Lessons unlearned from...

The Hohokam. 

 

Long before White Folks discovered the Valley of the Sun, known today as Phoenix, the Hohokam resided there. 

The former occupants built elaborate canal systems throughout the Gila and Salt River bottom lands. At one time, they had 100,000 acres of irrigated farmland under cultivation. The longest canal was 20 miles long. In total, there was 1,000 miles of man made waterways coursing through the lowlands. 

I'd like to think of the Hohokam as the early day Bureau of Reclamation. 

The Hohokams occupied the area from 600 to 1450. Then the Hohokam went missing. 

The modern Pima Indians provided the White Folks with their name. Hohokam loosely translates to "all used up" and "gone." 

What happened to these Busy Beavers?

Many Eggheads provided us with many theories. Here's a plausible one. As the Native population swelled, more canals were required. This meant more maintenance and water requirements. Then the droughts came. Foodstuffs and cotton were harder to grow. Great floods followed destroying the watery infrastructure. The Hohokam evaporated away to greener pastures. 

Now Metro Phoenix fills the void. The city's name came from an Englishman in the 1860's " A new city will spring phoenix-like upon the ruins of a former civilization." True! 

Now there are canals running to and fro across the valley. Water is pumped up and over from the far away Colorado River to fill the CAP (Central Arizona Project) waterways. It's an engineering marvel and the possible high point of Floyd Dominy and his Bureau of Reclamation. 

The whole premise of Phoenix is built upon a house of cards. How can an Metro area of 4.2 million people get by on 8 inches of precipitation per year? The answer is not likely without the infusion of Colorado River water. The Gila and Salt Rivers do not pass beyond the city. Every drop of water is sucked up. What once were river beds are now relegated for flood control. Where there were once perennial streams are now dried up and dusty repositories for tires, shopping carts and other detritus of modern man. 

Yet, the subdivisions keep springing up. The golf courses, palm and orange trees, water features, hay fields and Kentucky Blue Grass are still in use. 

No one seems to pay attention to the inevitable. The Colorado River is used up. All of it. One day, there will be a price to pay for Man's Hubris. Hohokam history will repeat itself. 

Please read Maxina Lewis' quote from the last photo. From the mouths of babes comes wisdom. 

Please use water wisely. It's a gift. (It's a necessary ingredient of IPA's too)

Cheers,

Jeff

A Rare Political Blog...

By the Wandering, Wondering Jew.  

In lieu of Trump's Super Tuesday's triumph, I had to come out and write something.

I've heard rumors of a minority of Chosen Ones who are throwing their support behind The Donald. 

OY! This is the moral equivalent of Hebrews handing stones to the Nazi mobs on Kristallnacht. 

No Bueno! Don't do that!

This man is a Hate Monger. He would be a poor leader for the people who introduced the world to the common sense rules of the Ten Commandments. 

Trump's ideas don't  represent the honorable and noble values of America either. 

We are, and always have been a great country. 

I give thanks each and everyday that Austrian born Clara Sambur gave birth to me in Bronx Community Hospital. I'm proud to be an American. 

Politics 101 is now no longer in session. 

Vote responsibly,

Cheers! 

Jeff 

Whatever happened to the Republican Party of Lincoln, Jacob Javits, Nelson Rockefeller and Theodore Roosevelt? 

It was a Great...

Roll, and I wish I could still be out in our National Parks.

However, Cactus League Baseball (and a rental casita) beckoned me back toward Phoenix. 

I completed my lap of the sandy South West in Joshua Tree National Park. It used to be just me and the rock climbers who visited the helter skelter boulder fields. Now everyday American citizens and people from other places are drawn to its subtle beauty. There's even Boy Scout Troops on merit badge missions.

I always envisioned the terrain to be the playing field of Giants engaged in a contest of "Stack 'em High." I'll admit I moved a couple of large stones around to improve the overall Feng Shui of some random piles. No biggie. A good upper body workout. That's how I roll.

In retrospect, I would rather be in a campsite than a casita. Baseball could have waited a few more days. 

This was a lot better trip than Texas in the Spring of 2015. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/03/big-bend-epiphany.html

I still have heaps to learn in retirement. Good thing work doesn't interfere with my class time. 

Cheers from Litchfield Park, AZ.

That's a Happy Hour story too. Like I said, still learning.

Jeff

While Death Valley is cerebral...

the Mojave National Preserve is in-your-face blue collar. It's gritty, stark and there's not a lot of amenities. (No hotels, no gas and no stores.) 

