Said my brother-in-law Brian, kidding but sort of serious, after he read my Fig Cordial blog entry. Brian was going to visit us for the long Memorial Day weekend. While he is not a big drinker at all, he is probably my #1 go-to source for information on liquor. Or liqueurs. Or, in my case, cordials. He knows his stuff. So before he arrived, I remembered I had jars of figs and things marinating in vodka in our closet. I asked him to read my blog entry, think about what could be mixed with my fig cordial, bring some mixers with him, and we'd have a taste-testing good time. It just so happens that Jagermeister is one of his favorite sipping drinks. Score!
I knew my fig cordial needed some help. I tasted it weeks ago and my first thought was that I made cough syrup--or something that could be used to possibly make me feel better when I'm sick. Now, that's a pretty low bar for this stuff to jump over. I wasn't impressed, and thought I had basically wasted a gallon of cheap vodka, which is kind of a shame in its own way, and goes to show what I thought of this concoction. But it WAS very pretty--a deep ruby-amber color, and I had hope that we'd find something that would work.
After Brian e-mailed me back with his comparison to Jagermeister, he sent me a couple links to websites listing HUNDREDS of cocktails to make using Jagermeister, as well as the Jagermeister webpage, found here. With those links in hand, plus the Wikipedia page, I find out that he's pretty dang close. I didn't crack the nut that is the secret combination of 56 herbs and spices that makes the true Jagermeister, but it rings true--especially the commonality that I made a product that some people will hate, and others will love--just like Jagermeister.
The real Jagermeister was rolled out to the world, for better or worse, in 1935 by Wilhelm and Curt Mast of Germany. The name, meaning "Master Hunter," was a reflection of Curt's passion for hunting. While Jagermeister's recipe is largely still a secret, several taste-connoisseurs have determined that some of the ingredients include cinnamon, anise, and ginger (all three of which went into my fig cordial), plus things like citrus peel, juniper berries, and ginseng. Another website mentioned cardamom (check!) and possibly vanilla (check!). And, it is truly either loved or despised. I wanted to find ways to make my fig cordial loved.
I read through some of the cocktail recipes. Some were your basic "mix with a bunch of liquors" to come up with something that completely masks all the individual flavors plus ____ (sweet juice goes here; take your pick) that overpowers even THAT.
Some of the comments people added at the end of various websites included vows that Jagermeister cured them of stomach ailments; that they take a shot of the "old Jager" every night to help with indigestion; that when sick, nothing makes them improve better than a cup of black tea, a hit of Jager, and a sugar cube. And maybe there is a nugget of reason there, given ginger (aids nausea, good for digestion) and other supposed ingredients that are antioxidants or anti-inflammatories (cinnamon) it contains.
Suggested mixers included things I wouldn't really be surprised to hear: pineapple, cranberry, and orange juices, vodka (which is already a part of my cordial), Squirt soda, and even cola.
Others were surprising--peppermint schnapps? Kahlua, coffee, cream, and a hit of Jager? Other sweet liqueurs like blackberry schnapps? Jack Daniels, Coke, and Jager? Kool-Aid? What about making a JagerBomb--Jagermeister with Red Bull? Whoa. Even grape soda, mentioned several times. Yes, the grape soda you had when you were a kid--that fizzy, dark purple (I don't even want to know how much dye goes into it) sickly-sweet pop that makes my stomach churn just thinking about it.
So the day Brian showed up, I pawed through my cabinets. I found an old can of pineapple juice, some plain sparkling water that I thought could cut its powerful taste, and we had bought a real pineapple for the weekend, not thinking it'd be a lab rat for soaking in fig cordial. Brian (I knew I picked the right person for this!) showed up with papaya and pineapple schnapps; cherry cola; ginger ale; Squirt; and....one can of the dreaded grape soda. Honestly, I didn't think they still sold this garbage (I never peruse the soda aisle).
Testing one thing and another separately with fig cordial and then mixing one, two, or three things together, we had fun trying things out. At one point, my neighbor and friend Pat came by. She had a totally different set of taste buds than we did, and what was almost bearable to us was unbearable to her. All good--that's what experimenting is for.
