See what I found in the Goodwill parking lot this morning? ! September 18, 2024.
When I got in line to pay for 5 new-used jigsaw puzzles the man ahead of me had a ragged beard covering the lower half of his face and scary paint covering the upper half. I leaned over and asked him if he owned the pickup in the parking lot. The man started to stutter an answer but a voice very close behind me said, “I do!” I turned around and the voice and I chatted briefly while I paid for the puzzles.
It’s not for sale and is not a donation. It is for him and all who happen to see the vehicle to enjoy. The motor runs fine. The owner, Mr Luckie (that is his real surname!), is a car mechanic.
Mr. Luckie had had only a couple items to pay for and, just as I finished stowing the puzzle boxes on the floor of the right side of 4titude’s cab and was straightening up, Mr. Luckie’s voice began talking to me. I joined him beside the pickup and he told me a lot about it. More than I can remember at one time. At some point after he bought the vehicle he decided he’d like to own an open-air vehicle like the convertibles he had owned in the 60s and 70s. So he cut the top of the cab off.
It is a 1965 Ford XLT.
Mr. Luckie said XLT stands for Extra Large Toilet.
The name of the vehicle is Flyin Toilet. Mr. Luckie made the flag himself.
Which explains this hood ornament.
As you can see at the upper left (in the foto below), he is armed for battle. Trouble is he doesn’t have an apparatus that would propel the home-made missile.
The right end of the missile is a metal tube he happened to have lying around (I wonder what his yard looks like?). The black thing was a piece of plumbing that happened to fit the two end pieces (again, lying around in his year). The long end piece was something his brother had and gave to Mr. Luckie (I wonder what his brother’s yard looks like, also?).
To make it sound as tho this thing is an actual missile, Mr. Luckie painted and posted this sign.
If the torpedo doesn’t deter thieves and vandals, perhaps this head will.
Notice 4titude in the background.
There is even an inquisitive cat. It is sitting on what looks like a cross in the topmost foto.
Notice the clothespin at the rear of the cat. That gives you an idea of the size of this metal sculpture.
Somebody at the Century branch library is very creative.
Shirley MacLaine turned 90 the same month I turned 81. She has let all of her wrinkles grow over the years, just as all women should. When I’m 90 I hope I look as good as she does. (A friend has been giving me her hand-me-down magazines.)
I enjoyed the food and ambience so much at the brewery lunch with BTAM book club members last week that I contacted another friend and we agreed to eat here today, at North 7th Street and the canal.
It says “brewing company” right there in the name of the restaurant.
The front patio is set up for a crowd full of energy.
The play space is all outdoors altho much of it is shaded by a roof.
To my dismay, the brewing machinery is at the restaurant at the junction of Scottsdale Road and McDowell. I (tried to) made myself a mental note to always check brewery restaurant web sites and make sure the brewing vats are on display where I am thinking about going, doing real work.
The dinners had more calories than we could swallow at one meal, so Sandy and I had teetotalers’ meals. Besides, we each were our own designated driver and we have been told that at our age alcohol will affect our cognition even in small amounts.
That didn’t stop us from reading.
The huge work area we could see was for food preparation.
I chose this meal because the mixture of ingredients sounded tasty.
I had no idea what “Chicken Tinga” was. This piece of the menu describes it as “pulled chicken in a smokey chipotle-tomato sauce.” In one of my bites of a quesadilla I got only strings of chicken. It tasted like strings of any roasted chicken. However, the quesadillas were good tasting.
The web site for Vera Mexicana says: “Tinga originated in the State of Puebla in Mexico but has since been adopted and adapted by other States that have given their own twist to the recipe. “
The narrow ceiling-beam-looking slats don’t look strong enuf to hold anything except the overhead lights. But they are very artistic to stare at.
Now to shift from restaurant to my body.
After my left knee became overwhelmingly painful in late April I was unable to bend it enuf to cut my toenails. Also, it had become almost impossible for me to clip my stiff toenails before arthritis erupted in my left knee. I kept thinking the knee doctor would be able to get rid of the knee pain and I would go to a nails salon, so that, if the nailcare person moved my foot this way and that, and thus twisted my knee, there would be no pain.
One day I asked my PCP if I could get help with my toe nails. She took one look at my toes (in open-toed sandals) and said she would put in a referral to a podiatrist. The podiatrist’s clerk called. I explained about the painful arthritis and that I had not been able reach my toes. She was making notes and said, hesitantly, “Was that the left or right knee?” I replied that the arthritis was in my left knee but I had not cut the nails of the right foot because I had thought it would look strange if one foot was trimmed and the other not. She laughed and said, “I like you!” Her reaction charmed me.
I hope you got a chuckle from this story.
If you don’t want to see my toenails after growing for 3 months don’t scroll any farther.
The nail on the big toe had split then each half had accidentally been torn off when I stubbed my toe a couple of times. My skin certainly is colorful! according to my cell fone. My skin is not black and dying. What appears blue-black is reddish or pinkish. The toes are a light color.
The podiatrist snipped away quickly and easily. I said, Either your clippers are sharper than mine or your fingers are stronger.” He looked up at my face and said, “How about both?” We chuckled.
Six of us met at the Arizona Historical Museum (AHM) in Tempe on July 26, 2024. Some of the group followed GPS directions to the Arizona Heritage Center (AHC) museum but we all arrived at the same place. According to street signs the building is Arizona Historical Museum and it sits in the Arizona Heritage Center portion of Papago Park that is in Tempe. The AHM is apparently only the museum building while the AHC includes the grounds around the museum. The AHC web site does not differentiate itself from AHM.
Speaking of confusing names, have you previously learned or figured out what BTAM stands for? Formerly it did not have an “M.” But after we moved off arboretum property we of this book club decided to keep BTA and renamed ourselves “Book Talk and More.”
You may remember this picture from my April visit to this building to hear a talk about former Governor Hunt, a talked that ended dramatically when the speaker fainted at the podium.
Altho the Arizona Historical Society (AHS) was established by an Act of the First Territorial Legislature on November 7, 1864, it is not entirely funded by the state; in fact, I believe there have been recent years when AHS received no money at all from the State. The Arizona Historical Society is very distinguished by the fact that it is Arizona’s oldest historical agency.
This is a small portion of a military uniform that belonged to the Mexican General Santa Ana. Notice that he revered the Virgin of Guadalupe.
Unfortunately, my smart fone was not smart enuf to take a picture of the entire uniform when I told it to. I thought the brilliantly-colored (snow white slacks) uniform was going to be a replica until I read the sign below. The red cloth would have been dyed by red coloring obtained from cochineal bugs that feast on prickly pear cacti.
The Texans, under General Sam Houston, chased Santa Ana out of North America and back to south of the Rio Grande in 1836. But it appears that in 1853-54 Santa Ana (as President of Mexico?) was in Arizona agreeing to the Gadsden Purchase. Why and how did Arizona end up with one of his military uniforms?
Read below to find out what Tucson is a sector of.
The quilt is an interesting memorial.
I had not heard of this group. I wonder if some of our local Akimel O’Odham have joined the Shadow Wolves.
“Dusty Trails” is an exhibit of Western art worth seeing. The paintings show parts of the Butterfield Trail. This fotograph may be one that the artist (she was female) used to learn what the Butterfield stagecoaches looked like.
In this fotograph, notice the expression of the woman who is “pushing” the stagecoach full of adults.
What is this small trunk made of?
I think it was buffalo hide or steer hide. Do you know? I’d never seen this type of luggage before.
I wish the sign told us what the leather is made of.
In those days people didn’t worry too much about body odor and preparations to combat it, and they were able to travel light. They could pack a bunch of their favorite books along with a very few pieces of clothing. Needle and thread would have been necessities.
This looks like an actual rattlesnake prepared by a skilled taxidermist. Look at the tail. Those rattle are real. However, there is something strange about the junction of rattles and tail. Maybe the flesh and skin got damaged at that junction in the process of killing the snake.
I just reread the sign “Rattlesnake” and I noticed something interesting. The second sentence states that horses were the only means of transportation for rattlesnakes “other than walking by foot.” I’ve never seen feet on a rattlesnake. The word “they” that begins the sentence refers to “rattlesnakes.” Thus “their” later on in the sentence refers to “rattlesnakes” and not horses or two-footed creatures.
This is (was) the road going down into Fish Creek Canyon. The Apache Trail was no different the first time I drove it (1984) except that it was two vehicles wide. I wonder what cars did if they met someone along this portion of the Apache Trail in the 1920s.
Sorry. You won’t see Vicki and me in the plastic case when you visit this top hat exhibit.
The white chef’s hat is part of the painting on my yellow T-shirt. For those of you who have not seen me for a while, I am letting my hair grow long(er).
The hematite that I am familiar with is a deep red, almost red-brown, color. Foto from geology.com:
I can’t visualize ground hematite as being orange.
However, at the Alamy web site
I followed a portion of the Alamy web site. This particular specimen was collected in the Black Hills of South Dakota. I don’t think the orange veins of hematite are in the range in which the early Sonoran Desert People collected hematite to grind into a dye.
The orange in the foto below is the ground up orange hematite like the piece that came from South Dakota.
Look at the hematite dye colors decorating these two pieces of ancient Hohokam pottery. These are the only shades of hematite paint I have seen at S’edav Va’aki Museum in Phoneix.
Now we can visualize why people riding in cars in the early days wore a hooded overgarment they called a “dust coat.”
I’m thinking that, because I always drove the Apache Trail slowly so I could enjoy the countryside, it took me an hour to get from the inception of the Apache Trail at Apache Junction to the base of Roosevelt Dam.
Centennial quilt on permanent display in the lobby.
I wonder if this is one of the rocks at the BLM petroglyph site a short ways west of Tucson and just north of I-8?
I wish AHS had put a date on the little card at the base of the foto below. When was it taken?
The last few museum items I fotographed were in the gift shop. This rattlesnake did not look at all dangerous. Neither Vicki nor I were interested in sampling the contents of the “Hottest Chili Peppers!” boxes.
Yes, the snake has rattles on the tip of its tail. At first glance the price appears to be 819.95. But a closer study indicates that the price is supposed to read $19.95. Someone needs to work on their handwriting.
Arizona’s “motto” or nickname has long been “The Four C’s.” They stand for copper, cotton, cattle, citrus. These, together, have long been the state’s major source of income. However, the Arizona state library web site, https//azlibrary.gov, states that in recent years a fifth “C” has been added – – climate. I won’t try to explain, define, or defend the 5th “C.”
This piece of copper appears to have been smelted and not to be raw from the ground.
US 66 highway is honored in a section of the museum. I wish I had a grandchild to send this little teddy bear to.
We were now hungry so Barbara Quijada led us to a nearby restaurant she recommended.
The restaurant is actually in the brewery!
The brews this company sells:
Below is the substantial-food menu we ordered from. I ordered the Hatch Green Chile Burger. It was delicious! My burger came with more fries than the sandwiches others of the group ordered because there was more spare space on my plate. I brought most of the fries home and will toast them in my toaster oven to provide for (part of) a meal today and one tomorrow. The fries are delicious and unusual. I’ve never seen anything like them. The seem to have a very light breading coat that crisps very well when deep fat fried.
This sign greets hungry customers as they approach the fence around the patio at the entrance to the restaurant.
Being dark, asphalt seems to collect a lot more heat than concrete. I remember when hot temperatures began appearing late each spring in Lubbock, Texas we barefoot kids would run as fast as possible across the hot asphalt to get to the local park. In a couple weeks we had created callouses on our feet and we walked across the asphalt streets. When the air temperature reached the 90s we may have walked fast across the streets, but the few days when the temperature reached the (low) 100s we once again ran across the asphalt streets.
After breakfast I sat in the lobby in the sun and read. Shortly after 7 am a young woman pushed her bicycle into the lobby and parked it near the popcorn machine. I said, “That is a nice exercise way to get to work but you must be cold.” She pointed out that she wore warm underwear under her trousers and a very fat down parka. She disappeared into the laundry room; the door said “Employees Only.”
The zoo at Edgewood did not open until 10 am so I had decided to break this day up even more. I did not drive away until 11 am. Odometer 128,327. Temperature 79 degrees. There were some clouds in the sky but the chance of rain had been downgraded to 12%.
I know some of you do not favor the idea of zoos, but I hope you will read about this first one. It is a “zoo” only in that it had paths for visitors so they can see a few animals. The institution actually has a deeper purpose than zoo or nature park.
I had difficulty remembering east and west in Moriarty. I wanted to get on I-40 going west so I headed out on US 66, got behind a huge truck, could not see the signs well, and ended up heading the way the truck was going. On the interstate, I-40, we soon came to a huge green sign which said Clines Corners and Santa Rosa were ahead. Another sign said the next exit was in six miles. In six miles I exited and reentered going west.
This facility accepted animals that could not survive in the wild but whose injuries and ailments had been taken care of. There were more than one of most of the 20-plus species.
The first major exhibit was this darling wood carving at the entrance to the facility.
Some people had donated some very nice things to this refuge, such as this beautiful picture of stained glass below.
I’d never thought much about how animals were loaded and unloaded at these large animal facilities until I took a good look at this setup:
People have donated some interesting items to this facility, items they themselves wanted to see preserved for the public to enjoy.
The Youth Conservation Corps murals.
Interesting sign.
Now we get to the meat of the matter, why these animals are housed at this facility.
Golden eagle named Phoenix.
This Prairie Falcon posed well for me.
Chili has beautiful breast feathers.
There were about a half dozen benches on the mile and a quarter of paths and I sat for five minutes in each bench. Each bench was different. Most were comfortable but this one was an uncomfortable as it looks.
Some of the birds seemed to appreciate human visitors. Like this caracara. It kept wandering off then coming back to stare at me some more.
I could not tell whether is was Max who liked me or if Max and Polly might have been taking turns coming to the window.
Now to see non-flying animals. Some donor loves bears.
Unfortunately, the bear had died recently of old age. However, another one had been located and was on its way.
See the huge green snail? Some donor had a sense of humor.
Warning!
Most of the mammals were taking their day-long between-morning-and-evening-predating naps. Many of them woke up when they heard my hiking stick approaching, lifted their heads and stared at me, then lay flat again, utterly uninterested in the human.
Red Fox. After a wild animal becomes used to humans and thinks of humans as harmless, if released into the wild the animal would some day walk up to the wrong human and be killed, thus they are not “set free.”
The day and the scenery were beautiful. The San Pedro Mountains were in view along portions of the trail.
There was no live puffin bird at this facility, but second-hand cigarette smoke is a hazard to all mammals, cigarette butts (crushed or not) are disgusting litter, as well as the fact that still-burning butts cause fires. I’d never seen this cute sign before.
Cats like their privacy.
The big cat below is not locked in a small “cage.” I used my telefoto lens and the screen that appears to be part of the wooden structure was actually the back fence of the big cats’ big yard.