I'd guess there's more cattle roaming in the Preserve than people. I was OK with that. I  just had to watch where I was stepping. 

There's 1.6 million acres to explore. It's a land of abandoned mines, four wheel drive roads, lonely mountain ranges, compelling mesas and a campground where the residents almost whisper. It's that quiet. I really liked that part of the Mojave. 

Outside the Preserve but still within the Mojave Desert lies remnants of America's Mother Road-Route 66. 

One day I purchased a night's worth of firewood in Fenner, California. The gas station/convenience store was all that remained of the town. They were cashing in on their Route 66 notoriety. That wood set me back $18. I guess you can say I have money to burn. 

Along Route 66 in Amboy, California the school sits vacant behind a chain link fence. There's no teachers to say "class is now in session." There's no fidgeting students either. Roy's is the only business. I think they sell gas. The cabins were bare shells. 

Now there seems to be more Europeans and Asians who follow what's left of the Mother Road than Americans.

I wonder if those foreign tourists ever think about those Okie Dust Bowl refugees who once took that road to the Promised Land of California only to to find it wasn't so milk and honey after all. John Steinbeck immortalized their plight in the "Grapes of Wrath." It's the Route's sad legacy. 

I'm now in Joshua Tree National Park. It's not quiet, in fact it's kind of nuts. I'll visit a quieter part today. I hope most of the visitors go back to work on Monday. (Those poor snooks). I want the Park to myself. 

OK. I'll share it with a few of you.

Keep following me along!

Cheers with a coffee,

Jeff

Have I got a deal for...

You.

For a mere $5,000,000 (chump change for The Donald) you can own your own unincorporated town in California. 

Nipton comes with 80 acres of prime Mojave Desert real estate. You are not just buying sand and mesquite bushes. No Sir or Madame. This giveaway sales price includes the famous Nipton Hotel. 

But wait! There's more! The present owners are so swell, they will pitch in the Whistle Stop Cafe, the Nipton Trading Post and my temporary residence-the Nipton RV Park all for the same low price. Such a deal! 

So what if the campgrounds rest rooms has dirt floors? The local cats have discovered this substrate makes an excellent litter box as well. It's these simple touches that enhances the overall wilderness experience of being in the high desert. 

The asking price doesn't include the six residents who call the zip code 92364 home. You might have to deal with them on a one on one basis. As the saying goes, "Everyone can be bought." You can always go across the border to Nevada to purchase a pound of flesh. (Legalized prostitution.) 

It's a quiet town. The only traffic is the Union Pacific trains that toot their way through every so often. The railroad tracks are so close to my Van, I can practically hand the engineer an IPA as they head to who-knows-where. (Maybe Salt Lake City to Los Angeles and visa versa?)

Yet, the moon is rising and the stars are shining. It's all good in Nipton, California.

Good night from RV site # 4,

Jeff

Parting is such...

Sweet sorrow. 

With an end of game full moon silhouetting Death Valley and it's Super Bloom, it's time for me to get along Little Barley. 

I spent my time in this vast park hiking to places where a twisted knee would allow me to get to. http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/02/as-i-was-falling-over-backwards.html

There's just a few real trails, so I was pretty limited. Fortunately, flowers don't mind being neighbors with paved or dirt roads. I scored many oh-ah moments just the same. I just wish I could have seen and done more.

I'll make up for this the next time I venture this way. There will definitely be a next time.

Today, I'll be heading to Nipton, California. A place famous for not much. The town (if you can call a hotel, general store and campground a zip code) prides itself as a place of sloth. I plan on icing my knee, resting it and looking out into the Mojave Desert void.

I read about Nipton in the now defunct National Geographic Adventure magazine. Maybe that's why the monthly tabloid died a sudden death. They gave too many Nipton-like recommendations. 

There will be a full report with photos ASAP. 

Wish me luck on the knee. I won't be doing much wandering or wondering if I need a surgery.

Cheers,

Jeff 

 

Sometimes it's best...

To let the pictures do the talking. 

While I was hanging out at an scenic overlook, a woman opined "Well, now it's all about the flowers."  

I beg to differ. Its about the vastness, the wildness, the extremes, the sunrises and sunsets and cool stuff in between.

The more time I spend in Death Valley National Park the more enamored I become to the place. If this park were a woman, I would ponder matrimony. It's that good.

A full moon good night from Death Valley,

Jeff

How do you like that selfie?