NEVER MET A ROCK I DIDN'T LIKE

On our way north, circling back to visit friends and relatives in Tucson, we pass a small, hand- scribbled sign on the side of the road that read, "ROSALIA'S ROCK SHOP." "Turn around," I hear Jackie's excited voice plead. "Never met a rock she didn't like," I'm thinking as I slow down to find a place wide enough to swing the big rig around and return to the bumpy drive that is almost obscured by whispy palo verde branches and scrub brush.

Not only is Rosalia a rock hound, she is also Philippino, born and bred. Rocks and Philippines, that'll keep the girls chatting for a while. A half hour later, and another 10 pounds of pretty rocks to stack in the rig, and were back on the road.

The CURVED BILL THRASHER.  I've been sighting this guy for the past two weeks but hadn't been able to capture a good picture of him. 

After stopping at a roadside rest stop, out hops this guy from behind a cactus and seemingly had no, or little, fear of me.  His time to shine and my time for a few really nice shots. 

Discarded shoes,  a quarter mile off the highway, on a well-worn illegal migration trail. When the bands of northern migration crews reach their destination/prearranged pickup point, they jettison all but the clothes on their back and hope they'll not be ferreted-out at one of the Border Patrol check points. Multiple thousands of clothes piles, backpacks, water containers and shoes litter the desert like garbage collects in any city alley. A blight on an otherwise pristine landscape. Their odds are 3 out of 4 that they'll remain undetected and assimilate into the general populace of a major metropolitan area.  "It's like a sieve, a 2000 mile long sieve," one Border Patrol guy told me. "There is just no way to detect all but a few of the illegals coming north."  So it goes.

IT'S A WOLF, DAMMIT.

Last morning in Organ Pipe Cactus Monument Park.  I swallowed a quick cup of sugar-saturated chocolate and went out into the almost 32 degree morning for a few deparating shots.  Another fantastic sky bids goodmorning.

Standing quietly a few hundred yards from the main camping area, waiting for a bird to appear near enough for a good shot, and along comes Mr. Wolf.!  I was in the right place at the right time.  The wind was in my face so I wasn't scented.  I had been still as a graveyard so as not to give fright to the birds.  This is a rare, VARY RARE, sighting of the  endangered MEXICAN RED WOLF and I had the great fortune to have a camera to document the moment.

Note the ears, not pointed like the coyote, full body and bushy tail.

He turned in my direction and drilled those yellow eyes into the frightened side of my brain, as if to say, "This is my home, buddy, back-off."  Well I was more than ready to "back-off" slowly when out of the cactus stepped his mate.  WOW!

I did a pretty good job of holding the camera still even though my hands were shaking like a bound-up Beagle's behind.

I carried the pictures up to the information center to confer with the head ranger. She, having an off-day, I'm sure, presented herself like a pickle barrel, both in stance and disposition and says with an impenetrable intolerance to this lowly,  "That's a Coyote." With her opening salvo, she went on  leaving a trail of verbiage normally saved for the advance classes of Canis lupus rufus analyzers. She, nor I, budged one inch in our personal identification beliefs. To be fair, I can understand why she didn't want to have wolves in "her" park. With the scarcity of campers coming to the park because of the economy being in the dumps and the Mexican illegal traffic slinking through the area, she didn't want another fright for the RV'ers. Wolves kill any other canine in "their" area. And, it seems 90% of the RV'ers pack along their dogs, so, I guess, they'll have someone to talk with besides their traveling mate.   Regardless, Ms. Ranger, it was a Mexican Red Wolf, dammit.

You asked, "Are there any real trees around there?"  Well yes, sort of.  This is it, the Palo Verde. It sort of resembles a bushy willow of the north with scrambled-egg DNA and one inch thorns.  Naturally it's drought resistant and belongs to the deciduous family.

Like soldiers marching up to capture the summit, a cadre of Organ Pipe Cactus strew the hillside.

We loved this place and hope to be back another time to explore beyond the boundary of the park.

POLLEN AND POLLUTANTS

Ochillo Cactus in Bloom.

                                                 

The stalks, or supporting ribs, of the Ochillo Cactus are about the size of a half dollar.

                                        

The bright orange flowers are about three quarters mature.

                                       

The flower fully opened and ready for the desert insects to pollinate.

                                       

This picture was snapped with a 400 mm lens, four miles due south of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.  Greasy smoke rises from the 24/7 open pit burning of garbage over the town of Sonoyta, Mexico.  Happy to report that the wind was out of the west and not the south.  The little town of Lukeville, AZ., just over the border from the burning waste heap  gets a good dose of toxic chemicals from the burn.  So it goes.