Perhaps the babies were so young they had to be handled by humans to be bottle fed and grew up feeling kinship with humans, and thus the two could not be set in the wild.
So this refuge is under the auspices of the New Mexico Tourism Department?
This deer was surprised to see me. Look at how wide-eyed its stare is.
Below, an unexplained donation. I wonder if at one time it was used to pick up animals that were being sent to this refuge or if it took small animals on tour to schools, etc.
The fences all had mesh that was fine enuf that my camera could not shoot thru one of the trapezoidal “holes.” Some fences had very fine mesh. I tried to take fotos of all the animals that were in view but only a few pictures turned out halfway decently. The stroll thru the zoo was well worth the effort, anyway. Each animal’s cage had a sign explaining why the animal could not manage on its own in the wild.
Just before I set out on this trip I was told that at least one of the rescue facilities in the Phoenix area is open to visitors. Now I am eager to visit it (them?).
As I exited thru the little building at the entrance I asked for directions to the Wal-Mart in Edgewood. I had not wanted to deal with the traffic in Albuquerque and wander miles off I-40 to find a Wal-Mart or a drug store, but I realized the one in Edgewood could not be far from the zoo. Edgewood was a small town. (As a matter of fact, I could not remember where there were Walmarts in Albuquerque. What year did Wal-Mart migrate to New Mexico? I could remember where there was a large Goodwill store, but not a Walmart. The Business Journals web site says the first Walmart in New Mexico opened in 1983. I had last lived in Albuquerque in 1980.)
I primarily wanted to buy magnesium to, hopefully, prevent the burning in my legs that was driving me out of bed a couple hours early each morning. Dale had written for me to buy magnesium gluconate (other forms would cause very loose stools, as I am sure you are well aware). In the Vitamins & Minerals aisle I did not find magnesium gluconate but I found magnesium oxide, so I bought a small bottle of a hundred pills.
I had noticed there was a Blake’s Lotaburger in Moriarty, along US 66. The name was originally written as Lota’ Burger.
From Blake’s web site: “When WWII Navy Veteran, Blake Chanslor, flipped the first LOTA Burger in 1952 he gave birth to a New Mexico Tradition.” I could not find out if the pieture below was of the first Blake’s built in Moriarty (i.e., the second Blake’s stand built anywhere) or if it was simply one of the first ones built in Albuquerque, the home of the company.
Blake’s had been known for years for using fresh ground beef and frying each hamburger patty when the order was placed. Customers had to wait 20 or more minutes for their hamburgers but the burgers were much tastier than the fast-food hamburgers. So I dropped by Blake’s for today’s main meal.
I ordered a New Mexico Hamburger and was surprised when it was ready in a matter of minutes. It did not look like the burger in the standing advertisement inside the building. The patties in my burger were perfectly round (not irregular on the edges) and flat/thin. However, they were very greasy as tho they had, indeed, been fried fresh after I placed my order. I made a note to go on-line when I got home and see if Blake’s still serves fresh ground meat burgers or is using some sort of system similar to the fast-food joints. In fact, this bit of curiosity on the part of my brain reinforced that I now want to get my laptop on-line so I can look up things when traveling. For the many years I’ve owned it, I’ve simply used the laptop as a glorified, portable word processor.
Days later, when I got home I went to Blake’s web site, found “contact us,” and sent this email: “I recently had a hamburger at the Blake’s Lotaburger in Moriarty, New Mexico. I ordered a New Mexico Style burger. The hamburger was ready in 2 minutes. The patties did not look like what you show in your pictures in your web site. Each patty had been pressed in some sort of utensil. The major part of each patty was very thin, but a rim was left around the edge so the patty would look bigger when in the hamburger. Meat had no taste, so I thought perhaps Blake’s was now going the fast-food way of freeze dried then microwaved. Do any of your burger stores have decent patties, like in the old days, or all of them now using the very thin patties that thus have no flavor?” I have not received an answer.
Virga was hanging from the sky in every direction, except maybe in the south. Some actual rain seemed to be hitting the ground to the north up by Santa Fe, etc.
Tomorrow’s chances for rain were 84%. I would be taking a day of rest except that I hoped the rain would let up at some time so I could eat a meal at Lisa’s without tegging thoroughly soaked. My legs would enjoy the rest but my brain would not. Brain would be very bored.
May 16, Thursday
Chance of rain elevated to 95% for today. Temperatures started at 39 degrees and would rise only to 58 degrees. I was glad I had no outside plans for today.
Somehow, the discussion of current tornadoes in the US and the severe thunderstorms expected here today morphed into talking about energy generation and there was an interesting conversation between two men, sitting at different tables, at breakfast this morning. One was familiar with nuclear power plants. He had learned that a nuclear plant generally generates one semi(truck) load of waste a year and it takes 50 years for the waste to degrade (by half-lives) to a level that is “safe.” If someone were to build a long building, about 30 feet wide (and maybe 2000 feet long), with a track in it, then each year a container of waste could be put on the track . After 50 years, the contents of the container at the head of the line would be safe, and would be removed and disseminated somewhere. The cars in the building would be pushed along the track. After 50 years there would be a new container entering each year and an old one leaving.
The other person was working on the construction of a wind turbine farm 100 miles long and 30 miles wide, going from I-40 near here towards Capitan, New Mexico. It will be the largest wind farm in the world. The men mentioned that oil is continually running down the towers of the wind turbines and running along the ground; not good. Also, the blades have to be replaced and they do not biodegrade. The industry is trying to decide where to permanently store the old blades. And, one man asked, “How much energy is expended in manufacturing and erecting the wind turbines?” (Apparently the answer is “a lot.”)
I noticed three magazines in the lobby that might give me trip ideas, two were about New Mexico and one about Texas. The first magazine I opened promised little-known sites. However, everything in the magazine was well-advertised and known to anyone who has traveled across New Mexico. But I found a few things I’d not been to that sounded interesting. After finishing the New Mexico magazines I turned to the Texas magazine, written for 2023, the centennail of Texas Parks as a government department. It had some pages of interesting things at the front of the mag. The only one I read to completion was an essay called “Journey Back in Time, Travel Texas: History.” I would like to share a small bit with you:
“Drivers making their way across West Texas a century ago [used a publication titled Official Automobile Blue Book, which said that:] ‘Many of the cattle gates are of the swinging type,’ the 1923 edition advises, ‘and by putting the car in low gear and striking the gate with just sufficient force to cause it to swing, passage can be negotiated without leaving the car.’ ” / “Before highway numbering systems were broadly implemented, the guides of the 1920s offered detailed written instructions for navigating a hodgepodge of wagon-train trails, dirt or gravel rural roads, and wheel-and-spoke networks of urban streets.”
Otherwise, I spent the boring day alternately working crossword puzzles and napping (in my room) and reading an exceptionally well written, but not thrilling, fat mystery-romance book (in a chair beside a real window in the lobby). I ate a real breakfast the inn provided of eggs and sausage, but the rest of the day I ate peanuts (mine) and popcorn and cookies (provided by the inn as snacks). I was still walking very slowly and leaning on my hiking pole, but due to this day of rest I hoped I would see good improvement tomorrow in the ligament across the lower end of my left kneecap.
The bathtub to my room was just what I needed. There was a wooden seat to pull down across the end of the tub for a handicapped bather to sit on. That was me.
I set things up then ran just enuf hot water into the tub to cover my toes and come partway up my feet. I read a chapter in the fat romance book while my feet soaked, then washed my feet with soap. First bath for my feet in what, three weeks? My left knee had not been flexible enuf for me to reach my left foot. It as still a painful exercise today.
May 17, Friday
I left Moriarty at 6:55 am, 46 degrees, 128,365. This morning I could tell east from west because the sun was still rising in the east.
On I-40 I passed a convoy of three blades (for wind turbines). Each one was 30+ feet long. Tow or three long metal beams about one foot wide had been bolted together to make a long bar to be the truck trailer. There were 12 wheels on the axles at each end of the beam. Three paris of two on each of the four ends of the two axles. The front and rear axles appeared to be about twenty feet apart. While rolling along at just over 70 mph the rear wheels were not always in alignment with the front wheels. There were lots of depressions in the right side of the outer lane of I-40, not quite potholes, that knocked 4titude around a little. They were having an effect on the movement of the rear wheels on the three long, long truck trailers, also. Each blade was carried on top of a structure that rose above each axle, maybe five or six feet off the ground. A protion of each blade, about ten feet long, stuck off the back end of each truck. There were about a half dozen escort vehicles with big signs front and back “Oversize Load” and lights on top of the cabs.
Near Santa Rosa the highway crossed the Pecos River. It was running full from the storms of the past few days.
I stopped at the TA truck stop on the east end of Santa Rosa where I left I-40. Inside, I saw this interesting electrified chair.
Here is what the electricity would buy you if you put some bills in. It did sound worth the money but I did not take the time to try it.
I was walking a little faster today, but still very slowly. Without the hiking pole. But my entire knee hurt each time I sat down; even began hurting while I was walking.
Not too far north of Fort Sumner I saw two young men breaking camp. Like Dad and I had done on two motor scooter trips around 1950, they had camped in the vegetation between the highway, US 84, and the pasture fence. This morning they had hung things on the fence to dry (that, Dad and I did not have to do). Dew from recent rains, maybe even a small rain last night, had left the tents wet.
This day I did not see any cattle nearby, but one motor scooter trip cattle were very close to the pasture fence. Dad had both of us scramble between lines of barbed wire so he could get good pictures of the animals. A bull took exception to our trespassing, faced us, pawed the ground and snorted. I was terrified but Dad siad there was no cause for worry. He had me stand closer to the animals so that I was in the picture. Dad was correct. The bull did not charge. Dad’s father had raised only one milk cow at a time; was a farmer and not a cattleman. I don’t know where Dad had gotten his experience with herds and bulls.
In Fort Sumner I stopped to fotograph this mural.
I started thinking about the motor scooter trips again. We stopped at the post office along this section of US 84 each time (2 trips) and Dad sent a note or postcard back to Mother in Lubbokc, Texas saying the trip was going well. That would have been towards last afternoon of the first day of each of the two trips. No post office on 84 any more; it had been relocated somewhere else in town. Dad and I had indeed ridden a motor scooter and not a motorcycle. I once asked dad how fast we were going down the highway. (It took us 2 days to get from Lubbock to Santa Fe, including 2 to 4 break-stops each day and stopping early to make camp.) Dad said the scooter’s maximum speed was 35 mph and with two of us plus a gallon glass jug of water, gear, and food, he figured we were doing 25 mph at the best.
I arrived at the four-story Comfort Inn in Portales at 10:55 am. It was originally a 4-story hotel built several decades ago. It stood empty for several decades then was purchased recently and turned into a Comfort Inn. 4titude looks clean, doesn’t he? He wasn’t.
70 degrees. 128,557. I could not register until 3 PM. I texted Terre and she came around 1 pm, after she got off work. Meanwhile, I sat in the lobby and finished the fat novel I’d been reading. Terre had arranged her schedule so she could get off work early this day and Sunday. Saturday and Monday were her regular days off.
Using Terre’s car, we drove to the store where she worked and shared a small carton of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. That was my (belated) birthday dessert. Then we ran a couple of errands and finished up by eating hand-made hamburgers at JJ’s hamburger stand. It didn’t look like much from the outside but it served the best hamburgers for many, many miles around.
The owner, a local rancher, bought the meat already ground each morning. He did not butcher his own cattle for the hamburger meat. He bought the ground beef at the grocery store where Terre worked because he, and others, said the meat that store sold was better that the meat at Portales’ Wal-Mart.
I believe this mural was in the antechamber of the Walmart store in Portales:
At shortly after 3 PM I registered. I had wanted a first floor room for convenience, but I was pleased with my third floor room. The huge window gave a view of a good section of Portales. Terre and I played Cat-Opoly until it was time for her to go home. She was ahead when we put the game away.
My knee was now very sore at me.
May 18, Saturday
Today was Terre’s day off. She arrived around 8 am after we both had eaten breakfast. She brought a cute “stuffed” animal for my combined birthday and Mother’s Day gift. A teddy bear made of curled roses.
We empited the passenger seat of 4titude and drove to Clovis. Along the way I stopped to take a picture of why I may have difficulty finding Planter’s Spanish Peanuts to buy in a few months, the only variety of peanut that I find tasty. A few months ago fire ravaged this peanut processing plant. There was still one large plant (owned by a different company) functioning in Portales, but even if it managed to run 24 hours a day it possibly could not produce as many tons of peanuts as this plant would have put out. Just before I set out on this trip the fire was still smoldering and its smoke could be smelled throughout the little town of Portales. Today there was no sign or scent of smoke.
The peanut farms around Portales produced 80% of the Valencia variety of peanuts grown in the United States. There may be other similar peanuts grown and packaged as Spanish peanuts in other parts of this country but Terre was not sure of that.
This burned up plant belonged to
The peanut farms and factories were much older than 1997. “97 is simply the year Hampton Farms purchased that particular plant.
In Clovis we both bought items at Walgreens Drug Store. I replaced my bandaged reading glasses. I had dropped the glasses on the floor a couple days ago and one lens fell out; the cheetah-like rim had cracked apart. There was no place in Moriarty in which to buy a replacement so the motel clerk had affixed one end of the lens and the cracked cheetah with scotch tape. If you look closely you can see that the other end of the lens is hanging out of the frame, just barely. Even so, I could read well tiwh the glasses but I was afraid the tape scotching things up would not last very long.
Then I and my knee stayed in the SUV while Terre made inquiries and purchases at Office Max and Lowe’s.
Finally, we drove to the zoo, our primary objective of today’s trip.
I wondered if the artist who painted the entrance building was a local person.
Terre’s right knees was responding painfully to the barometric pressure change that occurred when two big rainstorms hit Portales a few days ago. We both limped along the zoo paths and gladly sat for a while each time we found a bench in the shade, even if it was only dappled shade. We often sat for ten minutes or more.
The zookeepers were very specific about the ancestry of the zebras.
I don’t know whose pheromones the peacock was reacting to this day but we enjoyed his display.
I don’t remember ever seeing this beautiful bird before. Of course, I have forgotten many details of what I have seen during the past four score years.
The crane didn’t look small to me.
The temperature was quite warm by then and many animals were dozing in their dwellings or in deep shade on their caged grounds but these two monkeys were sunning themselves.
I wondered who Geoffroy was.
It was a good thing we sat for extended periods of time. Near one bench, the tiger came out of its house and lay in sight just a few feet from the fence separating humans and him.
Tigers are huge!
The adoptive family paid for the animal’s food and perhaps some veterinary expenses.
I walked along the fence and propped my hiking pole against it. There was a sign saying not to be noisy in the vicinity of the tiger. The hiking pole rolled and went clanging along as it fell to the ground (the fence was iron and was a couple or so feet from the actual cage fence). The tiger remained lying down but the noise seemed to have irritated him. He growled softly, then growled softly every time he heard my camera click. He even growled softly when I began walking away.
