes found in the Virgin River drainage. During my years of participation on the Team, the native fishes of the Virgin River drainage faced threats from water withdrawals from the system; the introduction and spread of nonnative species into the system (which predate and/or compete with the native species); and from destruction and degradation of aquatic habitats. During those years in the early 1990s, I had many occasions to visit and conduct fisheries works in the Virgin River and occasionally we would stay in St. George.

On my recent week-long visit to the St. George area, my friends and I explored some of the remaining wild places within an hour’s drive of the rapidly growing city. The most famous of the locales we toured was Zion National Park; an incredible geologic world that I had only visited once before, back in the 1970s, and which was memorable to me mainly for being the first place I ever saw a Peregrine Falcon. Before we even entered the park I was shocked by how much development had occurred right up to the park boundary – homes, stores, restaurants, and, lots of tourist traps. The high temps in early August had been in the 105F range, and many of the schools within the southwestern U.S. had already started their fall semester. Nonetheless, the park was jam-packed with people during the two weekdays that we visited.

So crowded is Zion today that essentially you can’t drive to most of its trailheads and instead, have to use the Park Service shuttle-bus system. Despite the spectacular beauty of the landscape, the press of humanity is so overwhelming that for the entirety of our visit, I felt like I was walking through Disneyland. Oddly enough, many visitors not only seemed to be giddy with the scenery, but also appeared to be thrilled by experiencing the Park with so many of their fellow humans. Perhaps worth noting, most of the people I could overhear talking along the trails were speaking European and Asian languages and this made me wonder if they had merely grown accustomed to sharing their homeland’s “wild” places with the teaming masses. The Americas are, after all, still a relatively new land and, as such, are somewhat less densely inhabited than much of the “Old World.”

By contrast, at the State Parks, National Forests, and other semi-natural habitats in the St. George area, most of the visitors seem to be locals; who use the trails for fitness activities including speed-walking, trail running, and mountain biking. The number of people using these semi-protected areas is nowhere near as numerous as in Zion, but, there is still a steady stream of people unless you leave the trails and head into the backcountry – something we were reluctant to do given the heat, the harshness of the terrain, and our not having any recent first-hand knowledge of the area.

During one of our hikes into a memorably gorgeous but, yet again, heavily visited area I pondered the state of our wild lands as they exist in the U.S. today. To some extent, gone are the widespread and obvious threats of strip mines, industrial pollution, clear-cutting, and overgrazing; yet now, we have a massive and affluent leisure class that seems to constantly occupy our natural areas in large numbers. Many of these people (all of us, really, at least to some extent) amazingly still drop litter along the trails; blaze new trails and take short-cuts that cause erosion; scream, shout, and otherwise make our presence very well known; drive energy-sucking vehicles to get to the trail-heads; and are equipped and clad in the latest of expensive and resource-intensive materials. Keep in mind, that we are the ones who “love the wild places” and consider ourselves ethical in our use of these diminishing habitats.

Meanwhile, we have exported our harsher land-use practices to the impoverished parts of the planet and we heavily use/abuse their resources while producing an endless array of bobbles and gee-gaws for us to import and stock onto the shelves of our mega-stores. I confess to being somewhat cynical, but it seems like while we loudly decry our “climate crisis,” we essentially do little to significantly change our typical routines. Nor do we see many places on Earth where, on the whole, humans are slowing down population growth, resource consumption, or waste production.

Once again, I’m reminded of a seminal text that I first came across when in my first year at the UM; namely, Edward Abbey’s “Desert Solitaire.” The book had a huge impact on me (as it did countless others of my generation) and I wound up reading many of Abbey’s other works as well. As I witnessed the sprawl of St. George during my recent visit, another literary quote came to mind, and this one was partially used as an epigram by Ed Abbey in his book “The Monkey Wrench Gang” and is an excerpt from a poem by Richard Shelton entitled “Requiem for Sonora.” The stanza goes as follows:

I am older and uglier

and full of the knowledge

that I do not belong to beauty

and beauty does not belong to me

I have learned to accept

whatever men choose to give me

or whatever they choose to withhold

but oh my desert

yours is the only death I cannot bear

On one of our last days in the St. George area, we took a hike on a little-used trail on the public lands. The path we followed took us along the rim of a deep and dramatic canyon and after hiking a couple of miles we came to a point where we had to follow rock cairns since the route traversed a span of trackless sandstone. The way was difficult, as the terrain was steep and treacherous. At one point, the only option was to either turn around or to descend into the canyon and, once down on the bottom, to cross a creek before ascending up the distant side so as to make a loop back to the trailhead. At first, we found it exhilarating the way our Vibram soles gripped the gritty sandstone as we made the steep climb down into the canyon. Later, we found that we had to scoot down portions of the route on our butts, so steep were the angles and so great was the risk of falling. At one point, one member of our crew came close to taking what may have been a fatal fall and so we opted to return back the way we had come and gave up on finishing the loop.

The minor sting of defeat was more than made up for by the knowledge that at least none of us would be injured or killed, thanks to our prudent choice. Throughout the hike, the landforms and the plants had been spell-binding and by the time we returned to our vehicle, we felt like we had been given a unique and precious gift. To top it off, we had not encountered a single other person on our outing!

The whole experience in St. George has left me once again wondering: How much more use will our wild lands tolerate and will we love some areas to death? And, when we do find places that are left natural, how many of us will be able to enjoy and appreciate them, and for how many years of our lives? Over time, Nature becomes less available to all of us due to “development.” It also becomes less available because each of us finds that our limitations increase with advancing age. How much longer will I personally be able to physically meet the challenge of a “wilderness without handrails,” and what will be left for me that I can safely visit?

I suppose it is only fitting that I conclude this article with one last quote. Robert Fulford, a Canadian journalist, said “I have seen the future and it doesn’t work.” At both the personal and the collective levels, this increasingly seems to stand as an obvious truth.

