o·li·o

   [oh-lee-oh] n, pl. o·li·os.

1. a dish of many ingredients
2. a mixture of heterogeneous elements; hodgepodge

Olio is a word found frequently in crossword puzzles, no doubt due to its hefty vowel component. I've always kind of had a soft spot for it and now I've found an actual use for it. What follows is a mixture of random observations and experiences, southern Arizona, 2012.....

• On the way back from Parker Canyon Lake to Sonoita, a distance of approximately 35 miles, we passed no fewer than 8.... yes, 8, Border Services vehicles, each carrying one, count 'em, 1, Border Services staff person. No wonder the economy is in such a wretched condition. BS is the major employer in the southern part of the state. Even Sonoita, with a population of around 850, is home to a depot of what looks like around 50 vehicles. And who knows how many staff people.....You do the math.

• Who knew? There is an entire movement dubbed the "Cowboy Church" movement. It's a brand of Christianity which claims " We're a group of like minded people worshipping in a way that is comfortable to us... the cowboy way." Whatever that may be. We saw 2 instances of said movement on the road from Sonoita to Parker Canyon. ("Canelo" is a Spanish word meaning "cinnamon". Cinnamon Cowboy Church???)

• If there is a car show anywhere within a 50 mile radius, Mr. T will somehow sense its presence and we will go there. Thus, we travelled to Tubac (more on that place later) the other day to catch the annual Tubac Car Show, put on by the Santa Cruz Valley Car Nuts, proceeds to kids in need (as I recall). I opted for sussing out the Tubac Village (a Disneyesque "theme park" involving about 100 shops and galleries, most selling the same touristy kitsch at inflated prices) with Uilleam while Mr. T perused the vehicles. I think he got the better deal.

My personal fave               

Some people definitely put a lot of time and effort into these little items. And there were (reportedly) 500 cars, trucks and motorcycles in total. Interestingly, a lot of the spectators were.... um, grey-haired types. Just like, well, us.

• When you think of mistletoe, as I'm sure you do on at least a daily basis, don't you right away get visions of Santa, kissing your mum, and like that? Well, in these parts, they see it differently, mistletoe being a predatory critter that kills other things, like large trees in the park, basically by strangling them.

The vibrant green is mistletoe, the rest is tree which, admittedly, is in a state of rest at the mo' and couldn't be expected to be vibrantly green. Still...

• Murphy's Law of Photography: When an awesome photo op presents itself, (a) you will not have a camera anywhere close by, (b) you will have totally the wrong lens in the camera you do have in your hand, or (c) your SD card will inform you it has no more room right after you take the first (no good) photo. Thus it is that I'm unable to show you the actual javelina, pyrrhuloxia or vermillion flycatcher we saw. We did encounter another javelina, in a shop window in Tombstone, but somehow it wasn't quite the same.

Signs of the times

The other day we cantered off to Tombstone for the second time in our lives. Just thought we'd check and see if the gunfight at the OK Corral turned out any different this time.

Actually, we've never been to the re-enactment, which takes place in an area about the size of a corral surrounded by a 12-foot fence intended to keep out those who haven't paid for the pleasure of watching guys with (fake) guns shoot each other. It even has its own parking lot which, no doubt due to hard times all round, it is forced to share with the farmers' market on Wednesdays and the Masonic Lodge whenever they hold their secret meetings.

You can get a sense of the town itself from some of its artefacts:

We are the Wild West, thanks very much                                                                                  

"Proud to be an American" and "I love my cat"                                                  

Dreamwalkers (bikers) clubhouse with studly club members                                                                

Local business                                                                      

No explanation required                                                                  

The one that best captures the tenor of the times in these parts is the omnipresent blimp, an unmanned surveillance vehicle apparently owned by the Air Force and operated by the Army. Amongst other things, it is equipped with heat sensors and can deliver up-to-the-minute info on "illegals" to the Border Patrol folks. Locals refer to it as the Spy in the Sky. Watching, just watching.

Leaving a legacy

Wherever humans gather, it seems, we feel compelled to do or create something so future generations will know that we (or somebody, anyways) has been there before them. We found a lot of interesting stuff along those lines when we were in Moab. Tho' there are some in the area which date back as far as 5,500 BC, these ones are from the Formative Period, approximately AD 1 to AD 1880:

And from Canyon de Chelly (d'SHAY), south of Moab en route to Tucson, a village built by the Pueblo people some time between AD 750 and 1300. It represents one of the first indications of a move from dispersed hamlets of a few families to a much larger settlement:

This village is built at the bottom of the canyon, where it would be protected from extremes of temperature (and can't we all relate to that?) There was a hiking path to it but we declined on the grounds that we didn't have enough time to do a round trip involving a drop of 600 feet over a distance of 1 mile. Well, time was somewhat of a factor but mainly it was the gasp factor that put us off.


