EXTRAPOLATE THE CONSEQUENCES

Location: Western side of Colorado River, 9 miles south of Laughlin, NV., on the very NW tip of the AVI tribe, Fort Mojave Indian Reservation. 

AVI (Ah-vee) Casino Report:  "Lady Luck Jackie hit the jackpot and exited the big brass doors with $10.03 in the black and I broke dead even.  "Know when to fold em."
　
This is the first time the “Verizon Stick,” the device that keeps us connected to the cyber-world, has failed to perform as advertised. A connection is possible but the byte-exchange, download rate, is about 3KB (at best) a second. The computer you are using reading this is probably purring along at 200KB a second. Think of the old “dial-up” connection and you’ll have some idea of what is happening at this end. The jest is, I am scarcely able to get connected, trying to upload pictures is just not within the realm of possibility.

This experience, a small blip on the big-screen, has set me to wondering how our society/world would function, get-along, without computers.  “What if” that big fire-ball falls from the heavens knocking out our electronic grid, or a calamitous cyber attack should be successful?  Extrapolate the consequences. Are we prepared? How would you survive? Food delivery would become spotty at best, no gas deliveries for vehicles, home fuel for the furnace not allowed to flow cross-country through the computer regulated giant pipes, cell phones useless as a snooze button on a smoke alarm…etc-etc. And…And worst of all, you’ll no longer be able to connect to Facebook. So it goes.

Or, if you heat your home with wood, have a few months of stand-by food and water, you’ll be able to hang-on until/if the system is mended.

Yours in not so cheerful, but realistic thoughts.......

IT'S COMMERCE

Lake Havasu State Park, Lake Havasu City, Arizona

The Little Black rectangle on the side of the neighbor's Class A motorhome is all show and no go.  No sun on this cloudy day equates to no solar power.

From noon to midnight, the steady sound of rain tapping on the rig's roof.

A small flock of Gambel's quail huddle under a creosote bush, happy for rain but way too cool for a bath.

It’s a thirsty place this desert. Rain is always welcome, it has to be.  A water-consuming populace keeps flooding the cities of the southwest that is water-supported by artificial means. The Colorado River and its tributaries have been corked by more than 20 dams to alter, widen, deepen and slow rivers that eventually accumulate self destructing silt.  All this to make reservoirs into artificial lakes for salinating irrigation, power for Las Vegas neon and playthings of the well-to-do. It’s commerce baby, it’s commerce.

FENG SHUI NEEDED

Squawking in the purple moor grass on the far shore of the Colorado River and then the loud noises of wings beating the still morning air as a flock of Black Ibis rise and head south.

The flight of a single Double Creasted Comorand on his way to breakfast.

American Coot happy to stay put and search out his morning meal.

Desert Marigold

Going north on Highway 95, from Parker to south of Lake Havasu City, we cross the Bill Williams River, which was confusing. We thought we had crossed the Colorado at Parker Dam and figured that we should now be in California. Twernt-so. The not-so-small a river was only a contributor to the mighty Colorado River. Using our GPS navigational system is good if you just "listen" to the directions but when you try to figure out your exact location, the Garmin Unit often leaves one scratching their noggin. Using the sun for direction is the only sure way to know where North will be.  

Sahara Mustard flower

The Wild Lupin a smaller cousin to our northern variety, exact in all respects except for it's dwarf size. The seed pods are not much more than in inch and the flowers are maybe a quarter of an inch across.

We are off the road, on the east side of Hwy 95 with the Colorado River to our west about a mile up a heavily rutted trail on BLM land, a dozen miles south of Lake Havasu City. The area appears to be the shooting range for noisy 4 wheelers and gun enthusiasts from the city. They have willingly and knowingly sullied and stained the whole area with discarded shotgun casings, shooting gear, beer cans and shattered clay pigeons. The place stinks of bad energy, gloom and sadness and needs a small army of Feng Shui to move in for a clean-up and rearrangement. We’ll be out of here in a couple of hours.

I used to believe, or at least espouse, that a geographical location had no bearing or influence on one’s demeanor, attitude, peace, or state of mind. After being here since yesterday afternoon, I’m definitely taking another look and rethinking that stance.

The sun is even ashamed to shine here this morning.

DOING JUST FINE, THANK YOU.

Parker, Arizona

A stretch of the Colorado River on the Colorado River Indian Reservation.

