Tracking the Sun!

Mountains of Gold! Dos Cabezas Mountains, AZ.

“Night poured over the desert. It came suddenly, in purple. In the clear air, the stars drilled down out of the sky, reminding any thoughtful watcher that it is in the deserts and high places that religions are generated.”

― Terry Pratchett 

In recent posts, my  focus has been on the dark… the storm. On the beauty of shadows, shifting light,  blacks and greys in nature and approaching walls of sand, snow, and rain. That was the theme in Fantasy & Dark Depression, on Storm & Sand 1, and on Storm & Sand 2. Storms in nature are ominous, powerful, and always mesmerizing, and even several months later, I can still see those fierce storms swirling and tumbling in my mind.

Big Horn Sheep. Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada.

But not all days were dark. Just when I was wondering why I had headed to the southern desert, the sun would break through. Some mornings, I awoke to find the storms had abated and a dazzling display of blue sky and sunlight were carte du jour for my day. Usually, several hours of intense sunlight and heat were quick reminders that I was no longer in the Pacific Northwest.

Fleet of Pelicans! Maxwell NWR, New Mexico.

If you are also from the northern climes, you know the value of sunlight because we can get so little of it! Up here in Cascadia, we hike, climb, bike and paddle in the rain and snow. We eschew umbrellas, embracing the almost daily rain and weather as a way of life. “Sandals in the Snow” from Sarah McLachlan’s song “Building a Mystery” has a special and personal connection. But from here, you can really understand and appreciate the value of sunlight. Your mood brightens in direct sunshine, you ski better, you paddle stronger, and your energy levels seem to go up. You may not use an umbrella, but you still lift your face to track the sun when it pops out!

Scarlett Flycatcher. Patagonia Lake, AZ.

Sun in the southwest desert is totally different. In the Mojave, Sonoran, Chihuahuan and Great Basin Deserts, the sun IS the desert. Roving light, shadows thrown by cactus, and heat waves emanating off the sand bring beauty, solitude, silence, simplicity, and resilience.

Bosque del Apache NWR, NM.

Since I had started in the snow and cold of Washington State, I could especially appreciated the value of sunshine. At the same time, I could clearly see how total and constant sun can bake in harshness and barrenness, that it can be detrimental, and that all life requires  balance and change. It brought home the Arabian proverb “Sunshine all the time creates a desert.” For me, it also brought home why I love to “visit” the desert but choose to live in the Northwest.

Pronghorn. Willcox AZ.

But you enjoy where you are in the moment. Driving down the highway, windows down and hand-surfing the warm currents at sixty-miles-per-hour… sleeping with the windows open… reaching into the cooler for a cold drink… working on your tan, all of this is significantly more enjoyable (and more available) in the desert.

Froggy! Patagonia Lake, AZ.

Finally, leaving the Northwest winter and jumping into the desert spring was such a treat. Hummingbirds, vermillion flycatchers, wrens, and warblers flitting about. Barrel, prickly pear and hedgehog cactus flowers in bloom. Vibrant wildflowers including paintbrush, lupines, palo Verde and ocotillos spreading at my feet. No snow, longer days and brilliant sunsets were all benefits of spring and sun.

Hello There! Patagonia Lake, AZ.

As I turned towards home, spring followed me north. Columbine, daisies, and arrowroot in the mountains around  Durango. Tulips, pansies, and daffodils bloomed while visiting friends in Salt Lake City. And camas, bitterbrush and bluebells erupted as we drove along the Payette, Salmon, and Clearwater rivers in Idaho’s high desert. Crossing into the higher elevations of Washington State the North Cascade mountains were embellished by fields of avalanche and glacier lilies, lupine, heathers and paintbrush (see Alpine Wanderlust). Coming down from the mountains, I found fields of Washington’s native fireweed (Chamaenerion angustifolium)  and foxglove. The timing of the wildflowers here in the Northwest was perfect. I gained an early glimpse of this plethora of wild beauty, which will remain with me throughout the summer as sun and warmth work their way, day by day, down the glaciers, ice fields and mountains.

Upper Payette River, ID.

As I arrived home it was just in time for the start of berry season! Salmonberries were ripe and ready for picking in our yard and the woods next door, with hints of red and mountain (my favorite) huckleberries, black, thimble, bramble, and black raspberries to be enjoyed throughout the Northwest summer.

Light to the South! Chimney Rock National Monument, CO.

And finally, one final gift! Sitting on my porch with my wife Stephanie, decompressing and being thankful for a safe and amazing trip, enjoying the first days of spring, a deer stepped out of the woods followed by two spotted fawns. From winter in the north to winter in the southwest, and now a complete circle back to spring in the wonderland of the Northwest. Home!

“The extreme clarity of the desert light is equaled by the extreme individuation of desert life forms. Love flowers best in openness and freedom.”

― Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire