Wandrin Blog

The rewards of the view lot are lots of horizon photos. There is the sunrise followed by some mid day clouds.


Then there are the sunsets looking east to see reflections of the Dragoon Mountains and clouds to the north at sunset.


All those clouds have been bringing rain -- frequently. Usually the rain is followed by cold and -- for me -- I am back to wearing long pants. The promise of spring is in the air -- on some days.

With this new view lot came a storage shed. There are few bare lots (no improvements) left in the park and fewer still with as great a view. So I have a storage shed. In conversations with neighbors I commented that I hoped that the shed (won't happen -- well built with concrete foundation) might blow away so I wouldn't have to deal with the inevitable maintenance. Most do not understand that I have nothing to store.

Careful what you wish for.... A few days ago on a clear blue sky day with some light winds a microburst hit the area. Sitting at the computer in Wandrin Wagon, I looked out the window to see several shingles on the shed flapping in the strong wind. Once the wind passed, all returned flat except for one which broke, but stayed attached to the roof. 'Welcome to maintenance responsibility".

The problem has been repaired. As mostly an absent leaseholder, the next time this happens the odds are that I won't be here. That problem will be addressed when in occurs. In the mean time I will "keep the balance" and enjoy the views.

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Taking it with you department.... This rig was parked in the Safeway parking lot in downtown Benson. With a coach, two motorcycles, a Jeep and a boat there are lots of keys.... Speaking from past experience: life's complications are inversely proportional to the number of keys in your pocket.

Cold day here at the Saguaro SKP park. The temperatures are struggling to stay in the forties. The climb out of the 30s took all morning. It was a break in the rain and a momentary peak of the sun through some clouds that caused the warming in the last hour.

The warm memory is of a hike at Saguaro Nat'l Park East on Friday. With blue skies and beautiful desert terrain, it was a great but short hike. Still in the testing mode of the aging hip.

First photo is a close-up of the greening of an ocotillo. Even though there was a lot of green on the octotillos, none were in bloom with that very distinctive blossom. Hang on. They will soon be in bloom.




More hiking tomorrow with the park hikers.

Considering the predictions for a forties high and a threat of rain, I hadn't expected a lot of people to show up for the hike. Since I am something of a wimp myself, I had second thoughts about going. With nothing better to do and yesterday's chili in the refrigerator waiting my return I joined the hiking Monday hiking group at Saguaro. With three layers and a rain parka in my pack, I was prepared.

The one time town site of Fairbank was the destination. The town site is now a BLM site and on the San Pedro riparian corridor. The town site had a school, stables, mercantile building, other buildings and homes. Today a few structures remain. Painted plywood simulates windows on this one time home. Today the school is a museum and gift center and open on weekends.


About a half mile from the town site is the cemetery atop a hill with a 360 degree view. Digging graves on this rock pile was not an easy job. Piles of rocks mark some graves. Two grave sites were obviously from the more prosperous with the wrought iron fence. Few markers exist to identify the "occupants" of the cemetery. Wood did not survive, vandals have done damage and others -- no doubt -- were removed.

The Grand Central Mill was about another mile beyond the cemetery. For me this ore crushing mill is a structure of beauty. The rock walls built with little mortar attests to the artistry of the masons. These masons were no wimps considering the size of those individual rocks.


A short distance beyond the mill site was a junction to more historical sites along the San Pedro River. It was at this point that one of the hikers was scrubbing her dog with sand and rock to remove the s**t that the dog had rolled in. Dogs will do that. Fortunately, only one did that. The border collie was more into carrying sticks and leading the group.


With a cold wind blowing out of the west and an occasional moisture drop falling from the sky, it was time to move on. The return was along the river edge. Over the years, without trees to slow the power of water, the river has created cliffs leading to the water below. Come back a month from now and these trees will have a green cast as they begin the budding out and leaves to meet the longer days of spring and summer.


Blue sky was peeking through a few places in the clouds. Not a good reason to linger. To the north and northwest were dark clouds looking like they would drop snow.

No sooner were we on the road back to Benson and the rain started. Later in the day, the wind and rain pelted Wandrin Wagon. Warm and cozy inside, I dined on tasty chili.