Artist’s rendition of tiger.
In front of another cool bench two marmosets came out from napping in a nest in a tangle of branches that served as a jungle gym. They spent a while walking along the branches, but I was not able to get any decent pictures.
This was a fun finale to our park adventure except that there was no water running in the drinking fountain plumbing. We wondered if the fountain had been turned off during the COVID lockdown and no one turned it back on or if perhaps it was still off due to the droughts that have plagued New Mexico in recent years.
We had lunch at the Cotton Patch Restaurant in Clovis, a very good restaurant that originated in Nacogdoches, Texas.
I visited the original during a visit to east Texas a few years ago.
I drove us back to Portales, pausing to take a picture while Terre talked about this extinct ball game stadium. The group that built and used it had put it out to pasture years ago. A few years ago a man bought it and announced his plans for building something in its place. However, some conservationists or bird enthusiasts reported there were nesting birds in the stadium. Then someone reported that the birds were a species of owl who had a limited home range elsewhere and had not been known in New Mexico before someone identified the nesting birds. Now the man cannot remove the stadium until the birds have been provided for. The short article at this link, https://www.clovisnews.com/trails/burrowing_owls.html, gives a synopsis of the man’s problem.
Why are dairy farms around Clovis and Portales closing? When we drove between Clovis and Portales my daughter pointed out some diary farms that were completely empty of any cows and some with far fewer cows than past years. According to this article, https://www.lcsun-news.com/story/money/industries/2016/01/11/eastern-nm-dairy-losses-have-local-impact/78370800/, the cows died in an unusual blizzard last winter. There was a huge cheese factory that relied on these dairies. I wondered if the local milk and cheese industry would survive.
At the grocery store where Terre worked she went inside and bought a box of fried chicken for Jim (her hermetic husband who is a chain smoker) and another carton of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Chocolate Chip ice cream for us two. Terre delivered the chicken to Jim (I couldn’t go in the house because cigarette smoke activates my chemical sensitivities and makes me ill) then we went up to my hotel room to eat the ice cream and play Cat-Opoly until Terre had to leave. When we closed the board I was ahead at the cat game, just brealy.
I had used my hiking pole to lean on all day, both inside and out, even in the restaurant. My knee barely throbbed with pain this evening, as long as I was careful of what I did with it. A mis-move and I was reminded with an intense pang of pain. The knee wasn’t up to certain twists or to bearing its full share of my weight. The side ligament at my kneecap was very tender to the touch.
I took a nap then read a book til sleepy time.
May 19, Sunday
My left knee did not seem any better today so I continued using my hiking pole. I noticed that the ligaments behind the left knee were not yet fully healed. This was actually another day of rest for my left knee. About midmorning I left the hotel to drive about a quarter mile and fill 4titude’s half-empty tank.
Terre arrived at 11:45. She had gotten more ahead on her work than she thought and was able to get off before noon. I drove us about a half mile to Juanito’s Mexican Restaurant for lunch/dinner.
We had eaten many times at Juanito’s and enjoyed the food. This day I noticed Chile Rellenos on the menu and I figured they would be cooked Mexican style.
To our dismay, they were largely inedible That wide brown strip in the center of my plate was not nice, crisp, fried breading. The breaded green chiles had been boiled in hot oil. The breading had totally absorbed oil and was very damp. The oil had an “off” taste to it as tho it should have been changed to fresh oil before the Rellenos were cooked. Even worse – – “relleno” means “stuffed.” This “relleno” did not have any stuffing. Mexican Chile Rellenos correctly amde are stuffed with cheese and when cooked are fried in a frying pan so that the breading is nice and crisp. What a disappointment.
But the sopapillas were delicious.
Back at the hotel we played two rounds of Cat-Opoly. Terre reached the point where she figured she was at the point of bankruptcy and conceded the game to me. The second round, it was I who was too near bankruptcy and conceded the game to her. We had a good time and parting was sad.
There was no hot water for evening bath or shower. Water from the hot water tap was just a few degrees warmer than water from cold water tap, just enuf warmer to feel the difference with my hands. It was a good thing it had not been a sweaty day.
May 20, Monday
When getting breakfast this morning I briefly chatted with two young men who were maybe in their mid 20s. They traveled around the country doing regular renovation on Walmart stores. Each Walmart store renovates every seven years. The men generally worked 8 pm til 6:30(?) am. They had just driven down from Amarillo, Texas. Were going to eat breakfast then sleep.
I drove away from Portales and my daughter (who was at work) at 8:12 am. Odometer 128,618. Temperature 77 degrees. To bypass the main part of Clovis I headed out along the highway that went past Oasis State Park. Yesterday I had driven Terre and me along the primary highway between Clovis and Portales. When it entered Clovis the highway would become the street (Prince St.) which we would take for running errands and eating lunch (later). But the city was reinforcing or rebuilding Prince’s bridge across the railraod tracks and we had to detour east and cross directly on the tracks where there was no overpass. Unfortunately, the RR overpass was being redone for the highway past Oasis State Park, also, and I had to detour a couple miles (total about four miles) out of my way before I could head west.
I made a necessary stop at the “Melrose Gas, Diner & Tire” complex. I bought a burrito of flour tortilla, brisket, green chili, and a bit of sauce to eat later. Just as I finished paying a man came in the door. He spoke to the clerk saying, “My wife said that of all the burritos she’s eaten this was the most recent.” It took the clerk perhaps a half a minute than she caught the actual wording and began laughing. I chuckled, too.
I parked in the parking area for the small park in Fort Sumner and dozed off and on for 15 minutes. Afterwards, I was able to drive without my eyes trying to close and stay closed.
Between Fort Sumner and Vaughn I saw the remains of a few stone buildings. They might have been built as early as the 1880s but I think they were probably built in the 1920s and 30s. They had been abandoned and the walls had begun crumbling from the tops downwards. Various heights of walls remained. But, compaired with the stone masons of the missions at Salinas whose stone church walls are still close to their original height, these European settlers did not know how to build stone buildings. I wonder if the reason these newer buildings were abandoned was because they had begun crumbling.
In Vaughn I stopped at Lalo’s gas and convenience store (which is also a truck stop).
When I commented to the clerk about the interesting statue in the foyer of the store she said that the Eagles were the “school team.” I sat in the SUV and ate the burrito I’d bought in Fort Sumner. It was fat and was filled with shredded beef. But the bit of sauce mixed in tasted awful. Even so, I managed to eat the whole thing.
The Pleistocene lake bed of salt was seven miles east of Willard.
This was where the Salinas National Monument people had gotten their salt. I wondered how many tribes, from farther away, had traveled here to get salt. Manzano Mountains in background.
While I was preparing to exit from I-15 onto US 60 into Socorro, New Mexico, two ambulances passed me and took that exit. I exited and bought gas while watching five unmarked black SUVs go screaming past on US 60 with lights flashing. The gas station clerk said they were state police. As I drove along US 60 in Socorro two more flashing and very noisy unmarked black SUVs passed me. Like me, they stayed on US 60 and headed west out of Socorro. In Magdalena one of the SUVs came out of a gas station and screamed west.
When I was maybe fifteen miles east of the Magdalena Very Large Array (VLA) of radiotelescopes two black SUVS together came up behind me with sirens and lights. Naturally, I pulled off the highway and stopped.
After all (nine) SUVs were out of sight – – going well above the speed limit – – I never saw them again. I wondered what was going on. Was there some kind of shoot out going out at a distant farmhouse or in one of the nearby canyons, perhaps at a Forest Service campground? I conjured up several interesting situations. I have not been able to find anything on the Internet.
I arrived at my bed for the night, a cabin at the Eagle Guest Ranch in Datil, New Mexico, at 4:15 pm. Odometer 128,149.
This sign stood in the narrow strip of grass that bordered the restaurant.
It was called a “cabin” but besides the necessities (bed with linens, overhead light fixture, toilet, sink, and shower) the room had towels, washcloths, refrigerator, space heater, soap etc., one straight-backed chair, and a low table with usable space bedise a bedside lapm.
May 21, Tuesday
At breakfast yesterday in Portales I had put a small sweet roll (packaged in cellophane) and two round slices of deli ham in my pocket. This morning I ate them for breakfast before I set off for home. The restaurant in Datil would not open til 9 am.
I pulled the SUV away from the highway intersection called Datil at 6:35 am. Odometer 128,949. 48 degrees. Elevation a little above 7,400 feet. Juniper forest with a few pinyon pine trees stuck here and there. It was always nice to start the day up in cool hills.
Very soon, I passed three elk does watching me drive past. Dark hides, pale buttocks.
As I dropped out of the Cibola National Forest juniper treeland the temperature was 39 degrees. The sun had been up for about one-half hour.
Near Quemado, beside the sign pointing towards Fence Lake, there was also a sign that said Salt Lake. Was that one of the salt areas where Native Americans once gathered salt?
I had now left New Mexico and I switched back to Arizona sun time.
The first restaurant I found open for breakfast was Booga Red’s in Springerville, Arizona.
I had eaten lunch here once or twice in past years and the food was all right.
While I waited for my breakfast I studied these two pseudo sand paintings that hung above a doorway.
The background for the above painting is Monument Valley on Navajo land. The katsinas are pueblo but the two people greeting them are Navajo (in dress and hairdos). I have never heard of katsinas dancing for any Navajos. The colors were pretty, the artwork was well drawn, but the meaning was impossible.
The background for this picture appears to also be on Navajo land in the vicinity of Monument Valley. I have never seen Pueblo katsina dancers wear slacks and they rarely wear long-sleeved shirts. Navajos do not perform Pueblo katsina dances because the Navajo religion does not include Pueblo-like katsinas. The colors of this picture do not even blend together well.
I’d never heard of this whiskey but I found it on the Internet: Cookie Dough Whiskey by Dough Ball, 750ml, $20.99.
Then my breakfast arrived.
This morning’s food was disappointing. The hash browns and the link sausages had been cooked thoroughly, but inexpertly. Most of the pile of slivered potatoes was still white and did not taste good. The sausages were browned only on one side and did not taste as good as they would have if all sides had been browned. The cook was lazy or did not know how to cook.
This sign hung above the shelf where the cook placed the plates of food for the waitress to deliver to the tables.
I wouldn’t want to eat in that home.
Around 11:30 I met Jan Frantom at the McDonald’s Restaurant on the east edge of Globe. We chatted for a couple hours, then parted company. Jan went west to her home. I went east on US 70 to take the detour down to Winkleman and back up to Superior, AZ. Signs on US 60 had reminded me that the highway between Globe and Superior was closed.
The first portion of Hwy 77 going south from US 70 was beautiful. Fascinating geology! Then, going north on HWY 177 to get up to Superior there were several tall hills composed of the dregs from the Ray copper mine. The man-made hills were made of layers of chunks of dirt that were different colors and were very pretty. The mine opened in 1880. It had been digging up various colored formations and piling the non-ore rocks and dirt into several tall hills for almost a century and a half. It was no wonder there was such a huge amount of carefully layered detritus.
I rejoined US 60 and went west. From the top of Gonzales Pass and for several miles westward there were clumps of beautiful ironwood trees in lovely bloom. All along the desert portion of US 60 saguaro cacti and palo verde trees were in bloom.
I backed into my parking space at 4:08 pm. Odometer 129311. Temperature 93 degrees. 4titude had covered 1,793 miles during this trip.
You will notice my age has changed a year between this portion of the trip and the age I formerly had on first part (I have corrected that page). My painful arthritic knee has made me feel more elderly than I am. A friend who turned 84 on my birthday day but who is a year older than I am corrected me in an email yesterday.
This is a long blog. When something is pretty or beautiful I tend to take lots of pictures, each from a different angle or part of the whole. I have not put all of my fotos in this blog, but it is long, anyway. So much to see.
May 12, Sunday
7:35 am, leave Halona Inn at Zuni. Odometer 127,879. Temperature 48 degrees. Dale and Jerry had helped me take my luggage down the stairs and out to 4titude.
I set off along Highway 53 and stayed on it until it ended at I-40. I rarely saw any other vehicles. I did see two prairie dogs scamper across the highway and three small does standing beside the pavement staring at me (while I stared at them).
I have seen these spires in tour guides and have looked at them several times while driving this highway (53), but I’ve never seen a turnoff that seemed to lead to them. I believe they are on Ramah Navajo land. I would love to get up to them.
I used a telefoto lens. The colored cliffs are farther away from the highway than it appears from this picture.
Women’s Anthro group. New Mexico has removed the old signs about “Indian wars” and the Americans who “won” those “wars.” Today’s state historic markers are much more interesting.
I saw a large sign saying “El Morro Ranches Subdivision.” The only human degradation I could see on the countryside was a large, fresh scar ahead on the side of a mesa. Was the dubdivision being built in tiers or levesl on the side of the hill?
A locked gate and sign indicated the scar was a gravel pit.
Around 9:15 am, odometer 127,954, I merged onto I-40 at the intersection just east of Grants, New Mexico.
After a while I felt a need so I stopped at the Route 66 Truck Stop beside the casino at Laguna Pueblo. I always buy something to pay for my use of the facilities. I wandered the aisles and purchased a bag of Sahale Snacks Banana Rum Pecans.
They were delicious even tho they contain “natural flavors” which could be chemicals made from petroleum.
Noting that traffic at this time of day was more than when I’d last lived in Albuquerque (1980), I zipped thru the big city and kept going. As I drove thru Edgewood, on the other (east) side of the Sandia Mountains, I saw a sign “ZOO.” I quickly decided that, instead of a day trip I’d planned for one day that necessitated driving back thru Albuquerque, I would go to the zoo.
When I arrived in Moriarty I bought gas (1/2 tank) and set 4titude’s Navigation system for the Quality Inn at 118 on Route 66 East. The Navigator told me the Inn was going to be on the right side of the street (old US 66), but it was on the left side. Luckily, there was no other traffic around and I pulled across the lanes and made a left turn into the parking lot. About 1 pm. Odometer 128,069.
I parked under the canopy by the entrance and walked into the motel. I was walking about twice as fast as yesterday, which is not saying much. My room 109, on the first floor, was not as pretty as the one at Halona Inn, nor as large, but it did have a bedside clock and two chairs in case there were two occupants for the queen-sized bed.
The windows were frosted because a wing of the building had been added and the window looked into a storage room or some such. Very little light came thru the frosting and the room was depressing because it had no sunlight.
A young desk clerk at the Inn had told me the club sandwich at Lisa’s Truck Stop is huge and she usually made two meals out of it.
It is empowering to think that a female named Lisa can compete with large truck stops like TA and Pilot.
The hotel clerk had alos said that the cloud system I had been approaching all morning had dropped rain and hail during the night. There had been a 25% chance of rain for today, so I supposed that had been it.
For my second meal of the day, around 3 pm, I drove a mile east to Lisa’s Route 66 Truck Stop and etc. One of the etceteras was a restaurant. I ordered a dinner salad for my immediate meal and a club sandwich to go for the next day. It looks big enuf for 2 meals, doesn’t it?
