Another Imaginary Line in the Sand

I've been through the desert on a street with no name 

It felt good to be out of the rain 

In the desert you can remember your name 

'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain

Well, it’s that time again. The time when we cross an imaginary line and say, “That is last year and this is this year.” In reality, there is absolutely no difference between Monday, December 31, 2018 and Tuesday, January 1, 2019. Oh, I guess there is one difference. I tried to renew the license plates on my trailer online today and discovered I have to do it by mail because my address changed. California has no grace period, so instead of owing $250 today, I owe $282 tomorrow. Just another arbitrary line in the sand.

While I muse about mortality and boundaries, I thought I’d include a few more pictures of Quinne’s and my adventure when she visited. We spent a day recovering after the rigors of the Cabeza Prieta adventure and then we were on the road again, seeking new ways to exhaust the father. These pictures were taken under the Great Tree of Arizona, 1,020 years old. My 25-year-old daughter looks so young under it.

* * *

I almost understand why people are so obsessed with building a wall between Mexico and the United States. A wall or a fence or an imaginary line in the sand, all symbolize a division between what is mine and what is others’. This side of the border wall is the United States. That side is Mexico. Except it isn’t. The longest unprotected area of the US/Mexico border is in Texas—nearly two-thirds of the entire border. That border is the Rio Grande River. As evidenced by the sections of fence (about 130 miles) currently existing, the route of the wall could be miles inside the US boundary, thus excluding thousands of square miles of US territory, most of it privately owned, from the border of the United States.

I guess that is like saying you have a square mile (640 acres) of property, but you have to fence it ten feet inside the property boundary. Doesn’t sound like you’d lose that much, but your 640 acres is now only 635 acres. It’s unlikely that we’d ever even get an actual reckoning of how much US land lay outside the border wall. Some estimates place it at a little over 200,000 acres. Not that much.

Among the places Quinne and I visited was the Poston Memorial. This section of the Colorado River Indian Reservation was taken over to provide a concentration camp for Japanese Americans during World War II. Overnight in 1942, it became the second largest city in Arizona as panicked Americans fenced in American citizens because of their race.

* * *

I guess the idea of fencing and walls and lines in the sand are not just to define what is mine and yours, but also to raise a barrier to my fears of anything that is different than me. Whether it is the color of skin, the economic condition, the shape of eyes, the language spoken, or the god worshiped, we would rather raise a wall or draw a line in the sand and keep ‘other’ away.

On Kofa Mountain, known to the campers on the BLM as “Homer,” is a place called Palm Canyon. It’s a half-hour walk from the parking lot to a sign that points to the sight. Another mile away, you can barely see a canyon with the only stand of California Palms native in Arizona.

* * *

I draw lines, too. Most of them, I call chapters. Some, I call books. I even put spaces between the 880,000 words I wrote this year. But sadly, the lines on the calendar separate me from one age to the next. It is another day and another year and another few hours of writing that I have to do.

On Christmas Eve, I had to take my little girl back to Palm Springs so she could catch her plane back to Seattle. We stopped for a yummy Italian dinner before I took her to the airport.

* * *

So here is the line I’m drawing this year. I’m looking for five friends to share my life with. I don’t know who they are, but I know what they are.

• The inspired
• The motivated
• The open-minded
• The passionate
• The grateful

Which are you? We have some good times waiting for us on the other side of the line!

Into the Wilderness

I need only one ingredient to make life more interesting: my daughter. She arrived on Tuesday and already I’ve seen more of the Southwest and the area around Quartzsite than in all my previous time here. And that has not been at the detriment of our writing. We are both continuing to work on our projects and making good progress. But we also found time to teach Quinne pickleball with my friends Wanda and Brian. And to visit the Hi Jolly monument in the local graveyard.

THE LAST CAMP OF

HI JOLLY

BORN SOMEWHERE IN SYRIA

ABOUT 1828

DIED AT QUARTZSITE

DECEMBER 16, 1902

CAME TO THIS COUNTRY

FEBRUARY 10, 1856

CAMELDRIVER - PACKER

SCOUT - OVER THIRTY 

YEARS A FAITHFUL AID

TO THE U.S. GOVERNMENT

ARIZONA

HIGHWAY DEPARTMENT 1935

 Isn’t it great that here in the Southwest, there is a monument to a Arab immigrant of Syrian and Ottoman parentage named 'Ali al-Hajaya and called Hi Jolly by his compatriots, for his 30 years of service to the US Government? He set up the US Army camel experiment and drove camels in the Southwest for thirty years.

