I’m going to start this post at the end, then go back to the beginning, back to the end, and then back to the beginning of this day trip. I know, I know, just work with me here.

Tonight was the first night in a long time I had a chance to have a fire. Everywhere I’ve been for quite awhile there’s been open fire bans. I still have the very last of the wood I bought from Earl. Remember Earl?

This morning these words were in Jesus Calling for today.

Pause before responding to people or situations, giving My Spirit space to act through you.

Back to my stare down with the fire. Somehow these words seem to fit the day, but I was unable to identify exactly why that seemed so. Maybe it’s just because they fit so well with every day.

I thought a lot about Reservations as I know them. In my younger days I knew Native Americans from the Cass Lake and Red Lake Reservations. I thought about casinos and my own perceived good and bad about them. I feel conflicted. My conservative friends would role their eyes, but the part of me that craves social justice on all levels was rekindling guilt. Not just the guilt about the historical treatment of Native Americans, but even more aggravating, the guilt that I have these feelings just because it’s been right in front of me for a couple of days. The Scouts that worked for the army and tracked Geronimo, believing that things would be better when the war between the Apaches and the army ended, took the screwing of all time. Once Geronimo came in they were disarmed, detained, and shipped in the same trains that Geronimo and his people rode when banished to Oklahoma and Florida.

The army came to Ft. Apache to kill Indians but instead they came to the village of White River and found people waving white flags and welcoming them. It didn’t last.

Today, White River is a sleepy little reservation town. It’s claim to fame is it’s proximity to Ft. Apache. As I was rolling through town I spotted a mass of cars parked down one of the side streets. The curious wanderer stopped to see what all the fuss was about. Turns out it was a neighborhood yard sale turned political rally. It’s election time for Tribal Council positions. There was a young man standing on a picnic table with a small PA unit and a mike. Couldn’t follow all of his references but the gist of what he was saying seemed to be Pride without Action is meaningless. Hmm, sounds vaguely like the faith without works challenge.

To be sure, there are homesteads that probably fulfill all of the stereotypes people have of the way some of today’s Native Americans live. But there is evidence of the good that comes from casino money.

There are new, low-income homes that are administered by the White Mountain Apache Housing Authority. They have a modern medical facility and a new, fully equipped fire department. I’m convinced these things don’t happen on the rez without casino money.

I’m not sure I would recommend Ft. Apache as a side trip to the casual traveler. But to anyone who likes history it’s a good diversion. However Rin Tin Tin is not here nor is there any evidence that there was ever a stockade at Fr. Apache. The army just moved into the area en masse and started establishing the buildings that army posts of that era had.

The original quarters of General Crook was one of the few wood structures to survive a fire that swept the north side of the fort in the 1880s. The fire was not the result of an attack but rather a faulty chimney fire swept by high winds. Ironically, the Tribal Cultural Center undertook to restore the building in the 1990s.

The replacement buildings were almost all built with limestone blocks or limestone and stucco. The fort grounds are administered by the local tribe and the original Adjutant’s Office is today a working Post Office.

As the war with the Indians wound down and the army began to abandon the site, Teddy Roosevelt established a school for Indian Children. Many of the original children were Navajo, but eventually it became a mix of Navajo, Hopi, and Apache.

This boy’s dorm was built in the 1920s. A similar, but not identical, girls dorm is built at the opposite end of the parade grounds. As far away as possible from the boys. 🙂

There were two sites I searched for off the Fort Grounds, the cemetery and an old mill site. I found the cemetery with some difficulty. This cemetery was originally used for soldiers and their family members as well as scouts and their families. After the army abandoned the fort the remains of non Indians were moved to the National Cemetery in Sante Fe, NM. The grave sites of the Indians were undisturbed and some remarked.

This is a photo of what appeared to be the oldest marker in the cemetery. There were no discernable markings on either side. It is the only photo I took. I felt my presence there was disturbance enough of the grounds.  Many of the markers say simply Indian Child, Unknown, or Scout.  One simply said, Teacher.

