Diane and I are preparing to leave Roosevelt Lake...very reluctantly, actually. Our months here have been delightful, even more so than we originally thought they would be. They’ve also been marked by momentous events such as the Covid-19 pandemic. Who knew that this camp hosting job in Arizona would place us in the what is probably the safest spot possible to ride out the storm of the virus’ spread. Since March 21st this campground has been shuttered leaving us not only safe from interaction with folks possibly infected, but giving us the total freedom of an entire developed campground to ourselves. What a marvelous gift to be able to spend evenings staring at the stars, counting satellites, oohing and aahing at shooting stars, and contemplating any number of galactic subjects while desert and lake that surround us come alive with the newly unhindered croaks and cries of reptiles, night birds, and furry predators. Often, we visit our very good friends, Dusty and Cindy, over at their place at the Horse Camp. We sort of trade off on making dinner for each other. We social-distance while we laugh and tell stories and enjoy each other’s company over hearty meals. Having such good friends close by is such a blessing. We love these folks. And to think we just met about a year ago in California.
The fishing has been spectacular. Sometimes we jump in our kayaks and paddle deeply into the flooded coves and hunt the largemouth bass. Sometimes we just sit on the little dock by the boat ramp and drown worms, pulling out catfish. Our evening diet has been augmented with a lot of fish this Spring. Every single day Diane and I look at each other and just marvel at how fortunate we have been. We don’t take it for granted...we are so thankful for it all. THIS, is why we chose to chuck it all and hit the road 2 years ago. And through all this traveling and living closely together, Diane and I have perhaps never been closer in our relationship.
Even the workload has been easier without the campers, though with all the rain of this Spring, the weeds have been knee high and really hard to knock down even with the weed whacker. I have to throw it at the weeds like a proverbial sling blade. It typically takes me an hour or so to clean one campsite. I have worn out 4 heads on the weed whacker...just worn them down to the point where they no longer function. The Forest Service dutifully keeps me fortified with replacements. We’re nearly ready for the re-opening of the campground this Friday. There is not one speck of litter anywhere in the 4 loops that comprise the area. Not so much as a tab top or a bread tie. The bathrooms are clean and sanitized. The place is truly in ship shape and we expect a big pent up demand come this weekend when the gates go down. But, we won’t be here. Colorado state parks are opening up and we have a commitment to camp host at Steamboat Lake State Park that starts this Friday, the 15th of May. We have permission to arrive a little late, but we need to get going no later than the 15th. Nearly all the volunteers have left Tonto Basin campgrounds due to the weather turning hot, hot, hot. We wonder how the Rangers are going to manage the campers with little or no help. We’ve done our best to more than fulfill our volunteer commitments here at Tonto Basin. The Rangers have told us we’ve done mighty good. We’re at the doorstep of our next adventure, and we wonder what the future holds in regards to how the coming months will unfold. Somehow, the world feels as if its on a precipice with this Covid-thing. We hope we have a lifeline.
During our time here we have seen some amazing things. Most of these I have detailed prior to this writing today. However, there are a few items or oddities that I want to mention that you just don’t see everyday. Maybe some who read this are aware of these things I’m about to mention, but they are very new and different to us.
To start with, who knew that the desert, and this is high desert at 2000’ altitude, displays so many different colors? It’s a virtual palette of color from the Creator’s studio. Not only do the rocks and geology of the place feature so many tones and hues, but the flora is amazing. One week, as you gaze at the mountains sides and broad vistas of valleys, everything is painted butter yellow with California Poppies. The next thing you know, a week later, red tones overlay all you can see as Red Broam grass goes to seed. Then, another week, purple highlights the road sides with Lupine madness. During a Winter and Spring such as we’ve seen this year, when rain has been relatively heavy, the mesquite and various cactus varieties are brilliantly green. Lately, all the trees are blooming with flowers. The Palo Verde and Honey Mesquite trees are literally alive with yellows as brilliant as a sunrise. They are alive with something else as well...bees!
