The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-27-2020

The Disposable World We Live In

Second chance days don't come around often. Today would have been my last full day in Arizona. Over half that day spent on pre-travel prep. Propane to fill, hay to load, diesel to top off and 4 or 5 days worth of groceries to buy for the road home. The stock portion of the trailer would need to be cleaned, reorganized and repacked. All the water tanks would need topping off and the waste water emptied. But today was no longer my last full day. That day won't come for another week. Today I could do anything I wanted – because today, was my second chance day.

Patty and Cindy had plans of their own. They invited me but I don't think they were surprised when I

declined. I knew they were going to have fun but I wanted to spend the day in the desert on my horse. I text Lynn and told her of my plans. Her and Pete would pick me up at Crandall's about noon. I would throw in with them. My trailer was out of commission for a few days while Handyman Dave did some repairs. One of the horses backed out catching a shoe on the bumper trim. “Diamond plated chrome” my behind. More like cheap Tin-Foil. Dave hammered, riveted and calked the thing back into serviceable shape.

Lynn, Peter and I drove up Eagle Eye Road looking for a good place to park and unload. We settled on FS Rd. 9111 just up from Big Little Horn Peak Rd. It wasn't easy getting the rig in and out, but Lynn maneuvered over washes, around grease-wood and between mesquite bushes like a pro. If it had been me driving – Dave would be busy fixing stuff for a week.

We didn't have a plan or a specific destination in mind. It's a good thing...we didn't have a clue where we were or what to expect....exactly my kind of day. Lizards dashed here and there. If the lizards are out...the snakes are out. We stuck to the roads and open country when possible and kept an eye out for any one of the sixteen species of rattlers. Rattlers are pissy this time of year as they come out of hibernation. I'd like to avoid all 16 types of them.

The desert is on the verge of exploding with color. Orange poppies blanket the southern slopes of hillsides. Vivid green ocotillo arms topped with brilliant scarlet blossoms compete with wildflowers of yellow, purple and pink. The saguaro tops look like they are capped in snow as buds get ready to burst into fragrant white blossoms that smell like honeydew.

We dropped down into a wash and followed it up stream to it's end. It felt like a miniature Grand Canyon ride as the red walls of the little canyon narrowed in on us. We popped up onto another road that intersected the wash. The road led to an abandoned mine. One shaft opened up into a hillside framed in upright timbers. Another shot straight down into the ground like a gaping, lidless man-hole. Both mines were fenced off with a few strands of rusty barbed wire and a sign warning of imminent death should one decide to go mine spelunking.

A late 40's early 50's?? Champion Studebaker chassis riddled with bullet holes and left to rust, stood as a reminder of a society wrought with the mindset that everything is disposable. Who was the last person to drive it? What was their life like? Were they the first owner and if so...did they scrimp and save until they had enough money to buy their first car? The car was a beauty the day it rolled off the assembly line. The new owner bursting with pride and excitement of owning this first set of wheels. The sound of independence and freedom roaring from it's powerful engine. And now, here it sits: a rusted heap of metal discarded and forgotten in the arid desert of the southwest.

Well...that was depressing. Let's move on.

We left the old mine (Apache Mine according to my Garmin) and circled back toward the trailer. I

picked a route that made a loop out of part of our ride. No sense backtracking over country we already rode. We'd picked a ridge line across the highway as our landmark before we struck out...as long as we kept that ridge in sight and the setting sun on our faces we were sure to make our way back. I don't know if my sense of direction is improving or I have an easier time finding my way in the desert. I'm hoping it's a little of both.

We passed the trailer (horse's weren't real thrilled with that one) and rode to the top of the mine I'd hiked to the week before. Lynn wanted to check it out, plus, not stopping right at the trailer at the end of a ride helps to keep horses from getting trailer sour or chargy on the way home...IMNHTO (In My Non Horse Trainer Opinion)

Lynn once again managed to get the rig turned around in a spot I swear wasn't big enough to turn a VW bug around. We stopped at The Coyote for ice tea and a burger before Lynn dropped me and the horses off at home. It's always a bit emotional saying goodbye to Pete. Even after you convince him you will see him again before heading out...he gets teary eyed...I get teary eyed...he grabs you in that all encompassing hug before making the sign for friends and promising to call. A rusted old Studebaker might be disposable...but good friends are anything but.