WHEN IT'S NOT ON THE LEVEL

Domestic nesting in the rig.  When but a child, Jackie learned to make tortillas from scratch and her skills keep improving.    Nothing beats a hot tortilla steaming from the griddle.

Many, well almost all, of the places we park the rig aren't quite on the level so we need to place little plastic blocks under the low side.  It can be somewhat disconcerting and has the effect of making one feel a bit tipsy without even uno cuppa.

The other thing that is off-level is the land along the border with Mexico.  For some reason the United States and Mexico have taken a soft eye dealing with the existing drug problem. Our land, the country that stretches north of the border is being invaded by a continuous stream of armed, ruthless drug transporters for the cartels.  Much of our National Park land is "Travel At Your Own Risk" or outright closed.  To me this is tantamount to giving-up and letting a foreign country have control.  We, all too easily, dismiss the problem by saying, "It's the Mexican Government that is corrupt and allowing this to happen."  True enough, but we also need to know how far, and where, the billions of drug dollars are going that influences the "soft eye" of both the United States and Mexican governments.  Trying to protect 1,970 miles of  US/MEXICO border with a few Border Patrol agents is like trying to clean up a flood with a sponge.  My friend said, "Taking control of the drug problem will require an international approach. Between the graft and corruption, in both US/MEX governments, it just ain't going to get any better until outside (third parties) step-in."  She may be right.  Money talks and BS walks.

Another beautiful sunset, too bad only 10 percent of the usual occupancy of the park is enjoying this lovely land.

TRYING TO STAY WARM.

CACTUS WREN

The little guy on top of the Saguaro is catching all the warming sun available.

A chill has settled over the Organ Pipe National Monument. As I write this morning the temp is down to 28 degrees an hour before sunrise.  I hope it's bottomed-out and doesn't drop to the forecasted 22 degrees.

ORGAN PIPE CACTUS

The cactus for which this monument is named.  The second largest cactus in the United States, growing only in this area on southern exposed land 1,000 to 3,500 foot.  

LOOKING SOUTH TO THE  SONOYTA MOUNTAINS

One picture, five types of cactus.  Ocotilla-Organ Pipe-Teddy Bear-Cain cholla and the Saguaro.

FRUIT OF THE "CHAIN FRUIT CHOLLA CACTUS."

Along with the cold temps sand was thrown into the sky by heavy winds.  The setting sun bounces off the sand and gives a colorful goodnight.

WHY WE NEED THE BORDER PATROL

ORGAN PIPE NATIONAL MONUMENT

http://www.foxnews.com/us/2010/06/18/federal-lands-arizona-travel-warnings-place/

We've arrived in extreme southern Arizona in the Sonoran Desert where anything below 32 degrees is considered a personal curse from the Devil.  The hex has been laid on because it is 31 degrees as I type.  Can't complain too much, the rig's heater is operating just fine and a whole lot of the rest of the country seems to have been slammed next to the peas in the freezer.

JUVENILE RED-BELLIED WOODPECKER   The back of his head and nape will turn red after 6 months.

We pulled into our site, set everything up for a few days stay and I trotted off into the hills and millions of varied cactus, camera in hand.  Jackie stayed behind, resting, fighting a bug that has her staying close to the "facilities."

CANE CHOLLA CACTUS foreground the pair of tall SAGUARO CACTUS.

From 72 degrees to 59 in a matter of 15 minutes.  When the sun sets in the desert it gets cold, fast.

BEAUTY CAN BE DECEIVING

Sapphire blue skies, brilliant sunshine and clear roads abound as we begin the ascent across the Santa Rita Mountains from Sierra Vista to Tucson, Arizona.  The climb up was mellow, drifty-like with astounding 360 degree beauty.  But, no sooner did we crest when clouds, black and angry began to fill the sky.  The descent wasn't quite knuckle-white, and I'm not saying it was totally dangerous, but 40 miles an hour in the big rig was plenty.  First little droplets of rain dotted the windshield, followed by the need to wipe away a torrential downpour and then hail and snow. It will all be gone as quickly as it came and the thirsty desert will have had another sustaining drink.

Sonoran Scrub Oak

This is the storm that was just beginning to form, eventually giving the country a good punch in the gut through the coming days. For us it was just the outer edge of the storm, sun mixing with the cumulus clouds producing startling vistas. But be careful, beauty can be deceiving.

We are on the southwest side of Tucson this morning, it's cold (for Tucson) without any relief in sight. Hard freeze warnings are posted for areas that otherwise don't see even frost for decades. Our plans were to stop here and visit with relatives and friends. However, the blue toes on my left foot urge a further,  immediate, less elevation,  warmer southern route. We'll be back, Jackie, when it's a bit warmer.