Mosaic Canyon and Ubehebe

Ahh, Wildrose, my Wildrose. I think it was a Thursday, as I have lost track of days now. I guess the ultimate escape can be gauged by a time when you have no idea what day of the week it is. Sort of like my dog Jo Jo, who could care less what day of the week it is. I have said, as many others, that we should all live life like a dog. Right now I am audio dictating this with him on my lap, upside down begging for belly rubs. If I ever thought I had a good life, I will have to say no, compared to my dog, I have not. Yes, he is spoiled.

Jo Jo and I made it to the trailhead at Mosaic Canyon and I had at least three spots where I needed to scoot on my rear end up a marble polished tiers. While others climbed effortlessly, I had to scheme, and assess my climb. I should have used a tape measure to determine the path of least resistance. I thought twice about turning around, but I remember my camp neighbor who told me to expect these climbs. So eventually I made it into the wide part of the canyon, in approximately one mile, when the canyon really opened up. It was really fun in the narrow space, where you could practically stretch your arms and touch one wall to another in this slot canyon. I'm glad I was here early, as the scooting around on my butt would have been quite the entertainment for others, and a self-conscious one for me, with an audience to watch. I guess I'm doing okay, as I do what I need to do, to get by. On the way to the parking lot I recognized a couple from the Stovepipe campsite, from the previous evening, throughout the stormy day. Rob and Betsy were in the dark gray Travato, across from me. We must have talked for a good 30 minutes, as I learned that they were originally from Massachusetts, sold their house, and are now full-time travelers. Rob also lived in Irondequoit, near Rochester, where I too lived in my first house from 1981 to 1985. What a small world indeed, as we are both members of the Travato Owner and Wannanees Facebook page. I invited them to Cave Creek to disperse camp at my house, at any time. What great fun to meet people with so many common elements.

I filled up with gas, $$$, and headed towards Mesquite Campground, the furthest north within the park where I would later go to Ubehebe Crater. Yes, I bypassed the famous Titus Canyon road. That drive that is 27 miles on a dirt road, 3-4 hours of chattering teeth, with scary climbs, and hairpin turns for those who have modified their Travatos with higher clearance, and nerves of steel. Like I always say...next time.

My intention was to do the 1.5 mile hike, on the perimeter of Ubehebe Crater, which was classified as a moderate hike. I started out quite enthusiastically, leaving Jo Jo in the van, as it was only 68 degrees and quite windy and actually quite chilly, for this dry desert. I made it up a pretty steep incline towards the little Ubehebe Crater, but reminded about how much I really dislike heights. The cinder was quite slippery as well. I took a fall on cinder about two months ago, and perhaps I'm a little concerned that it could happen again. It was quite a workout to get up this far and the views were spectacular. So after about 25 minutes, I decided to turn around and slowly headed back down this hill, defeated at reaching my goal. Jo Jo was fine, and now I'm sitting at camp, enjoying the late afternoon with a glass of wine. 

There it is again...that hum...that drone... that brain buzz in a place that's so quiet, all you can hear is the ringing, or the buzzing of your brain. In your ears, like some distant perfect chord that ends a symphony. You don't hear anything like this at all in New York state. Only other lovely sounds. You don't hear this in Cave Creek. I only heard this, for the first time, in the state of Utah, about 25 years ago, and I have now experienced this many times in other spots, like here in Death Valley. It's a perfect place to hear yourself think, and to hear that universal chord of peace.