The restaurant furniture was 1950s done in red and white.
I asked the waitress how the restaurant had managed to get the large amount of brand-new-looking retro tables, chairs and booths. She said that 18 years ago a restaurant known as Mays (or Maze?) had closed down and Lisa’s had bought the fruniture from them. The furniture’d had little actual use at that time because Mays was a front for a bordello. The waitress’s voice carried an exclamation point.
While waiting for my salad I happened to glance at the ceiling and I saw stars!
After a while I looked at other parts of the ceiling and slowly the red and white stripes began to enter my vision. (The ceiling lighting made it a little difficult to see the flag in its entirety.)
There was some interesting historical information on the walls.
I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in a stuffed chair beside a real window in the lobby of the Inn. I alternately read chapters from a book and worked crossword puzzles. There was a set of a half dozen odd books in an old coal scuttle. I took Kill The Messenger by Tami Hoag and left The Reader 1995 by Bernhard Schlink. Schlink’s book was translated in 1997 by Carol Brown Janeway. The book is about post-WWII in Germany. Is very interesting reading.
May 13, Monday,
Only 1% chance rain today and 3 and 4% chances the next two days so I will get to do the sightseeing I had planned. Thursday rain chance is 84% so I suppose I will spend the day reading in the lobby.
Breakfast started at a decent hour here, 6 am.
The breakfast eggs here were frsehly cooked fresh eggs. I found an item that the other early breakfasters were accustomed to and they were amused at my astonishment that a make-your-own waffle setup exists. You even fry it yourself, on the griddle at left, to the crispness you want!
Altho this inn is well taken care of – – clean walls freshly painted, furniture not chipped or worn, plumbing works perfectly – – the overall effect is of an old building. So I was not expecting the interesting decorations in the breakfast room.
Did you ever drive Highway 66 or had Eisenhower already built the freeway system that chopped up and eradicated much of old 66? Luckily, I am old enuf that I remember our family driving a couple portions of 66 back in the early 1950s.
I remember, as a child in the (late) 1940s, 50s, even maybe into the 60s, seeing signs saying “Last gas chance for _____ miles.” The statement meaning that you would need a full tank to get from this “last chance” to the next gas station. Most of the signs were real and honest, altho there were scammers here and there who knew the next gas station was only 25 or less miles away.
I’d never seen this slogan before. It sounds like a good thought for a winter morning, even in Phoenix.
I asked the desk clerk where I could buy some bananas and followed his directions to Moriarty Foods. I began driving at 7:45 am. The temperature was 57 degrees. The gorcery store was in a small shopping center on the north side of US 66, near the west end of 66 where it enters I-40.
My first destination was the headquarters of the Salinas Pueblos National Monumnet in Mountainair, New Mexico. Along the way I passed a couple of interesting items. This sign showed the locations to each of the sites I am going to visit today and tomorrow. I did not notice until just now that there was a turnoff to “Manzano Mts. St. Pk.” and I did not visit that park on this trip.
When I got to Mountainair I drove slowly and looked at buildings and scenery.
By the way, in the early 1960s the area regained its pinto bean raising capabilities and has annual festivals and/or events around pinto beans.
I backtracked and parked in order to get a good picture of this mural.
Suddenly, I was at the west end of town and I had not seen the headquarters building, even tho I knew what it looked like because I’d stopped there the last time I used US 60 to visit my daughter a couple years ago! I turned around and headed back thru town, even more slowly.
When I found the grounds I realized the reason I’d not seen it the first time thru was because the sign was not very prominent and I had been looking at something else on the opposite side of the street as I drove by. The building itself sits back a ways with the entire parking lot in front (actually, at the side of the building).
I chatted with the ranger on duty and purchased trail guides to two of the pueblo-mission sites. The trail guide to Gran Quivira is being completely rewritten and is not yet published. When I was here in the 1960s Abo and Quarai mission sites were administered as two separate New Mexico State Monuments but Gran Quivira was already a national monument.
There was more information in the museum room of the VC than my knee would allow me to walk and stand and read.
Informative signs and pictures in the museum portion of the visitor center gave me a preview of what I would be seeing and learning.
The canteen mentioned at the bottom of the sign above.
“Salinas” means “saline.” I asked the ranger where the salt deposit was. She pointed to a blue area on the sketchy map in the foldout brochure. Oh! I told her that I drive thru on US 60 every year when I visit my daughter and that I knew of a huge Pleistocene lake bed not far to the east. She said that was the salt deposit the early inhabitants had mined.
I left Mountainair and followed the signs to Gran Quivira. After perhaps 35 minutes I stopped by the national monument sign.
While I was taking pictures of this sign a huge wasp approached me, hovered and gave me a good looking over, then flew away. It was possibly a tarantula wasp. Traffic was scarce and I guess it was curious about anything new in the area. Between the tunroff from US 60 to Gran Quivira I’d seen only 3 vehicles — tow long-haulers and one local business pickup. They did not stop so the wasp could visit.
In the parking lot there was one vehicle, a sedan. A man and woman walked from the facilities, got in the car, and drove away. Now I was completely alone with no human bodies for miles and miles in every direction. I was momentarily upset because, with my injured left knee, I could not do much to help myself in case I had a problem. But I turned my mind and eyes to the archaeological site.
There were lots of good signboards. Like this one (this sign was repeated at each of the four sties).
This is an artist’s rendition of what the pueblo probably looked like at the time the first (the “small”) church was built.
The Native Americans’ names for each of the four pueblos was recorded by the early Spanish explorers and priests, but for some reason the Spanish gave new names to each site.
Gran Quivira is in a juniper forest. The eyes in the two pieces of walls on the horizon are spooky in this foto. I don’t remember having a feeling of being stared at by aliens when I was touring the site and when I took this picture.
I took this picture to show the interior structure of the walls. Rocks were mortared in place in a haphazard fashion. Then the outer wall was built to give a flat exterior finish. The heavier load-bearing walls of the platform mound at S’edav Va’aki (in Phoenix) are described as having been built this way.
There had been two Catholic mission churches at the site. The first one was small.
All that remains is an outline of shortened walls.
A larger church. . . .
was built several years later. Its walls are taller, but its roof and much of the upper walls have disappeared.
As I walked inside the church I was a little concerned. Both long walls were bulging in a little. How long before they fell? Why did the park service feel it was safe to let people walk around inside the bulging church walls?
Can you see the slight bulge in this wall (above)?
Signs beside the path held interesting information.
To me the sign says that the Franciscans allowed the Native American religious ceremonies to take place within their eyesight for years, but the ceremonies went underground when they were hidden. However, the above kiva is the one referred to in the sign. It was definitely underground but it was not hidden. I kept looking for signs of above ground kivas and I finally realized the wording on the sign had misled my brain’s inferences.
This short speech or collection of thoughts below was recorded by a Franciscan friar at this mission. (The friar’s document was written in Spanish.) When the Native American man mentioned whipping each other til the blood ran he must have been referring to Christian penitentes, a group of Spanish believers that became well established throughout the state of New Mexico. I did not know they had formed so early in the history of Spanish colonization.
Large black ants (several beds of them) and a few small lizards kept me company during my walk along the footpath.
It seemed that that all the water used by the early and very early people had come from the sky.
If your brain adjusts to your eyes, or vice versa, you will notice that the tree sits in a man made basin in the foto above.
At https://www.nps.gov/im/scpn/sapu.htm the national park service has these comments: “Salinas Pueblo Missions National Monument is comprised of 3 units – Abó, Quarai, and Gran Quivira – and encompasses 1063 acres (430 ha) in central New Mexico. It was originally established as Gran Quivira National Monument in 1909 to protect cultural resources associated with the prehistoric Indian pueblos and Franciscan mission ruins. In 1980, the monument was combined with two New Mexico state monuments. / No water resources exist within the Gran Quivira unit of the Monument, but the Abó unit has two drainages with at least two pools that hold water year-round. The Quarai unit has one wash and two springs, which provides water for a more diverse vegetation community than the other two units. Vegetation at Salinas Pueblo NM is predominantly pinyon-juniper woodland and associated desert shrubland. Lack of water in large areas of the monument depresses faunal diversity, which includes 2 amphibian, 99 bird, and 19 mammal species.”
Where did the natives at Gran Quivira get drinking water? There are so many mysteries that may never be unraveled about the ancient inhabitants of the Americas.
We often think that people having to live in harsh environments are there due to overpopulation in better lands, that these people emigrated to find land for themselves and better lives for their descendants. Is that why these people were willing to go to such lengths to assure themselves of water?
It took me about an hour to walk the circuit, read the signs, and take lots of pictures. I was still walking very slowly, but my hiking pole was a better assistant than the knee brace had been. A car with two older women arrived while I was approaching the parking area. They took off walking the path thru the site but their license plate said a lot about them.
I set the club sandwich container and a mug of water on a picnic table in the center of the parking lot and enjoyed a large snack. I was tired and decided to return to the Inn. Tomorrow I would visit the other two pueblo-mission sites of this complex.
Driving back to US 60 I saw four vehicles. The first was a large RV. The other three were company trucks or long-haulers. Today, all waking hours of it, I saw more cattle than people.
At 12:06 a few sprinkles from a little cloud overhead hit the windshield. To my surprise I could see snow on the several high peaks of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains north of Santa Fe. A large batch of rain clouds was approaching the eastern edge of those mountains. I returned to the Quality Inn around 2 pm, having been gone almost six hours.
I asked where I could buy a dessert and was directed to the Chili Hills Restaurnat.
This place also extolled old US 66. All the places I visited in Moriarty stood along this true strip of old US 66.
The table decoration was colorful.
There is a woman who bakes the restaurant’s pies totally from scratch. However, because yesterday was Mother’s Day, almost all of the pies had been eaten and only a Vanilla Cream Pie remained.
The foto is making me hungry. There would not be any more pies til the weekend because the piemaker had taken a short trip out of town. I ordered a piece of the pie. The whipped cream came from a spray can, which meant it was mostly chemicals, but I ate it all, anyway. The pie was delicious. Note: If an item on the menu has “SF” beside it that means “sugar-free.”
May 14, Tuesday
Chance for rain today has been elevated to 25%. However, I drove off at 6:50 am, odometer 128,212, temperature 43 degrees. Just like yesterday, there was nary a cloud in the sky. As I drove south the idea occurred to me: Did European immigrants/settlers get the idea of damming an area to collect rainwater for livestock (these days called “tanks”) from the Native Americans such as those at Gran Quivira?
Aside from cattle, an occasional dog, and humans, the only mammal I saw today was a grey squirrel that was running in grass on the roadside.
On the south edge of Estancia there was a Salinas NM sign directing me to turn west. It was not the way I’d plotted on the map but I figured the Park Service had a reason for sending traffic that way, so I turned and followed the signs to the pueblo-mission of Quarai. The reason for the park service’s route was that the particular set of backroads took the visitor thru a series of very old villages originally settled by Spanish families when this area still belonged to Spain.
They were similar to the old Spanish villages still existing in northern New Mexico.
Near the southern end of the village of Manzano I stopped to take fotos of a mural on the side of a small Catholic church.
It depicted Our Lady of the Sorrows in a very sorrowful manner. Such pictures touch people’s deep emotions and help them believe in a diety or in dieties. Do the emotional effects of portrayals by the Pueblo Indians of katsinas in their spiritual dances help deepen their spiritual beliefs? Their beliefs go back more than just the 2,000 years of Christianity.
I arrived at Quarai at 8:20. The Visitor Center was not open but there were more than a half dozen rangers on the property. Heavy equipment would be arriving momentarily (it had not arrived by the time I left, but surveyors had) to begin the every-seven-year preservation work on the standing structures.
I was able to walk upright today, but still very, very slowly.
This picture on the Spanish sign came out much more readable than the foto I took of the sign in English.
Artist’s rendition of what this pueblo may have looked like when the Spanish arrived.
I chatted with a couple of the rangers. One said that an old lakebed had recently been discovered near Gran Quivira and archaeologists now believed the natives walked the distance and carried that water back to the peublo.
The other ranger explained to me that Gran Quivera had always been a national monument, but Quarai and Abo had changed from state to national jurisdiction in 1984 and the “Salinas Pueblo Missions National Monument” was created then, encompassing all three sites.
Until I took this trip I did not know the Spanish Inquisition had reached into the American lands held by Spain.
Drought was a problem for many of the ancient Native American settlements.
The map, below, appears to be all mixed up until you notice the direction of north that is indicated at the very upper right. In your mind, rotate the map 90 degrees to the right and the map makes sense altho the distances are not exact. The map is a pretty good job for a friar in 1669 who probably had no mapping tools of any kind, just the sun to indicate north-south-west-east.
After walking the path I sat in my SUV and wrote notes. A batch of noisy school children walked into the parking lot and were grouped there by adults and a ranger. After a while, they were divided into three groups and set off along the walking path several minutes apart. When I drove away I passed their busses, two “Moriarty-Edgewood” School Buses parked in a large area out of the way of the car parking lot.
I followed the signs to Abo. On the way, at the south end of the village of Punta de Agua I parked and took fotos of a small city park.
This sign was affixed to the little open-sided building.
I went west on US 60 to find the turnoff to Abo Pueblo-Mission. It was farther from Mountainair than I thought. I finally paused on the roadside and put Abo Salinas into 4titude’s navigation system. Highway 513 came in from the north a couple miles (or more) west of a string of dwellings now called the village of Abo.
When I parked at Abo and got out of the SUV, a young mother and a young son (perhaps 5 years old) walked to a pickup, got in, and drove away. The Visitor Center was not open today. I was all alone. When my knee has healed I won’t mind being so alone, but today it bothered me.
The first picture I took was of walls of a dwelling built right beside a deep arroyo. Information indicated it had been built during the Rehabilitation time. No good explanation of the Rehabilitation. I suspect that when the Spanish reconquered their territory in New Mexico, after the successful Pueblo Revolt of 1680, the resettlement by the Spanish army and colonists was called “Rehabilitation.”
Again, the map in Spanish fotographed better than the one in English. The angle at which the sun hit the two signs may have made the difference.
Abo on a lovely spring day (before the vegetation has all turned brown for summer).
It is interesting to think about ancient trade routes in the drylands of the American Southwest. The ancient people traveled on foot and carried everything themselves. Altho natives kept dogs as pets or for their ability to warn of approaching danger some of the tribes did not use dogs to help carry stuff.
Again, an artist’s rendition of the pueblo with the Spanish church and living quarters.
I walked around the church area and left Abo at 11:15 am. I could see a somewhat small cloud dripping sheets of grey rain. When I drove over a small rise the view changed from rain to virga. The sheets were not hitting the ground. However, when I passed under an edge of the could 4titude’s windshiled was peppered with droplets from the virga-spouting cloud. Sheets of rain still were not reaching the ground, the dry soil and plants that needed watering. My windows were open and the “rain” smelled good.