Spirits in Wood and Stone

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 23:34:39 GMT

Art is Within

Spirits in Wood and Stone

by Jen Rinaldi

One of the nicest things about living on a mountain is finding the living spirit within the forest around us. I have always been drawn to rocks and pieces of wood and cannot resist picking up unusual pieces of wood and stone while Sully and I hike so I can bring them home and find the hidden life within them. Much to my husband’s consternation, I often forget that odd shiny stone in my pocket, which winds up in the washing machine. After a tumble in said washer, they end up in bowls in my studio, ready to become something else.

I have been painting on rocks for several years and still cannot resist a smooth stone in an unusual shape. Those stones call out to me and often make the best pet portraits. I have even had clients bring me rocks they have found for me to paint their portraits on. I have painted hundreds of stones, and each of them is unique. I couldn’t ask for a more exciting canvas than smooth rock or jagged sandstone. Finding the right animal for the right shaped rock is the secret to a successful stone painting, but after painting 20 stones for the last show I was in, I decided that my dog Sully and I deserved a day off. I needed to switch gears and do something more physical.

While Sully and I were walking, I found a beautiful old juniper tree that had been hit by lightning and had exploded, leaving chunks of charred wood in a circle around the burnt trunk. Luckily, the tree hadn’t caused a fire but had just burned down into the ground. By the looks of it, the juniper had been dead for many years when it had been hit, its gnarled trunk like some twisted torso screaming for peace. I couldn’t resist the tree’s call to me and packed a few pieces back with me. When we got home, I brought the wood to the basement so that it could dry while leaving my stones piles by our back gate.

Inspiration struck me about a week later. Upon examining the chunks of wood, I saw an owl within the grain and charr of the first piece. I placed the irregular piece of wood in a vice, took out my rotary cutter, and began to clean the surface burn enough to see where the creature lay buried. With careful work over the next three hours, I started roughing out my owl’s shape. As I dug deeper within the piece, I found the heart of the wood was slightly damp. The deeper I carved, the more the smell of the juniper enveloped me. It had me smiling as shards of it stuck to my face shield and bandanna. Even in this tree’s death, its heart was still alive and ready to take on a new existence.

The image of the owl seemed to jump out so quickly it surprised me. It was then that I remembered the glass eyes I had purchased from a carving supply house, and I took a break and went upstairs to see if I had a size that would work before I carved further.

The largest size I had fit beautifully, and with the eyes in place, I was able to finish up the proportions of the owl. Once I was sure that most of the rough details were to my liking, I removed the wood from the vice and brought it over to my Foredom rotary tool for the finer details. The beak, the eye sockets, and the claws came quickly with the smaller device. I ensured I didn’t slip with the tip, as rotary tools tend to roll away from you if the edge of the bur’s tip gets clogged with wood fiber.

When I was happy with the details, I went over the owlet with a rough sandpaper to give the beak and claws a smoother appearance. I left the feathers on the owls’ chest and head rough so that they would have the formation of new growth, such as a baby owl would have at that age. I wanted this to remain a little folksy, so I refrained from adding too much detail or sanding too much.

I brought the sculpture to my painting table and began to layer colors into the damp wood. With browns, reds, and whites, the baby came to life. It took me another couple of hours to bring out the colors in the feathers. When I was finally satisfied, I put it outside to dry.

When the carving was dry to the touch, I sanded the bottom and applied a light coat of sealer to protect the wood from splitting. I look forward to seeing what the next juniper piece holds in its heart!

Recycling things from nature always is exciting. If you want to learn to sculpt or paint rocks, you can take a class at Mountain Legacy Gallery with me this fall! Or come see my work at Made on the Mountain at St. Mary of the Angels Catholic Church on November 4th or The Women’s Club’s Cup of Cheer in December, which is at the same location in the St. Joseph’s Family Center. St. Mary of the Angels Catholic Church

1915 South Penrod Lane Pinetop, AZ 85935

or visit our website @ www.rinaldiarts.com

Helpful Horses

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 23:30:54 GMT

More Than Just Livestock

Helpful Horses

By Kathleen Little

There is an argument in the animal world that horses are not pets. Some would say that although we love them, pet them, bond with them, and consider them family, a horse is delineated as livestock. This, of course, is due to their use for labor and transportation post-domestication. We often associate horses with these traditional roles and duties, but they have an entirely different skill set that makes them better than your average livestock. They can heal.

Hippotherapy (therapy using horse riding) and Equine therapy evolved as scientifically recognized treatment methods in the 1960s, but their long journey can be traced as far back as ancient Greece. In the mid-1940s, Scandinavian physicians and horse experts began using the therapies to help patients during an outbreak of polio. By 1960, the Community Association of Riding of the Disabled (CARD) was formed, introducing Canada and the United States to the benefits of these helpful horses. Since then, the world of services that can be aided by the use of these noble creatures has become almost limitless.

Hippotherapy is a type of therapy that uses horses to provide physical, emotional, and cognitive benefits to individuals with various conditions and disabilities. It involves using the horse's movements to stimulate the rider's body and mind. Hippotherapy is particularly beneficial for people with neurological disorders such as cerebral palsy, autism spectrum disorder, multiple sclerosis, and traumatic brain injuries. It improves muscle tone, coordination, balance, and posture, while also enhancing sensory processing, social skills, and emotional well-being. Additionally, hippotherapy promotes confidence, self-esteem, and independence in individuals of all ages.

A growing amount of psychological patients are showing great improvements in their mental health using Equine therapies, especially those with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Highly sensitive horses require that their riders and handlers be able to regulate their emotions and rely heavily on trust for bond-building. This allows a patient to exercise their growing ability to handle anxiety by grounding and remaining mindful with an understanding creature. Once a partnership is built between the patient and the horse, the physical activity and exertion of riding and caring for the animal helps reduce their stress and improve their all-around health.

Therapeutic riding has proven to be so effective that even the Department of Veteran’s Affairs (VA) recognizes it as a meaningful treatment option for our heroes at home. Several grants are offered federally and regionally for any veteran who needs a horse in their life. These programs are often easy to find as well. A simple Google search provides a litany of providers who are not only willing to assist and accept grants, but are sometimes run by volunteers for a very small cost or donation —- especially to help a veteran.