The other grave pictured above is of a Quartzsite pioneer and is one of the few wood board headstones still in the cemetery. One of the more interesting cemeteries I’ve seen. Quinne and I were discussing the idea that you could simply compile the information on the gravestones and then write an entire fictional account of this town.

Solstice dawned beautifully on Friday and that was the cue for Quinne and I to set out on a great adventure. We had to start planning this a couple of months ago by getting special backcountry permits to enter the Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Reserve. https://www.fws.gov/refuge/Cabeza_Prieta/

The permit includes the Western Barry M. Goldwater Range managed by the Marines and used for weapons testing. But that’s the only access from the Western side of the Reserve and we would have had to drive all the way around via Gila Bend to Organ Pipe National Monument in order to enter from the east. Getting the permit required that we watch a fifteen-minute video on all the different ways we could die while visiting.

The welcome sign was clear.

The road from Wellton, AZ is called El Camino del Diablo, or Road of the Devil, named for the hundreds of people traveling it on foot over the centuries who have died of thirst there. A few graves are still visible. To us, the road didn’t look all that bad, though it was a little rough at first. The military drag huge tires down the road to fill the ruts with sand. That means you get a lot of fishtailing in loose sand as you drive. We spent most of the 120-mile trip in 4-wheel drive.

“The Road of the Devil” is a rough, unpaved route which begins in Altar and Caborca Mexico and crosses southwestern Arizona, ending in Yuma. Prehistoric peoples used the route to transport shells and salt from the Gulf of California. Spanish soldiers led by Melchior Diaz in 1540 were the first Europeans to travel this route. More than 150 years later, the Jesuit priest, Father Kino, traveled the region while exploring for routes to California. After the discovery of gold in California in 1849, thousands traveled the Camino in search of gold and new lives. Historians estimate more than 400 people died of thirst on the Camino during the 1850s. At one time, at least 50 graves could be identified along the route. Today the area [part of which is listed on the National Register of Historic places] is under restoration. Please stay on the road and help us protect this historic resource.

Luke AFB Natural Resources Management

Of course, that was just the military reservation. After we’d managed the 30 miles of sandy and colorful ‘primary’ road, we finally got to the reserve. It might help to mention why we were there. Ten years ago, Quinne completed her first full NaNoWriMo (2007) of 50,000 words. She wrote a book that has kept her busy editing and rewriting ever since and it is now in it’s final proofreading following Michele’s full edit. The book, Race Through Fire, is a teen survival story pitting teams against each other in a race across the desert. I found this 2007 image I created for her banner.

She set the book in the Cabeza Prieta Wilderness, but had never been here. So, we decided to correct that now that she is in the final edit of the book. Wow!

The day was a bit overcast, but the desert was filled with color and stark contrasts. During the entire day, we saw exactly four other humans. All Border Patrol officers (working without pay, by the way, since the government shutdown hit that day). About 15 slow miles into the wilderness at speeds varying from 5-20 miles per hour and lots of stops, we stopped for lunch at Tule Well where the road forks. The choice was to continue on El Camino del Diablo to Organ Pipe and Aja (50 miles) or head generally north on Christmas Pass Road to Tacna (50 miles). It was already half past two and it gets dark out here a little after five on Solstice, so we headed north toward I-8.

We took the road less traveled. In fact, within a mile there was little sign that anyone else had traveled this road in a long, long time. We had to stop and get out to look at signs periodically to make sure we were on the road and not on one of the ‘restricted’ areas. The final two hundred yards to Christmas Pass took us more than half an hour to navigate with Quinne walking backwards in front of the truck guiding me around rocks and away from the edge of the gully next to it.

We made it, and north of the pass, the road (a ‘secondary’ road) was clear and if not smooth, at least I could navigate around the worst washouts. Unfortunately, this entire road was very narrow with trees and cacti growing out into it. I’ll be taking the truck in to get it washed tomorrow, but I don’t know how much of this will buff out.

Nonetheless, we had an incredible adventure—possibly the most memorable Solstice celebration ever.

