In the Tucson Mountains

January 21, 2024 to January 22, 2024

As expected, Sunday was pretty much a complete rainout. We filled it by loafing around all morning and then going to The Loft to see Poor Things, a film we were lured into seeing because of reviews (it’s on the short list for several Oscar categories) but in fact ended up not caring much for - it’s just a little too wierd for our tastes. Afterwards we drove up into the Catalina foothills for dinner, stopping beforehand at a viewpoint to look at the dramatic sky. We were there for just long enough to take a few quick photos before the rains resumed.

The view toward the barely visible Tucson Mountains.

South on Campbell, the road we coasted down with Susan last week. The Santa Rita mountains are out that way but completely invisible.

This morning I checked in on Portland’s news to see if the city has thawed out from the winter snow and ice storm that’s wreaked havoc on it for the past week. They’re starting to thaw out, but the Columbia Gorge is still a white mess. Those that are familiar with the place might appreciate this shot of the iconic Vista House:

No ice storm here though, and no rain this morning either - which oddly is something of a disappointment for us. This is the day we’re booked to have both of our bikes serviced at Fair Wheel Bikes, and for a while this timing looked like it would be perfect - it was predicted to be wet, and we wouldn’t mind having the bikes tied up. Actually though it would have been a fine day to ride. It’s yesterday and again tomorrow that look like the washouts now.

No matter, because we still have a great day ahead. We have a brunch date with the Branhams at Coyote Pause Cafe over on the other side of the Tucson Mountains to look forward to; and before that the plan is to drive over there and take a hike in Tucson Mountain Park, time boxing ourselves so that we’re back at the car in time for our lunch date.

We’re at Fair Wheel Bikes right at its nine o’clock opening time, and after dropping the bikes off we head west. It’s a very interesting sky this morning: as we’re driving south on I-19 on our way to Ajo Way, a highway advisory sign flashes a warning of dense fog ahead. And we can see it too - there’s a solid white band a few miles ahead masking the lower half of the Santa Rita Mountains.

Things look much more promising to the west though, and when we park the Raven at the Sarasota Trailhead I’m stunned by what a gorgeous, radiant morning it is.

We’re on the typical Team Anderson hike plan. I’ve mapped out an out and back for us so the hiking dynamo half of the team can walk ahead and put in all the distance she wants before it’s time to turn back, and the pokey, plodding, semi-lame half of the team can take his sweet time and stop to take in whatever interests him. We’ve time boxed ourselves to turn back toward the car at 11:15, which gives us three hours to work with.

We have a fishhook-shaped, low profile walk that starts on the Sarasota Trail by circling the south side of Little Cat Mountain and then turning northwest on the Yetman trail toward Gates Pass.

Starting out on the Sarasota Trail. Were climbing the shoulder of Little Cat Mountain (just a small hill, really) but after we’ve rounded it we’ll walk toward that gap in the distance between Golden Gate Mountain on the left and Bren on the right. Gates Pass is just beyond that gap, if I’ve oriented myself right here.

We’ve never hiked this area before, but I’m sure we’ll be back someday. It’s classic Sonoran desert scenery, surrounded by saguaros and cholla and with interesting geologic features everywhere you look. It’s very quiet - we’ll see only a few other hiking parties and two mountain bikers in our three mile outing. And it’s very suitable terrain for me - not very hilly at all, so it’s not hard on my knees. And there’s a lot to see, too - no birds today, but there’s plenty of other intriguing desert stuff to stop and admire.

I don’t have any expectations about how far I’ll get but I’m pleased to have made three miles by the time I need to turn back, just before the saddle leading through to Gates Pass. And it turns out to be the perfect distance today because just as I’m thinking it’s time to turn back I look up and see a gorgeous crested saguaro.

Wonderful. Like snowflakes, every one is different and beautiful in its own way.

I try calling Rachael to let her know to watch out for this beauty on her way back, but she’s a mile away and unreachable in a cell phone dead zone. I keep trying on the way back though and we successfully connect before long, and in time to give her the heads-up.

Since she got further along the trail than I did, let’s look at some of the photos she brought back from this part of her walk:

I’m still about two miles from the car when I decide to shake things up and generate some new writing material when I trip over a stone in the path. I’m not certain of what happened because it was all so sudden, but I think that my right foot jammed against a rock, stopping that leg and lifting its heel off the ground; and my left foot slipped under it, stopping that one in its tracks too. My top half wasn’t that easily stopped though and continued forward, and down. Not good.

