But we didn't understand what the desert was telling us, so we headed east to the Superstition Mountains. The Supes, as they are called, are just on the outskirts of Phoenix. As such they are heavily used, but we managed to avoid the crowds by being there over Christmas. We nearly had the place to ourselves. It probably would've felt fairly remote if planes from Phoenix hadn't been buzzing overhead all week.
I vaguely remember being quite miserable on several occasions. Something about wet boots from numerous stream crossings, not having an extra pair of dry shoes for camp, a rain jacket that no longer works, strong gusts of cold wind, and sleet. Christmas Day may have been my most miserable (memorable?) Christmas ever, but I'm not sure. It's just a vague memory now. Actually, I do remember the wind quite well. It was really cool, because you could hear the gusts of wind funneling down the valley before they hit the tent. Sometimes the gusts would pass over the tent. It was like a train coming toward you, but you didn't know if you were standing on the tracks.
There must have been some good times too, because I seem to have lots of photos of cacti glowing in the sun. Such bizarre shapes they have!
After the rain stopped were treated to beautiful colors as the sun was setting:
A view of Garden Valley:
An impossibly gargantuan saguaro cactus:
My favorite cactus, the teddy-bear cholla:
P.S. If you find yourself in the Superstition's, don't try to fight the "cat's claw". You won't win. I didn't.
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