And to cap it all off, my daughter finally figured out the truth about Santa Claus.

I have her for another day before we need to track toward Palm Springs to get her a flight home on Christmas Eve. Today will be either going to see the Intaglio or going to Mexico or going to see London Bridge. Whatever, we’ll have another adventure.

More in the New Year!

Approaching Holidays and Deep Thoughts

In all likelihood, this will be more like ‘rambling thoughts’ than deep thoughts. But it has been too long since I updated the blog and a lot has happened… in my head.

The first thing, of course, is that NaNoWriMo ended on the 30th of November and I completed with a record-setting (for me) 155,389 words written in the month of November. I’m claiming that is the reason that I haven’t had time to post in the blog.

But the story wasn’t over. I was writing two different books in November and progressing rapidly with both. But at the end of the month, I still had another chapter of Wild Woods to draft and it was the all-important conclusion to the saga. I wrote an additional 11,000 words on that story and concluded it on December 4. Wild Woods is now in the hands of my capable editors who will undoubtedly recommend cutting 20% of the 115,000-word saga before I even start rewriting in January. But, in general, I’m happy with the story. I am still filled with high expectations. I plan to release Wild Woods in June, a year after City Limits. That means I will begin serializing the story sometime in May.

The second story I was working on is the new Devon Layne serial, Double Take. That draft was underway before I started adding to it in November but I had the goal of finishing what I’ve referred to as Book 1 of the tale. I was a long way from finished. So, I’ve added an additional 35,000 words to that serial and finished my goal on December 12. This story, too, has gone of to my editors (a different set) and will start posting as a serial in January. This part of the story (Book 1) is 163,781 words and 47 chapters. Once it starts posting at a chapter every three days, it won’t finish until Memorial Day, by which time I hope to have Book 2 finished.

I’ve found this near-perfect piece of art for the cover, but have been unable to locate the artist. I’d love to license it, but will probably end up creating my own eventually.

I celebrated the conclusion of these books in the most logical way possible. I grilled a steak and vegetables. Even had a little tub of coleslaw.

I think I need bigger plates.

I found out that my friend and cigar-maker, Jeremy Wolfson, was holding an event in Phoenix, just 150 miles away from me. So I packed up and headed to 21◦ Cigar. There I had multiple pleasant experiences. First, to meet Jeremy’s lovely new wife, Lizan. And then, by a quirk of the fates, to discover a cousin was in Phoenix for the weekend for a race and to watch a baseball game. We’ve corresponded on and off for twenty years, but it was great to finally meet Mike Everett face-to-face. With his wife, Rachel, we shared family stories and generally caught up on things. It’s great to finally meet Mike after a long period of near misses. He is my first cousin twice removed.

I’m all decorated up for the holidays now, meaning I have a sunscreen with my picture on it and a string of red lights. Nonetheless, it makes for a homey atmosphere and all I need is to buy another patio chair before Quinne comes to visit next week. This is the most holiday decoration I’ve had in five years!

Despite a bit of rain, nights are often perfect for sitting out on the patio with a cigar and a book. It’s a good life.

* * *

And that brings me to the deep thoughts, if you are still with me. Writing Wild Woods really got to me. There are villains and there are heroes. And they are pretty clearly defined, even though the villain has an upright side and is possibly manipulated by a super-villain. He’s still a villain. Despicable. Deplorable. So what happens when the villain drives his car into a raging river in a snowstorm and the hero plunges into the torrent to save him?

Stupid hero. Why not let the villain drown? Why not erase him from the earth? He won’t thank you. He still thinks you are the enemy. He will still sting like the serpent. He will continue to be a villain. It is his nature. Why not let him die?

But nonetheless, the hero saves his life. And the only thing he can say about it is that he wasn’t set on earth as the judge. He had to act according to his own nature, not someone else's.

“If I had let him die, would it have made me a better person?”

That’s the deep thought I’ve had. And I won’t argue whether he was right or wrong. Perhaps you could discover it for yourself.

I hope to have another post before the first of the year featuring some of the exciting adventures that Quinne and I have exploring Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge. Now I need to do all the housework that I’ve neglected for two months. Dishes, laundry, vacuuming, and general habitability before my daughter gets here. And cleaning the bathroom! Ick!