Similarly, Equine therapy can aid with addiction recovery. Like the PTSD treatment, a recovery patient works to build bonds, remain grounded, learn trust, and regulate emotions. Aside from these steps, they also learn the value of responsibility and routine by caring for the horses in a structured time frame and environment. The time that the patients spend with their horses gives them an atmosphere to reflect and grow, while also affording them measurable goals and a means of improving their dwindled confidence and self-esteem.

The programs are reminiscent of one another in many of the means of Equine therapy with some variations depending on diagnosis. For example, a rider with autism might be guided initially into a more tactile experience in order to soothe their sensory sensitivities, while a patient with multiple sclerosis may be working with a trainer on balance. This is why it is imperative that specialists and therapists help to create a plan that works for the individual’s needs. What works for one patient may actually be aversive, uncomfortable, or even scary to another. After all, no two riders are alike.

Obviously, you don’t need any kind of diagnosis to benefit from a little horseplay. You might need a little time in the saddle to clear your head. Perhaps you just need to scratch a new friend between the ears to calm some anxiety. Maybe, with a little time around a stable, you’ll learn that a horse isn’t exclusively livestock or a pet. They’re something even better.

Leopold's Mountain

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 23:26:49 GMT

Discover a Legend

Leopold’s Mountains

Life is full of changes. Typically, we aren’t fans of change, but when I look back on the

paths I took, I realize that every bend in the trail, every roadblock, and every choice I made,

brought me here. Sometimes — and I really believe this — the path was chosen for me by some

kind of universal law of attraction. When things line up and fall into place, I know I’m on the right

path and it gives me an overwhelming feeling of confidence. Sometimes, there are subtle signs

that serve as confirmations that you are where you are supposed to be. For me, the day my

brother gave me a copy of Aldo Leopold’s “A Sand County Almanac,” my path was set into

motion.

It was 1990, the year I quit my job and went back to school in the Boundary Waters

Wilderness Area —located at the end of the trail in Minnesota (about five miles from Canada “as

the crow flies”) so that I could become a wilderness ranger. My brother, Jeff, who was a

biologist and director of the linguistics department at the University of North Carolina Charlotte

(at the time) and an avid outdoors person, gave me a copy of Leopold’s book with an inscription

written by him that read, “For new beginnings.” I had no idea that the path I had chosen and this

book would be so well collaborated.

Leopold, considered the father of wildlife ecology and the United States Wilderness

system, wrote not only an almanac based on the seasons for the Sand Counties of Wisconsin

(my home state), but he wrote about his early years in 1909 as a forester for the Apache

National Forest in the White Mountains of Arizona. Little did I know that my path would lead me

not only to the Arizona mountains, Mount Baldy, Escudilla, the Campbell Blue River Area, and

the Little Colorado River Plateau that he writes about, but also to the Gila Wilderness, the Aldo

Leopold Wilderness, and the Blue Range Wilderness — all part of the Gila National Forest in

New Mexico — and just across the Arizona border.

Leopold’s White Mountain (Mount Baldy), however, was a “horseman’s world.” Back

then the land was too rough for wagons. There were no cars and the area he covered as a

forester was too vast to trek by foot. It was different here than the surrounding railroad towns

and each mode of transportation “dropped off” as you headed south to White Mountain or as he

referred to it, “on top.”

If you’ve hiked Mount Baldy (White Mountain) you will find that his descriptive writing of

the mountain back then still rings true today. “On a fair morning, the mountain invited you to get

down and roll in its new grass and flowers. Every living thing sang, chirped, and burgeoned…An

hour later thunderheads blotted out the sun while your erstwhile paradise cowered under the

impending lash of lightning, rain, and hail.”

When Leopold heard anyone say they do not fear lightning, he would think, “they have

never ridden The Mountain in July.” Bolts of lightning would splinter and explode pines and he

remembers “one gleaming white one, 15 feet long, that stabbed deep into the earth at his feet

and stood there humming like a tuning fork.” The deep snow of winter kept the horsemen off the

top of the mountain. However, in May men from a small local village at the foot of the mountain

(I believe he’s talking about Greer) would compete to be the first rider to “invade the high

solitudes.”

He writes about how the aspen bears the scars of past history with carvings into its

"patient bark” at every campsite. “First, the new cowman arrives and carves his simple initial

with no brand…next, a decade later his initials plus a brand, then years later you find his

daughter's initials inscribed into the bark by an enamored youth aspiring to the lady’s hand.”

Eventually the old cowman dies, “in his later years his heart had thrilled only to his bank account

and to the tally of his flocks and herds, but the aspen reveled that in his youth he too had felt the

glory of the mountain spring.”

Not only was the history written in aspen bark, but in the names that were given to

places, such as “The Boneyard, a lovely meadow where bluebells arched over the half-buried

skulls and scattered vertebrae of cows long since dead,” brought by a foolish cowman who

trusted the summer temperatures but didn’t compensate for the winter weather of November.

The Campbell Blue, the headwaters of the Blue River, was named after the piano that

was hauled by one mule and one super-human packer for the discontented wife of a rancher.

And still, the Campbell piano failed to keep her there.

At “Frijole Cienega” stood a small log cabin that was used as an overnight camp. There

was an unwritten law that owners of this place leave flour, lard, and beans for travelers to

replenish their stock. One traveler was trapped there for a week and only had beans — thus the

name. And…“Paradise Ranch’s” verdant meadows and trout stream were a welcome sight for

travelers. So lush, that a horse was left for a month and waxed so fat that rainwater gathered in

a pool on his back. After Leopold’s stay at the ranch, he remarked to himself, “What else could

you call it?”