Then there are the mementos from what might be referred to as the Deformative Period:

Massive cleanup project from uranium mining                                                                                    

Bozo alert, bozo alert....                                                                    

 And last but not least, an artefact from the modern era, c. 2012:

 Say no more...

PC is as PC does

Today being our first actual warm day since we arrived almost a week ago, we decided to head for a canyon hike we've done before and thought would be about Uilleam's speed. And ours.

Seven years ago when we first encountered it, it was a bit hard to find since there was no signage to speak of. But now it's been tarted up...

Yes, yes, indeedy. That is its formal name. Now there are some, apparently, who have advocated to change it on the grounds that it's demeaning to African Americans. Others, including an African American professor of history, are of the opinion that it should not be changed since it recognizes the contribution of African Americans in the settlement of the area.

Well, truth be told, as late as 2005 when we were here for the first time, the name actually included that other "N" word, the one nobody would dare use in these days and times. So, it's already a sort of PC version of the name, non?

And whatever you call it, it's a good hike with lots of interesting stuff to look at and great views, too.

The sign info at the trailhead said this was a moderately challenging hike involving several stream crossings. We went until the dog dropped. Or rather, given that we (read: Mr. T) had to carry said pooch across the stream, before we dropped the dog.

Small is beautiful

There is nothing like spending time surrounded by enormous stunning vistas to come to a good understanding of  one's true significance in the universe. Or lack thereof.

Looking east to the La Sal Mountains, so named because an early explorer couldn't believe there would be snow on the mountains in July and deduced (incorrectly) that it was salt.

              Skyline Arch

See what I mean?

So today, Mr. T and I opted to take the Uilleam for a walking tour of Moab, a city/town of around 5,000 permanent residents. It is eminently walkable in a day and even has a fairly lengthy walking path to allow you to do that without fear of being taken out by an errant driver en route to Somewhere Else.

Early in the walk, and fortunately before the camera batteries gave out, we discovered the local Community Supported Agriculture project, the Moab Youth Garden Project. As far as we could determine, this is a CSA operation for which much, maybe all, of the labour comes from the local high school. They have various greenhouses, from traditional to bleeding edge:



Geodesic dome w/ solar-powered fans and venting




Traditional



They grow food most months of the year it appears, as they have some strawberries in one of the greenhouses as well as strawberries and other veggies under row covers and surrounded by bales. These garden beds are watered by a drip irrigation system.

They also make copious quantities of beautiful looking compost (I was sorely tempted) from materials contributed by residents.

2 batches of compost & a large pile of compost-in-waiting in the background.

And in exchange, they offer residents a "Nibble Garden", with a request to not nibble on the beans as they're destined for town food programs.



Yes, it does look a little bare. It is January, tho'....


Small. And beautiful.



They say a vacation can take years off your appearance

Tonight, our third on the road, we arrived in Denver at rush hour. Mr. T's solid research enabled us to navigate the unbelievable traffic with relative ease and we arrived at our motel intact and feeling somewhat peckish.

Across the interstate from us, we espied a small retail mall which included several restaurants. Initially, feeling in the mood for something a bit spicy, we headed for Chili's. There's a new one back home we haven't tried yet so it seemed like a fortuitous opportunity. Or not so much. The parking lot around it was chock-a-block with the cars of young people and the restaurant itself was full of them.

OK, no problem, we can be flexible. We headed for Chipotle's, a Mexican fast-food outlet we'd passed en route to Chile's. We both ordered the burrito bowl.

Drinks? asked the 20-something cashier.

Um, I'll have a bottle of water, sez I. Then, spying a Corona Lite, No, no, I'll have a CL.

I'll need to see your ID, sez she. And yours, too, sir, as Mr. T orders a Modelo Negro.

Huh? You're carding me?

Three days on the road and already we're looking like teenagers.

Balance is everything

Things I appreciate about road trips

1. Not having to meet anyone's schedule but our own. Beats flying any day.
2. Being able to take along my fave furry friend. That's Uilleam, in case you were wondering.
3. Not having to drive. Because Mr. T really likes driving, I get to read, look at the clouds, pet the Uilleam, eat, nap..... well, you get the picture.
4. Seeing different things, seeing things differently. We saw not only a big snowy owl but also a large white (as in absolutely pristinely white) bird which looked like an albino hawk or eagle. Or maybe an inflatable. What it actually was will remain forever unknown. Mr. T stops for nothing when we have a definite destination. Well, almost nothing.