Now, the results!
The first mix that I could live with was a blend of papaya and pineapple schnapps, a hit of Jack Daniels, a splash of sparkling water, and fig cordial. I can see your face....please, I know. Stop. It wasn't bad.
Another decent mix was orange juice and fig cordial, straight up. Possibly coming in just by a nose ahead of that was OJ, champagne, and a hit of fig cordial. We decided to have that play on a mimosa the next morning. The thing about OJ and fig cordial--put it in an opaque glass. The thick orange juice combined with the glossy ruby-brown cordial created the unappetizing color known as "mud." You really don't want to see it as it's going down.
Another success? Pineapple chunks marinating in fig cordial.
But what was our favorite? You guessed it---GRAPE SODA!!!! Yuck!!! But yum!!!! It's unbelievable how the two flavors played upon each other to come up with a not-sweet-soda, not-too-herby/spicy drink.
Worst? Fig cordial and ginger ale. We both thought that may be worthy, but...nah. Terrible.
I actually think that I'll like it with hot tea and a sugar cube. I may have to wait until I'm down with a cold to attempt that. Or maybe I'll try it tonight. Who knows. I do know that I'm going to have to swallow a lot of pride if I end up having to buy a six-pack of grape soda. Maybe I know a kid I can pay to walk into Safeway and buy grape soda for me. Regardless, I have enough of the stuff to last. Once the figs and other ingredients were removed, I ended up with about two quarts. Want some?
Several years ago, my husband was browsing the web for something to pop out on the screen as a good birthday present for his wife (me). He found this quaint wooden nest box that had a carved caricature of an old man with a large nose, holding a pair of binoculars. The entry holes for the birds are the man's nostrils. It is very cute, and we hang it on a tree near our back deck every spring.
The box is made for wrens, the entry holes being in the configuration that wrens like (facing horizontally out so they can go up and in). It's been checked out over the years by nuthatches, but there's never been any use of it by any bird--because our yard isn't really good wren habitat. The only time our yard was visited by a house wren (the most common wren species up here), it was a fly-by out front. Hello, no thanks, nothing good here, goodbye.
This is what the box looked like in 2005. 2006. 2007.
2008. 2009. 2010. 2011. 2012. And 2013.
Here is John James Audubon's illustration of a House Wren, note the nest configuration, in an old hat:
Imagine our surprise when, just a couple weeks ago, a male house wren inspected our little man, and decided it was the perfect pad for a mate. We know it was a male, because in House Wren World, males find a nest spot (or a few spots), build the start of a nest (or a few nests), attract a mate, and then SHE gets to choose which nest they'll use. So there was this proud dude, flying inside with sticks and soft stuff, and then perching himself on a nearby branch, busting with pride and singing his wee little heart out. Like this:
Singing singing singing. This would go on for hours, I am not kidding you. He'd move to a different branch, and start over. Hours. It was heartbreaking, like watching Cyrano de Bergerac trying desperately to woo his Roxanne. Wait. Cyrano. Cyr-wren-o.....perfect!!!
After a couple days of this lone, ever more desperate song piercing our souls, I mentioned to Bruce that, you know, Cyrano may not get his Roxanne, considering Roxanne may never come within a half-mile of this property. We could only hope and watch.
Bruce had a lot of chances to watch, too, because he had many, many yard projects going on. When Bruce works in the yard, he pulls out this boombox, tunes into the local oldies radio station, and plays it loud enough to hear it from all over the yard. A week or so ago, I came home from work to find Bruce in the yard, constructing whatever. The boombox was pulled out like normal, but it wasn't on. I talked to him a bit about our day, and inquired "why aren't you listening to the radio?"
With this sheepish voice, he said quietly, "The wren wouldn't be heard by any females...I didn't have the heart to drown him out." (all together now "aaaawwwwwwwwwwwww...").
And that is why I married him.
But back to the story. Cyrano continued to sing, we continued to wait. Day after day.