Four tribes comprise the CRIT, Mohave, Chemehuevi, Hopi and Navajo with 3,500 members currently living on the reservation. Their main sources of income is agriculture, retail and the booming "Blue Water Casino."
The CRIT Reservation was created in 1865 by the Federal Government for Indians of the Colorado River and its tributaries, no matter they had already lived here for centuries.  "Gosh, thanks US Gov't, now we have a name and area we can call our very own."  The Indians have been assimilated into the "new ways" and are doing just fine now, thank you.

Overlooking the boat slips dredged from the edge of the Colorado River, the Blue River Casino is Las Vegas action without all the neon.

Indoor pool looks out onto the boat slips and Colorado River.

American Coots aerate and fertilize the lawn for free.

We donated $10.50 to the Casino Cause.  Odds are with us again.

IT'LL SOON BE OVER

I need help identifying these three birds.

Common Grackle?

Brewers Sparrow?

Great Tailed Grackle?

The afternoon was a relatively warm, 65 degrees without clouds, beautiful T-shirt and shorts bicycling weather. I rode south toward the mountains on the rock strewn BLM lands south of I-10, between Quartzsite, AZ and Blythe, CA. The ride was always up and after three miles of dodging rocks and climbing I was ready for a rest. Up ahead, absolutely in the middle of nowhere, I spot a little white car pulled just off the side of the road and perched precariously close to a steep sided wash.

My experience has been people that place themselves in areas of solitude are there for just that, solitude. They haven't come to chat with stragglers or passer-byes, maybe a lizard or two, a cactus, but not people.

The man, 55 years or so, waved me over from my mountain climb, offering a Styrofoam glass of water and something he called, "Retail smoke." Next to his car was a large blue, blow-up mattress laid across the black patina’ed rocks, warm and roasting in the sun. Two tan fold-up church type chairs were open and secured to an army green duffle bag with a heavy silver chain and gold padlock.
Kieth, was tall, clean, articulate in a scrambled way, smooth hands, soft muscles with tan head and limbs.  He had not seen a hard physical day in some time though he wasn't overweight.  I sat down and listened to him talk about life in general, answering question in a manor not to excite nor placate. Cell phones entered the conversation and he informed me that he had lost his. I immediately offered mine if he should need to call someone. I dialed the number he gave me from a rumpled piece of paper and handed the phone to him. The speaker phone was clicked on for some reason and I heard the ladies voice say, "I'm sorry Mr. Kieth, the Dr. is in session and not able to come to the phone right now.”
We talked for a while longer while the sun continued to cast longer and longer shadows across the rocks and sand. When the sun begins to drop in the desert, it gets cold fast and I needed to return before dark.

He asked, as I was about to pedal off, “Has anything ever happened in your life that changes everything?” “Sure,” I reply, “Everything changes everything.  I’ve tried to do the right thing but it doesn’t always come out that way in the end.  Stupid, naive or unlucky, call it what you will. I’ve never intentionally tried to hurt anyone but sometimes it happens that way.  Hang on and enjoy the ride, it’ll soon be over.”

I hope Keith finds what he’s looking for, it's out there, I know it is, because I'm still looking too.

CYCLE OF LIFE

Desert rocks about to be transported to their new home thousands of miles to Jackie's backyard.

NOTCH LEAF PHACELIA found in the washes gives bright contrast to an otherwise sunburnt-beige landscape.

This Palo Verede tree will be toast when the next hard rain falls.

A good rain will slide this tree into the wash where it will become life for insects, and in-turn life for lizards;  and birds will eat the lizards.  None of us are immune from the cycle of life.

The next time I hear a politician say, "Slippery slope" this is what I'll be visualizing. 

DESERT or PURPLE SAGE

The literature suggests, and Native Americans knew, that desert sage has qualities that are analgesic, antirheumatic, antiseptic, diaphoretic, digestive, disinfectant, emollient, febrifuge, poultice and sedative. Today we use synthetic pills from Pfizer pharmaceutical.  Should the system we now know ever fail, we'll be asking the Indians for a little help, just like in the beginning.

The Loggerhead Shrike is well known for its creative use of barbed-wire, chain-link fences and long thorns to impale its prey, returning later to dine. This bird eats lizards, grasshoppers, frogs, mice, moths and will even kill and eat other birds. So it goes. And you thought the Blue Jay was a wicked rascal. We are all food for something.

Another beautiful afternoon slides into evening and bids the day adieu.

WAIT A MINUTE

The beloved common pigeon has become a problem in the high desert towns and cities.  They collect in large numbers, breed prolifically, scare away the smaller song birds and leave behind an inordinate amount of droppings and disease.  But wait, this is not the high desert, elevation is only 700 foot and yet here they are, scavenging around the camper.  Adaptive fellows these pigeons.  I don't know if it's a sign of trouble in the avian world or just a few of the adventurous ones that left the high desert to visit the low country with thoughts of expanding their horizons.  