This morning, the temperatures hovered at 30 degrees. The hills in the distance had a white cast that attests to snow that fell last evening. Not that much snow -- especially when compared to what many areas of the country have been getting through out this very long winter.

Not wearing shorts every day... Although a colder and wetter experience in Arizona this year, this will be a memory just a month from now.

Now it is time to get out and enjoy THIS DAY.

Once a leaseholder in the SKP Saguaro Park, there are opportunities to move to another lot when one becomes available. Moving to a lot with a view had always been my goal. Lot 63 came available and after money crossed palms and paper work was done, I moved from lot 250 -- up the hill to lot 63.

The Dragoon mountains in the distance provide some beautiful sunrises. The reflection off those mountains also provide great color at sunset. No opportunity for one of those, but there was the rain followed by a rainbow the day after I moved.


For me the leasehold at Saguaro Park is about options. Health or financial downturns may make it necessary to stop the nomadic exploring in favor of a settled existence. In the meantime, my visits to Saguaro to park on my lot will be about two months each year.

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From The Stupidity Department.... Silver Slug has recently undergone cosmetic surgery to fix an encounter in a tight parking lot not made for behemoths. Backing into a parking space far away from the activity, another driver with a tiny pickup parked right next to Silver Slug. That little truck was not visible to the driver (that would be Wandrin Lloyd) and pulling out -- BANG. Damage was done. Small damage to the right rear bed of the little truck and tail light. Silver Slug was a little worse -- $2900. Looks pretty nice now. Let's see if it can stay that way.

The before and after:


That was my first at fault accident. Probably won't matter. The insurance rates will go up. Soon I will be looking for new rates.

How else do you get "boneless wings". This was the sign at Wendy's in Benson.

Without bones those wings must just kind of hang there. They might even drag on the ground.


Okay. so it isn't genetic modification. Could American ingenuity actually create a machine to extract the bones from chicken wings. When I have eaten chicken wings, the skin is still attached. Wonder what is the status of the skin on these boneless wings. My curiosity is getting to the point I may have to head to Wendy's for an order of boneless wings. Scary thought.

It was a physical and emotional shattering experience.

Before television, imagination was the key to listening to radio. No doubt there were other westerns on radio, but The Lone Ranger was one of those that I actually remember. Although the mountain west bears little resemblance to a dairy farm in Wisconsin, a fertile imagination created western scene worthy of any B western of the time. Of course there was the gunfight with all those imaginary bad guys. Or were they just the other guys.

Television came later when I was eleven along with TV westerns. Initially there was a single TV station. (Imagine that versus the 100s available today with nothing worth watching.) However, that single TV station had enough westerns – and horses – to create the want of a horse. Fortunately, Dad had a love of horses and after enough begging, Duchess became part of the cowboy myth in my life.

Soon it was more about riding horse than any resemblance to the western myth within of my imagination. Not old enough to drive a car legally on the road, Duchess did provide freedom that a single speed bicycle (my bicycle was a girl’s model and ridden fourteen years earlier by my aunt) did not provide on the country gravel roads.

As a fifteen year old, I saddled up Duchess on an April day to ride to a high school mates house about three miles distant. The route was along a paved highway and past one of Dad’s farms. Galloping along the shoulder of the highway, I found myself continuing straight ahead as Duchess made a left turn across the road and into the field of Dad’s farm. This was a path that I had taken many times before. We won’t mention the fact that Duchess was a poorly trained horse. Probably didn’t help that the rider wasn’t much of a horseman.

Being launched unto the highway pavement, I tried to stand. No power in the left leg. Oh no. That leg was no longer straight. Looked like a break to me. Where was Duchess. Yup. Walking along dining on grass. So much for a man and his horse. Duchess, where are you now that I need you. You could at least come over and express some curiosity about my sitting on the side of the road.

That was the shattering of the leg and the myth of the cowboy and his horse.



Epilogue:

In the hospital three days setting the leg. On crutches for six weeks. Learned how to run on crutches. Duchess found a new home. The leg was healed and soon I was back on horseback. This time it was Duke.

Didn’t go back to school for the rest of the year and earned incompletes for all courses. Upon returning to school that fall, a test or two and I was given grades to keep me in school.