Today, I went on my morning walk with Carly, and Bruce hung back in the yard to fix, build, or water something. Upon our return, Bruce motioned me over to him. With a twinkle in his eye and barely a smile, he asked "What would be the best news you could possibly hear right now?" I thought a bit, and then it hit me.
Roxanne.
We grinned at each other and cheered. Score one for perseverance. You go, Cyrano.
Over breakfast on the back deck, I saw both Cyrano and Roxanne. One was singing, one was fluffing up the nest--both reminding me that sometimes, it's the little things in life that count, big time.
A rainy day. A bag of figs. What's that spell?
F-I-G
C-O-R-D-I-A-L
Ever go to Costco and buy a big bag of something---anything---that you think you'll like and plow through quickly? And then don't? Bet that never happens and you have no idea what I'm talking about. Yeah, right. Well, I admit, it happened to me. Awhile ago I bought a bag of figs. A big bag. A Costco-sized bag. And, shortly thereafter, I ate maybe three. And they sat on a shelf.
32 oz bag of figs, with an egg for comparison.
Dat's alot of fig
Sometimes things happen, colliding in a perfect cluster, that were just meant to be. Those figs were destined for something greater than an occasional snack. Here's my colliding cluster of events:
1. Tuesday: I gave my second-to-last jar of homemade cherry cordial to a work pal. In doing so, had a conversation about how rare these pie cherry bushes I "borrow" the cherries from actually bear fruit (like maybe every 7 years) and how I need to find other cordial recipes to make instead of depending on our ridiculously windy, cold springs to not freeze during blossom time. Which only happens, like I said, about every 7 years.
2. Friday: I had a gift certificate to our local olive oil/balsamic vinegar shop to spend. The shop owner chatted with me about how great certain flavored balsamic vinegars are as a splash in vodka (my cherry cordial base is vodka). Fig-flavored balsamic vinegar was pointed out, which niggled my brain into thinking about figs and vodka at the same time.
3. Friday: I walked by my bag of figs, lonely on the shelf.
4. Saturday morning (today): I was browsing the web and looked up fig recipes. Most looked too complicated, like I had to cook with them, or what have you. I then stumbled across Fig-Infused Vodka and some associated martini or other drink recipes. Interesting!
5. Saturday morning (today): It started raining, and was predicted to rain all day.
6. Brain: "hmmm...."
I actually prefer cordial rather than a flavored vodka. Mostly because you can make it and it's ready to go. No need to mix it with something else, or shake it with ice, or blah-blah-blah. Pour, sip, and enjoy. Cordial has been sweetened just a bit, where the infused vodka really hasn't. So, like Winnie-the-Pooh, I put my finger to my forehead and thought and thought. I reviewed fig-and-vodka infusion recipes, and came up with my own Fig-Vodka Cordial.
And here we go.
Buy a bunch of vodka. I don't buy the cheapest, but I certainly don't buy the most expensive. Smirnoff was on sale. You'll see I also experimented with brandy. Whoa.
Get, then, if you don't have it in your pantry:
Cardamom (pods were used in all the online recipes, but I couldn't find any in town, so I used seeds, but not powdered)
Whole Vanilla Beans, one bean pod per jar. I was making 6 quart-or-so jars, so I needed that many
Whole Allspice (little balls of scented goodness)
Star Anise (none of the recipes suggested this spice, but I like it, so there)
Chunks of ginger; none of the recipes suggested this either, and I used the round disks of the jelly-like ginger with sugar coating cut into quarters. I like ginger.
Cinnamon Sticks
Sugar, about 1/3 of a cup for each jar, maybe a bit more, and this is optional
Oh yeah, the figs. Mine were dried figs, some recipes used the fresh, some dried...whatever you have, use the bag of figs you bought from Costco that are just sitting there. Frankly, after adding all those other ingredients, I wonder if the figs even matter. Oh well.