The old mill site I never found. I remembered from a map of the grounds outside the museum that it was near a ceremonial site, so I didn’t want to wander into a place where my presence might be disrespectful.

This is the disheveled remains of the only identifiable location of the enlisted men’s quarters. Isn’t that just like the army; the officer’s row was rebuilt and preserved while the enlisted quarters slowly go back to mother earth.

The old guard house. This was a long post I know.  I struggled with this one, as evidenced that it was Saturday and I’m finally posting it on Tuesday.  A lot of what I wrote for a couple of days I never used.  But this is what survived.

Incidentally, I was the only white person I saw here all day.  You can’t tell from the photos but when I first got here there were about two hundred little Indian kids running around having an Easter Egg Hunt.  No one seemed to mind my presence.  The kids were a treat and the best place I can think of to end this post.

Today I crossed first the San Carlos Apache Reservation and then the White Mountain Apache Reservation. They are separated by the Salt River and the spectacular Salt River Canyon was the highlight of the trip.

It’s amazing to think about these canyons being formed over thousands of years. I stopped so many times just to take it all in. The alternative being trying to see and drive at the same time. 🙂 I love being in the mountains. These are the Sierra Ancha Range.

I fell in love with the mountains when I lived in Colorado and traveled Colorado, Wyoming, and northern New Mexico. If you’ll allow me just a moment of pure schmaltz, the desire to explore and the feeling of belonging I get in the mountains makes me think I was born about 150 years too late. My favorites are the Big Horns and the Tetons, both in Wyoming.

At the end of the day I landed at the Fool Hollow Lake Recreation Area in Show Low, AZ. Show Low is a mountain town and it reminds me of a slightly larger version of Jackson, Wyoming. It’s the kind of place where you wouldn’t be shocked to spot an Elk right near town. Unlike Jackson, it lacks an old town center, but it just seemed to sprawl out from the intersection of three highways. The newer parts of Show Low are highly gentrified.

The campground is basically right in town. You drive through a neighborhood to find the entrance and then it just opens into a huge park area. It’s very nice here and in the mountains, so, ‘nuff said. It will be nippy at night.

Tomorrow will be a trip down to Historic Fort Apache and then Sunday will be church and a day trip up to the Petrified Forest.

I am well and hope you all are too.

Having left the friendly confines of Casa Weldon, I toured south and east to Tubac, Nogales, Patagonia, and Tombstone. All of which inspired nothing more than a good nap. It started with me waiting in Tubac for about fifty minutes so I could get a few cigars from The Grumpy Gringo Cigar Store when he opened at 10. Of course that turned out to be the morning he wandered into work about 10:30. His Grumpiness wasn’t even apologetic. I doubt I’ll be going back.

So let me say right up front that there won’t be any more cave pictures. But that’s mostly because Kartchner Caverns takes a rather strict approach to cave preservation, as opposed to Carlsbad for example. You literally can only enter the caves with the clothes you are wearing. No cameras, purses, backpacks, cell phones, or anything.

As you enter the caverns you are “misted” to reduce lint and skin cells from sloughing off your body. The only parts of your body allowed to touch anything are your feet on the walkway which is washed down to collection points every night. At Kartchner they are fond of telling you that at Carlsbad Caverns, every year, they have a lint picking project that involves teams of people with black lights and tweezers picking hairs and lint off the rocks along the walkway. They collect about 50 lbs. of lint. The preservation of the delicate cave environments and the minimization of human impact is serious business. The unique formations that you see in caves and the time they take to form are pretty much the same.  The history of the discovery and preservation of the Kartchner caves is really quite moving but is way to long and involved for me to write about.  So, you guessed it, google it if you’re interested.

I have to say the best part of Kartchner Campgrounds was meeting up with my fellow retired Applied Power Products vet Phil and his wife Nancy. They in turn introduced me to some new friends, Mark and Kay, who hail originally from Wisconsin and now live full time “on the road”.

