To Ajo: a drive and a diagnosis

February 13, 2021

Plans for today have changed. We’re bound for Ajo, at about the midway point between Bisbee and Borrego Springs; but we’re scrapping plans to arrive there early enough in the day to take a short afternoon bike ride. I’m undergoing RICE treatment (rest, ice, compression, elevation), and hopping on the bike after a 250 mile drive somehow doesn’t seem like it fits in with this regimen.

We load up the car, with Rachael thoughtfully volunteering to carry everything downstairs to spare putting any extra stress on my injured toe, and we’re off.

I’m coming to appreciate our new Raven more with every outing. This morning, we make use of its CD drive hidden in the glove box for the first time - 2017 was one of the last years this car came with such outdated sound technology - and we listen to a favorite jazz CD by Cyrille Aimee I haven’t heard for a long time before switching over to follow the live broadcast of the impeachment hearing. Also today, I appreciate that we have a car with an automatic transmission, the only such car I’ve ever owned. The long drive would have been more unpleasant if I had to apply my injured foot to the clutch the whole way.

We break up the drive with a breakfast stop in Tucson at the Blue Willow and then continue on, listening to the trial the whole way - it’s enraging of course, but it does make the drive go fast. About 50 miles from Ajo, we have a near catastrophe when the fuel tank indicator comes on. I’m startled to see that we’re low on fuel, because I’ve been looking at the temperature gauge thinking it was the fuel gauge (how could anyone mistake these two, you might well ask) this whole time, impressed by what good mileage we seem to be getting. Fortunately we only have to backtrack five miles to the last station we passed, or else we could have found ourselves stranded by the side of the road with our thumbs out.

We’re staying at the Sonoran Desert Inn for two nights. We arrive mid afternoon, and after helping unstuffthe Raven Rachael takes off for a two hour walk while I elevate my foot.

Our home in Ajo for the next two nights.

And how is that fat little piggie, anyway? Thankfully, it’s doing surprisingly well today. It’s still chubbier than usual and has interesting color, but other than that it feels quite improved. It doesn’t really hurt at all, even when I stand or walk short distances; and it’s got more mobility today. I can flex and wiggle it without any real discomfort, so I can’t imagine that it’s broken. Hiking is probably out of the picture for a while, but I might be ready for some easy cycling sooner than I’d have thought last night. So that’s good.

Very colorful. Unsightly, but apparently unbroken.

Always wanting to look my best, I like the way that I color coordinate so well with the carpet here at the inn.

As an aside, yesterday’s episode reminds me of a similar mishap in the past I haven’t remenisced on for awhile. On our second tour of Greece we were island hopping the eastern islands along the Turkish border (the ones that have been inundated by boatloads of refugees for the last several years). On Chios we were biking through the Mastic Villages, and at the end of the day we took a short hike. Our walk carried us past a pair of ruined old stone windmills, and we scrambled through the maquis to get close enough for a decent shot (I didn’t have my super zoom yet, or this wouldn’t have been necessary). From the journal:

The real highlight though (low light, actually) was when we left the trail to walk up a small ridge for a close up look at a trio of ruined windmills. While working our way through the underbrush, my foot slipped into a concealed depression and I pitched forward, face planting myself into the brambled brush. Unable to move without making things worse, I lay sprawled there and wimpering until Rachael came to give a hand to help me back up. Yeowch!

So that’s pretty entertaining, looking back on it. Other than that, it was a spectacular day. The Mastic Villages, and in particular Pirgi, are a sight to behold.

Windmill ruins, near Mesta; my face-plant into the maquis nearby here was the low point of my day.

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Kathleen ClassenOuch, ouch, ouch. So happy it isn’t broken, but ouch!
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3 years ago

Suzanne GibsonI hope it's not broken. I broke a toe once but thought it was just sprained and decided walking would be ok for it. Wrong. It took much longer to heal. Why not have an x-ray?
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3 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Suzanne GibsonThanks for the obviously wise advice, Suzanne. Inconvenience, as lame (heh, heh) as that sounds, is the main reason. Bisbee and Ajo are both small, remote places with limited services, and if we stopped in a city on the long drive between them we might have run out of daylight.

One more day later it continues to look and feel better, so I’m optimistic. Borrego Springs, where we’ll be staying next for five days, does have a clinic though, so I might stop in when we get there.
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3 years ago

Bruce LellmanI've also mistaken the temperature gauge for the fuel gauge. Such a rude surprise to find that you are not getting 225 mpg.
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3 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Bruce LellmanSuch a charitable thing to say, Bruce. I doubt it though. I really can’t imagine anyone else making this mistake. Rachael, less charitably, pointed out the fullness fractions on the fuel indicator that I could have cued off of.
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3 years ago