Wash well several quart-sized canning jars, or the size you want, and the lids and screw-on bands. For my cordial, since I didn't have the full cardamom pods, the seeds were loose, as were the allspice balls and the star anise. I took some cheesecloth, placed about a tablespoon of each of those three spices in the middle, and tied it up in a ball with cotton yarn, trimming the excess cloth and string off the ball of spices.
Cut the candied ginger into smaller pieces. Slice each vanilla bean in half lengthwise. Trim stem off each fig, and cut fig in half lengthwise.
In each quart jar, place a vanilla bean, a cinnamon stick, a few chunks of the candied ginger, the cheesecloth ball of spices, and ??? figs. I mostly tried to fill up each jar about 1/3 full with everything, so maybe 6-8 or so figs per quart jar I'm guessing (12-16 halves).
Since most of the recipes did NOT include sugar, being meant to just flavor vodka, I tried that with a couple of my jars--no added sugar. In other jars, I added about 1/3-cup sugar. In one jar, I used brandy instead of vodka.
And there they are: fig and spice vodka, fig-and-spice cordial, and fig-and-spice brandy.
With brandy
With vodka
Most recipes online suggested leaving the jars alone for at least a week. Many recommended that you only leave the cardamom pods and cinnamon in the jars for 4 or so days, remove them, and continue to let the figs infuse into the vodka for another week or so, as the cinnamon and cardamom can overpower the gentle taste of figs. When it's ready, strain out all the stuff (pour through a coffee filter a time or two into another jar), and you're good to go.
Fig brandy on the left, and five jars of fig vodka cordial.
Ok, one of the jars is a 2-quart jar.
In a couple weeks, I'll have a taste test and let you know how it goes! In the meantime, check out the web for vodka infusions. Many know of making limoncello (lemons), or using raspberry and other berries, cherries, etc, but did you know you can infuse vodka with basil and cucumber? Rosemary? How about this for a mind-blowing adventure: Skittles (separate the colors!!) and Jolly Rancher candies!! Hmmm....
When you drive north out of our White Mountains home, you decrease in elevation. The ponderosa pine trees disappear, and are replaced with pinyon pines and junipers. And then they, too, disappear, leaving a seemingly desolate landscape of grasslands, rocks, and sky. In January, it's not green like it would be in summer; it's mostly a palette of neutral grays and browns, with the ever-present huge blue sky towering above.
We've had a mild winter, to put it mildly. It's been hovering around the 50's and sunny for the past several weeks. It's a little nerve-wracking to be thoroughly enjoying your dry, sunny, warm winter, though, because every day this weather continues, we know that we are approaching a more and more dangerous fire season come spring. But what can you do? Enjoy it, we say.
So today we decided to take a half-day road trip to the Petrified Forest National Park. The Park is 1.5 hours away from our front door. We packed up a lunch and the dog, and left in the morning. We got to the park shortly after 9:00, and I think we were one of three cars there (all of them had at least one dog with them--good people, no doubt). We pretty much had the place to ourselves, which is an unusual experience in National Park World.
So what is petrified wood? Well, it all started in the Triassic period (largely before dinosaurs roamed in this area, but over time, the Park has seen their share of Jurassic dinosaurs as well), when this area was actually in a different, more tropical location on the planet. Tropical forests covered this landscape, and eventually, these forests were overtaken by silt-laden seas. The mineral content in the water infiltrated the trees, replacing their organic matter with a variety of silica-based compounds. The trees became less tree and more rock. They kept their shape, however, and turned into geologic wonders of rusty-brown, white, purple, olive-green, and black "logs," laying on the ground like fallen giants. Time, weathering, and erosion have left this area strewn with broken petrified logs, rocks, a gravel-like substrate from this petrified wood, and dinosaur bones. It's really an amazing place, and if you're ever in the Holbrook, AZ area, stop by. Especially if it's going to be 50 degrees in January.
We decided to take the Long Logs trail first. The trail leads through one of the highest concentrations of petrified logs, many of them showing their full length--if not whole, then split into lengths but aligned as they fell. The trail eventually led to the "Agate House," an 8-room structure built by the natives who lived in the area around 1000 AD. They build the Agate House from natural block-sized remnants of petrified wood. Since petrified wood is stronger than tempered steel, and only 2 points less than diamonds on the hardness scale, that was about the only size they could manage.
