Off To New Mexico – Trip 9

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Somewhere off AZ Highway 260 west of Payson, Arizona

Binoculars, check. Telephoto lens for wildlife, check. Hats and sunblock, check. Floors mopped, A/C set, toilet clean, dishes put away, okay then, we are ready to go. With the car packed already, we just needed to set the alarm and hit the road. Drats, we forgot to bring soy milk for our cereal, no big deal; we’ll stop at Safeway in Payson to pick something up. Oops, I forgot a knife for spreading mustard for my sandwiches and peanut butter for Caroline’s; still, no big deal as we can get something at a fast food joint or Starbucks. By now, we’re about 15 miles down the road and just a mile from where we’ll turn east to make our way out of town in earnest when something mysterious out of the universe triggers me to ask about Caroline’s boots. From the whip pan of her head towards me, I know that we don’t have them with us. While she could hike in her sandals, I turned around to head home. By the time we are back on the road, it’s apparent we won’t make it to our hotel in Zuni, New Mexico, by the time their front desk closes, in part because it’s an hour later over there. This delay will also cramp our ability to stop for photos or a proper dinner.

Somewhere on AZ Highway 61 direction St. Johns, Arizona

The next admission is loaded with shame. Knowing we’ll be getting in after 9:00 and that our food choices will be from the menu of nothing, we make two stops, first at McDonald’s in Payson for hors d’oeuvres, and then, 90 minutes later in Show Low, we pulled into Sonic for corndogs. Yeah, we did that. And then we drove, kept on driving, and drove some more. Well, we didn’t actually have to drive all that far, as today’s adventure is a mere 275 miles (444km) from home. but still, it took over 4.5 hours.

Witch Well Store at the intersection of AZ Highways 191 and 61 in Northeast Arizona

We’ve passed this intersection likely more times than most Arizonans ever will; we are at the junction of Arizona state routes 191 and 61, where the Witch Well Store and Tavern has stood for at least as long as we’ve been passing through. It’s the only thing out here for over 20 miles in any direction. Fifteen minutes after turning onto the 61, we are passing into New Mexico, and then just 15 minutes after that, we’ll be pulling up to the Halona Plaza and calling the Inn as we can’t find it in the dark. In a few minutes, we’re being shown our small, on the verge of tiny, room. I have to pop open the windows as things are too warm for me. As I sit down to write this brief post with a minimum of photos documenting the day, I’m surprised how chilly the air is outside here while it starts to dip below 50 degrees (9 Celsius), though the dogs barking in the distance don’t seem phased by lowering temps and they continue to chat amongst themselves, or maybe their barks are trying to ask their owners to bring them into the warmth.

Something Undefined

JWise Thoughts

The Last Humanity by Francois Laruelle

The world is moving sideways for many people over the previous days, weeks, and months as they attempt to reenter what had been their normal, and it’s proving to be elusive. Fears of recession, inflation, war, political divisions, a cryptocurrency rout, starving babies as our country runs out of formula, lack of workers, various food shortages, impossibly expensive vacations, rising interest rates, unaffordable housing, all these things are nagging at Americans’ sense of well being.

Meanwhile, I watch Rome burning while I fiddle on my way into adventures. Am I so aloof as to be above it all? Absolutely not, but two years ago, with the pandemic unfolding, I considered how, after previous encounters with pestilence, the localized world had changed, and COVID was a global phenomenon that promised even greater change. Today, I think we are seeing the effects of a gut punch that is causing nausea within society as it readies itself for the full-on retching that will see humanity disgorge itself of the poison that is man. But you thought I was going to New Mexico, right? Well, all trips away from home have a starting point, and this launch is no different.

I only began with this intrusion after finishing the blog posts from our trip to Bryce two weeks ago. I didn’t feel like finding my way into other posts that might document the intervening time, so my big epiphany had to be alluded to here at the coffee shop prior to our departure later this afternoon. That’s right, you read it correctly: BIG EPIPHANY!