Arrived back at the Quality Inn at 12:35 noon. There were rumbles of thunder in the cloud overhead as I struggled across the parking lot. However, rain never fell in town this day.
I drove away from my condo at 4:25 am, elevation about 1,100 feet. Odometer 127,518. Going on an Arizona Archaeological Society (AAS) three-day outing set up by the Payson Chapter. (Note that AAHS, an acronym that is sometimes in my blogs and emails, is a different group.)
In Superior at 6 am I paused for a gas, etc. stop.. Walking around the rough pavement in the Circle K parking lot was no problem. Two days ago I would have been flailing an arm or two for balance. I bought a box of “two-bite” (brand) brownies.
The sun hit the windshield at the wrong angle as I approached Oak Flats. I hoped this was the only morning I’d have to be driving eastward before the sun had been rising for an hour.
Just before I drove out of Superior I read a sign that said on my birthday the highway between Miami-Globe and Superior would be closed. Perhaps they would be tearing down the Queen Creek Bridge that was at the east edge of Superior and rebuilding it completely. I would have to take a detour when coming home.
At the rest stop in the bottom of the Salt River Canyon I stretched my legs. The pavement of the parking lot was studded with large pieces of gravel, like snow tires. I had no difficulty balancing.
I continued on US 60. In front of the Sinclair gas station at the intersection of the highway to the Apache town of Whiteriver there was a large green dinosaur in front. Dinosaurs are once again beloved by children and their parents.
At the Maverik station on the east edge of Showlow I bought gas. I like the Maverik stations because each one has colorful murals on the inside walls and the hall to the restrooms, usually pictures of local sights.
Leaving St. John’s the highway crossed the Little Colorado River. It was merely a dirty brown puddle underneath the bridge. Two ducks were swimming in the leftover pond.
This large shrub with snow white insect galls stood beside one end of the bridge.
15 miles later the highway crossed the Zuni Wash. If there’d been a road I could have driven cross country to Zuni, but I had to follow the existing roads. They took me on a large “U.”
Eventually I arrived at Zuni., elevation 6,293 feet. I bought gas at the Speedway gas station and asked for directions to the Halona Inn. I was told to backtrack a few yards to the four-way stop, turn left, go over the bridge, go past the church, and “you can’t miss it” (the Halona Inn). I missed it. At the church there was another four-way-stop. I tried the remaining three ways and did not find an “inn.” I rolled down my window and called to a young Zuni couple walking by. During the course of our conversation I said I’d only found “Halona Plaza.” I was told that was the inn.
I parked behind the Halona Plaza (this car is parked in front) and went inside the store. I saw a couple checking in at the cashier’s counter so I stood behind them. They were the leaders of this outing, Dale Bellisfield (who did all the work of setting up this outing) and her husband Jerry.
The cash register clerks handled purchases in the store as well as the inn check-ins. This case, right beside the cash register, was not full of candy. They pretty things were stones for Zuni jewelers to buy.
I needed to use the facilities so I followed the sign.
I found the keys. The men’s room key was missing; it was in use.
I felt like I was in a foreign country.
With Dale and Jerry leading the way we left the store and attached portion of the inn and walked to this separate set of inn rooms.
I had been gvien room 22 on the second floor of the unattached portion of the inn. The room with “single bed” was $85.00 per night plus tax. Total tax for 3 nights was $17.22. I put off further exploration of my room until evening.
I will now switch to Arizona Daylight Savings Time. Our first AAS gathering was at 2 PM. On my way to the Zuni Visitors Center I stopped and took pictures of this stone house.
I asked a passing Zuni woman if this had been a Bureau of Indian Affairs building originally. She said it had always been a private house belonging to a family of Zunis. Most of the interior was in disrepair but “some people still lived in back.”
The woman said she was on the committee that was preparing to have the building restored. How serendipitous our encounter had been!
Brian formed The Association of Prematurely Retired Geologists. When he and four friends entered college in 1982 to major in geology there were lots of jobs for geologists. Oil companies were still doing a lot of exploring. When the five of them graduated in 1986 the job market had disappeared. Oil exploration had ceased and geologists had been laid off. Of the five, only Brian got a geology-related job. A year later he and his friends started this group. They take one geology trip a year together. Over the years the group has grown. Now that he is retired from working Brian and his wife take other trips, also, like this one with the AAS. They have become interested in archaeology.
I told Brian that I was a prematurely retired anthropologist. I had enrolled in graudate anth courses at the University of Nevada in Reno in 1970 and took perhaps 32 hours worth of classes. However, during this time I learned that there were many more PhDs in anthropology graduating each year than there were jobs in the various fields of anth, so I “retired from anthropology” and entered nursing school.
Several generations of Native Americans in the Southwest were trilingual: their native language, Spanish (conquerors), and English (American colonists).
There were museum items in the Visitors Center.
The sign below caught my attention. The billboard stated that this Village Of Great Kivas stood near Zuni. I had not known there was an ancient Chaco culture site on Zuni lands.
For those of you who are interested, I put fotos of the rest of this billboard at the end of the blog.
A recent printing of this book sat on a table.
An example of Curtis’ fotos:
After everyone (15 of us) had arrived the Zuni archaeologist, Kenny Bowekaty, told us a shortened version of the six-hour creation story. The long version is told (sung, chanted?) once a year. During the story Kenny mentioned that at one point during the history the weather was very humid for a period of time. The animal tendons used for the bow strings absorbed water from the humidity and lost their tension; arrows could not be shot very far or with much control of the direction they went. So the gods in the story used narrowleaf yucca leaves to make bow strings and were able to successfully fight off some evil beings.
Kenny was a member of the Fire Clan and was a priest-shaman-leader of the clan. He believed deeply the religious beliefs of the Zuni. He said religious things are sacred and should not be written down nor carved nor painted. In fact, he believed that Zuni artisans and artists should not be doing their artowrk because much of the time they incorporate symbols with religious meaning in their creations. He believed that these artists will be punished at some time. However, he believed that objects and paintings can be made when they are for the purpose of teaching, and not for merely beauty or making money. Several times today and tomorrow Kenny commented that the Zuni religion is “very complicated.”
One fact that stuck with me from the creation story is that the Zuni, and thus all of humanity, were created at Ribbon Falls, a special spot in the Grand Canyon.
The trek from Ribbon Falls to the current site of Zuni, the Middle Place, did not cover very much ground. This map hung on the wall. The fine print is not readable, so at the end of this blog I have placed fotos of the map in 6 pieces. It is still difficult to read the fine print, but it is possible.
When we asked questions after he finished the sotry Kenny said the Zuni who had resided at S’edav Va’aki were among those chosen to leave the sacred area and go out and populate the earth. They went south and became the tribes of South and Central America.
We had some more time to inspect the VC museum.
Wikipedia says the salt lake is about 60 miles south of Zuni. Can you imagine walking that far to get salt? Salt must have been precious and used sparingly.
The repatriation Act passed by US Congress some years ago, and recently further clarified, in general states that all Native American human remains and cremains and items associated with the burials and all types of religious objects must be returned by museums to the Native American tribes. The museums that must comply are those that receive federal funding of any kind. I noticed in a recent article that S’edav Va’aki is considered a foreward leader in doing repatriation.
I was surprised to learn that Christian religious items from Spanish colonial days must be repatriated.
Later we were led to a rooftop from which we watched one Zuni clan perform a ceremonial dance. No fotographs were allowed, of course. Only the “social” dances can be fotographed.
We watched for an hour then retreated to a restaurant where we were treated to traditional food. I had pork posole.
Pork came over with the Europeans, of course. But posole does have a hundreds-of-years-old past in the Americas. It is made from a variety of corn derived by Native Americans long ago. The rice and tomato is traditional with one caveat. Instead of native wild rice the chef this day had used a modern European derivative rice. The ancient Native American bread had no leavening. Europeans brought leavenings. However, that happened a few hundred years ago so Native Americans consider the leavened bread they bake these days over coals in outside ovens to be traditional. For dessert, banana cream pie was delicious. The crust was tender and flaky, just as it should be (something my mother accomplished all the time but I never learned). The banana filling was topped by real cream that had been whipped. I haven’t tasted such wonder in many years.
Detail of a piece of the restaurant.
By the time we got back to the inn the sun was threatening to bed itself for the night.
I did not park by the above sign. The lime retained in masa corn meal seems to set off my chemical sensitivities.
I did park by the sign above when the spot was available.
How is this for a vanity license plate?
Dale and Jerry helped me carry my things up the stiars to my second story room.
A woman (or a couple) lived permanently in an apartment on the first floor. Her four pet cats were allowed in and out at will, thru their cat door in a door of the apartment that led directly to the outside. This door (above foto) of hers was inside the downstairs lobby to the inn. The stairway to the second floor rooms was to the left.
This painting hung in my room. All the items in the picture have religious connotations. Kenny would not approve of this painting, I am sure.
It seems that the Zuni are now at peace with the Navajo. That is a Navajo woman doing the weaving, and the item was probably made by a Navajo.
A pressing need made itself known. I did not see a door in any wall of my room, other than the entrance to my room. The door to the room of the couple in 23 was open so I asked them where the restroom was. The man said something about theirs being in the wall between our two rooms, so I went back in my room and took a look at that wall. Aha! A slice of moon that, in the American West, means “toilet room” or house.
I had this wonderful view out my window. I would not have minded being on the second floor of this particular inn if it weren’t for the fact that the injured ligaments behind my left knee were still very painful.
I have been told by a doctor and by acquaintances that ligaments take a long time to heal. The Diclofenac gel the doctor ordered for me to put on my knee twice a day produced results the first night, but not any more nights.
May 10, Friday
Dawn came in my window at 4:30 so I arose. The burning pain that collected in my legs during the night soon disappeared. This was the formal dining room set for our breakfast that morning.
For our group, Halona Inn functioned as a B and B. My breakfast below. Plenty of protein to start the day.
After breakfast we gathered at the Zuni Tourist Center and carpooled to the little area where vehicles park so their occupants can walk along the sandstone bluff and enjoy the Badger Springs Petroglyphs. Kenny led this tour. (That is not Kenny in the foto.)
Petroglyphs are etched into this formation, at its base.
A view in another direction.
Kenny said there really are badgers around the spring.
In the picture above, it appeared that the ant colony had pushed the white stones up out of the ground.
Some of the etchings were recent, such as this one from 1851.
While others were made by prehistoric ancestors of the Zuni.
What would you call this animal? I see a long deer tail, but the antlers are so long I would call them elk antlers.
I walked so slowly that I only caught up with the group and only heard part of what Kenny said about each set he stopped at. He showed us some ancient petroglyphs that were made by pecking at the sandstone, then showed some slightly newer ancient petroglyphs that were made my dragging an antler tip or a very sharp stone to make the line desired.
I was able to walk perhaps a quarter mile. I was walking a bit faster today but still far from what would be my norm after the knee ligaments healed. I could not negotiate up and down situations; the downhill bit, especially, made my injured ligaments scream painfully. So I turned back when the trail began having serious ups and downs.
There are two colors of red earth in the foto above.
Whose head did nature carve?
Dale, Brian, and I walked back to where the vehicles were parked. Dale unfolded a camping chair and I relaxed in it. I used this time to eat the muffin I had taken from the breakfast bar. Muffins crumble and leave lots of crumbs and I had been trying to figure out when I would have a chance to eat the muffin, a time when we were not riding in a car or otherwise occupied.
From the Badger Springs area we were ferried in the three vehicles back to the Tourist Center to use the facilities, then ferried to the old church, Our Lady Of Guadalupe.
The church had largely been restored, replacing the ceiling and the walls that had fallen in or that had eroded and collapsed in places.
Kenny said about ¾ of the church had had to be rebuilt.
On the inside, a father and son two-man team of artists had painted murals along the top halves of each of the two long walls. The artists were Alex Seowtewa and his son. We were not allowed to take fotographs inside the church, largely because the Seowtewas had copyrighted the murals and only gave fotographing privileges in certain circumstances. Kenny spent a half hour or more explaining the meaning of each of the kachinas and other pieces of the murals. During his talk he gave new information about the Zuni Creation Story. I won’t try to describe his comments because there was just too much information.
He also said a couple of other interesting things. He said many of the dances done at Zuni were replicas of certain dances belonging to other pueblos in New Mexico. If I remember correctly, yesterday’s dance was one the Zuni had learned from San Ildelfonso. I may have that wrong. Kenny said all the New Mexico pueblos share the same religion, but Zuni is the only peublo that does dances belonging to other pueblos. He said Zuni opens “ceremonial” (sacred) dances to anyone who wants to attend, as long as the people are polite and do not take fotos or otherwise encrypt the dances or singing. The Zuni hope that non-pueblo non-Native American people will learn general information about the pueblo religion and will respect the Pueblo Indians and their religion and their lifeways.
Kenny finished his talk by saying the murals inside the church were meant for teaching about the religion. His last couple of sentences indicated that he thought painted (or whatevered) religious symbols were OK if they were meant and used for teaching.
That made me think that perhaps he felt the paintings of the migration of the Zuni, paintings of actual places where the Zuni lived across hunderds and thousands of years, were acceptable because they taught about the history of Zuni migration. The set was on display at S’edav Va’aki in Phoenix for several months last year.
Kenny Bowekaty was a very good, even powerful, speaker. And he loved to talk. His source of income these days was from the various tours he led around Zuni areas. I highly recommend your taking his tours if the chances come available to you, or even working with him to set up tours with him.
When we got back to the Visitors Center Dale told us she had decided not to try to coordinate showing us a movie she had planned for tonight, but that she would email us the link and we could watch it on our computers. It was an hour long “documentary” of an annual eighty mile spiritual pilgrimage Kenny had led.
Kenny Bowekaty, Ashiwi Adventures
PO Box 1098
Zuni, NM 87327
505-728-6764
I did not need to digest any more carbohydrates today so when I returned to Halona Inn I went in the store on the frist floor (the Plaza) and looked at the menu of the fast food joint in the building. No salads. So I asked the store cashier and he said The Marketplace had a salad bar. Directions were to go a short ways eastward beyond the Visitors Center. I did so and saw a building called Major Market.
I thought this was another instance of calling something by one name when speaking and writing something else on the building. I stopped and went in. No salad bar, altho they sold all kinds of coffee and hamburgers. The cashier said the Marketplace was a little ways farther. I drove a little ways farther and found a building labeled “Marketplace.”
It did have a salad bar but most of the bins were empty. The ones with what I considered the best items still had some food. I placed the last of the mixed greens, of the baby tomatoes, and of sliced red onion in a container and added sliced black olives from a bin that had more of them than I could eat. My salad plus container weighed just a little over 2 lb. I paid $2.60. There were no spoons. No table and chair at which to sit to eat. I drove the salad back to Halona Inn. Inside my room there was still nothing to eat with except my fingers. Luckily, I had not added a dressing.
May 11, Saturday
Early this morning Terre texted that Portales was receiving rain and hail. Uh-oh.