Some photos from the Long Logs / Agate House trail:
Can you believe this color??? Stunning!
After that nice 2-mile walk, it warmed up a bit as we headed to the Crystal Forest stop, and walked around there. Named Crystal Forest due to the higher level of mica and other minerals that were found in logs in this area, these rocks, logs, and substrate glisten in the sun.
Look at the long log on the horizon!
After meandering through the Crystal Forest, we headed back to the south entrance where we began. While Bruce cooked burgers on the grill, I walked the dog through the short trail behind the visitor center. We came back to burgers and 'tater salad.
After that nice lunch and remarking on what a great day this was in just a tiny part of the surreal and sublime landscape that is northern Arizona, we headed home--back to a new appreciation of the live trees that surround us.
You know, a picture of the azure-blue waters of one of the falls on the Havasupai Reservation in Grand Canyon that's in many a calendar or desktop wallpaper? Well, I TOOK THAT PICTURE just a few days ago.
I had an opportunity to join 12 other intrepid, awesome, fun and funny women on a five-day Arizona Women of Adventure group trip to the Havasupai Reservation in Grand Canyon. The logistics in planning the trip were pretty mind-boggling, with two of the women leading the organization of gear and food. Sounds simple, two four-letter words: "gear" and "food." Not quite so, when you're talking hiking in Grand Canyon. I'll get to those details in a bit, but first an overview:
While many people refer to these falls as "Havasu Falls," the entire suite of these blue-green waterfalls is actually part of Cataract Creek, which flows northward from the top of the Coconino Plateau in northern Arizona into eventually the Colorado River, through Grand Canyon. Some folks call this particular blue-green stretch of Cataract Creek "Havasu Creek" and its surrounding area Havasu Canyon, even though it's part of the larger Cataract Canyon region. It took me awhile to figure this all out, and many terms are bandied about that could be confusing. So here is my attempt to boil down the Hav from the Su from the Pai:
Havasu: The name of the canyon and creek where the Havasupai live, part of the larger Cataract Canyon system. Also the name of one of the main falls that attract tourists like me. I'm going to refer to this entire place as Havasu from here on out, but it's really a part of the larger Cataract Canyon ecosystem.
Havasupai: The people of Havasu; means "people of the blue-green waters." Also the reservation and land they call home.
Supai: The village that most of the Havasupai people inhabit, at the near-bottom of Havasu (or Cataract) Creek.
The other falls besides Havasu Falls that people visit include Mooney, New Navajo (Old Navajo flooded out several years ago), and Beaver. Sprinkled in between these main falls are lots of smaller rocky and/or travertine terraces and pools.
The whole kit and caboodle is on the Havasupai Indian Reservation (the light green on the map below). There is a complex web of tribal connections between the Havasupai and other tribes (i.e. neighboring Hualapai) in the region (see Wiki Page), but for the most part, the Havasupai people have lived in Havasu Canyon at least 800 years (some sources state over 1,000).
Maybe they selected that area because after the scrabble down Grand Canyon, they simply decided not to climb back out (something that occurs to everyone who descends it and dreads the knowledge that they have to ascend back up at some point); maybe the unique blue-green water and surrounding area gave them the resources to thrive; or maybe the place was so secluded, difficult to reach, and therefore easy to defend against warring tribes (Yavapai and Southern Paiute to name two). In any case, they picked a nice spot to live and at one point claimed an area about the size of Delaware. After removal of most of their ancestral land by the expanding United States in the 1800's and especially after silver was found in Cataract Canyon (which basically left them with 518 acres), they fought back and won additional acreage in the 1970's, and their reservation now totals about 188,000 acres. Good for them.