Cresting a hill, a couple of miles from our camp, I noticed a power line, the BIG type.  In a wash, under the lines I stood in the absolute quiet of afternoon and could actually hear the power surging through, or around, the wires.  A snapping, sort of like the sound frying bacon makes, was coming from over my head.  Not at all a comforting feeling.  I now know why people don't like to live anywhere near these powerful power lines.

The name "Wait-A-Minute" bush comes from the claws on the bush.  You'll need, at least a minute, should you get hung-up on one of these hooked devils.

CATCLAW ACACIA or Wait-A-Minute Bush

The only tree/bush I've seen within miles, except for the ever-present creosote bush.

Never a dull sunset in Arizona.

NO SENSE OF SENSIBILITIES

Even though the day in Quartzsite, AZ was cool, cloudy and windy, Jackie was feeling warm and fuzzy surrounded by hundreds of tons of rocks. The Native Americans refer to rocks as "fossilites" and believe them to have the most wisdom of all things on Earth Mother.

We took the Tom Wells Rd. exit south off I-10 into BLM land, about 10 miles west of Quartzsite, AZ. On the way in, the bottom of the rig scraped bottom and grated a few rocks in a deep, steep-sided wash but everything underneath seems to be OK. One mile from an Interstate isn’t far enough. When the wind is right, the wine of 18 wheelers sullies the silence and breaks the serene spell of the desert.

 It was totally disgusting to walk over a rise and find this pile of garbage on a once pristine landscape.

What sort of slovenly individual would leave a mess like this? 

Always on the prowl for pretty rocks....More ballast for the rig, eh?

Contrails in the sunset.

Our new ladder. Now we can wash the windows.

WHERE HAS ALL THE WATER GONE?

BLYTHE, CA.

The Colorado River begins at the Continental Divide in Colorado and empties into the Sea of Cortez in Mexico. More than 20 dams have been built on the river for diversion irrigation into the Imperial Valley (Our nations vegetable belt.) of Southern California and Arizona with the result being the Colorado River, below Yuma, AZ., no longer flows into the Sea of California.

With reservoirs upriver, like Lake Powell (Now known as the "Dead Pool" and  Lake Mead at 12 year low water marks, the future of water in the southwest is questionable, at best.  Toss global warming into the stew, and in years to come, a dinner salad may cost more than the steak.  So it goes.

We are on the Colorado River just a little north of Blythe, CA.  We had no sooner set up camp when the telltale clicks and clacks of water on the roof signaled the forecasted rains had arrived.  24 hours later the clouds began to part and rain slowly subsided to a drizzle, finally quitting, leaving wide puddles everywhere.  With brown grass and wilting trees in this area, all and any moisture is welcomed with smiles.

After splashing about in one of the muddy puddles a Starling dries on a telephone wire in the sun.

Red Wing Blackbird

The Cottonwood trees are filled with noisy Red Wing Blackbirds and Boat Tailed Grackles.

Cape Turtle/Ring Neck Dove chooses a less crowded tree for its mournful cooing.

Out on the Colorado River, the Common Goldeneye (Whistler) duck pays no mind to the rain.

 

FLORA AND FAUNA

BLYTHE CALIFORNIA

MESQUITE TREE

Fifty years of living and hundreds of years standing leafless, baking in the desert sun. Long past it's prime, but oh the stories it could tell. Along this trail Native Americans dragged their village by aid of travois in search of food and water and cowboys traveled north pushing cattle to market. Unfortunately the wood of the mesquite is prized for it's hot and slow burning charcoal enriching the scent and flavor of grilled foods. In the last decade alone, over 500,000 acres have been cleared to meet the growing demand. So it goes.

      

                                    

SPITTING SPIDER

This guy wasn't at all pleased that I coaxed him out from under a rock for a photo-op.

RED ANTS

Their main source of food, during season, are the flower pedals of the Creosote Bush.

SPOTTED LIZARD

Moving as slow as my impatience would allow, I was able to sneak up on this guy.  When my shadow touched him, he darted off like he was touched with a bolt of black fire.

BRISTLE BUSH FLOWER

A common bush that splashes color on an otherwise, often desolate landscape.

YELLOW HEADED BLACKBIRD

The only North American bird with yellow head and black body.  Stunning plumage but it's unmuscial song is much like a horse being strangled or someone gargling in an ecco chamber.