“To the north of the mountain, you rode on honey-colored plains. Look up anywhere, any

time and you saw Escudilla.” If you’ve ever hiked anywhere in the Springerville-Eagar volcanic

fields area, you know what Leopold is talking about. I have seen Escudilla from just about every

mountain I’ve climbed such as Greens Peak and Baldy. At Sipe White Mountain Wildlife Area

just south of Eagar, Escudilla shadows the old homestead and is an awesome sight. The most

majestic and close-up view, however, is from Arizona State Road 191 which snakes through the

honey-colored plains toward Alpine.

Escudilla was home to the “robber-baron” grizzly named Big Foot. A bear that only ate

one cow per year. He was elusive and never seen by locals except for his “incredible tracks.”

One spring a government trapper drove to town and asked if there were any "destructive

animals in need of slaying.” There was the big bear. After a month of trial and error, the trapper

set up a trip line attached to his rifle, set it in the bear’s path and Big Foot shot himself. The pelt

was patchy and worthless so the only thing that was saved of the big bear was his skull, which

is in the National Museum.

In the Fall, Escudilla is a great hike because of its many aspens. Some of the elevated

areas of the mountain were burned by the Wallow Fire and need to be hiked with caution.

Leopold took part in the eradication of the wolves in Arizona but when he shot a pack of wolves,

a mother, and her grown pups, he got to the female in time to see “a fierce green fire dying in

her eyes.” He was young and full of trigger itch. “I thought that because fewer wolves meant

more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters’ paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I

sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view.”

Through the years of research, Leopold discovered that “just as a deer herd lives in mortal fear

of wolves, so does a mountain live in mortal fear of its deer.” He states that “a buck pulled down

by a wolf can be replaced in two or three years, a range pulled down by too many deer may fail

of replacement in as many decades.” He called it “Thinking Like a Mountain”— a philosophy

that began here in Arizona’s White Mountains, that started Leopold’s career as an American

writer, philosopher, naturalist, scientist, ecologist, forester, conservationist, and

environmentalist.

Be it chance or synchronicity, my gift of Aldo Leopold’s “A Sand County Almanac” from my

brother unknowingly set me on a path that led me here. And it has been one of learning,

incredible beauty, and adventure in what I believe are some of Arizona’s best mountain

landscapes.

1909: Leopold was assigned to the Forest Service's District 3 in the Arizona and New Mexico

territories.

1911: He was transferred to the Carson National Forest in northern New Mexico. Leopold's

career, which kept him in New Mexico until 1924, included developing the first comprehensive

management plan for the Grand Canyon, writing the Forest Service's first game and fish

handbook, and proposing Gila Wilderness Area, the first national wilderness area in the Forest

Service system.

1923: He was elected an associate member of the Boone

and Crockett Club, a wildlife conservation organization founded by Theodore

Roosevelt and George Bird Grinnell.

1924: He accepted a transfer to the U.S. Forest Products Laboratory in Madison, Wisconsin,

and became an associate director.

1933: He was appointed Professor of Game Management in the Agricultural Economics

Department at the University of Wisconsin, the first such professorship of wildlife

management. At the same time, he was named Research Director of the University of

Wisconsin–Madison Arboretum. Leopold purchased 80 acres in the sand country of central Wisconsin. The once-forested region had been logged, swept by repeated fires, overgrazed by dairy cows, and left barren. He put his

theories to work in the field and eventually set to work writing his best-selling A Sand County

Almanac (1949) which was finished just prior to his death.

1948: Leopold died of a heart attack (age 61) while battling a wildfire on a neighbor's property.

NOHWIKE’ BÁGOWA: THE HOUSE OF OUR FOOTPRINTS

Sat, 19 Aug 2023 14:11:19 GMT

Live the legacy of Fort Apache.

NOHWIKE’ BÁGOWA:

THE HOUSE OF OUR FOOTPRINTS

ANNE GROEBNER

The buildings of Fort Apache have been standing for over 150 years. It is a reminder of the Apache wars, a time in history that changed a traditional, cultural community forever. It still stands as a reminder of what happened because that’s what they, the White Mountain Apache elders, want people to remember. That time in history when the United States Calvary posted a military camp, Camp Apache, to subdue the Apaches, move them off of their homeland, and put them on a reservation. The battles that ensued and the historic trauma it caused have filled history books and inspired movies. It was the last stronghold of Native Americans fighting for freedom. Fighting until the last renegade warrior was captured and removed. What is left are these buildings and a community of people with a rich history that they want to share, so they have resurrected and continue to renovate this part of history that is now called Fort Apache Heritage Foundation, The White Mountain Apache Tribe “Nohwike' Bagowa,” and the White Mountain Apache Cultural Center.

The museum started in 1969. The Tribal Council appointed Edgar Perry as its first director and they set it up in General Crook’s Cabin. This is what Ann Skidmore, present museum director and longest staff member of the Park, told me. “They collected photographs, artifacts and started a library collection of books. They also went out into the community and interviewed the elderly.” They had language experts come and teach the staff the Apache language and worked on the Western Apache dictionary as well as hymnals. It was the first time their own people learned to read and write Apache after it was forbidden by the Anglos to be spoken.

In 1976, the United States Bicentennial year, they managed to get some funds and they moved the museum to the barracks, located on the other side of the Theodore Roosevelt School. Colonel Wharfield, a commanding officer at the Fort, donated funds and some of his own belongings. “I was fortunate to have seen some of the original military gear,” Skidmore tells me. “Sadly,” she says, “the museum caught fire in 1985 and they lost about 95 percent of all of he artifacts. We got out with very little, but we were fortunate to have gotten every person out safely.” The school children and staff came to help, but they couldn’t salvage much because the fire had started in the ceiling and the rafters fell down on top of everything.

They had no choice but to return to General Crook’s Cabin with the few items that were left. “I cried,” Skidmore tells me. “It was the sweet grandmas that told me, ‘Do not cry. Out of ashes good things will happen again and we are going to start over…this is not the end.’” So they put her back on her feet and said, “Let’s go!” Many people donated their office furniture and office supplies as well as photographs and artifacts. They were back in business.

When the insurance money came in, they built a shell structure for the new museum, but quickly ran out of money and the empty building sat for over 10 years. Then because General Crooks Cabin needed restoring, they were forced to move into one of the small cabins next door and stayed there for about four years.