Joined the Rough Riders, a local horse riding group, and participated in parades and local horse shows. Soon I was older and attending university and Duke was “just eating hay”. Duke found a home at a horse riding venue where he probably lived out his days.

Nearby Sierra Vista holds the annual Cochise Cowboy Poetry and Music Gathering each February. Having a life long interest and fascination with anything associated with the western cowboy myth, I have to explore and visit anything with the word "cowboy" in the name.

Been following Larry at Cid69 blog and last September when in Denver, we had a chance to meet for coffee and put names to faces. In recent reading of his blog, I found that he was headed to Sierra Vista for the Poetry Gathering. Soon it was arranged that I would pick him up at the Sierra Vista Elks and we would head over to the Gathering. Reading over the artists on the program, I realized the names had changed over the past nine years. I did not recognize one. Fortunately, Larry provided consulting expertise.

Soon we were seated in one of the many hour long sets for music and poetry. I've always liked the sounds of the Sons of the Pioneers and The Sons of The San Joaquin. The Desert Sons sang many of those old cowboy and trail standards. A couple of hours later we saw another group in that same genre of old cowboy standards. They were even more entertaining -- and almost theatrical. That was the Tumbling Tumbleweeds.


Turning from music to cowboy poetry, there were many to choose from. Drawn to the more humorous aspects of the cowboy poetry genre, two of those I listened to were Doris Daley and Dennis Gaines. Poetry is one thing and Dennis Gaines is a master at delivery.

For more, check out Larry's take on the day at the Cowboy Poetry and Music Gathering.

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Check out Cowboy Poetry for more cowboy poetry and music. The site also has a calendar of gatherings.

There is plenty to keep anyone busy here at the SKP Saguaro Park in Benson. However, it is just as easy to get away from all the hustle, social hours, meals, etc. -- and find peace.

Since that left hip doesn't ache as much, it was time to check out the ability of the hip to cope with a short hike. Put on the boots, the day pack and out the back gate into the desert terrain just west of the park. I've hiked the area before, but just in case I set the starting location on my Garmin eTrex Legend. The hike started in many of the washes that braid the area surrounded by mostly winter dormant trees. The hip was doing well. Even the up hill section wasn't a real problem. At the high point I turned around and headed back home.

That was when I found peace. Actually, I found the peace symbol outlined in rocks. Over the past couple of years I had collected other peace images. It is time to share those with my readers. (The one found today was the last one of the images below.)








For me, the hike was a success. The hip feels fine after the almost four mile hike. I will hold off until tomorrow morning before making a final judgment.

The hiking group in the park has a three mile hike scheduled for Monday. Considering what I accomplished today, it should be no problem.

That was the doctor’s learned opinion. The left hip had been in pain and kept me from hiking -- and extended walking -- for about two months when I finally went to the doctor. That visit was January 4th. The long wait was due to a change in insurance coverage -- and the male ego.


Diagnosis of age appropriate… That can cover a lot of aging conditions. A little shorter than last year. Discs in the back make noise like dried out leather. Chest sagged and now appears around the waist. The wrinkles have wrinkles. Arthritic evidence appears on X-Rays. Yup. That would be age appropriate.

A month after the diagnosis, extended walking on the level is almost pain free. Soon I will go on a solo hike in the desert here at Saguaro SKP park to see if the body can handle rough terrain and hills. That would be a better test than joining the park’s Monday hikers. Hate to think of them dragging me back the trailhead – if they would bother.

Since hiking has been a long time passion, this latest pothole in the road of life is disconcerting. However, when I look in the mirror and see a reflection each morning I realize it is a great day. I will accept that age appropriate diagnosis.

Going into Best Buy and checking out the latest in lots of gadgets from cameras, to Mac computers to XM receivers to... Wow. That was when I was looking at the GPS navigators from the various manufacturers. It became an easy justification. My old unit needed an updating of the map. The new map cost about $70. The new Garmin unit was -- more money -- even with the new maps. Didn't let that stop me. Soon I had sold myself on the Nuvi 255W.


Two features that I was looking for on a new unit was turn by turn voice instructions and the ability to enter coordinates as a destination. The new unit had all of that and more including the ability to load Points of Interest (POI) that I would use frequently -- such as locations for Thousand Trails RV parks and Elks Lodges. (For thousands of POIs, check out The POI Factory.)