Bees are having a heyday here. I was told by the staff biologist that all the bees around here are “Africanized”. That’s right, the kind that kill people by swarming them. On 3 different occasions we’ve had giant swarms of bees fly over us as we’ve been sitting outside our motor home, apparently searching for a new place to build a hive. It’s quite scary. They move swiftly and with purpose. They always seem agitated. Once, as we were driving down the local two-lane Highway 188 we drove right through a swarm by accident. Thank God the windows were closed. We had a new hive built in one of the campsites about a month ago. I was careful not to weed whack too closely to them because the rangers tell me that loud noise excites them and causes them to attack. Strangely, they left a few days ago for parts unknown leaving their honeycomb right out in the open with just a few stragglers hanging around the old hive. That’s fortunate since we’re re-opening in a day or so. Yesterday a ranger told me that several dogs were killed near Phoenix in the “east valley” by African bee swarms. Bees are our friends Diane and I feel. We appreciate what they bring to the party...in addition to honey, and we don’t walk around here in fear of them. We certainly are aware that they are here, though.
Other insects are super-plentiful as well. As evening settles in each evening any and all manner of bug searches out any means of light. Open your door for a split second and gnat-like bugs will literally flow into your home. Drive down the road any day of the week and when you arrive at your destination your vehicle's front end will be covered in squashed bugs. I remember when I was just a tadpole growing up in Webster Groves when we’d go out to the country in the summertime our car would get the same treatment. But I haven’t seen bugs on cars like that for so long. Surely, insects have been diminished in most parts of the country. Here, in the wilderness, they thrive. The variety of them here is amazing, too. For instance, there is the Tarantula Hawk. Just the name should strike fear. This very large flying insect colored blood red and Batman black hunts Tarantulas. Once they subdue one with their poisonous sting they then lay their eggs in them where they develop and feed on the carcass over the length of their “childhood”. Sound like a horror movie? Try getting stung by one...They are said to have the second most painful bite or sting on the planet. They won’t kill you or maim you, but you WILL BE incapacitated for a a few hours. Do you like centipedes? They’re over 5 inches long here. Do you prefer scorpions? NO shortage here. Just get a black light flashlight that they sell in all the stores here and you can count them every night as they show up eerily crawling about in blue luminescence. Diversity of species is not threatened here in the desert. It’s just the opposite. Diversity seems to be rule in Tonto Basin.
One of the delights for us to observe is the mating rituals of the Coots. I’d never seen them before we arrived here. These ducks, (and I’m not sure if they are truly classified as ducks) have hilarious habits that somehow have served their species well. They are plentiful here and seem as happy as any of God’s creatures. They seem just happy to be alive. They are a graceful fowl who appear to be mostly dark colored or black except for their front, which is white. The black extends over the back of their neck and head. Their eyes are piercing red and their bills are ivory colored. They are forever diving under water and popping up here and there where you lest expect them to be.
When two of them first become interested in each other, they paddle along side by side across the lake. Before too long they start bobbing their heads up and down using the full length of their long necks to exaggerate the bobbing moves which are performed not in unison, but in sequence. First one bobs, then the other, in perfect time...as if they were in the throes of call and response gospel singing. If they still like each other after this long dance that can last all afternoon they advance to the next level of courting. This ritual takes real skill. First, they both rise up simultaneously almost totally out of the water with barely a feather’s width distance between them. At once they begin to literally run on the water in perfect tandem while appearing to be standing up washboard straight. It’s as if their feet are pistons in a perfectly tuned Toyota. Here they run like this for 10 to 30 yards where somehow at some mysteriously arrived at moment they both simultaneously dive headfirst into the water where they disappear for 30 or 40 seconds. Then, as if nothing has happened between them, they go off in different directions...at least for a while. We never grow tired of seeing this wild routine of species survival. It’s a good thing I wasn’t judged on my dancing skills, or my ability to walk on water...I’d be single still.