In 1995, Ramon Riley was put in charge by the late Chairman Lupe. He became the museum director. In 1997, when the new building was completed, they moved into their permanent home. “It took years and years to get a nice building!” Skidmore states. “This is something that the grandma’s and grandpa’s wanted. They wanted a nice building with glass cases with displays that would tell their story.” Many times it felt like the money would be gone, but it was the grandma’s and grandpa’s that encouraged Skidmore to keep going, to carry these things through, to keep the fires burning — “Don’t let the fire burn out!” they said.

Skidmore is in her sixties and has mentioned retirement. She started working there in 1980 and soon it will be her 43rd anniversary and she wants a cake. However, her goal before retirement is to get all of the documents, photos, and other artifacts, some borrowed from large institutions such as The Smithsonian and The Museum of American Indians in Washington DC, all digitized so that her staff can have quick access to the information. She says people want to know their family history and some even come in to get their “Apache” name.

When Ramon Riley arrived, he was the museum director and worked with John Welch, the Tribal Historic Reservation Officer to try and put Fort Apache back together and back on the map. The White Mountain Apache Tribal Council knew that it was world known and hoped it would bring the much-needed funds to restore it back as close as possible to its original condition. They wanted a tourist attraction. Ramon and John established the Apache Elder Advisory Group and the Tribal Preservation Office and they got busy.

The new structure was just sitting there and they needed a museum. So, they got some funds and some grants, hired a museum specialist named Nancy Mahaney, designated her as the museum director, and Riley became the Cultural Resource Director. He also began his present duties as the NAGPRA representative (Native American Graves and Protection and Repatriation Act) for the Tribe. NAGPRA was passed by Congress in October 1990, and President George H. Bush signed the law on November 16, 1990. NAGPRA provides a process for federal agencies and museums that receive federal funds to repatriate or transfer from their collections certain Native American cultural items — human remains, funerary objects, sacred objects, and objects of cultural patrimony — to lineal descendants, and to Indian tribes.

Through NAGPRA, they applied for funds and then Riley, along with the Elders Apache Advisory Board traveled all over the country to places like New York and Washington DC to find artifacts and human remains from their homeland. During the process, they realized that other Apache Tribes would lay claim to some of the artifacts and that it might cause some problems, so they combined forces with six other Tribes. “Things started to happen after that,” Riley told me. “We went to different museums and appeared before the NAGPRA Reveal Committee. The new law in favor of Native Americans didn’t appeal to some museums that were losing their artifacts, but for the Native Americans, after years of losing this battle, NAGPRA was finally a win for them.

“This place here, people don’t want to talk about it, but I do,” Riley states. “I want to speak the truth because nobody had spoken truth here. Historical trauma happened pretty bad here.” At the age of 82, Riley remembers things talked about by his mom and other elders in his Tribe. “They were told to kill every man, woman, and child because some other renegades were killing ranchers and miners. The army came from the south. They came from Fort Thomas across the Black River. They destroyed the food caches, destroyed crops, and killed animals including horses. But the two Apache Chiefs said ‘Don’t do anything.’ And they got out the flag for peace. The two chiefs knew that we lived on the Mother Earth. We had everything we need here. We have the four seasons, food in the mountains, and water. So they said, ‘Don’t do anything or we will be exterminated or sent to prison.’” And so their people lived near Fort Apache. People from Cibecue, North Fork, Charrizo started coming here. This was where peace was put into place. They brought in schools and churches and the rest is history.

They have gone through a lot and so the elders knew that this place that holds, Nohwike’Bagowa —The House of Their Footprints — was a place to hold onto. This was their motherland, Mother Earth. “We should be rich people,” Rileys says.

At 82, Riley also talks of retirement, but says there is still so much to be done.

Krista Beazley has been the CEO of the Fort Apache Heritage Foundation for about seven years. She is over new purchases and inventory at the museum’s gift shop and works with Ann and her staff to build local inventory. “We only buy from local Tribal Members,” Beazley says. “We noticed that tourists prefer authentic Native American handmade items.” Because many on the reservation live in poverty, it helps put money into the community.

Beazley also oversees projects to restore buildings and diligently works on grants to bring in the much-needed funds. They are working on the “Home of Harmony” project which was formerly the boys’ dorm, a mirror image of the girls’ dorm. The Home of Harmony project will have six nice apartments on the top, more office space, and two elongated office spaces in between. They are still debating on an additional interpretation of the site or whether to use the elongated space for local Tribal craftsmen to sell their items in an open market.

“About 75 percent of the buildings here are restored and occupied,” Beazley tells me. They rent to commercial and residential tenants and they have a waiting list. Theodore Roosevelt School needs housing for its teachers and they are working on a large space in building 113 for their stem lab which is desperately needed. Beazley tells me that if someone commits to renting for 10-plus years, they will expedite the renovation and move them in sooner and at a comparable rent based on surrounding Navajo and Apache rental structures.

The Tribe and the Foundation are working together to go after the remaining funds from the BIA and to get the funds as soon as possible. They are also working on several other grants and funding projects. They already have their master plan in place, so as soon as the money arrives they will get to work. Beazley, as well as Riley and Skidmore, hope that within a couple of years, they will get to the point where they will see bus-loads of tourists at their new site.

Fort Apache Historic Park is open Monday through Friday from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., Saturday from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., and Closed on Sunday. Their winter hours change to the Monday through Friday hours, but if large groups want to come on Saturday, they can call and make arrangements ahead of time and a staff member will come and let them in.

“To the living Apache of Arizona… — in sorrow at what they lost, and awe at what they saved.”

Dedication by David Roberts, Author of “Once They Moved Like The Wind.”

Discover the Wonders of Nature: San Francisco, the Muir Woods, the Park, and Other Things

Sat, 19 Aug 2023 13:22:09 GMT

Take a trip to California!

