It’s been a lovely desert winter now time to move on

I’ve enjoyed three months living in the Sonoran Desert of southern Arizona yet all good things seem to come to end and it’s time to move on.

“I think I’m alone now, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around”…”  “…the beating of my heart is the only sound.”  Replaced with: the humming of the bees is the only sound.  The original song by Tommy James and the Shondells became an earworm as I watched Doug pull out.

However, that’s not entirely true as there are still a few RVs around who I can barely see, and that’s OK.

I enjoyed the perfect birthday, quietly, in the desert, hundreds of well wishes, will forever be known as my Corona Birthday without the beer.  I ate hotdogs for lunch.  Don’t judge me, I grew up in the Chicago area and don’t want to know what’s in them.  No cake because I forgot to buy some.  Thank goodness for ice cream.  And thanks to all of you.

Went for a nice afternoon walk.

I still didn’t find any crested cactus but I did find a nice rock vein of turquoise and chrysocolla with a claim marker.

Made a video of my place.

So much on my mind when I just want to soak in the desert.  Yet this week’s temperatures are rising into the mid 80s which makes my little house like a sauna.  Don’t want to cook the cat and neither of us have a cooling system with big ears.

Some might say I should stay in place, home.  Yet after living in this 8 x 12 foot camper for six months, this is home wherever it is.

And now I’m called back to the lands of civilization and people.  So far, Bryce Canyon National Park is still open.  The visitor center and most other services are closed.  No fees being collected keeps employees safe from interacting.  Numbers of vehicles have dropped immensely.  Between March 17th and 27th visitation went from ~1000 cars/day to ~500 cars/day.  My job will be different than usual.  I will spend time on assigned projects to work on at home, and that’s all I know right now.

So it’s time to say goodbye to Black Mountain and coddiwomple northwards along a reverse route from last fall.  I will miss this delightful desert and the apricity that helped me heal.  It’s been a lovely holiday, when the fridge worked correctly and before this current mess.

I won’t miss those noisy military jets that I feel breaking the deserquies.  It literally hurts my head.  I will miss the Redtail hawk soaring circles in search of a meal.  I won’t miss the dust (and noise) kicked up by the OHV who are less in numbers than the Border Patrol rigs bombing down the gravel road.  I will miss the bobble of Gamble Quail scampering from bush to bush, the sweet Happy Birthday song of the Cactus Wren, and even the tap of the Gila Woodpecker on my camper.  I will miss the amazing desert sunsets.

But it is time to move on and I don’t know what to expect once on the road.

Stayed Monday night at Belly Acres RV Park in Ajo where I dumped tanks, took on water, charged everything, and took a long hot shower.  My view encompasses the impound and junkyard.

Jello plan is boondock along Vulture Mine Road near Wickenburg where I can pick up my mail.  Then an appointment in Congress for oil change, two new tires, and retrieve the other propane tank.  Then possibly boondock near there over the weekend.  Next week, it’s time to move on further north to Utah.

I am looking forward to new environments, landscapes, birds, and sunsets while continuing to social distance as much as possible.

Hope everyone is well.  Stay safe.  Stay home.  (BTW, I cleaned the mirror Joann.)

Deserquies (n) – silence only found in the desert. [I made up this word from the root of desert and quiet.]