Just a few days ago, I started reading François Laruelle’s The Last Humanity; The New Ecological Science, and not more than a few pages in, I realized that something extraordinarily huge has been occurring. I was trying to interpret Laruelle’s idea of non-philosophy, and for some inexplicable reason, I started thinking about Crass’s 1978 declaration that Punk is Dead, which triggered the thought that Philosophy is Dead. In a flash, philosophy died before my eyes.

At that moment of perceiving this new gravity, I watched a vast philosophical history, while not rendered totally worthless, get moved into the backseat or maybe even the trunk. Holy holy of holies, a new global phenomenon has emerged, and while elements of it have been with us since the late 1800s, though it didn’t really pick up steam until the 1960s, the environment has taken on a new global importance. Stretching further back into history is the world of philosophy, the male universe of thought that, like religion, has various pockets of belief distributed around the globe, but the practitioners are spread far and wide and are, in reality, but a small minority. What is suddenly emergent and a force of such spectacular scope that I’m left with my mouth agape is this new ecological awareness that has captured people’s imagination from around the earth. Ecology and the environment are the new lingua franca of hundreds of millions, if not billions, of people who want to see plastic bags, straws, and single-use plastics go away while clearing the air, protecting sea life, and caring about all this stuff we require to be at home.

Whoah, seriously, stop a second and try to understand the first major intellectual global phenomenon to displace the old guard; the environment of the world we share is about to eclipse the concerns of those who are being pushed to the margin. Business as usual will be a thing of the past, although those who are enriched by the old ways will not go quietly, witness Mr. Putin and his antics.

But wait a minute, it’s Friday, and the beginning of trip number 9 of 2022 that is supposed to bring us to New Mexico for a weekend of hiking; what do global shifts have to do with local travels? A large swath of northern New Mexico is on fire, likely due in part to climate change. Right now, Caroline and I are fortunate enough not to be impacted by the supply of baby formula, the price of gas, inflation, cryptocurrency, a war in Ukraine, or the other ailments affecting the mental well-being of others. Our focus is to enjoy the world around us and take advantage of being out in nature. In just a few hours, we’ll jump into the car, this time armed with our binoculars, a camera lens suited to photographing wildlife, and the other things that will support our adventure of taking in the Zuni Indian reservation along with El Morro and El Malpais National Monuments.

Regarding my epiphany that I touched on here, it is not fully formed or realized yet, but I did feel the need to note that it was just this week that these ideas were dumped into my consciousness. Enough of trying to predict a future based on some anecdotal heavy intellectual musings of whose veracity I’m trying to convince myself. I’ve got lunch I need to make and dishes to clean afterward before we can get underway. The next entry should reflect where we are on the road in this weekend’s journey together.

Zombies

JWise Dreams, Rant

Lady Bug from public domain source

I was woken by a nightmare in which I was trying to escape a lodging/sanatorium situation (think Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain), where I was quickly being consumed into giving up. I was losing sight of the joy I’d experienced being in national parks, walking in places I’d never been before, or having the desire to try new things. The original intent of checking into this living situation was to report on what appeared to be a cult operation, but it quickly became evident that it was simply a government-operated controlled environment where the comfort of conformity was being further engrained amongst those staying here. It didn’t take long to recognize that television was the common denominator, effectively forcing each person to specialize in a narrow band of interest that, over time, had negated other areas of curiosity that were deemed to be on the margin of sanctioned acceptance. Through this specialization, a dynamic individual is, in effect, reduced to a zombie where everything outside their purview is of little consequence or even meaning as there is no context relatable to their fixation on a silo of interest around which their personality has been wrapped. For example, the sports team enthusiast has no regard for those interested in literature, and the news junkie has no interest in the world around them other than the happenings that might relate to what will be on the news tonight. Maybe their curiosity has been reduced to fantasy films with cosplay as the obsession, or if you are a doctor, you fixate on all things health-related to the exclusion of some kind of balanced curiosity. On the other hand, we judge the addict whose singular focus is the drug-fueled experience in a world requiring surviving one’s self.