Discover the Wonders of Nature:

San Francisco, the Muir Woods, the Park, and Other Things

By Kathleen Little - Traveling

It’s 9:30 am on a Monday in Chinatown. Voices in Cantonese rise above the foggy din of distant cable car bells and boisterous car stereos. I am awakened by this cacophony to the sight of my dear friend/travel companion, Chelsea, frantically packing our San Francisco hotel room. Our tiny 5th-floor domicile is littered with scarves, a few empty take-out boxes, carry-ons, various oddities, and a bright red Chinese parasol. Shoving dresses and souvenirs into a duffle bag, she speaks over her shoulder to me.

“We have a rental car coming to get us at checkout so that we can go to the Muir Woods before we go to the airport,” she reminds me of this as I toss childishly in my single bed. This is her kind way of saying, “Get up!” Check-out is at 11 AM and I consider whether I can postpone the departure or convince Chelsea that we should book another night so that we can rest until our red-eye flight home at 11:55 PM. But I knew very well that she wouldn’t go for the idea of dim sum and naps when we could traipse through the redwoods. So I mustered my last-day-of-a-trip energy, ignoring my total lack of sleep, to go discover the wonders of nature with one of my favorite people.

We had come to San Francisco with the initial purpose of seeing the last two nights of our favorite band, Dead and Company (the latest iteration of Grateful Dead) on their farewell tour. We are usually responsibility-driven mothers and career women in our 30’s, but this was our “girls' trip” and a well-deserved respite. After a few years of personal triumphs and tragedies, we decided that we should release our guilt and go be “ourselves” for a spell.

We spent the two days before the shows exploring the urban atmosphere of Chinatown’s red lanterned and gilded alleys, North Beach’s beatnik mavens, Haight-Ashbury’s hippie hideaways, Sausalito’s charms, and the antique arcades of the waterfront. Quite to my surprise, unlike many large U.S. cities, San Francisco is FULL of green areas to explore nature.

On our first full day in the city, after spending a few hours on Haight Street, we floated down the Panhandle and into Golden Gate Park (which I was surprised to learn is twice the size of New York’s Central Park). Our original intention was to visit the Botanical Gardens, but we discovered ourselves distracted by miles of paths, gardens, plants, clearings, and groves. We examined acres of well-chosen flora that lined our paths and used cellphone apps to identify the types of plants we were seeing and smelling. Sage, lavender, mint, rosemary, mugwort, and wild thyme wafted through the park. The lush grasses were thick and velvety, just perfect for walking through barefoot. By the time we made it to the botanical gardens, we had walked happily for miles to find that the facility was closed. So instead, we sunbathed on the lawn near the conservatory with dozens of other San Franciscans who had come out to enjoy the perfect, sunny 70-degree day.

On our second day of the trip, we shortly perused the Fisherman’s Wharf before embarking on a ferry to Marin County. It was on this trip that we learned of a Muir Woods excursion by bus that would pick up visitors from our intended port. We also discovered the severity of the San Francisco Bay microclimate. One side of the bay is calm, warm, and inviting, while on the other shores, it is choppy, brisk, and rude. We left San Francisco in sassy waters, but found ourselves in the gentile repose of Sausalito, the fair lady town across the bay, where we explored the history and houseboats of a bygone era. We decided that we would save the Muir Woods for our last day before heading to the airport.

After our first couple days of exploration, we spent two days and nights exploring the fairgrounds of Oracle Park Stadium and taking in the last incredible tour dates of Dead and Company. This is another story unto itself about friendship, magic, and music.

When the two days of concert festivities were done, and we checked out of our hotel (I did finally get up), we made our way back to Marin County via our rental car. The illustrious Golden Gate Bridge, mysterious vixen that she is, managed to evade us in her fog for the majority of our vacation but was exposed by our trespass. We were so happy. As we crossed the bay, we opened the car windows and sang out, “California! Prophet on the golden shore! California! I’ll be knocking on your golden door!”

After a short, picturesque drive, we made it to our destination. The Muir Woods National Historic Site was named in honor of influential conservationist John Muir in 1908 by President Theodore Roosevelt. Muir himself was paramount in protecting and preserving natural landscapes across the United States. The initial park land of 295 acres had been a gift from William and Elizabeth Kent who had used it as a redwood retreat. Of course the original occupants, the indigenous Coast Miwok people, had lived on these lands for thousands of years. They considered the redwoods a sacred gift from the gods, gathered medicines in the forest, and held rituals in the groves.

Today, the park spans over 560 acres and draws in over half a million visitors each year. It is one of the last old-growth coastal redwood forests left on the planet. A litany of beautiful, and in some cases endangered, species like the Northern Spotted Owl, Coho Salmon, Sonoma Chipmunks, Banana Slugs, Winter Wrens, and many more call these woods home. (We had the luck of spotting a Black-Tailed Mule Deer drinking from a brook as soon as we parked our car.) The site is also lush with all varieties of vegetation, including mammoth redwoods and several varieties of ferns. The Muir Woods is also a mushroom mecca, boasting over 200 species.

Walking into the park doesn’t seem real. It feels like perhaps a dinosaur could stomp around the corner, or maybe you could happen upon a hobbit. The trees are so awe-inspiring and enormous, some as tall as 250 feet. The oldest tree there is 1200 years old. To put that into perspective, it was 400 years old when the Magna Carta was drafted and Genghis Khan was invading China. Even the light through the trees is magical and green.

As we meandered down the boardwalk and through the forest, I heard voices in the stream calling off numbers to one another in a fashion reminiscent of river boaters calling “Mark Twain!” on the Mississippi. When we rounded the bend, I observed a team of park workers in waders and asked about their activities. The team explained that at the time of the park’s conception, engineers had erroneously believed that using large boulders to fill the streams in the park would help to stabilize the walkways and paths. With time, these original paths were abandoned in place of a wooden, raised boardwalk that would not interrupt the natural decay of the redwoods’ organic floor and ecosystem. It was also discovered that the shallowed streams were inhibiting the natural spawning of Coho Salmon. The numbers they were calling out were cataloging the types and amounts of indigenous plants that they were harvesting and preserving. Once the streams have been dredged, those plants can be replanted in order to promote Coho spawning and repopulation. They are eager to host the regained population of salmon and observe/learn from their patterns in a gentle and uninhibitive nature.

