We had the sweetest, most humble Christmas. Next to our campsite we had a trail leading to a clearing with wide, open views of the desert. We sat close, watching the sunset around a little fire. It was such a safe, warm feeling to have the entire family together. We sipped rum and chatted deep into the night.

The next day we took a scenic drive back up to Phoenix, stopping at Catalina State Park. The park itself has very few roads—one has to hike to get just about anywhere. We did the Birder’s Loop, crossing over a rocky river-wash with smooth, oval stones.

We stayed back at Lost Dutchman state park campground. Each night we had fires, telling stories we somehow never told each other, playing cards and trying to read the stars. Camping is the only way in society’s large-house, modern lifestyle where we can get really close—without the riff-raff and technology. Its a place where we are able to exhale, to look at eachother, to just talk. It was nice to get back to our roots and be a family for a while.

The next day, we decided to take the same drive we took with Gram on the Apache Trail (the crazy rutted switchbacks). We’d continue on through to the Theodore Roosevelt dam, eighty-six miles from camp. I sat in my roomy leather chair (we rented a big SUV) and watched the scenery rise and fall—the mountains dotted with saguaros, canyons and caves, with the Salt river curving alongside us on the road.

We were nearing the dam when three of us spotted something. It was a tail, long, black and curved, trotting near the side of the road.  Suddenly the car was filled with electricity. Jo pulled over. We climbed down the side of the road and inspected the sand around a culvert where we spotted him, hopping on rocks and craning our necks to see if we he was still around. I found a live trap under some bushes, and eventually Jo spotted some cat-like footprints. But they were small.

The next hour or so proved to be a study in witness recollection. We all thought we saw something completely different. Mom was sure it was a 120 pound jaguar, and I was inclined to believe her. Jo thought it was some strange raccoon. Eventually we agreed that it was most likely a black coati—which is about the size of a large housecat—and we figured Phoenix must be the furthest north it can be found.  The moral of the story is that the justice system can’t be trusted. Oh and coatis are pretty neat.

We spent the next day hiking, preparing ourselves for the Flat Iron. It was a perfect day. Cool breeze and 63 degrees. We took one trail to the left of the mountains, and once again we found ourselves lost. With the goal of getting to the base of the mountains, we climbed up what we thought were trails but were most likely just rocky outlets for water coming down from the mountain. Jo climbed a separate section that jutted out, overlooking the valley. You can see us in the bushes. This was the furthest we could go without having to climb directly up the mountain. It was a little hairy, and coming down I twisted my leg doing a little half-splits, but it was fun.

 

That night we went out to the Mammoth Saloon at Goldfield Ghost Town.

A few days before Jo and dad arrived we spent a slow night at the Saloon, drinking agave margaritas. Next to us were four cowboys, indistinguishable from the western gunshow played out daily in the main drag. These were real people. The man on the end talked precisely like Boomhower with a southern drawl, going on and on about some New Year’s church party the reverend was going to have and how much he was going to drink. When we arrived, they were hammering a pair of boots to the ceiling, next to a hundred or so others hanging down from the eaves. After making small talk for a bit, he mentioned they had thrown their friends’ ashes up on Superstition Mountains the day before. Those must have been his boots.

We came to find out that the dusty, Anthony Hopkins-looking cowboy sitting by Mike was the owner himself. He had a genuine smile, and seemed truly interested in what we had to say. They talked about taking a few bars of gold from Phoenix to Tombstone (about 184 miles) by horseback a few years back. By horseback.  

“I told ‘em if anyone dared to bring the gold back up north by horseback and return it to me there would be a reward. But nobody took me up on it. I guess there ain’t no cowboys in Tombstone these days.”

These guys were the real deal—real whiskey drinkin’ southern boys who wore cowboy hats out of necessity. The owner once brought a bucket of rattlesnakes into the bar to sell to someone. Mom asked the Boomhower character if he was a rancher.

“Naw, I’m just an ‘ol desert rat. They foun’ me by the side of the road and picked me up and I been here ever since.”

The other cowboy was a Civil War re-enactor and he definitely looked the part. He could lose a whole sandwich in his mustache.

Anyway, they offered us a second round, told us the history behind some of the photos on the wall, and then we were off.

We told the story to Dad and Jo while we drank dark beer and listened to the live country music. The Boomhower guy was belly-up to the bar, true to his word.

The next day (after Flat Iron) we decided to give the legs a rest and take the Dolly Steamboat ride. It started in Canyon lake and chugged along through the river, slowing for landmarks, bald eagles and petrified wood, embedded into the cliffs. We sat on the deck with the sun at our backs. It was great to be on the water again—such a different perspective to look up at the cliffs from below, wondering what was swimming underneath. Dad saw the first big horned sheep. He sat up on a high ledge, horns slicked back like a politician, staring idly ahead. We’d pull in close to view a family, and were amazed at their ability to find their way in the chaotic, jagged rock.

It was a fabulous day.

The next night was New Years eve, and we spent it at the Embassy Suites in Phoenix. We sat in the hot tub, and had happy hour at the bar on the top floor overlooking the city. The combination of the two sent us into a heavenly haze, and we were all in bed by nine. We will miss you Jojo, momma, Soph and dad.

XOXO

 

Up next – LA, and randomly getting to be on two tv shows!