In all of these situations, the multiple facets of the individual evolving into a complex whole are sacrificed in order for a person to become a cannibalistic zombie where the diet is one’s potential.

Within hours of settling in at this lodge/sanatorium, I could already feel the banality of acceptance creeping into my being. Comfort was replacing indignation, and the horror of what was taking place was all too evident. The Uyghurs came to mind and their reprogramming. The West called their imprisonment by Chinese authorities a violation of human rights, but the more likely reason was the need to indoctrinate these rural people with the control brought about by state television and the programming to get them onboard with conformity. My anxiety about this situation where I was surrounded by those who were content about being complacently happy, even if that complacency was the persona of anger where the government was squashing your rights to owning a gun, were going to take away your freedom of religion, or rights to an abortion, as long as your focus has been reduced to gazing upon your singularity, you were in the loop and no longer a threat. It became paramount that I escape and bring Caroline, who was part of my cover for getting into this particular facility.

Back in our room, where we were obviously not expected, a cleaning crew was busy working over our environment when I recognized they were slowly removing things that would remind us of a different life outside of our “temporary” arrangement. We needed to go, but Caroline was now of the opinion that we didn’t need to rush, and I was having similar thoughts that were interfering with my sense we needed to leave while we could still entertain that option as one of personal choice. It was about then that I woke in a panic that I was losing myself.

Now, in that state of half-sleeping and waking where I wanted to leave the dream behind but also look closer at what it showed me, it felt obvious that television was the mechanism of brain-washing where someone like Vladimir Putin could fight a war while telling his people it was a special operation to denazify Ukraine or that Donald Trump could in his reassuring television persona convince those who’d grown up watching him for 30 years or more portray a tycoon that his answers and charms were part of the magic to wealth and so his followers listened to this piper as he led them deeper into their own stupidity. From politicians to celebrities, we see the mind control of the masses dropping into the cult of personality where we ourselves become the zombie.

It all clicks right there in my sleepy haze: society’s obsession with the zombie, monster, killer, despot, or various other forms of the sociopath or psychopath is our own desire to remove the vital organs of difference and curiosity so we might comfortably dine on our specialization without interference or criticism. We eat the brains of the living to make them like us, we kill in order to instill constant fear until we are numb, and we breed monsters and despots to force the meek to cower on the sidelines and bite their tongues. In effect, the healthy eat their own brains, becoming autocannibalistic, whereas at least the cute little ladybug only eats others of its own kind, not itself.

Short Hike in Bryce and Go Home

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Yesterday’s pain party was worse than I whined about in yesterday’s blog post, so on our way back to our hotel after dinner, we’d decided we’d had enough and that Sunday would be a chill day with some sightseeing, but we’d lay off the hiking. After waking and packing the car, we turned left out of the driveway in the direction of home. We didn’t make it a mile before I suggested that we should at least take a look at the Tropic Trailhead that was just around the corner. Caroline agreed, and we whipped a U-turn. Both of us felt pretty good, and we agreed that at the first sign of knee or hip pain returning, we’d turn around from this trail that was rated as easy.

The elevation change is so subtle that it’s almost like walking on level ground out here; we sigh a relief and confirm that we are both okay and ready to continue. That solo deer walked along on our right for nearly a minute before jumping forward and then cutting right to cross the trail; once more, I’m foiled from getting a better photo as I failed to anticipate needing a zoom lens. Maybe if I write this enough times to myself here, I’ll remember to bring it next time. I’ll also point out that nearly every trailhead has a sign warning people parking there to NOT leave valuables in their car, and there are times we simply don’t want to lug that 3-pound lens in Caroline’s backpack. Oops, I think I wrote “we” in that last sentence when I meant Caroline. I might even feel guilty if I saddled that weight on her shoulders with the water, sweaters, food, sunblock, and the multitude of other things she takes responsibility for carrying as I’m too sensitive to be bothered with anything that detracts from taking perfect photos. Just try to think of it as I’m the deer moving lithely, independently, and free of burden in case I have to respond to capturing something important while my devoted wife remains at a safe distance, ready to support me and react to my beck and call. We call it happiness through structure. She’ll call this last bit BS after reading it, I’ll bet ya. [Eye rolling intensifies – Caroline]