We could have spent an entire day there, but we decided to press on driving up to the Muir Beach overlook for a spectacular view up the coast toward Stinson Beach and down toward San Francisco. It was a beautiful panoramic and a lovely way to bid our vacation fare thee well.

On the way to the airport, we stopped in the city to waste a little time. We ended up just having a seat outside and talking about what we had learned on the trip and what lessons we wanted to bring home. We mentioned things like “facing fears”, “eating a California diet”, “the real meaning of family”, “developing greener thumbs”, and “checking to see if your hotel has late check-out or a baggage holding policy.” I’d also add that the Muir Woods taught me that it’s never too late to see the puzzle for its pieces, to admit that you didn’t have all of the evidence, or to correct what you once did incorrectly.

It’s been three weeks since the trip and it is still all that Chelsea and I can talk about. I did end up starting to eat healthier, am growing more plants, and am facing some of my fears. Chelsea is exploring her goals too, and after 12 years of friendship, we couldn’t be more like family. I’m glad the best souvenirs from the trip weren’t the giant Chinese parasol I lugged around two airports or the hippie bracelets from Haight Street. It was the memories, secrets, and struggles we worked through on our way. We didn’t leave our hearts in San Francisco. We left with San Francisco in ours.

Who is a REAL Mountain Biker?

Sat, 19 Aug 2023 13:17:34 GMT

Yes, you belong.

Who’s a Real Mountain Biker?

by Carol Godwin

I belong to several mountain and gravel biking Facebook groups, and recently, on the same day, I came across two posts that struck a chord in me. The first one was a question from an older female rider in a women’s mountain biking group that asked, “Am I a real mountain biker if I don’t do big jumps and steep descents? I just like riding.” The second one was a comment in a general co-ed mountain biking group, also a female rider, but younger, that was responding to a thread about e-bikes on trails. Her comment was “Most of the e-bikers I see on trails are elderly, and elderly people don’t belong out on trails.” Both of these comments struck me because they both address a common problem that many people have when beginning a new activity or when participating in an activity that may be considered out of the norm for their demographic. This problem involves the recurrent and nagging questions we all face throughout our lives… “Where do I fit in?” or “Do I fit in at all?”

Who is a “real” mountain biker?

I recently attended a Zia Rides endurance mountain biking event, “24 Hours in the Enchanted Forest”, in New Mexico. I was helping to hand out number plates and got to see the huge variety of people who had signed up for this race. Out of a total of 459 entrants, there were 20% women and 8% older than 60. There were several kids as young as 9 and one man at 79. There was a grandfather racing in a duo team with his grandson for the first time. There was a quad team of septuagenarians ranging from 71-74. There were people representing every race: Black, Asian, White, Hispanic, Native… There was every body type from sleek greyhound-style young guns to portly folks you would never expect to see at an athletic event. There were people on cheap big box bikes and people on $14,000 race machines, people riding single-speed bikes, fat bikes, hardtails, and carbon full suspension bikes. There were people wearing everything from shorts and Hawaiian shirts to people in full race kits.

The trail doesn’t discriminate and doesn’t care who you are. The trail is the trail and it is the same for whoever rides it. It’s the same rocks and climbs for a black 79-year-old man or a native 9-year-old girl. It’s the same distance for a 42-year-old beginner carrying a couple dozen extra pounds or an ultra-competitive 24-year-old with 5% body fat. The trail isn’t there to judge, the trail has no compassion for sore knees or a pending divorce at home. The trail is the trail and is there to guide everyone from start to finish and round again.

What makes the trail different for every rider is what the rider brings to the trail. A less experienced or older rider will ride more slowly, take descents with extra care, and might walk over some more difficult portions. A young go-getter is willing to bomb down technical rocky slopes and will pass you with an “Excuse me, on your left” as if you were standing still. The 79-year-old mentioned earlier finished 2 complete 14-mile laps while the top 18+ rider did 16 of these laps. Is one of these riders more of a “real mountain biker” than the other? I say “no.” If you are out there riding your bike, no matter the situation, you are a “real mountain biker”, so stop questioning yourself. If you are a slower beginner or just like to cruise along and smell the flowers, you might not want to go on an “intermediate level” group ride in the same way that I would never enter a race based on speed or attempt to fling myself down Sunrise. But you are a mountain biker, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.

Who belongs on the trail?

I have to say, that when the person posted her comment about “elderly” people not belonging on the trail, I’m guessing, as a Gen X-er, she was thinking of another, stereotyped, category of “elderly” people. Someone who is 80+, frail, and has never ridden a mountain bike, should probably think twice or more about mounting a powerful e-bike and tackling a technical trail. I have to say that I have never encountered this category of “elderly” while out on the trail and most of the “elderly” e-bikers I see are people who have been riding for decades, have great bike-handling skills, and who now are utilizing an e-bike to help them continue their love of the sport as their bodies begin to slow.

When I was in my 20s, I never in my wildest imagination would have seen myself at 60, riding a mountain bike over rocks, for miles on end, and down slopes that are steep enough to give a hiker pause. Now that I’ve made it this far, I see others in our bike shop and out on the trails that are much older than I am, doing just fine, and I know I have at least a decade, maybe two, to continue loving this sport. When I was in my 20’s, e-bikes didn’t exist, and mountain biking as a separate discipline was in its infancy. Back then, to me, “elderly” meant over 50 and the picture in my mind was of me barely getting around and probably spending a lot of time in a rocking chair. Boy, is my take on life different now!