After an early breakfast we all got in our vehicles. Two vehicles turned their engines on. After a few minutes when I was settled in my SUV I turned on my engine. The two already running engines were still sitting in place. I do not leave my engine running unnecessarily (gas is too expensive) so as soon as I started my engine I drove away. Pretty soon I noticed Dale and Jerry’s vehicle was right behind me. A little later I noticed a string of vehicles behind me, apparently all of us in the AAS group headed for El Morro. I felt strange being the lead vehicle. That had not been my intent. I had thought the two vehicles with engines already runnign might wait a while longer and I would never see any of them behind me on the highway.
When I walked from the parking lot to the El Morro Visitor Center what felt like a tendon going along the inside on my left kneecap began complaining loudly. The pain slowed me back down to my pace of last Sat-Sun-Mon, but I could still pick up my right foot instead of shuffling the right shoe along on the pavement or floor. It took me almost two hours to complete the half-mile loop at the base of the cliff to see the petroglyphs made by early Native Americans, Spanish and then English adventurers and settlers.
I always enjoy these signs of turf warfare. Maybe coyote and fox?
I will now do a fast forward to a couple days after I returned from this trip. Before I left on the trip I’d made an appointment with an orthopedic doctor (at the suggestion of my PCP). When I saw him post-trip he told me my ligaments are fine but I have arthritis. Specifically, the meniscus in my left knee has run completely dry in one spot (as shown on Xray). He pressed that point. The terrible pain got his point across. He said the other pains were referred pain from the meniscus. For several years doctors had told me that an xray showed I had arthritis in my knees but my knees had not produced any pain, no small amount of pain that slowly increased over months or years. Instead, my left knee had held off then recently had suddenly exploded with incapicating pain. Any mention of knee pain in the rest of this series of blogs will be words I wrote when I thought the problem was injured ligaments.
This cliff is Inscription Rock (AKA El Morro). The lovely rockwork at the side of the paved walking path was constructed to prevent erosion that would undercut and injure the concrete. In places the erosion preventing rockwork was extensive.
A female ranger gave us an introductory talk and showed us a pamphlet we could borrow for walking the petroglyph trail. A male ranger talked about El Morro’s being a “night sky” and talked about what will be seen in the sky tonight, including probably northern light-like curtains from a solar flare that left the sun a few days ago.
He’d only been working at El Morro for one week. He had transferred after several years at Chaco Canyon. When I mentioned the name, he had never heard of Dr. Gwinn Vivian Jr. (a male). That was strange because, although Dr. Vivian died a year or so ago, he is still considered the supreme Chaco Canyon archaeologist and expert. Gwinn was a graduate student when I entered UNM as a freshman. He soon obtained his Masters and apparently went elsewhere for his PhD. Then he joined his archaeologist father at Chaco Canyon, and Gwinn Jr. stayed there til he retired.
Most of the AAS group began their visit by climbing the steep path to the top of the mesa to see the remains of an ancient Native American village. I stayed more on the level at the base of the cliff and enjoyed my walk to see the petroglyphs. I took many pictures of which I will only show a few in this blog. One note: I later discussed with a ranger fotographing the etched petroglyphs done by the early Spanish and English folk. He mentioned that many morning fotos will not show the etchings because of the glare of the sun. The best time to fotograph the El Morro petroglyphs is in the afternoon when the sun is no longer shining directly on them.
Across the untold number of centuries the thing that drew etchers to this cliff was this water hole. It held only rainwater but, even during these years of drought, it always had some water. The cliff protected the water from the afternoon sun and this probably was what prevented the pond from evaporating completely during the summers.
Notice the dates on the inscriptions. 1852 and 1890.
Below, this fellow wrote his words in 1709.
Ancient Native American petroglyphs. It looks like someone named “James” defaced a piece of the petroglyphs.
Fascinating ancient row of deer.
More of historic inscriptions.
Another mixture of old and older.
A very interesting way of writing the year numbers. The two symbols before “26” seem to be old Spanish (Latin?) designations for the particular thousand and hundred.
During the drive to El Morrow I had noticed a sign in the Navajo village of Ramah saying “Museum” with an arrow pointing. On the return trip I followed the arrow. The museum seemed to be in a lovely, old stone house. However, a sign on the door indicated that the museum was now “behind” an outdoor market place. Door was locked.
I did not have the energy to try to locate the new museum but I did take a few pictures of old items on the grounds of this building.
At the outer edge of Zuni I followed the signs to the hospital and took a few pictures thru the chain link fence of the hospital where I worked as an RN 1981-1982 (12 months). This seems to have been the front door. I don’t remember details of the building, but I would have always entered a side door.
As people had been telling me, the old hospital was “across the street” from the new hospital. I believe the new hospital sits where the trailers for the nurses had been.
The old hospital was fenced off. I took what fotos I could. I managed to poke the camera lens through a link in the fence for this picture.
Kenny had told me he was in charge of the old hospital building for many years because that was where Zuni had kept its archaeological items. It was now once again abandoned. When I returned home, I was not able to find pictures of the old hospital online.
By the time I got back to the Inn I was tired from the struggle to walk. I took a brief nap.
At 3 pm I went downstairs to the Halona Plaza Restaurant and ordered a turkey pancini sandwich. It was delicious.
It came with French fries and a small soda pop drink (I chose Coca Cola). The sandwich and fries came on a plate and with them came a set of plastic cutlery. I did not need knife or fork or spoon with this dinner, but now I had cutlery if I needed any again during the trip.
The next day I would leave on the next phase of my trip.
Lynda picked me up shortly before noon Friday, April 26, 2024. Our destination was to see the Indigenous People’s museum in Prescott and other things. I wrangled all my gear down to the curb and we put it in her little sedan, or mini-SUV; I’m not sure what it is called. This was a challenge for me because on Tuesday I’d had a blanace therapy session. Each day since, I’d had pain in the ligaments behind my right knee. I was walking slowly, but successfully.
When we arrived in Prescott the first thing we did was search for the museum. On the way, we admired this mural.
We decided to visit the Prescott Visitor Center in the Chamber of Commerce to ask about the museum and its parking and any other things to see in Prescott. Lynda headed for the building but the whole area of “downtown” Prescott was blockaded off for a special event. A bicycle marathon. Lynda was dumbfounded. She had visited Prescott’s web site a couple days earlier and had not seen that there was to be any event this weekend. She might have postponed our trip if she’d known there was going to be an even preventing us from parking in the downtown district.
We parked in a strip mall and went in the first store, Sprouts, to see if anyone could give us directions to the Indigenous museum. Several people pointed out it was only a short walk (3 or 4 blocks?) from Sprouts to the Chamber of Commerce building but Lynda pointed out that we could not walk that far.
We will folks, but first we would like to have some directions.
I wonder if these two murals were chosen and paid for by Sprout’s or by the owner of the mall?
Is that an egg in the middle of the sunrise?
The Internet, on Lynda’s smart fone, told us there was another Visitor Center located in Prescott so we headed for it. Here is what we found. It didn’t have any of the kind of information we were looking for.
The Internet had led us to this campus. Lynda was delighted to see the grounds. She had headr a lot about the shcool because one one of her nephews had applied to attend this school but had ended up getting his degree in aeronautical engineering at another university.
Lynda pulled up driving directions to the Indigenous museum on her cell fone. We followed the directions but we were unable to find the parking lot for the Indigenous museum and we were hungry.
So at about 3:30 pm we pulled into the El Gordo Restaurant parking area. It had been listed in a Prescott brochure and Lynda had pulled up driving directions on her cell fone. Several blocks before we arrived at the restaurant Lynda remarked that we were now in a Latin American barrio. Sure enuf, we were the only light-light-skinned diners.
I keep inserting myself in pictures every now and then. Always with a camera up to my face.
My water glass. I brought it home. Behind to the right is Lynda’s drink.
After we sat down I saw this strange machine in my viewing area. I walked up and the first picture I took was of the brand and some instructions. Looking at this picture now, that black circle staring out at me is giving me the creeps.
Apparently these machines are common but I don’t remember ever seeing one before. It is an automatic juicer ofr orange juice. The little cat face is a “speaker” and has nothing to do with the juicer. I think the food employee meant it was where the background music was coming from.
After eating we drove around a little, then checked into the motel and called it a day.
After a night of off-on pain my knee ligaments complained more than yesterday. After breakfast we stopped at Walgreens and I bought this knee brace. It had very little effect on the pain. My gait today was a shuffle because I did not trust my left knee to hold up if I put al my weight on it.
The next morning we ate breakfast at the Salt And Pepper restaurant (they opened at 7 am), then drove to Walgreens (which opened at 8 am) and I bought this knee brace.
After making my purchase the time was close to 8:30 and the museum would not open til 10, so we drove over to see Watson Lake. In the sign below, it is Willow Creek Dam that is under construction.
The knee brace did not seem to decrease the pain when I walked.
Watson Lake looks like an ordinary lake from this direction.
It was beautiful even tho the sun was not shining.
However, Watson Lake is located on an edge of the Granite Dells, a region of piles of granite rocks.
The city had added some greenery since I was last here (2008).
My leg affected my fotographing prowess. How about this, below, for a playground plaything? To get from front to back kids have to go hand-over-hand along the red bar while hanging from it. I don’t think I’ve ever had that much arm strength.
The rocks of the Granite Dells hold imaginary spells.
The white stripes are interesting and confusing. It looks as tho the granite cracked eons ago, then something white flowed into the cracks and became white bands. In more recent times, the granite broke up into blocks and cracks oriented totally differently from the white strips.
One of the boat ramps leading down to the lake side.
Here is where the lake invaded the dells of granite. In the center of the lake but almost against the cliff on the far shore there is a long, thin oval rock. Lynda called that a croissant. To the right are two rocks that look vaguely like walruses. The mention of the mammals caused Lynda to opine that she would like walrus meat in her croissant sandwich.
Time was now around 9:30 am so Lynda once again pulled up driving directions to the Indigenous museum on her cell fone.
This time we found a driveway that led up to the museum. The one time before that I had been in these buildings the museum held dance clothing and equipment the Smoki men had used and there had been informational signs about the Smoki. Today there was nothing of the politically incorrect Smoki left.
“In 1931, a group of white Arizona residents envisioned a way to promote Prescott to visitors by enacting supposed Native American ceremonial dances. Adopting the name the ‘Smoki Tribe’, they organized and began to hold ceremonial presentations and dances at a pueblo in downtown Prescott. Loosely based on the Hopi tribe, the group and their activities were not appreciated by the Hopi, and the overall political incorrectness of the group was eventually recognized. The organization re-invented themselves and their museum in the 1990s when they ceased performing dances due in part to pressure by Hopis to desist what were considered insulting portrayals of their sacred ceremonial practices.”
“Instead of of ‘Smoki Tribe’ performances, the organization today hosts educational programs and operates a museum and trading post. Their mission is ‘to instill understanding and respect for the indigenous cultures of the southwest’.”
This is “the building to the south,” built in 1931.
I could not find out anything about this mural on the east wall of part of the building between the 1931 and 1935 buildings.
This is the 1935 trading post and museum. Lynda had parked in this back area so we went in the (open) door for handicapped people. I was very handicapped this day. There was a wheelchair just inside and Lynda opened it and graciously offered to wheel me around. I doubt that I would have seen as much of the inside without her strong arms and legs.
This shining picture of night sky and cotoye charmed me. Also, the wooden display work. I’m sorry Mr. Coyote doesn’t show up well in this foto, but if you are ever in Prescott you can see him yourself.
But you can read the background info:
Can you guess where or what this is?
The sign is a bit difficult to read. It says the replica was made in 1933 as part of Roosevelt’s CWA, Civil Works Administration and in 1967 restoration was done of portions that had disappeared or been damaged.
Akimel O’Odham basekt from around 1900 CE.
Picture of the basket craftswoman.
I tried a couple of shots of the display below but the lighting reflected badly off the case that the bowl was sitting in. The jar is thought to be representing a shaman. It is Tonto Polychorme from the Salado culture which existed from 1300+ to 1450 CE.
Hano is a Hopi village.
This jar must have been sitting in the store area. The fine-lined designs caught my eye.
The inside of the front door of the museum.
I wonder what the Smokis displayed on this tall stone base. Lynda is studying something.
I took this picture to show the pine viga and latilla composition of the roof.
It looks as tho the spirits of the ancestors are visiting the pueblo during a sacred ceremony.
The artist is very interesting.
These bows and arrows are apparently form the early years of European colonization. The arrow in the center has only a wooden point; possibly was used only for hunting birds.
It is always surprising to see how small the original corn cobs were.
There were more O’Odham tribes than just Tohono and Akimel tribes. (The Akimel O’Odham consider themselves to be descendants of the people who built the prehistoric city at SVM.)
The sign says the artist who carved and painted and decorated this gourd is “non native.”
The best pies in town. When we finished enjoying the museum it was only about 11:30 am and we weren’t ready for lunch but we did want to have some of the pies we had been reading about in the literature of eats in Prescott.
This building that looks like a very small house is, and was built as, a storage shed.
This is the restaurant. They serve meals, also.
A typical booth and table plus Lynda.
The owner’s last name is really “Berry”!
Lynda chose German Chocolate pie with Whipped Cream. It also had coconut and pecans. I’d have bought a slice if it hadn’t had coconut.
But I ordered a deliciosu Apple Pie. The pie crusts were tender and flaky. They contributed much to the excellent taste and feel of the pies.
We chose a roundabout way to get from Prescott to Phoenix. We passed thru lots of interesting scenery and we did not miss the traffic we were missing on I-17.
Is the mushroom (top center) making you hungry?
I enjoyed the murals in the vicinity of the necessary rooms at a gas station convenience store.
I also appreciated this young man’s shirt. It represents the Bears bicycling group at Whiteriver, Arizona. I wanted to ask, but I forebore, if the logo is a bear because the cyclists are gay? At first I thought the strange things between the bear’s hands were shackles but when the young man told me he was part of a cycling team I could then see that they were handlebars and the metal piece on top of the front tire.
Farther down the road, while Lynda was inside this gas station convenience store I finally realized what struck me about the name of the store. In May after I leave Zuni I will spend some time in Mountainair, New Mexico, on the way to visit my daughter.
We were surprised to find this memorial right on our route.
The highway we were driving on was one-way and mostly one lane. I think that when the park was created this piece of highway was built new to pass the new park. After leaving the flat desert at the foot of the hills it rejoined what must have been the original two-lane highway.
That wide path beginning to thread its way up the hill is not for motorized vehicles.
The red-white-and-blue of “Glydin”s” outfit was a nice touch to a memorial for people who lost their lives while protecting their neighbors.
This is a mpa of the trail that is the park. Each tiny circle with a person’s name is where the bodies of the individual firefighters were found after the fire had left this area. The fireproof “tents” they had carried and in which each had laid down inside could not protect them from the very fierce heat of this fire.