Not surprising, the two couples met at a campground, in southern Texas, and have kept in touch and travel together. Meeting Phil and Nancy was no accident. Phil and I talked about our winter plans in general last summer and have kept in touch. Phil was watching my whereabouts on my blog and when he knew I was getting close emailed me their location plans. It was fun reconnecting, and the five of us shared a traditional St. Patty’s Day meal of corn beef, cabbage, and taters. It was my second one of the week ‘cause I shared the same meal with Ro and Tim before I left. Both were wonderful meals shared with friends. What could be better.

Subtitled; When selfies are good. 🙂

My kids sent me this pic last night while they were gathered in my kitchen.  That’s Tooney (short for Mr. Toontzes) in the middle.  I love you guys to the moon.

…………… is to be truly alive.

There are moments, more and more, when I get a little overwhelmed with this whole experience.  I hate to keep using this analogy but it is the best movie I’ve ever watched.  And I keep thinking that it won’t end with the words “The End”, but rather with, ……. “to be continued”.

I want to thank my good friends Ro and Tim for once again taking such good care of me.  For me, our times together are so precious.  Many of you reading this will remember that I was able to spend many days up north near Crosby at a cabin on Rogers Lake.  It was their cabin and through their generosity and trust became a very special place for me.  My time there with them, and by myself, doesn’t have a word that adequately expresses what a gift that was.  It was a place of peace, rest, and sometimes healing for me.

The cabin now belongs to someone else but the friendship lives on.  And that is the greater gift.

This is another place in the Tucson area that I hope to come back to time and time again.  The first time I was here I took a tour of the place.  This time I came for Mass.  It is a special, holy place and one of the prize works that adorn my walls at home is a sketch my friend Tim did of this Mission.

This site is on the National Historic  Register but is also a working parish serving the Tohono O’ogham Reservation and surrounding area.  It was built in the late 1700s and has undergone a number of restoration phases that are ongoing.  It is one of the oldest parish churches in the US and in it’s history has been a part of both the US and Mexico.

This is the mission school at San Xavier.  It was established in 1864 and since 1940 has been staffed by the Franciscan Sisters of Charity of Manitowoc, Wisconsin.  It serves mostly children from the Tohono O’odham and Pascua Yaqui Tribes.

Although it is perfectly acceptable to take photos inside (not during Mass of course), I have always had a personal difficulty with taking pictures in worship spaces.  It doesn’t bother me at all that others do, it’s just a personal choice for me.

Having said that, walking into this church is like stepping back in time.  Little is known about the workers and artists that created this sanctuary, but the detail of the sculptures, statues, murals, and paintings takes your breath.  When I think about how old it all is, I can hardly get my mind around it.  I encourage you to go online and search San Xavier del Bac to look at some of the images from inside the mission.

Tomorrow (Wednesday), I’m off to explore other parts of Arizona.  I am well and hope you all are too.

I’ve been here many times now. Each time I visit my friends Ro and Tim, my stay always includes a trip up to the swap meet. It doesn’t take much convincing. They like coming here regularly as well.

How do I describe this place? It’s like the largest garage sale you can imagine on dirt. It’s the state fair of used stuff. I won’t use the word junk because for me it somehow feels disrespectful to the fact that for a lot of these people this weekly gathering on Saturday and Sunday is significant to their income. There are no yuppies selling pottery in this place.

My guess is this meet covers somewhere between two and three city blocks. Many of the vendors have “permanent” structures that they sell out of.

But there are as many that come and put out tables covered with tarps. There is lots of food sold both prepared and unprepared. One of my new favorites is bricks of raw coconut. Salsa, nuts, honey, and vegetables are abundant.

The prepared food is mostly Hispanic but with a couple of Thai places thrown in. And it’s all prepared in the old way with the exception that there are no open fires. Eating is one of the reasons I like to go, and of course the people watching. Both are superb. If we didn’t have somewhere else we were going, I’d still be sitting at this place eating their burros.  Carnitas con papas y frijoles, ummm, ummm, ummm.

If you’re ever in Tucson on the weekend, plan a couple of hours in the morning to experience the swap meet. Almost anyone can tell you how to get there. Oh, and my suggestion would be to arrive hungry.

Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument, New Mexico

I guess I feel on some subconscious level that I would always get here someday. I have a photographic poster on my wall entitled Places of Power that was taken at the Gila Cliff Dwellings Caves. I don’t think of it as sacred ground like I do say, Gettysburg or Arlington or Ground Zero. But calling it a place of power is not a mistake. The place has an unusual history and to be in the presence of the evidence that a people seven hundred years ago transformed these caves into dwellings gives it an inspiring aura. It may be the ultimate, early, home improvement.

By entitling this post Worth the Trip 2, I’m once again referring to the time and effort it takes to experience this place. It is forty seven miles north of Silver City. Doesn’t sound too bad but it’s a trip that takes every bit of two hours. It’s the kind of mountain road I’ve come to love.

All things being equal, I would choose to drive it without pulling a trailer, but I was hoping to stay somewhere up near the monument area.

The second part of the trip, the walk up, is not as taxing as Carlsbad but it is a hike that rises 750 feet above the floor of the canyon that is already close to six thousand feet in elevation. It’s the kind of hike that flatlanders feel, but the reward is worth the effort. Bring good shoes and if you like the extra stability of a walking stick you’ll be glad you brought it.

The photo of this tiny waterfall I took mostly to give props to my son who has done a whole shows worth of waterfall photos from Minnesota and New England.  You can see them at blainewilliamvolden.com                                                                                                Click on Projects and then Freshwater.

This is the view across the canyon from the caves.  It is believed the people who lived here were experienced growers and grew corn, squash, and beans up on the mesa.  Although it doesn’t seem far away, a trip down from the caves and back up to the mesa probably took most of a morning.

I made two trips up to the caves, one in the afternoon and the other the next morning.  I wanted to see it and take some pictures in two different light conditions.  By the way, a number of you have asked me about this;  All of my pictures have been taken, and in some cases edited, with my iPhone 5s.

When I got back to camp after an evening of glassing the hillsides for critters, my neighbors were there to greet me.

This was my second visit to this park and, God willing, there will be more. This park is a work in progress and the next project will be a spot specifically honoring servicewomen.

These two photos are from my first visit and they are of a sculpture commemorating the Bataan Death March.

Whenever someone is scrolling through the pictures I have on my phone they always seem to stop a little longer on these.

When I was here last they were busily trying to get ready for the dedication of the Viet Nam Memorial site. They were in the final stages of landscaping the site and mounting the granite panels on which were etched the images of the people from New Mexico who gave “the last full measure” in Viet Nam.

The helicopter that is perched above the wall was added just recently even though it was always a part of the original plan. The site continues to develop as funds are raised.

A couple of personal observation as a Viet Nam Vet; I am personally glad that they chose a Medivac ship, instead of a gunship, to display above the site. I would have loved to be in the room when that discussion took place. I can’t imagine you could talk to anyone who was “on the ground” in Viet Nam that wouldn’t express immense appreciation and respect for the men who flew in these medical helicopters. In addition, I want to say that I’ve been to “The Wall” in DC numerous times on two different trips to that city, and my head and my heart are permanently and emotionally attached to it. I can barely think about it without getting emotional. But having said that, this site in Las Cruces is a work of art as well and invokes in me all of the same feelings.

The people involved in the development of this site deserve tremendous respect and appreciation for their work. And I’m sure it was a difficult labor of love for family members when they were choosing the image of their loved ones to be etched in the granite of the memorial.

There is a panel dedicated to each branch of the service and within those panels are photographs etched in the granite as well as the unit patches that served in Viet Nam.  That’s my sister and I reflected in this panel.

This map is on the ground in the center of the site.  As a fund raiser companies and people can have dedication inscriptions added to one of the bricks.  You can see the upside down helicopter reflected in the granite.

As I wrote earlier in this post, a visit to this park will be a regular part of my visits to this area.  It is a good and hallowed place.

I am relieved to tell you that the report of my friend’s passing was miscommunicated to me.  It was in fact his mother who had passed away, so I owe him both my condolences and my apology for any inconvenience my hasty post may have caused.