Well, here's a day that I let get away completely. Almost weeks later, back home in Portland, what do I still recall? It's a bit of a memory test for myself.
First off, I need to finally say something about Dreamcatcher B&B. What a special, one of a kind place! We felt so lucky to be steered in this direction by Wayne Estes' CGOB account of his journey through this region. The hosts, John and Julia, are an interesting couple (to say the least). They operate a warm, comfortable and stylish inn, are both accomplished and creative chefs with a bent toward international quisine, and they have a fascinating personal history that they're willing to share after a martini or two. We won't forget them. They've been here for 20 years and look ready to get on with their lives (the for sale sign is out), so I'd recommend penciling them into an itinerary while you still can.
After one last delicious breakfast, we said our goodbyes. As we left, John quizzed us to see if we were leaving anything behind in the room. We assured him that we had checked and double checked - after all, we've already had one left item incident on this trip (my sandals, in Tombstone).
Two miles down the road, I was annoyed and a bit alarmed to have a driver following me, honking insistently. It was John. With a wry smile he handed me Rachael's jacket, executed a u-turn, and returned home.
Julia, the hostess and excellent chef at Dreamcatcher B&B
Our ride to Willcox began with the same ten mile stretch north on 181 that we had ridden yesterday. It was as beautiful today as it was then. Like yesterday, storm clouds piled high above the Chiracahuas. It looks to me like we were pretty lucky with conditions yesterday - today they look at least as menacing, if not worse.
At th junction with route 186, and for the next thirty miles or so we curved westward along the base of Dos Cabezas. I've been confused by the identity of this range for three days now, but I've finally figured it out - it's not the Chiracahuas, and it's not Mount Graham. It's really empty country though. Except for the small village of Dos Cabezas there's not much out here but scrubby vegetation, tumbleweeds and the occasional raptor.
The clouds are stacked high above the Chiricahua range again this morning.
The tumbleweeds pile up at this low point in the highway where it bends to the west, lining both sides of the road. It looks like they get blown in here and become trapped. There's a bit of a wind this morning and they're all twitchy and anxious to roll.
Not sure if I count as a gangsta, so I didn't linger and risk getting jacked. I took my quick shot of the cars, did my best to placate the Rottweiler, and wheeled off.
A geologist's explanation for this basin and range landscape. The ranges are horsts and the basins are grabens, formed by parallel thrust faults that push the ranges up and the basins down as tectonic plates push against each other. The biologists have a different term for it; the sky archipelago. The ranges are sky-islands rising above the basin-sea, biologically isolated from each other and sustaining unique habitats.
Our big stop fo the day was a few miles from the end of the ride, at Willcox Playa Wildlife Area. This is another small wetland with allegedly a significant wintering sandhill crane population, like the Whitewater Draw refuge that we fruitlessly checked in on two days ago. We had more success this time. After walking across the flats for a mile toward the viewing area, we began hearing the unmistakeable croaking of cranes. They're quite far off though, and a nearer approach is forbidden in order to protect their space.
We spent about fifteen minutes watching and listening to them, but they were really too far off to fully appreciate. Still, it's nice to know that they're out here. It's th largest crane flock I've ever seen.
Walking toward the viewing platform at the Willcox Playa Wildlife Area
The lake is at that thin blue-grey line in the middle. I'm not sure what the range is, but I think the northern edge of the Dragoons tapering off. This is as close as we were allowed to get to the lake - it's about a quarter mile off still. There are plenty of cranes out there though - we can hear them constantly croaking.
Taken with my super zoom. Not too bad, but to have a really decent view we'd need a bigger lens and a tripod. It's enough though to get a sense of how large the population is. This covers about half of the crane wall that lines the small lake.