Shenanigans and nonsense are not what we are here for, nor what my writing about the day’s events should be about, but after this weekend’s slog of writing a mega-ton of love stuff, I’m nearly exhausted at even the idea of trying to share meaningful prose here. So, on that note, these are beautiful orange and white rocks that also fall in the category of hoodoos, which have everything to do with our hike into Bryce Canyon from the only way in that doesn’t descend from the rim.

It’s only a 1.8-mile hike to the fork in the trail, and as long as we don’t hit any steep parts along the way, we feel confident we’ll have a good majority of the requisites steps we need for the day or about 8,000 of the 10k we aim for. Considering that we were comfortable with just heading south out of Utah for the trek home, we are thrilled that we didn’t cut bait and go.

Met a Swiss couple crossing our trail as we reached the spot where the Peek-a-boo, Queens, Navajo, and horse trails converge. They went left, and so we went right to not be right on their heels.

Hey, wait, I thought we’d agreed that there would be no up or downhill of any significance. With neither of us finding insurmountable pain in our joints, we decided that it was okay, but just this one to see what’s around the bend. There wasn’t a spectacular view, so after about five more minutes up this horse trail, we were about ready to turn around.

This was as far as I wanted to go while Caroline continued up to the saddle between these hoodoos as her gut said unto her, “A great view is just ahead.” Wrong. Turn your ass around and return from whence you came.

Somewhere down on the forest floor below is where we are heading.

Did I not see this on the way up the trail, or does it just look that different from a change in perspective?

We are on the other side of the branch in the trail heading up Peek-a-boo.

The idea is to go as far as we’re still comfortable after starting on the trail in a counter-clockwise direction.

The Peek-a-boo is only 3 miles long, and we half-considered trying it, seeing our entry into the basin had already afforded us the chance to avoid the seriously difficult part of the trail that descended from Bryce Point and required us to leave that way too had we not hiked in on the Tropic Trail. But here in the curve the trail narrowed while the hillside dropped precipitously, so that’s it, I’m done, no more exposure for me.

Having considered no hiking at all today and now being on the verge of 5 miles, we are happy that we’ve seen as much as we have.

Seeya some other day, Bryce, or at least we can hope to return someday.

We are back in Arizona, where the winds have gathered steam and a considerable amount of dust. Our time out here on the Colorado Plateau is growing short, but our desire to return home before dark is curtailing the throwing that concern out the window so I can photograph every sight that knocks at my sense of sharing what I find intriguing or attractive.

As much as we are moving forward, albeit relatively slowly, others are simply in a hurry. They race up behind us, except I’m now old enough that when I see them a mile behind me, I start looking for pullouts so I can take a short pause, allowing the insane to speed into impatience. This view from a pullout is just one of those moments.

The scale here is lost in the midday sun, where shadows are rare. The amount of dust held aloft by the strong winds also fails to look as foreboding as it did to our naked eyes, but no matter as we’ll hopefully retain a sense of things long after we forget that we were traveling through the Vermillion Cliffs at this point after leaving the North Rim of the Grand Canyon behind us.

Come October, we’ll be right back here in the Marble Canyon area as we take a night before climbing up the road to spend the night at the Grand Canyon, north rim, of course, on the last day of their season. Come to think about it, we will drive through here again at the end of June with a night in Fredonia, Arizona, on our way into the Wasatch Mountains east of Salt Lake City, Utah.

Our worst fears about driving home in the afternoon on a Sunday once Phoenix started hitting the upper 90s are the traffic jams created by everyone else leaving the high country and their weekend in the Flagstaff area. Well, here we are, and there’s nobody out here! Talk of recession, $5 a gallon gas, and the conversation about overpriced hotels must be taking their toll, as this is just not normal. I can only hope that gas hits $8 a gallon over the summer.