Thankfully, Mother Nature has decided to
give Picacho a break from the 90-degree temperatures. Time to open the windows,
lower the ramp and turn off the air conditioner. Get a breeze coming through
the camper to keep things tolerable.
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The clock is keeping the correct time since I reset it last night. Don’t
know why the sudden desire to do its job but I’ll take it. Only 2 ½ days left now.
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When Kim and I were cruising around the
country on our bike trips, people would see the Michigan license plates and
invariably they’d mention that they had a relative or a good buddy that was from
Michigan. Oh, cool, where do they live? And almost always they would say “Detroit”.
Like Detroit is the only city in Michigan, right? So, I’d politely raise my
hand and point out where Detroit is and where Charlevoix is. That’s the fun
thing about being from Michigan’s Lower Peninsula…your hand is a map.
This morning, I was sitting out at the picnic
table as a rig was rounding the corner to head out. The driver stopped and walked
over, gesturing at the bikes as he said, “You from Michigan?” Yes, we are. “Do you know Mike Bell?” Where’s he from? “Kalamazoo.”
No, sir, I don’t know Mike Bell. We live up here (pointing to my
hand map) and Kalamazoo is down here.” He then proceeded to explain that Mike Bell is
well-known in the world of Harley Davidson. He says some more about this Mike
Bell and then as he leaves, he gives a small shake of his head and says, “I
can’t believe you don’t know Mike Bell.”
I smiled and said, “Well, when I go in the
camper, you can bet I’m gonna Google him.” It’s unbelievable but I couldn’t
find anything about Mike Bell in Kalamazoo, Michigan. If he’s there, Google
doesn’t know about him and Google knows about everyone. Facebook and Instagram
weren’t much help either.
However, on YouTube, I found an interview given in 2015 by a man named
Mike Bell from Clyde, Texas. The reason
for the interview was that at 75, Mike was riding in an event known as The
Motorcycle Cannonball, which is billed as the most difficult antique endurance
run in the world. It’s a coast-to-coast
rally ride and the participating bikes have to be 100 years old or older. Mike
rode on his 1916 Harley named Alice. I
don’t know if Mike is still alive, but I sure hope he’s still riding, if only
for short distances.
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Before we set out on today’s adventure, we went to the Eloy post office
to drop off mail. We passed the Eloy Home and Auto store; Kim said, “I bet they’d
have a clock.” But we don’t need a clock now. The other one is working. He didn’t want to buy one, he just wanted to know
that he could. So, we stopped at a store
that had a little bit of everything: discount clothing, housewares, auto parts,
furniture, games, shoes and more. And yes, they did have two wall clocks, which
were too big for our purposes, but they had them. And that’s what mattered.
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We
took a drive today to Madera Canyon, which is about 13 miles southeast of Green
Valley and nestled in the Santa Rita Mountains. The canyon is chock full of
hiking trails and picnic areas but The Santa Rita Lodge, at 5,000 ft elevation,
was our destination. There are feeders set up at the Lodge for the birds and
there are chair/benches set up for the people to watch the birds. However,
there are only about 10 parking spots at the Lodge, which is far too few considering
how many people enjoy going there. And unless we’re lucky enough to find
a spot on the end, the truck is too big to maneuver in the limited space. There’s a parking area about a ¼ mile beyond
the Lodge; we parked there today and had an easy walk down to watch the birds. Walking
uphill at that elevation to get back to the truck was a whole different experience.
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The camper was a bit hot and stuffy from being closed up while we were gone, so I opted to sit outside at the picnic table to do some needle felting.
The rabbits were out in the yard, chasing each other around. I glanced
at them occasionally but was mostly focused on making a gnome. Sudden movement
caught my eye, and I looked up to see a rabbit running in and out of the bushes
by the fence. Like it was trying to decide where to go through. Aha! This is
my chance to see how they do it. I
carefully picked up my camera, turned it on and zeroed in on the rabbit when it
stopped in the corner of the fence. This is great…I have a perfect line of
sight…man, I hope my camera is on consecutive shoot because when if it goes, it’s
gonna be quick. The rabbit made a slight move, and I pushed the shutter and
held it down; I was so grateful to hear the pictures clicking away. I watched
it go through the fence! I have photographic
evidence that the rabbits go through the diamond-shaped holes in the
fence! Amazing! After I told Kim what I
saw, he went out and measured…the rabbits are squeezing through a 2”x2” diamond-shaped
hole. That also explains the randomness
of their crossing patterns…they can go through any hole out there. I have puzzled over this for weeks and now I
know!!
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We’ve
been seeing coyotes, rabbits and ground squirrels on the Nutt Rd. camera. No javelina since that night they came
sniffing at the camera.
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The ramp was still down after it got dark and while I was sitting at the table, I heard a motorized bike whiz by. Immediately thought of Sam Elliott, but it was too dark to determine if it was him. In our experience, he typically headed to town when it was still light out, sometimes at dusk. Still haven’t seen him or The Traveling Sheep.
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Kim was able to add to his Dolphin Head data tonight. He’s got eighty-eight
frames but to make a full comparison to his other attempt, he needs ninety-three. If he gets five more tomorrow night, he’s even
up; but he’d like to get enough to make nine full hours of data, which means
more like 20 more frames. The other night
he processed what he had, and, while it showed some improvement, it was obvious
that it was an incomplete amount of data.
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