Saguaro National Park (Day 4 & 5)

Yesterday it was sunny! And we rode bicycles! We took Broadway all the way east out of the city, with its fat-shouldered bike lane and braved the endless blocks of McDonalds, Taco shops, and hair salons. It feels like most of this city is generic Americana strip-malls, everything flat and wide, but surprisingly bike-able. We headed to Saguaro National Park; that there were other cyclists in the entrance line along with all the cars demonstrated how bike-centric Tucson really is. 

 

We're on Broadway, as it were, braving the strip malls, heading to the National Park

 

 

A velvet 8-mile paved loop was the way to experience saguaros and other cacti in the park. The road was so perfectly smooth, with curves and ups and downs as if engineered for the ideal bike-sensory experience. Prickly pear, huge looming saguaros, barrel cacti--the diversity of shapes and the brilliance of the blue sky contrasted with the craggy mountain backdrop made me feel as if I were in the brightest of curated environments, like someone's prize-winning tropical fish tank. The cacti kept reminding me of coral in their striking way, what an incredibly visually captivating place. And the air was so still.

 

It felt like a tropical fish tank

 

My new hat

 

Mom always loved the importance and intention of national parks, and she'd want to read all the interpretive signs and stop at every view pull-off. While 'Lil Buddy' raced ahead, I needed to take the loop slowly and give reverence to each interpretive sign. I read about pack-rats, learned how to pronounce cholla correctly (CHOY-ya), and saw how mesquite serves as a nurse plant for baby saguaro dots.

 

Something about this place, with the majestic ancient cacti, the still air and the sun, made me miss Mom in the most intense way. I wanted to "fix" grief, like I fixed the squawking door hinge in the Airbnb with some clever olive oil, but there is nothing to be done. I wanted to send her a photo of the huge cacti. I sat on my helmet in the shade of a mesquite and ate a very delicious hamantaschen from a strip-mall bakery and did some crying. I think coming out here, and making space for this, is probably part of this Arizona trip. Also, when I can realize that her spirit is with me, that she is in the waxing gibbous moon (all week so far), that feels like a possible new way of carrying onward. 

Saguaro National Park, Javelina Rocks

 

Tomorrow we are doing the flagship ride of our Tucson time: Mt Lemmon. If I make it up there, it will be the longest single climb I will have ever done in one day, about 6,000 feet of elevation gain. This will be like going from downtown Ithaca to Cornell's hill-top vet school 12 times. Because of this, I took a "rest day" (of sorts, which meant a 9 mile walk through historic neighborhoods and the botanic garden) today, to try and give my poor legs their best chance for tomorrow.

Hanging with the Coral Aloe in the botanic garden

 

 

Free heart shaped cactus pads! One of the most joy-producing sights I've seen all trip.

As a plant person, I am incredibly excited about Mt Lemmon. It is a Sky Island, which means that due to its much higher elevation than the surrounding desert, it is an "island" with vastly different flora and fauna. Sky Islands receive more moisture (see: elevation, temperature decrease, dew point, clouds) and thus can sustain plants that the desert cannot. Mt Lemmon is also a famous road climb for cyclists from all around the country, because it can be done year-round and the pavement is lovely.

 

I am seriously intimidated by the ride ahead, though, wishing I could cultivate Katie's easy-going attitude. Katie seems healthfully separated from her ego, is non-competitive, and doesn't seem perturbed by sore legs, and maybe doesn't even experience sore legs, because she's been riding mountains in CA and racing cyclocross forever. I, on the other hand, am sensitive to everything, feel bad about myself if I can't keep up, and have negative self-talk loops that I would love to figure out how to get rid of. So tomorrow is an opportunity to practice being Stoic and also kind to myself. And also see some mind-boggling views and plants. 

 

 

 

I loved walking through the historic neighborhoods of Blenman-Elm. This house had a front "yard" consisting of California poppies glowing yellow.

Mt Lemmon looms above Tucson neighborhoods