About 700 Havasupai people now live in and around their main village of Supai. In Greg Witt's Exploring Havasupai, he reports that the Havasupai language, one of the unique Native American languages still in existence today, was an oral-only language practiced for millenia until it was finally translated into the written word just in the 1970's. In addition, he reports that it is the singular Native American language that is still spoken by all members of that tribe (some languages are only spoken by elders or tribal leaders, or have been lost to younger more U.S.-assimilated people, etc.). Another interesting factoid is that Supai is the only remaining community in the United States that still receives and sends mail via mule train.
Does that help? So when people say they went to "Havasu," let them off the hook. They did, but they also saw so much more.
What makes these falls--and their unique color--anyway? Well, lots of minerals for one, but primarily lime that exudes from springs. Springs feed into this portion of Havasu (Cataract!) Creek that have a high level of lime and calcium. These minerals settle out over time, building up on rocks and forming terraces often called travertine formations. Some of the falls here are born from these travertine formations; other falls are created by your basic rock cliffs.
Tourism is the main form of income for the Havasupai. There are several forms of recreation that one can undertake on the Havasupai Reservation, including river raft trips on the Colorado River, but the main attraction are the series of falls, pools, and trails that invite campers, hikers, and swimmers. The Havasupai have turned accessing this area into quite the art form--one can hike an 8-mile trail down Grand Canyon to the village of Supai, and then veer off 3 more miles to a campground equipped with picnic tables and compost toilets, or stay at Havasupai Lodge in Supai itself. Instead of hiking, one can also ride down (and back) on horseback or fly down (and back) via helicopter. For those that want to hike and camp, but may not find the idea of backpacking a bunch of gear back UP the canyon, there are horses available to haul your gear, food, and other supplies, while you conveniently waltz down the trail with water, snacks, and a camera. That's what we did.
Horses and mules have the right-of-way, watch out! Check out
the video below to see how these horses move---
The whole experience of using horses to haul your gear is well-orchestrated by the Havasupai people. The one thing that drove our leader Sara nuts (well, I'm quite certain a number of things made her pull her hair out, but this one in particular) was that you have to wait until the day before you want to hike down to reserve your horse(s). Did I mention that sometimes they don't answer the phone when you call during stated business hours? And that we were on the road driving to Peach Springs the day before our hike down? Yes. Fun stuff, trying to confirm that we would either succeed in obtaining horses to haul our gear, or that we'd be carrying huge duffle bags down a long, dry trail.
Each horse can carry up to 130 pounds. For the 13 of us, we reserved three horses. One was solely for the cooking gear and food. Two were for us. Do the math, and you see that we each can carry only 20 pounds--that's for everything; our individual tents, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, camp chair, personal items and sundries, and for me, my critical supply of knitting and crochet projects. It adds up quickly, and you find yourself tossing out more things from your tiny little duffle bag than what goes in.
All our stuff that's in our smaller duffle bags has to then be shoved into larger Army-style duffle bags. Each horse carries four large duffle bags. So the 13 of us had 8 large duffle bags to split between us. The bags then must be weighed, and the weights and name of our party leader has to be written on duct tape, which is tacked to the side of each bag.
What a fiesta it is to stuff and weigh our bags! Most of us drove from the White Mountains (two of us, Petra and Amy, came from Yuma) the day before our hike down and we all met at Hualapai Lodge in Peach Springs. A new and nice hotel, Hualapai Lodge was comfortable and clean. After noshing on snacks and wine, we trooped out to the parking lot to figure out the duffle bag situation. Probably an hour-and-a-half later, we proudly had 8 duffle bags ready to go, with our Yuma contingent also preparing the four food containers for that 3rd horse.
The first morning of the trip dawned early--we took our last real shower for the next 4 days, crammed into two cars full of duffle bags, and drove the 60 miles to the Hualapai Hilltop trailhead, where the Havasupai folks planted their horse corral, a large parking lot, and a bathroom. Since the campground at the bottom of the canyon is first-come/first-serve, our intrepid two-person Yuma contingent had left the hotel even earlier than us, dropped off their food bags at the corral, and started down the trail at first light to snag the best campsite available for our larger party. None of us had even met Petra and Amy before (!), but since the moment Petra offered to organize the food and leave in the dark to get us the best campsite, we knew we'd love them immediately. We did. Like the angels, Petra and Amy were. Food and a great campsite magically appeared. We truly appreciated it, too--we know how much thought went into preparing the quantities and menu for 13 people for four days. Wow.