For most, the usual location for the GPS is on the dash. Not for me. Don't want things on the dash. Mine is attached to a bean can and placed in a cup holder. If Silver Slug is ever stalled someplace and I get hungry, there will be small amount of food available.

The unit works as advertised with voiced instructions to turn on names of streets. The voice and language can also be selected. The first voice selected was a US accented woman's voice. After a while of listening to the higher pitched voice, it seemed I was being scolded more often then given polite directions. Soon I checked the English accented woman. Didn't seem much better. Then I tried the Australian male voice (Lee). The tone was much more pleasant -- at least to me. And Lee's voice guides me today. At times, listening to Lee's pronunciation of cities, street names or businesses can be entertaining.

The technology of the Garmin units is what I find most fascinating. The data base of streets and businesses included within the unit is quite large -- the entire US. Since that data is always changing and up to date at the time of publication, it is easy enough to be driving down a street that doesn't exist on the maps within the Garmin unit.

For me, even more fascinating is the text to speech technology. That text to speech technology is also included in the Kindle eReader. The software within these units reads the text and translates that to a voice sound.

To sound every word in the English language would make a huge data base. Rather than defining every word as a sound, the unit recognizes syllables and the location within the word or sentence. This allows the software to give accent or voice inflection where appropriate. With this definition of the language, there is a limited size of all the sounds required to speak the English language.

The utility and fascination with the unit continues and based upon current usage, the unit should last a couple of years. I hope.

Reviewing the book The Art of Making Money a few days ago reminded me of my time at the San Quentin prison just north of San Francisco. It’s not something to put on the resume when hunting for a job. However, since I am now paid not to work, I can recall the events and relate them without fear of that impacting any future job search.

After graduation from the University of Wisconsin, I accepted a position with the Bank of America in San Francisco. It all started innocently enough. I played chess – poorly. To round out the Bank’s chess team, I was occasionally asked to help fill out the required number of eight boards in the competitions with other chess clubs in the area.

However, there was one chess club that didn’t travel – the club from San Quentin prison. Since I resided in Marin County at the time, it was an easy ride to arrive at the prison gates. Our Bank’s chess team was lead through the gym (lots of iron pumping going on) to a sitting area of tables and chairs overlooking the gym below.

For a naïve farm kid from Wisconsin, needless to say this was a new experience for me. Sitting across from me at the chess board was a guy in his mid thirties.

I may have been the first to lose my match. Didn’t really pay much attention since I was concerned about sitting in this room with a bunch of guys – some of whom most likely were here for murder. Perhaps my opponent was one of them. Don’t want to get anyone upset.

As we sat there passing time waiting for the other players to finish their matches, my opponent asked me if I wondered what he was in for. This shy naïve kid nodded there indeed was curiosity. The relief was that he was there for armed robbery – not murder.

His sentence was for three years after he held up a convenience store to get money and food for a wife and young child. There was probably more to the story, but that is all he told me. He did add that his father was a Bank of America vice president in the Los Angeles area. Since I asked no questions, he stopped relating any more. Today, the guy would have been grilled to find out the rest of the story. Other crimes? Drugs? Schooling? Life in prison? Plans after prison?

In less than two hours, the eight board match was over. The bank lost all but one match. That one was a stale mate. The bank team knew what they were up against when we arrived at the prison. What else did these guys have to do but play chess all day. They better be good.

Chess player today? Nope. Don’t even play against the computer. I wasn’t a good chess player over forty years ago and may have even gotten poorer. That was proven when one of my young children beat me. That also may have been the last time I played chess.

This month long annual event is scattered throughout the city for several weeks in varying venues. To learn more and where the various shows are held check Visit Tucson or Jewelry Show Guide. Of the many choices available around town, I headed over to Electric Park and the gem, mineral and fossil shows that were there.

Today was the first day at Electric Park. After the rain two days ago, some of the grounds were a little soggy. That along with the overcast day didn't seem to stop the spirits of the shoppers. There were plenty of people, but with the vendors scattered over several acres, it was not crowded.

Choices of rock were unending and overwhelming in sizes from the small to -- the floor will have to reinforced to present this in your living room.