Considering things that fly in addition to the bees in the trees and the coots on the loose we occasionally have the armed forces for entertainment. The first time I saw them here we were mystified. One evening, just at dusk, we looked up and saw black parachutes, barely visible in the dimly lit skies, dropping down into the lake. Not moments later a dark motorized raft shot across the water and began to pick up the parachutists. This was about a half mile out into the lake. I’m not sure if these were Navy Seals, but surely a crack military team was practicing maneuvers. From time to time military helicopters will practice hovering over the water, just a few feet off the surface. They will drop down, hover for a minute or so really close to the water, and then fly off to return once again for more practice. This all began about the time the US was having its close call with Iran and so we considered that these maneuvers were associated with a coming invasion. However, its continued throughout the Spring at irregular intervals so I believe they’re regular training maneuvers. Lately, a large, sleek propeller plane has taken to flying very low over the lake. It’s very quiet and stealthy and definitely military. It has a cargo door in the back that can drop down so that you could loose equipment or men out on parachutes. I figure this is how they get the motorized raft out onto the lake for the parachutists.
Diane and I were fishing one night on the dock late. I just happened to look over my shoulder and not an eighth of a mile away 75 feet of so over our heads came this plane swooping right at us. I turned my flashlight on it and it was so close that I lit up its fuselage as it passed over our heads. It was one of those rare moments in life when you are exhilarated and frightened at the same time. I love that feeling. Lately, this plane has been doing the same thing during daylight hours. We wave and flash the thumbs up sign in salute. We can clearly see the pilots. They don’t wave back. They’re very focused.
And then, there’s even more from the “things that fly” section of our experiences here in the Arizona desert. One night as I was taking the trash out I saw something I’ve never seen before. As I looked up, and this was around 8:30pm AZ time, I saw 4 satellites running in a row, as if they were flying in single file. They were fairly evenly spaced apart. I ran and got Diane so she could see them. Then, more kept coming, one at a time, about every minute or so. They all came from just east of the constellation Orion and flew “through” the Big Dipper. As each one passed through the Big Dipper their light would fade away to nothing. I guess their reflection was out of my line of sight at that point. 15 minutes or so after it began I had counted 18 of them. All of them flying in the same direction give or take a degree or so, all passing through the Big Dipper from my line of sight.
While this was going on I saw numerous shooting stars. Some had trails and some were like a quick flash with no movement. That 15 minutes of sky watching was the weirdest, most amazing night sky scene I’ve ever witnessed. I found out the next morning that there was a meteor shower that night... with no moon to boot. But, I had no idea about the apparent satellites I saw... if that’s what they were. They weren’t planes. No blinking lights, just the classic look and straight line projection of satellites. I’m glad Diane saw them, too. At the time I thought, “Who’s going to believe this one?”
As it turns out it is a project from Space-X. I’m still not sure what their purpose is up there flying so high but it’s gotta be a feat to get so many satellites up in the sky in a row. It reminds me of a time when I was a kid and Russia launched the world’s first satellite, Sputnik. I remember everyone being excited and frightened at the same time, as I was when that plane flew so low over Diane and me that night on the dock. Here was our enemy, Russia, launching a satellite into space right over our heads. Were they watching us? Was it armed with a bomb? What were they, (the Russians) going to do next? How did they do this and beat us to the punch? The first time it flew over my whole family went outside on the front porch to search the evening skies for it flying over. Everyone in the neighborhood was outside on their porches and out in the street creasing their necks and pointing this way and that. At that time you could see lots of stars in our town, Webster Groves. The suburban lights had not yet blotted out the natural night sky so much as they do now.
Finally, my dad yells out, “Here she comes!” Sure enough, one lonely little speck of light was traveling southwest to northeast over the dome of the night sky. No one had ever seen anything like it. Sputnik! Even the name was foreign-sounding. What did it mean? Better yet, what was the real meaning of this new space venture? We all knew we were on the cusp of a great revolution in technology, but really, we had no idea of what was to come.