8 of our duffles ready to be packed onto horses
We dropped off our duffles and headed down the trail. The first 1.5 miles is the steepest, traversing in switchbacks down about 1,500 feet in elevation loss. Walking poles helped the knees contend with the jumble of rocks and dusty sand. After that first leg, the trail evened out and became a slow descent along a gravelly, sandy stream bed. It was actually very nice, but no one can get away with the niggling thought that with every step down, there is the inevitable step back up when you hike out. So your mind took in the knowledge that shuffling UP a gravelly, sandy bed about 9-10 miles, no matter how slight the incline, will be slightly different than the skip down.
Here we go! Missing Petra and Amy,
who started out earlier than we did
View from below the first steep descent, looking
towards Havasu/Cataract canyon
A part of the hike
A cottonwood! Must be getting close to water!!!
We reached the village of Supai in the early afternoon, had a snack, looked around, and watched their helicopter lift off and return time and time again, hauling people and things up and back. While a 'copter ride would be pretty cool, we were all glad we chose the more challenging hiking route, as it was a lovely trek. We noticed the two rock sentinels above the village, that are culturally significant as they are guardians of the Havasupai people.
Sentinels guarding the village of Supai
One of the many flights this helicopter took that day
We walked the last three miles along a sandy path to get to the campground, passing by two of the four most famous falls, New Navajo and Havasu. Arriving at camp, we found Petra and Amy, marveled at their excellent choice in camp sites, and waited for our bags to show up, which they finally did in the late afternoon. Everyone became as busy as bees, setting up tarps, tents, bags, food, and whatever was needed to be comfortable and ready for happy hour and dinner. Getting to know each other that first night was a treat, we were all pleased that everyone made it down with no mishaps.
When darkness fell (and it gets really dark, let me tell you), Sara pulled out a blacklight to look for scorpions creeping along the canyon wall (why do we do this to ourselves?); they light up like nobody's business under a blacklight, with a number of them curiously close to Petra's and Amy's tents, who were obviously not in the car when Sara was describing how scorpions really take to canyon walls at night time. Thus, Julie and I mindfully put our tent about as far away from the canyon wall as we could.
Stolen from Google images, but this is
pretty much what we saw, numerous times.
Anyway, we also got the scoop on the next day's hike from Sara. Monday was our first full day at the creek, and the plan was to hike the 3+ miles to Beaver Falls, via Mooney Falls. So in effect, we'd see the other two sets of falls that are the most notable along the creek. Mooney Falls is just at the lower end of the campground, and Beaver Falls is 3 miles past Mooney. No problem, thought ignorant me. Three miles is barely my morning walk--we'd be at Beaver in what, an hour? Can't wait.
We started the morning with a wonderful Yoga routine that stretched us out and helped us greet the sun, led by one of the two Julies in the group. Julie, my neighbor and dear friend, who loves my dog almost more than she loves me (and that's OK!), is my yoga mentor--she always picks the perfect routine to do for the situation before us. Stretching out our "downhill" muscles after the first day's hike, we were off to Mooney Falls.
We get to the overlook, it's amazing, lovely, and all that you think one of these falls would be. If this were in a National Park (which it certainly could be) and managed by our federal government, there would probably be an iron wall holding people back from the edge. Here in HavasuLand? No bars preventing idiots from falling over, just a hand-painted sign:
Mooney Falls from the top
But to get to the bottom was confusing. We saw no trail, just a cliff face. Oh...there goes Sara (this is her 7th Havasu trip) through a hole in the rock. OK, this'll be fun. Through the hole, down a chute of slippery rock with rebar handles and chains to help you belay yourself down. Then a tiny little rock ledge to stand on as you peer around to the next challenge--a set of three ladders going straight down the face of the cliff. What the ?????? Really? Yup.
