Rainy Days and Mondays...

“Rainy days and Mondays…”  A month and a half after what we politely refer to as the “Butcher Jones incident,” I finally was able to sneak away from my lovely bride for a some much needed adventure in the desert. After a too busy week, I am taking advantage of this rainy Saturday to sit at the computer and enter some thoughts and pictures. I suppose later is better than never.


After making sure mama was comfortable with my taking a short respite from my nurse maid duties, I organized my pack, resupplied the used up first aid items, topped off my water and headed to the desert. After a nice 20-minute Sunday afternoon drive, I found myself backing into a parking spot at the Apache Wash Trailhead. Even though it barely skirts the city limits, the Phoenix Sonoran Preserve made for a short, but much needed getaway.


The parking lot was teaming with all the usual suspects. There were families, mountain bikers, grumpy old men and tourists donning their Cubs and Brewer’s paraphernalia sunning their pasty white legs. With warm desert temperatures and cloudless skies, the weather was perfect for a hike. I set my course for the Apache Wash Loop and with a deep breath of desert air, I was off.


Mostly alone, I made my way around the loop looking for wildflowers and whatever epic adventure was waiting around the next bend. With very few flowers and the closest thing to an adventure was the sun getting in my eyes as I headed westward, I made my way toward the trailhead.


I couldn’t in good conscience fully consider this a hike if I did not summit the high point on the trail. It is hardly a peak but for purposes of writer’s embellishment, I tore into the Apache Vista Trail like I was summiting Everest. As I gained in elevation, I was met with dots of color along the trail. The California poppies were beginning to do their thing, which made this old man’s day.



Once I summited, I took in the view as I waited for the summit to be clear so I could experiment with the panorama feature on my phone’s camera.  I made several attempts and two dizzying spins to get a full 360 view of the top of the world. I quickly came to realize I need more practice before I am willing to post a panorama on Facebook (never let them see your bad work). As then sun began to sneak away in the west, I sauntered back to my car and headed for the barn.


I called my lovely bride to check her welfare and let her know I was safe and heading home. She told me she had a good day resting her broken but mending bones on the porch, reading and enjoying the warm desert sun. After the typical bantering of “What do you want for dinner?” followed by the obligatory “I don’t know. What sounds good to you?” We were able to come up with a plan, which required a stop at the grocery store. While walking into the store, a three-year-old boy lost his grip on his balloon. As it drifted heaven ward just beyond his reach, I sprang into action. Like a patriot missile, I sprang skyward with my two- and half-inch vertical leap, snatching the mylar missile out of the certain jaws of death. As I landed, my knee reminded me that gravity is not my friend. Through the grimace of pain, I handed the balloon over to the boy. While too young to be articulate, his mom encouraged him to say something along the lines of “ssannnkuuu.” With a smile and a limp, I disappeared into the anonymity of the cart storage area to start my next adventure. Just sayin’…