One man had walked back to the vehicles to get some equipment that was needed by the firefighters. He was safely at the trucks when the fire suddenly leapt and surrounded the other 19 men.
The man who survived is at bottom right.
We had a wonderful trip.
FYI: We entered I-17 just north of its intersection with Loop 303.
Included in this blog is the Indian School section of the Heard Museum of fotos I took during the SVM tour April 18th. However, I am starting the blog with an eventful morning Lynda and I had at the Arizona Historical Society’s musuem in Tempe Wednesday, April 24, 2024. Actually, in Papago Park.
The name of the museum is Arizona Heritage Center.
I have seen disagreement in older maps as to which city “owns” Papago Park, Phoenix or Tempe. The US Post Office has settled the debate to its own satisfaction. One section is in a Tempe USPS area and the rest is in Phoenix’ USPS areas. I don’t know how the cities regards ownership and all that ownership entails.
This saguaro’s life has been so hard she is lifting three arms to the sky in supplication.
Here’s what is hurting her. I wonder if vehicles had run into her at times before the current street buffer was built.
People looking at all this undergrowth in a city park in a huge urban area (several million people on all sides) would ask why all the weeds were allowed to grow under the trees. They aren’t weeds, they are native Sonoran Desert plants.
David Berman, the man we came to hear speak.
This banner sat in the back of the lobby. It is intriguing because it does not tell us anything about the foto, such as where this railroad station was.
Centennial banner behind glass, a permanent display in the lobby.
This group created the banner.
While waiting in the lobby I purchased a membership in the Arizona Historical Society. While filling out the membership application I noticed this sign. I thought the words were going to tell me how I should get permission to take pictures, but . . . You can read the long paragraph.
For paying for a new membership I was given this book. It sounds fascinating. It is about the April 25, 1934 kidnapping of 6-year-old June Robles from the streets of Tucson, Arizona. I am looking forward to reading the book.
The reason Lynda and I were at the museum this particular morning was to hear Mr. Berman’s talk about former Governor George Hunt. I was hoping he would talk about the friendship between William Boyce Thompson (founder of Boyce Thompson Arboretum at Superior, Arizona) and George Hunt. I stationed myself at the very front and closest to the podium because there is too much sound bouncing around in a large room and my hearing aids try to pick up all of it. For some reason, the beginning of his talk was delayed for a few minutes so Mr. Berman and I had a short chat. He would not be talking about Thompson at all.
But Berman’s talk was fun to listen to. He had fascinating tidbits about Hunt and he put in humor here and there, some of which I was unable to hear/understand because his speech was not crisp. I looked directly at him to try to read his lips and he spent most of his speech looking at me (it was embarrassing), altho at times he did carefully move his eyes around the room to include the rest of the audience.
He put a slide with a list of about 8 items of Hunt’s life on the screen and gave his talk by referring to the items in order. When he had finished with the last item he began showing pictures from Hunt’s life. He did not explain much about the fotos but he would point out which character was Hunt. Then he clicked past two slides very quickly and left the next slide on the screen. We stared and stared and waited for his comments about this picture. I heard a vocal sound and turned to look at Berman so I could try to use lip reading. I saw him take a short step backwards, then collapse backwards, falling on his back.
Two male museum employees who were in the room rushed up and knelt beside Berman. Berman was lying at the bottom of the stairs (that led up the seat aisles) with barely a foot between his other side and a short wall. His head was against a wall. No room for a third person so I stayed seated. A third employee began rushing down the stairs. No one was doing anything useful so I said loudly, “Someone needs to call a doctor.” One of the kneeling employees called the stair-descender by name and told him to call 911. That young man climbed back up the stairs and stepped out of the room.
I could see Berman’s lower abdomen. It was rising and falling. He was alive. After a couple minutes he began responding to the kneeling men’s questions. The two men then lifted Berman’s torso upright into a sitting position. One man opened a bottle of water and handed it to Berman. They thought he had fainted from dehydration. (The temperature was in the low 80s outside, and the museum was cooler.) Berman took a couple sips then his head flopped down with his chin against his chest. The two men kept trying to talk to Berman. Finally, one said, “David, can you hear me?” I thought, “These two men don’t know anything about medical mishaps!” so I said, “He fainted again.” At hearing my words the two men carefully lowered Berman back to a supine position.
In a couple of minutes Berman gained consciousness again. The men did not let him sit up; they were catching on. I could not hear the words but I heard the three of them chatting and chuckling. Berman had begun cracking jokes and I think the two men then added a few of their onw. One of the men left the room briefly, then came back and announced that since there would be no more speech, we audience might want to spend the time exploring the museum exhibits.
As I approached the bottom of the stairway I looked at Mr. Berman and said, “I’ve never seen such a spectacular ending to a speech before!” Berman lifted his head, looked at me, and chuckled. His mind seemed to be in excellent order. The two men chuckled, also.
The first set of paramedics finally arrived. They were driving a huge fire truck.
The second set arrived a little later. They came in the fire department’s medical van. After a quick look at Berman and brief discussion, they hurried back out to the van and reappeared with a blue stretcher. I’ll probably never know what was preventing blood from getting to Berman’s brain when he was sitting or standing.
Lynda and I decided we had time to take lunch together. I asked the museum clerk for directions to a restaurant and we were instructed on how to get to Pitch Bar and Restaurant. As we drove into the parking area we saw there was a “Chef’s Entrance” to the building.
The marinara sauce tasted good. Everywhere else I have tasted marinara, in restaurants, in jars from the grocery shelves, from recipes I have tried, the tomato flavor has been too strong and has tasted bitter (maybe the vinegar that is added makes the taste bitter). When I remarked to Lynda that this sauce tasted good she said, “I would assume that when a restaurant has a chef the foot is excellent.” She enjoyed what she ordered, also.
The focaccia bread was tough and tasteless but I ate it all, anyway. I was hungry.
The blue letters on the water drinking glass have been printed over the word “Italia” that is in in white. I wonder why. I had to take a picture and blow it up on the computer in order to read the white word.
After eating, Lynda and I parted and went to our separate afternoon volunteer activities.
Now to the Indian Schools – – the Heard exhibit is called “Away From Home.”
The inner courtyard at the Heard. To get to this courtyard you must have paid the day’s admission fee. Notice the white-haired man with a cell fone held up to his ear. We elders are catching on to the young people’s culture.
If you look carefully you can see this in upper left corner of courtyard in above foto.
I wonder if these Eskimo dwellings are American native versions of ancient yurts that these people’s ancestors probably lived in back in Siberia. Where did these Eskimos get the cloth for the “tent” tops? There is no note of the year this foto was taken.
The permanent exhibit about Indian Schools was redone a couple years ago. If you have not been to the Heard recently, you may want to visit this new version.
The wording at bottom left of foto says these are Chiricahua Apaches attending the Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania 1885-1886.
Before and after pictures were sometimes taken of the children after they had been brought to an Indian boarding school.
“Eskimo group as they entered Carlisle, Indian Industrial School, 1897.”
“Eskimo group as they appear in school dress, 1897.”
“Tom Torlino (Navajo) as he entered Carlisle Indian Industrial School, 1882.”
Tom Torlino 1885. He looks well-acculturated. I wonder if he was able to regain his Navajo heritage after graduating from Carlisle.
Quote from “Asa Daklugie (Chiricahua Apache), 1886, taken from Fort Marion to Carlisle as a prisoner of war.” So that is how adult-looking “children” ended up in some of the Indian Schools!
In later years studenst appreciated the education they received in spite of the treatment they received. “I appreciate the Indian school for even being there, even if it wasn’t the greatest of schools at that time. At least it was there. Pablita Velarde (Santa Clara Pueblo), Student at Santa Fe Indian School, 1930-1936.”
Years earlier, change was beginning to take place in some of the Indian schools.
Some of the studenst found ways to continue honoring and remembering their native culture(s).
Administrators of Indian schools began changing the focus and allowed the native cultures to exist among the students. “Students performing ‘Hiawatha’ at Haskell Institute, Lawrence, Kansas, c. 1922”
Apparently the idea of tribal Indian Princesses began in the government boarding schools. “Riverside Indian School princess and brave, 1972″ Anadarko, Oklahoma.” I am surprised that the idea of a tribal “brave” did not continue, but perhaps a male dressed in native costume seemed to be too threatening to the European descendants who ran/run the country.
What a beautiful quilt to commemorate a tragedy. I am not exactly sure what or who is represented by the figure dressed in black who is officiating over the flag-draped coffins. A European representing Death?
The Catholic and protestant churches divided the Navajo Nation into pieces and each denomination took a piece. The denominations did not encroach on each other’s “land.” The Mormons were not included in the pact, thus had schools all across the Navajo Nation.
In the middle row, third frame from the left, a nun has cut the child’s hair. In the 5th frame the child is being handed a new name. The names on the boards are not the names listed in the bottom row of the “quilt.” English names had been given to the children by their tribe members so they could function in American society when necessary. But even so, the Toadlena school gave the children new English names.
The museum is rather cryptic in describing the quilt.
The Santa Fe, New Mexico, Indian School.
Oh, dear. One person’s research several years ago found evidence that sometimes students died while undergoing punishment.
Some of the “children” tried to hang onto vestiges of their native customs.
The (former) Indian School in Phoenix, now Steele Indian School Park. When I arrived at Shiprock to begin nursing in Indian Hospitals on reservations in Arizona one of my neighbors was a young Navajo woman who had just finished Nursing School and had become an RN. She was fluent in both English and Navajo languages. Her high school years had been spent in the Phoenix Indian School in approximately1975-1979. She said they were “the best years” of her life. By that time the students were allowed to speak their native languages and keep their customs (to a point). She had enjoyed the camaraderie of fellow Native Americans of her age.
Below is another view of the Carlisle Indian School, the first Indian School built in the U.S. Look how huge it was! I wonder how many hundred children attended school at the same time?
This is a portion of the Indian School cemetery at the Carlisle school. Why was the picture taken at night? To make sure no Native Americans saw the picture being taken?
I wonder how many parents of children from among all the Indian schools were never notified of the deaths of their children, and how many parents who were notified were not told the truth about the deaths? Unfortunately the “good clothes” were not the good (often extra special) native clothes the child had been wearing when entering the Indian school.
No, the acronym does not stand for Sharp Microphone. On April 20, 2024 I again celebrated Earth Day at the SVM table-booth, except that we were now on the Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community land (SRP-MIC). By the way, the Pima are Akimel O’Odham and the Maricopa call themselves Piiposh (spelling varies). This is going to be a long picture story because I attended another event later in the afternoon. I should have enuf pixel room to complete the projected blog. So, relax in a comfortable chair and prepare to read a picture book.
Remember, I have a readign problem that sometimes shows itself in my writing with words that have all the correct letters but they are in the wrong order.
I parked in a paved parking lot at the SE corner of Osborne and Longmore Streets and wondered where the event was being held. I knew it was somewhere very close by. The museum, below, caught my eye and I walked over to it. The museum was closed but the outdoor exhibits were interesting.
Notice the alternate, or former, spelling of the O’Odham word “huhugam.” The Native American tribes are very proud of their warriors who have fought with the US military in wars beginning with WW I (and maybe earlier). The date on this marker seems to be the day the museum was dedicated.
The main entrance of the museum.
Detail of museum walls. Portions are left unplastered so visitors can see how the walls are actually constructed. I think this may have been an 1800s adaptation of ancient construction and European roof and fireplace. Native Americans of southern Arizona probably did build houses like this (but smaller) as their homes after they saw European houses.
This was their home style before the Europeans began invading. It is called a wickiup. The upright poles are acting as the wooden door for the entrance. I like the saguaro family approaching the dwelling.
Roof with rain-resistant layers of brush and mud.
Standing at the museum I saw two white canopies so I headed over their way. It was the event. But there were no signs Event→ at the three parking areas.
I then heard an amplified voice telling vendors to step inside the restaurant to sign in. So I did. Part of the sign-in process was to sign this liability waiver. (Desiree told me no waiver signing was required last year.) I wonder what kind of lawsuit was brought against the tribe during the past year.
After I signed the waiver I was given this T-shirt and a paper bracelet to trade for lunch.
An excellent motto. The heart is where the O’Odham and Piipash people live/once lived.
Apparently it says the same thing in O’Odham. (I asked some natives and the non-English language is O’Odham, not Piiposh.)
Frank was already wearing an appropriate shirt for the day, but he did accept a free shirt for other occasions. Frank, Desiree, and I handled the S’edav Va’aki booth from 9:30 to noon.
SPR-MIC’s Community Development Department table. Community logo and department logo.
I have hiked some of the trails this group has developed on their land north of Mesa, etc.
In this game, players are supposed to match the plastic paw prints with the animal pictures. At first, I thought the plastic piece on far left was a string of coyote or fox scat, but then the toes were pointed out to me. I wish I had taken time to play the game.
A fascinating Bingo game.
An example of a card a player would hold.
This block game is meant to teach what happens when too much of an important section of an environment is removed. The environment collapses.
Players roll the die, below, and remove a block protraying the picture that shows on top when the die stops rolling. Eventually, the player will remove a board during which removal will cause the pile to collapse.
The woman wearing this skirt seemed to be one of the Native Americans who were administering the Earth Day event. I’d never seen these designs on clothing before.
A craft children (or adults) can do at the TRR table.
Or perhaps decorate this spider. TRR is trying to not only provide cleaner water for humans but for all life that depends on these two rivers.
Center for Native and Urban Wildlife. CNUW
CNUW is associated with the Scottsdale Community College. I wonder if these events help leaders of Native American conservation groups and of non-Native American groups to meet each other and therefore stay in touch and work together.
The current leasees of this land were recently given authority to open the uranimu mine. However, the Havasupai tribe, who live on a year-round-running tributary of the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon, feel effluent from the mine, whether solid or liquid, would foul the Havasupai water and they would no longer have potable water for their bodies and their crops.
Liberty Wildlife states its mission on its tablecloth.
The woman holding the bird’s leash talked about specific reasons why and methods how wildlife are cared for. When possible, the animals are set free after treatment. This bird’s other eye, the one you cannot see, is injured and the bird cannot see well enuf to be able to feed and protect itself in the wild. When staff realized they were not going to be able to release the bird they gradually habituated it to being oohed and aahed at by groups of humans. The bird’s markings are beautiful.
I’ve never been this close to a vulture before. This one did not have an offensive odor. I did not ask, but it appears they are not feeding the bird fresh (or fermented) carrion. This bird was hatched and habituated to humans by a group that “grows” exotic birds for the public. Because this bird thinks humans are part of its family it would not be safe to it to train the bird to take care of itself in the wild.
The Native American Fish and Wildlife Society did not have a printed tablecloth so they improvised with safety pins.
The society created interesting teaching games.
Anyone who knows his numbers up to 21 can play this game. That might include children who’ve had only part of a school year of kindergarten.
The group displaying the items in the next few fotos did not have a name for the group anywhere on or around its table. The Native American man sitting at the table was not very friendly, and he only partly answered my questions.