Things I totally don't appreciate about road trips

1. Crossing the border. Not per se, but it's a total crap shoot what you can and can't take across. Generally speaking, you can count on having anything citrus confiscated. We know that. I always eat the last of the oranges as we're approaching the border station. But this time, they confiscated our 2 tomatoes and 1 gorgeous pepper. The list they gave us of what's on the prohibited list says those are both verboten these days unless they are cut up. Wha..? So, if you cut them up all the badness oozes out and then they're OK to bring in? I don't get it, but then by the time we come across again, it will all have changed. Check the website.
2. Coffee. Again, not per se, but I freely admit that I am a Coffee Bigot. I like my coffee, how it tastes, how strong it is, how it's just the right blend of caf and no-caf, how it's sweetened with yummy Katepwa honey. No road coffee even approaches that standard. I'm learning how to just treat it as a different drink, something to warm me up, but not necessarily something for which I'd walk a mile or swap the heart of my first-born. (Just a figure of speech).
3. Boredom. There are only so many books I can read, times I can pet Uilleam, naps I can take, food I can consume (yes, even that). And on many days, there are no clouds worth watching.
4. Canada geese. We saw thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, as we drove along still-open waterways. They get into the fields and strip them bare. They give all of us a bad name. There are so many of them, they've added a whole new dimension to the phrase "Loosey goosey". 'Nuf said.

So, four in each category. It's always good when the debits and credits even out.

The kindness of strangers

Everything was going swimmingly, so to speak. We left Lumsden at 9:02 Tuesday morning, a mere two minutes after the scheduled departure; the weather co-operated all the way to Hardin, MT, raining but not snowing or, worse, sleeting and freezing; although Uilleam assumed the Anxious Position as soon as we were going more than 60 kph, he was relatively calm and did not require being wrestled into the back seat even once; And, we got in with time to spare before expiring of hunger.

After an interesting dinner, a reasonable night's sleep and a decent brekkie, we headed to our second port of call, Fort Collins, CO. About 5 miles/8 km. down the road:

Mr. T: I wonder what would cause the battery warning light to come on all of a sudden? Can you just check the manual and see what it says?

Moi: It says CHECK THIS OUT RIGHT AWAY!!! DO NOT DELAY!! YOU MAY EXPERIENCE VERY, VERY UNDESIRABLE CONSEQUENCES IF YOU DO NOT HEED OUR ADVICE.

Mr. T: Oh. Well, it's probably the alternator. We should turn everything off. See if the manual tells how to turn of the daytime running lights, OK?

Moi: (to myself: Turn off the heat? It's -10. Celsius.) OK.

About 10 miles further down the road, we're passing through a very beautiful part of Montana which, by comparison, makes rural Saskatchewan look dangerously overpopulated.

Mr. T: Uh oh. We're in trouble now.

Moi (squeakily) Really? What seems to be the, um, problem?

Mr. T: Well, all the gauges just reset themselves to zero.

Moi: Oh?

Mr. T: Yeah. And we're kinda losing power. Is there anything before we get to Sheridan?

Moi: Um, there's one place, Lodge Grass. Looks small, though.

We gritted our teeth and hoped for the best. The sign on the off-ramp indicated 1 available service, a gas station. Lucky us, non? We coasted into the Farmers Union Gas Co. and Mr. T duly went inside to see if there was any help to be had.

What followed was an exercise in patience and generosity as staff made calls on our behalf to determine how best to proceed (and where), offered us tea and coffee and reassured us this had happened before and, really, there was nothing to worry about. A few hours later, after much entertaining and educational chit chat with both them and some of the locals, Jay of Ed's Towing in Sheridan appeared to spirit us all, accompanied by several Partons of country music, to Sheridan Motors for repairs. For their part, SM put us at the top of the list and the van was pronounced road-worthy once again late in the afternoon.

I realized when I set out to walk the dog that I'd left my gloves in the tow truck. Sad, that, but in the overall context, not such a big deal. We called the towing company in the morning, in case Jay had by chance noticed them and turned them in to some Lost & Found, somewhere. To our surprise, Jay himself was in the office at the time and said, Yes, of course he'd go and check it out. He called back a few minutes later to say he'd found them and perhaps we'd like him to deliver them to us at our motel?

And for the nth time in a couple of days, we were, like Blanche DuBois, grateful for the kindness of strangers.