Climbing down, precariously and cautiously:
The bottom of Mooney Falls:
After a short stop, we continued on the 3-mile trail that went to Beaver Falls. It took us at least 2 hours. I was spent. A couple of creek crossings, wet shoes and feet, rocky trails, steep ups and downs, and then the last part, another Mooney-esque blind descent that tried all of our leg, arm, and core muscles just to hang on. But we did it, landing at Beaver Falls for an hour or two of swimming and lazing about.
I don't have alot of pics of this descent, I was
a bit concerned for my life.
Back up, pulling ourselves up these ropes and steps, in some cases limping along the trail as we returned, tired but happy, to camp. What a lovely, memorable day!!! All of us practically begged Julie to be sure and take us through a few yoga stretches the next morning, we knew we'd need something to uncramp the uphill, downhill, and climbing (= all of them) muscles in our bodies.
Our second full day was a day of rest. Perfect schedule, thanks to Sara. There's no way we'd want to hike back out that day, so having an extra day to pick a falls, lounge around, wash body and hair, take a nap in a hammock (some people take knitting, others take hammocks...), and just let our bones and muscles rest, was exactly what we wanted. I finished crocheting a hat I was working on for Sara.
"New" Navajo Falls
The winebox was pulled out, drinks were served, and we all gathered around to talk about the day. The company was excellent, I played Spades for the first time in years, and casual conversation abounded.
The next morning, it was time to pack up and head on out (or, up). The 5 a.m. call sounded, we stumbled around in the dark packing up those 12 duffle bags and trying to squeeze in coffee and eat a muffin-and-Ibuprofen breakfast. The bags were dropped off at the horse corral and we were off by 6:45. Over the next several hours, we walked and walked, and walked some more.
And, we did it. All of us. Made it to the top! Holy smokes, it was windy at the top, too. As much as we wanted to just sag into our cars and take off, we had to manage those dang duffle bags. Take things out, move things around, make sure Yuma people got their Yuma stuff, and pack up the external luggage rack, etc etc while we were eating dust and sand from the wind. Finally, we drove off, hitting Seligman on Old Route 66 around 3:30 to have a late lunch/early dinner, and for many of us, a cocktail, at the Roadkill Cafe. Yes, there is such a thing.
Burma-Shave signs still exist along Route 66!!!
At the Roadkill, we had to reluctantly say goodbye to Amy and Petra. When you spend 24 hours a day with a group of people, it's so hard to disband the group. There's this psychological bond that forms, and to tear off two of our 13 limbs was very sad. We know we have found new friends in Petra and Amy, and we'll see them again (hey, Petra was my winning Spades partner, we have to maintain our championship!), but it was sad nonetheless.
Dark came quickly along I-40, as we drove past Flagstaff, Winslow, and Holbrook, finally making it to Show Low, where there was this melee of people scrambling to get all their stuff, hugs abounded, goodbyes were said, and promises to get together again soon were made.
Yoga Julie asked each of us in her car what our three favorite things about the trip were. It's really telling that the first thing on nearly everyone's mind was the company, the friendship, the camaraderie--NOT the fact we were in this fantastic, scenic, surreal landscape that escapes words. That comes along eventually, as Havasu is on nearly all of our "bucket lists," and yes, we were awed by the grandeur and beauty--but it was the people we were with, the experiences we shared, and the bonds that we formed that really made the trip worth the price of a few sore muscles, some cut-up shins, and a couple of banged-up toes. To the People of the Blue-Green Waters, we thank you for sharing your home and environment with us; it was the perfect surrounding for what was ultimately a gathering of spirits and souls that will never be forgotten. Thank you, too, the Adventurous Women of Arizona: Amy, Ann, Cher, Deb, Janet, Janet, Julie, Julie (yes...two of each), Petra, Sara, Teri, and Theresa, here's to you and to making this trip the best it could be!!!
The trip begins: What the H*** are we doing, who
are these people??
The trip begins #2: Group shot "pre-hike" in Show Low.
OK, we're happy but no hugs yet---