There is a shelter like this on the grounds of S’edav Va’aki. I had wondered what its purpose was. At the present it seems to be a storage area for particular equipment such as a cinder-box grill.
This sign explains it.
When I asked if this was a replica, below, of a war club. The man said it was. I’ve never seen a replica or picture of an O’Odham war club, but it obviously is part of the history of this people.
There were two doll-sized replicas of one-room log houses with roofs and doors that obviously were not of prehistoric design. The man did chat enuf so that he finally stated that the things on display were post-European invasion.
You will notice in these pictures that O’Odham words were not translated into English. I supposed this was a rack for drying food, such as strips of meat. By the time I took the pictures of this replica I was tired of trying to talk with the man so I did not ask questions.
However, one sentence below says “Used as major living space.” The man had angrily told me earlier that the people had “lived” outdoors, that houses were only for storage and for use during inclement weather. He indicated the people slept outside also.
Why would people construct a framework, for “living in”, that did not give any protection from the hot sun?
I tried to tell the man that I appreciated the craftsmanship of the person who wove the tiny basket and wove animal designs it in, but the man kept remarking about other things and did not listen to my compliment.
Everyone else I spoke to this day were freindly and helpful.
Now this is an interesting name for a group.
This is a very interesting group. If you’ve never been to the Hubbell Trading Post Monument on the Navajo Reservation, please make plans to visit it. The last time I was there (a half dozen or so years ago) the trading post still sold a lot of items as well as running the premises as a museum.
Employees of this group did repair work on a trail at El Morro National Monument in New Mexico. Top pic is “before,” lower pic is “after.”
I hope the Native American water conservation groups are working together with each other and with state and national groups. I didn’t have time to ask for detailed information from many of the booths that were at the Earth Day event.
A very interesting organization.
And someone was an excellent needle-crafter. Looks like a barely-fledged youngster.
And sculptor. I think these two plastic items were made in a mold. It is an interesting way of creating a stand for each bird.
I hope that a lot of Native American biologists apply for the positions.
The Arizona Bald Eagle Management Program is a section of CAZCA.
I think you can read the type in the picture below.
They want more hands to help, as well as more money for their conservation efforts.
The young man said he did know the reason for or derivation of the word “Brownfields.” The group keeps an eye/ear out for buildings that are going to be torn down. The group contacts the owners and offers to help with planning for redevelopment of the plot of land.
On the Internet I found this explanation: “EPA’s Brownfields Program provides grants and technical assistance to communities, states, tribes and others to assess, safely clean up and sustainably reuse contaminated properties. Feb 21, 2024″ but I could not find out why the word “Brownfields” is in the name.
“Emergency Management” seemed like a broad topic, so I asked one of the men at the desk. He said the group promotes information for individual people on Dust Storms, Extreme Heat, Flooding, Monsoon Storms, and Preparing for emergency evacuation. As he said each title he handed me a pamphlet and then handed me a “Ready, Set Go!” preparedness card.
Before I could say anything he handed me this Auto Safety Tool, below. He said that if I needed to get out of my car and I couldn’t: I should whallop the window beside me with the metal projection sticking out a quarter of an inch on the right and the window would shatter and I could push the glass away. Then I should put the slit around my seat belt and run it along the seat belt and it would cut the belt so I could get out.
I have a similar tool that I acquired a dozen or more years ago. Its instructions say to hit the very bottom of the window glass because the curvature there makes it makes it the easiest part of the window to break. I asked the man if this tool should be used on a certain part of the window and he said, “No. Just give the glass a strong whallop anywhere.” I accepted the tool and will be keeping it in the door “shelf” at my side, along with the tool I already have, but I am afraid my arms are too weak to give a “strong whallop” to anything. This tool looks easier to use than my older tool.
It was now shortly after 12 noon. My replacement volunteer had arrived and it was time to get my free lunch. I had three choices and I chose this one instead of hot dogs from another truck or some sort of chicken lunch from a portable outdoor cooking setup. I chose this van because the preservatives in wieners make me nauseated and this van was much cuter than the outdoor cooking arrangement.
I chose pulled pork quesadillas. My carrying box came with several large-pancake-looking objects folded over a thin filling. I thought perhaps my quesadillas were skimpy because many people had already been served. But since they were free, I decided to be happy, not offended.
The quesadillas were very hot. A bite threatened to burn my mouth. So I ferried them home, at which time (50 minutes later) they were just right for eating. They were delicious. I ate lunch, took a short nap, then headed for the next event.
The Arizona American Indian Tourism Association AAITA was hosting an Arizona Indian Festival (the one I’d helped with in Scottsdale Feb 3, 2024) Appreciation Dinner at the Arizona Puppet Theater, which was very close to my condo, thank goodness.
Those of you who are grandparents might want to check on upcoming performance dates.
What looked like a former Catholic church was a former Mormon Stake House. (“Stake” not “steak.”) It was surprising that the Mormons abandoned such a beautiful building after only three years. What made them move themselves and their stake house elsewhere?
I parked in the adjacent parking lot and began walking towards the building.
And came to this sign. I did not have any cash with me, so I read farther. From what I could understand a QR code on the cell fone was the only way to pay. Pay where? I walked around and found the person in charge of the appreciation dinner and asked him. I did not have to pay. None of us did. Reading more slowly and carefully now I see that the words “Puppet Theater, Patron Parking, All Others Pay to Park” means that people actually making use of the Puppet Theater Building do not have to pay. But when I read it with an exhausted brain Saturday late afternoon I thought everyone had to pay. In fact, I would still think so if people had insisted we did not have to pay and none of us received parking tickets. Why can’t institutions write in plain English?
The outdoor roofed-over porch area where the dinner was held. The temperature was still in the low 90s when I arrived but I was comfortable in the sahde. Everyone else in the shade looked comfortable, also. I guess we Phoenicians were all still frozen at core from the winter.
This is the original paintwork done on the beams in 1929, almost one hundred years ago! (95 years ago).
The little stars in the table decorations were tiny electric lights that were glowing.
I did not find the restroom. Luckily, I did not need it.
But I entered the area behind the restroom sign to look around in case I needed a restroom later. There were a couple of locked doors, a stairwell, a hall, and this room that can be rented for parties. There was no sign indicating the restrooms might be upstairs, or exactly where they were located.
This poster was one of many on the walls of the can-be-rented room.
A couple of puppets were exhibited in the hall. The picture of the marionette in this case did not turn out well because of reflection of overhead light which blotted out the face. The puppet was in Oriental clothes and I suspect it is an old, valuable item someone has donated to the Puppet Theater. I wonder about the age of the lizard puppet. Was it Oriental, also? Was it used in a scary story, or was it friendly?
I went back outside, walked the length of the porch, and entered the other door. Immediately, I was in a combination gift shop-museum.
Marionettes anyone?
Cautionary sign for people who want to try out a marionette or two before buying or not buying.
Actual figures from
past presentations of Peter Pan shows.
Someone has written a play set in the Sonoran Desert of southern Arizona.
Some famous actors from past performances.
A bit of history about the Puppet Theater. I think GAPT is Greater Arizona Puppet Theater.
The chapel is now the room with gift shop-museum.
What a little love and a lot of money did.
The social hall that is now the theater. Aren’t the entrance doors fascinating!
The restored ceiling.
Back to our dinner area. These two musicians had to sit in the sun while they serenaded us. I hope they were given an extra tip. They started with Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Our Land” and went thru a repertoire of songs and readings.
This refers to the unmined portion of a former Magma Mine copper-bearing area that Resolution Copper wants to open.
This license plate had arrived while I was enjoying the building and the food.
Gila River Indian Community invited all kinds of “vendors” to advertise their institutions at its weekend Earth Day festival. SVM was able to set up a table on Saturday April 19. I assisted the staff member, Desiree. She loves working with children so I let her take care of the craft table she had set up and I concentrated on adults and non-crafty children.
But that was after I found my way to the Gila River Indian Community Department of Environmental Quality building and grounds. I had gone on the Internet and made notes for directions for driving from my condo to the event grounds. The information on the sites was confusing and misleading and lacked at least one very important instruction but the angel of serendipity was watching over me. The morning of April 19th I eventually found myself heading east on the southern part of Loop 202. The driving instructions had died a few miles back. I knew that 202 east would soon head north and I needed to go south so I left the freeway and went down a major street. After a number of miles I crossed the Hunt Highway. I pulled into a parking lot and asked my Toyota Navigation to take me to 168 Skill Center Road in Sacaton, Arizona. It let me choose the town of Sacaton and to put in the name of the street but not the building number.
When Highway 87 was only a few yards from I-10, the freeway between Phoenix and Tucson, Toyota’s Navigator told me to turn south on another state road, 587 (or 567?). For a while I-10 parallelled us, then finally began drifting away. When I got to the edge of the town of Sacaton the Navigator said, “You are now at your destination and didn’t talk anymore.” I drove past houses until I found a gas station with a convenience store. I went inside and asked for directions. No one knew anything about the tribal Department of Environmental Quality building. But I was told to go back the way I’d come and turn left at the second paved road. On that road I would find the community’s school. An Earth Day event was being held there.
I found both, parked, and went inside the school. I asked where DEQ was. A very nice woman remarked that the school children were celebrating Earth Day nearby. When I replied that I was probably headed for an Earth Day event she stepped outside with me and said it was the second facility lot ahead, in fact, I would want to turn where that white car was just turning off the pavement. I followed her suggestion and was approached by a man with an official looking vest. A few yards away I could see a lot of white canopies. The man said, “Vendor?” I said, “Yes” altho we were not selling anything ,so he let me use that parking area. In fact, he handed me a map and showed me where the S’edav Va’aki table was. With a bit of wandering around in my vehicle it had taken me one-and-a-quarter hours to get from condo to the event grounds.
The flame erupting from the top of my head slowly departed and my day now took a turn for the better. I forgot to take a picture of the S’edav Va’aki table. It had the usual blue tablecloth and handouts about the museum and grounds.
(When I treid to upload the foto above I got the same strange denial I’d gotten yesterday with the Heard post. This time I thought perhaps the system was telling me I had reached the maximum amount of pixels I was allowed, so I went to “Media” and eliminated all fotos from the end of Feb 2024 backwards. Now I can post fotos again. Why doesn’t Word Press speak plain English?)
I looked at the fresh desert shrub plantings. The children must have been assisted to inter plant roots and beautify the grounds. What a wonderful way to help children appreciate Earth Day.
This table, below, was directly across from us. I asked what the word “anthropocene” meant. The workers were somewhat able to define the word for me. Back home I opened Merriam-Webster on-line and learned this:
Anthropocene: the period of time during which human activities have had an environmental impact on the Earth regarded as constituting a distinct geological age. / Most scientists agree that humans have had a hand in warming Earth’s climate since the industrial revolution—some even argue that we are living in a new geological epoch, dubbed the Anthropocene.—Nature, 12 Feb. 2004
I didn’t get a chance to ask them what the ESSA group does because visitors were arriving at our SVM table.
Indigenous people whose voices are respected off the reservations (such as tribal leaders) have been complaining for several years about indigenous women, in both US and Canada, that have been disappearing, and still are disappearing, but the off-reservation authorities have made to attempt to put a stop to the problem. In recent months indigenous families have also been complaining about the loss of male members, especially children and teenagers.
This is the first time I’d seen a T-shirt on the subject. I hope the student group at ASU is able to make some headway on the problem.
I did get to talk to this group, below, for a few minutes. I started by asking waht “biomimicry” was. Part of the answer was that Velcro came about due to biomimicry on the part of an engineer. Now they had my full attention. I always told the story of the invention of Velcro when I gave tours that included plants at the Boyce Thompson Arboretum.
One of the recent finds by people purposefully pursuing biomimicry has to do with sharkskin. The black roll with white edges is a piece of sharkskin. The plastic white replica is sharkskin greatly magnified. If rubbed in the direction of the scalse sharkskin feels smooth. It is so smooth that mosses cannot grow on it and neither can viruses. They simply slide off. So does the COVID virus. Scientists are now attempting to find a way to use this quality medically.
When I walked over to use one of these earth savers I smiled at the signs. “Rent A Can.” My father always called a toilet or a toilet room a “can.” I wonder where the word came from?
From the web site can | Etymology of can by etymonline: The slang meaning “toilet” is c. 1900, said to be a shortening of piss-can. The “piss-can” having derived from the use of “can” as an “air-tight vessel of tinned iron” which dates from 1867.
This large, saguaro scar tissue capsule shows why the phrase “Saguaro Boot” is not appropriate. This water-tight scar capsule was about one-and-a-half feet long and would have made a very useful canteen for the ancient dwellers of southern Arizona. It was at the National Forest booth.
The Saguaro National Park had what I considered the best setup to look at. Mr. Saguaro Ranger even had a bird’s nest hole (scar tissue capsule)!
The van was delightful. Left to right, of the things that have legs and feet, are a Gila monster, a javelina (peccary), and a what? What kind of insect is protrayed?
Quail families live in this park.
Left to right are a jackrabbit (hare), desert tortoise, saguaro with feet and shoes, and coyote, and in front lower right is a harmless lizard.
The windows were not open today so I don’t know how they are used. Maybe the rangers stand inside when no outdoor shade canopy is available.
The English sentence is repeated in O’Odham, Spanish, and Yaqui.
My shift was up, the school children were busy eating hot dogs the DEQ provided and were then heading back to school, and there did not seem to be many adult visitors. The temperature of 91 degrees probably (with an expected high of around 95 degrees) probably convinced the adults to all come during the morning also. So, even tho Frank had not arrived (had had not shown up at the Heard yesterday, either; Desiree and I were worried), Desiree convinced me to head back into the big city.
An older native man had told me to continue on “the road” and I would come to I-10. I first headed out along the north-south highway I’d arrived on but I soon realized the man had meant the road running in front of the DEQ building. My original notes had told me the bldg was only about 3 miles from the Interstate. So I turned around and headed past the school and DEQ building. The street came to a deadend. I decided to head north on the adjoining paved highway. After a short distance I could see that the road I was on apparently switched from paved to gravel. The serendipitous angel now provided stronger guidance. I pulled into a parking lot of a medical center to ask questions of desk clerks.
As I stepped out of my SUV I saw a medical center van park itself. I walked over and spoke to the driver. He said if I continued north I would soon come to the freeway but there had been a bad accident on the freeway and traffic was backed up for miles. He suggested I go back somewhat the way I had come in the morning. If I had asked the clerks or other not-immediately-driving folk they probably would not have known about the accident and traffic backup.
I went back the way I’d come in the morning. I was glad I had driven the route just this morning. When I got back to where I-10 approached the highway I was on I could see the long line of backed-up traffic. Vehicles were moving at 5miles an hour or less. I decided not to try to find my way back to L-101 but to turn on Hwy 87 and continue up to the northern part of Loop-202, then use it for a few miles. Two hours driving to get home.
Lee's Rambles 