Beads in all sizes, colors, shapes and content. Rock carved into spheres, egg shapes, skulls, pyramids, and numerous other rock based items could be found from one booth to the next.



Fossils and petrified wood were represented in many forms from the untouched and in varying sizes including cross sections, earrings, pendants, enhanced and beyond. Or how about a bowl carved from petrified wood.



Or how about a fossil sea bed carved and framed ready to hang on a wall in your home.



This stand mounted crystal may need floor reinforcement.



As a wandered around the various tents and displays, I noted the large amount of rock that came from Morocco. This was the same observation when I was in Quartzsite. The visualization in my mind is that seeing all this rock here, there must be a huge hole in Morocco.

Don't find something to meet your particular needs or you have an itch to make a living from found rock. There were a couple of tents selling all the equipment needed to carve, polish, and cut the stone.



Whatever your addiction or admiration, there must be a rock in some shape and color to satisfy that "itch to buy and have." Or if rocks really aren't your thing, there were booths for tie dyed shirts, cowboy myth memorabilia, imported clothing and purses.



All this walking is a bit tiring -- and it is a long day for these vendor's pets.



People watching all the time, these two demonstrated the latest in mother and son hair styles.

That is the title of the book by Jason Kersten.

Art Williams is the person and the subject of the book. Deserted by a father and growing up in the worst of Chicago's crime ridden neighborhoods, the intelligent Williams learns how to and then creates what he views as "art" -- a counterfeit copy of money. The bogus money is in demand and through Art's connections, the book reveals the methods for counterfeit money distribution throughout the world. Over a fourteen year period, Williams had printed multi millions worth of phony money. It is greed and counterfeit knowledge that lead to recidivism and Williams was no exception.

The seamy side of Williams growing up in a dysfunctional family and world of crime is told in brutal honesty. The author also weaves facts into the book about the design and manufacture of paper money and the roll of the Secret Service in the ever vigilant watch for counterfeit money.

The book is a page turner as there seemed to be a glimmer of hope that Art Williams could take his intelligence and skills to get out of "making money" and turn it to mainstream methods to earn a living. It was only hope.

Who says you can't take your condo -- and its contents -- with you as head out to "camp". This rig was parked in the Camping World parking lot when I arrived in the rain (in Tucson where it rains infrequently). Trying to keep the camera dry, I grabbed a couple of shots before the tractor and trailer headed out of the parking lot -- very carefully.


Wonder where this rig could be parked. There are few RV parks that can handle something that large -- let alone the tractor pulling the home on wheels.

This Tucson stop is on the way to the SKP Saguaro park in Benson where I will be parked on my lot for a month or two. Only forty miles away, I will be back to Tucson for a big city fix now and then -- or a restocking from Costco.

With overcast skies all day and frequent rain showers, I was hoping for a better sunset as the skies began to clear this afternoon. Regardless. It was a great day for Wandrin Lloyd.

The last post mentioned the rain in the desert and the water flowing in the wash behind Wandrin Wagon.

With tornadoes predicted (and sighted in nearby Blythe), that evening the rain came down in a vengeance accompanied by strong winds rocking Brian's trailer where Paul and I had joined him for an after dinner drink.

The next day Paul and I headed downtown for more RV tent shopping. Wind damage was evident in the collapse of these saguaros just north of the main intersection. Of the eight saguaros that once stood there, four were toppled by the wind.


The tent areas of the various shopping venues did not fair much better. Some had collapsed. Others were flapping in the wind. Rain had made the goods from other tents a little soggy. From the front of one tent, mud and water were flowing across astro turf and into the lowest spot right next to the road.

It didn't stop the shoppers and it didn't stop the sellers. Good day for some. Not so good for others.

That's it for Quartzsite.... Tomorrow I hitch up and head down the road. Since it is about 250 miles to Tucson, I will probably break up the journey into two days. Maybe. A stop at the Elks in Gila Bend would be place for an over night stay without unhitching.

I'm going to miss this visit to the desert at Quartzsite. With Paul and Brian, the intellectual conversation, banter and humor has kept me entertained. They are planning to be in Florida next winter. Could I work that into my travel plans. I wonder.