I partially caught myself on the way groundward, but not enough to prevent me from hitting my head hard against a rock. Fortunately it was on the right side, and I don’t typically do that much right-brained thinking anyway. And I’m really fortunate that I hit such a flat rock surface to minimize the damage. There’s not even a scratch on that side of my head.

Still, it was alarming enough that I lay on the ground for several minutes, expelled a variety of loud noises, and considered whether I’d concussed myself. I pulled out the phone and tried to reach Rachael, but there was no service; and then I turned my attention to blood loss - a couple of my fingers were cut and bleeding enough that I wondered about whether I was at risk because of the blood thinner I’m taking now.

As I was dripping blood on my phone and pants thinking about what I could use to promote hemostasis (one of my new words for the year) I remembered that I had just enough of a first aid kit along to manage the situation - the paper towels I’d brought along to blow my nose on at lunch if need be. Perfect! I tightly wrapped the two affected fingers on my right hand, and for the next hour kept them pinched against each other to keep them wrapped until I reached the car.

My knee was scraped too, but fortunately not badly enough to result in blood loss. A good thing too, or else I’d have had to walk the two miles to the car with one hand on the knee holding one of my new socks against it, since I’d already used up the paper towels. And I probably have a sprained finger on the other hand, and a bruise on my chest that I’m hoping isn’t a cracked rib (and here, I’ll point out that it’s bad luck to have done this when I’m still coughing so much, because it hurts to do so now). Other than that though, I’m apparently just fine.

And then finally I turned my attention to the camera, a presumed goner since it had slipped out of my hand and bounced down the trail when I hit the ground. By some strange miracle though it came through completely unscathed. To verify the fact I took a few more shots on the way back of things I hadn’t noticed on the way out.

There are a lot of dead things lying around in the desert. I’m glad I’m not one of them.

Look at all the new snow on Mount Wrightson! I think that’s new since yesterday.

I’m a half mile from the car when Rachael calls asking where I am. She’s already there waiting and anxious for me to hurry so she can get to a bathroom. It’s a surprise to me because I’ve been tracking her on the Garmin and it still thinks she’s a quarter mile behind me. It’s also a surprise because we’re following the same track and she didn’t pass me. who knows what Garmin’s problem was, but we’ll realize later when we compare tracks that I went off route at one point, presumably right where she overtook me.

So that was sort of a graceless end to the hike, but at least it didn’t make us late for lunch. We arrive at Coyote Pause three minutes before one, almost exactly when Barry and Janice pull up. And it’s a great meal and a great visit with a lot to talk about - they’ve had a few misfortunes of their own to share, so there’s that; but also there’s our plans for the rest of the year to be discussed and compared against. After meeting up in five different places in two years it sounds like we probably won’t be seeing each other for the rest of the year - unless we manage to squeeze in one more ride this week, which might happen.

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	10
Comment on this entry	Comment	18

Rich FrasierOuch! Hope you recover quickly. It all happens in an instant, but the scars last for a while...
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Bill ShaneyfeltAnother trip... Well, if you are gonna break a bone, a rib is a good one. It hurts enough to keep you from doing stupid things, but there is nothing a doc can do to make it better and you are unlikely to make it worse, even doing stupid things... Yeah, had a few. Just take it easy accelerating the bike for about 5 or so weeks. It hurts!!

Never quit moving! Gonna finish my 78th lap around the sun in a few days. You are close behind. Every day over 70 is gravy!
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Rich FrasierThanks, Rich. The morning after report is that I don’t seem much the worse for wear. The ribs are better and seem more bruised than broken (although I’m tired of being reminded of how many motions the pectorals play into), my left pinky is swollen and discolored but not at all painful, my head no more addled than usual. The desk that can be hoped for.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Bill ShaneyfeltThanks, Bill. The good news is that 24 hours later I feel more bruised than broken. I need to work on lifting my feet up more on trails though. Especially with my knee issues I’m prone to dragging my feet when I start getting tired.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Janice BranhamNice collection of scenes from Tucson Mountain Park. It was especially beautiful yesterday after the rain. I don't take many pictures when we ride the trails there, just focused on keeping up with the big kids.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Andrea BrownYikes, that fall could have been even nastier than it was! I’m constantly trying to stay upright on the uneven sidewalks, slippery bathroom floors, weird steps in our present environment. I told Bruce that when we get back home it’ll take weeks to stop stepping higher when entering a bathroom. Mend well, friend.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Kelly IniguezFor a bad situation, it's a relief you did fairly well. Thank goodness your camera is ok - that would have really put a damper on your trip.