We all belong on the trail however we choose to take it. Again, the trail doesn’t discriminate and doesn’t care who you are. If you have been riding the trail for decades, and now, because of lost muscle tone with aging, you are using a peddle-assist e-bike to be able to continue riding as you have, I say go for it, you belong on the trail. If you just want to cruise around to get great nature photos and enjoy being outdoors, yes, by all means, get out there and love life. If you are a beginner and want to keep up with your friends as you build skills, I say take advantage of the technology of an e-bike and go for it! Whether you are someone who rides every day or someone who rides a few times a year, you belong on the trail and you are part of a much larger community of people who can call themselves mountain bikers. If you are a rude entitled jerk on a throttle bike, out bullying people off the trails with aggression and speed, you are not welcome in my world, but life is the same way. There are those rude entitled people in every walk of life trying to bully the rest of us, but I have no time for them in my life and I just count them as one of the technical obstacles on the trail, work around them, and move on.

An endurance mountain bike race is like life in that most people are following their own trails in their own ways and are happy to know and help others of all varieties passing along the same trails of progression. As we start out, we move with a little more abandon and a little less care. We learn along the way that sometimes it is painful when we go full throttle without paying attention to the details that can derail us, but we learn. As we take laps around the sun, those laps may slow and we begin to be more attentive to the things we submit ourselves to, but we keep on going. We take a little more care on the road and make more selective choices in how we spend our time and money, but we keep on going. As we enter old age, we all begin to slow down. Maybe it’s time to retire, maybe it's time to use an e-bike, maybe it's time to rest between laps, and maybe it's time to walk around some of life’s obstacles rather than attempting to just fly over them, but we keep on going. Whether it’s a 12-hour, 24-hour, or 100-year event, there is ultimately an end, but until then, keep on doing laps, keep on making the best of each day, and keep on being a mountain biker because yes, you matter and yes, you belong.

Heat Emergencies Can Be Deadly

Sat, 19 Aug 2023 13:17:30 GMT

Be safe in the sun!

Heat Emergencies can be Deadly

By Marcy Schlaufman, RN, M.Ed

Extremely high temperatures are affecting countries around the world this summer. According

to the CDC, an average of 702 heat-related deaths occur in the U.S. every year with an estimated 68,000

Americans seen in the emergency room for heat-related illnesses. The summer heat is in full swing with

the official last day of summer being September 23 this year. If you are spending time outside this

summer, being prepared with an awareness of heat illnesses could save your life or the life of someone

you know. Exposure to abnormal or prolonged periods of heat (dry heat or humid) without relief or

adequate fluid intake can jeopardize life.

Heat illness results as the body becomes unable to bear the heat load of the environment. The

CDC reports that prolonged exposure to high heat can start with heat rash or sunburn. Advancing in

safety concerns are heat cramps, heat exhaustion, and ultimately heat stroke. These latter conditions

are serious and should be treated as a health emergency.

A heat rash shows up as clusters of small blisters that appear like pimples on the skin. They

usually appear on the neck, chest, groin, and/or elbow creases. Go to a cool setting, keep the rash dry,

and apply powder, such as baby powder for comfort. Sunburn is painful, red, and warm skin. Get out of

the sun, take a cool bath, apply moisturizing lotion or aloe, drink extra water, and do not break any

blisters.

Heat cramps are muscle pain or spasms that result from intense exercise and sweating. They

can be caused by extreme dehydration and an imbalance in the body’s sodium levels. Stop all physical

activity, move to a cool place, remove excess clothing, and lie down. Drink water, clear juice, or a sports

drink with salt and sugar. Resume outside activities only after the cramps have subsided. Seek medical

attention for cramps lasting longer than an hour, if you are on a low-sodium diet, or if you have heart

problems.

Some of the symptoms of heat exhaustion are high body temperature, heavy sweating,

dizziness, nausea, headache, extreme thirst, fatigue, decreased urine output, and a weak and rapid

pulse. Cool, moist, pale skin with goosebumps and a normal body temperature can also be an

indication of heat exhaustion. Treat heat exhaustion as mentioned for heat cramps and spray or sponge

the victim’s body with cool water. Call 911 for a worsening condition such as fainting, vomiting,

agitation, confusion, seizures, inability to drink, and a core body temperature of 104 degrees F.

Recovering from heat exhaustion can take several days.

The most serious of heat illnesses is heat stroke; it is the next level of heat complications after

unresolved heat exhaustion. The body can no longer control its temperature, the temperature is rapidly

rising, and the sweating safety mechanism fails (no sweating) which impairs the body’s ability to cool

itself. The body’s temperature can rise to 104 degrees F or higher in 10-15 minutes. The symptoms are

the same for heat exhaustion, now with possible rapid breathing, flushed/dry skin, racing heart rate,

throbbing headache, slurred speech, delirium, staggering, and irritability. Heat stroke can cause

permanent damage to body organs (including the brain), coma, or death. This is a medical emergency;

act quickly, call 911, or get medical care immediately. First aid while waiting for medical care includes

moving the affected person to a cool area, removing tight or extra clothing, and elevating their feet.

Wrap them in a cool wet sheet, or sponge them with cool water, and use a fan. Place cold water bottles

in the armpits, wrists, on the back of the neck, and at the groin. Complications from heat stroke can last

months in a survivor.

Prevention of heat illnesses includes drinking plenty of fluids during outdoor activities (even

sunbathing). The best fluids are water and de-caffeinated sports drinks that contain electrolytes. Avoid

alcohol and drinks with caffeine such as tea, coffee, and colas which could lead to dehydration. Wear

light-colored, lightweight, and loose-fitting clothing. Use sunglasses, hats, umbrellas, and sunscreen with

an SPF of at least 15. Plan your strenuous activities for cooler times of the day; monitor weather

forecasts. Take frequent rest breaks in shady or cool areas. Try to spend as much time in the cool

indoors as possible during extremely hot days. Remember not to leave children, the elderly, or pets in

the car in the summertime. The National Weather Service states the temperatures inside a vehicle can

reach 120 degrees F in minutes and can approach 150 degrees F in less than an hour. Be heat-wise,

enjoy summer activities, and stay safe.

*This article is a general guide for heat-related illnesses and first aid awareness. It is not intended to

replace medical advice and/or treatment.