It's okay if you come up with new journal material that doesn't involve blood!
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Andrea BrownDoing it, thanks. I’m really doing better than expected today. Achy here and there, but nothing seems broken. I really need to work on my walking if I’m going to do much hiking in terrain like this. I really drag my feet too much, presumably because of my knee issues.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Kelly IniguezYou’re right - there doesn’t need to be blood and gore to make an exciting day. I’ll stick to the birds for awhile now.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Suzanne GibsonOuch,, that sounds like a bad fall. Hope you're feeling better. I know the impact of falling face first is enormous.

I had a bad fall like that,, my feet getting stuck and me falling face first. It was a true face plant. I hit the ground with my cheek. You can't imagine the swelling and black and blue that ensued. I wasn't even on a blood thinner but the bruise was incredible. This was in Spain and I went to the hospital with it - that's a story in itself. Nothing was fractured and the only thing I could do was apply ice packs and hide my ugly face. In the end it looked much worse than it was.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Steve Miller/GrampiesDodie finds that with her arthritic knees, even after both replacements, she has trouble lifting her feet high enough when walking, especially when tired. We checked out the Nikon P950 in stock in a Victoria store the other day, and although the features are so cool, it does seem large for bringing on a bicycle tour. Are you sure though that you were not trying to wreck your camera in order to upgrade to the P950? Not recommended really as a way to get a new camera. Hope you are feeling better soon.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Suzanne GibsonThat sounds so horrible. I think I must have done a pretty good job at breaking my fall on the way down to have done no more damage to myself than I did.

Hey, I like this double comma tick you’ve adopted! It’s a unique brand. I always know it’s you even without reading the byline.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Steve Miller/GrampiesDragging the feet is a problem alright, and it definitely gets more pronounced after I’ve gotten more tired. It’s hard to counter too because I can’t really force myself to concentrate on lifting my feet every step of the way.

Interesting theory about the camera, but no. I’ve definitely got the right camera for my purposes. It’s not just the size and weight, it’s the accessibility. If I couldn’t just keep it in my shirt pocket I’d miss many shots - like the amazing sharp-shinned hawk from yesterday that I can’t wait to show off.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Steve Miller/GrampiesTo Scott AndersonYeah, the size and weight is a big issue. We figure if Steve had the P950 it would use up the entire handlebar bag, and by the time he stopped, pulled the camera out, removed the lens cover, found the bird, focussed, etc, the bird would be looong gone. We are sticking with the Lumix as well.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Steve Miller/GrampiesSounds like right thinking to me. Also, here’s another idea you might keep in mind. As you know, it’s not easy to find the bird with the zoom extended. Film is cheap, so I’ve started taking preliminary unzoomed shots at first for birds I’m afraid will disappear. I’ve captured several birds that way that I’d have missed otherwise. If I can follow up with a good close-up, great- but as long as the first shot picked the bird up at all there’s the chance that I can zoom in on the image I did get and identify it. I’ll include an example of this on the next post.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Steve Miller/GrampiesTo Scott AndersonAh, what image size and compression quality are you shooting? I have been choosing 1920x1080, which is the smallest of the (strangely limited) three sizes offered by our camera. That is the 2 Megapixel size. The next one up is 8M. I choose small because of the time needed to upload, given weak hotel wifi. But yes, I too have desperately shot well before really (optically) zooming all the way, to guard against the darn bird taking off.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Gregory GarceauDon't worry about your stumble in the Tucson Mountains. I know you'll recover as you have so many times before. I've tripped on trail rocks many, many times--even when I was in my 30's. I'm more worried about you misspelling "Tucson mountains" in the title of this page. I'd likely make the same mistake if I had been to Tuscany as often as you have.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Gregory GarceauOh, that’s funny. Actually, it’s a transitive error. I titled it the Tuscan Mountains at first, wishing I was in Italy I suppose, and then semicorrected it. Thanks.
Reply to this comment
3 months ago