About a month has passed since our last reported visit to Redington Pass during this exceptional Monsoon. There has been change.
Our monsoons last typically, but no way near consistently, for six weeks. This has been the wettest of monsoons in recorded history. We’re reporting the results of the seasonal rains.
Driving out Tanque Verde Road, all along the way, clusters of butterflies appear. It looks like a phenomenon, a fascinating mystery, that sense when a cloud of locust suddenly appears. It is the stuff of biblical awe, where “signs,” or “omens” are born.
The trail leads down through a verdant tussle of opportunistic wild desert plants.
These tend to be more flimsy and tolerant of our passage than the stiff prickers and barbs that many produce. Some of these force us to step from one side of the trail or another. More often, we are blessed with the gentle caress of the abundance across our nude bodies.
Flowers are everywhere, a garden atmosphere. The tangle of the unique blue of the morning glory is at a peak, along with the other plethora of color, size and shape. There are those moments along the path when we must succumb to the compelling dazzling life around us.
Something catches the eyes, or a pleasing aroma stops us in our tracks, as we look around to see who could be producing it. We ponder what plant is dominate and which direction the wind is coming from, to carry the singular scent toward us. Life is calling us like the pull of the reins of a horse, “Whoah! Stop and smell the planet.”
On our way, wherever we go, we are amazed at the flocks of yellow butterflies.
Their forms are everywhere. The closer to our destination, and out of the riparian area, I figured that their numbers would dissipate. Now, walking through these lush desert hills, they fly up at our approach. We get surrounded in the midst of these spiraling, nearly floating flakes. What could be more delicate than standing naked, feeling the tiny breeze from the flapping wings of these lithe creatures surrounding our nude bodies?
Down in the canyon, we stop and pull off our shoes and socks. We snack, as we sit on the smooth bedrock surfaces.
There is the sound of water flowing, dropping down through the natural stone chutes. We can smell the effervescence of the water, as it tickles our nostrils.
The bedrock never ceases to entertain me, particularly my bare feet. The different shades of grey, black and red make lighter and darker contrasts under the sun. One step is cool and the next one hot and making me want to step into the chilled water, before I sear.
After a swim, DF takes the lead toward where a tributary intersects the main channel. This is a spot that we normally just pass on by. We climb amongst fallen boulders to explore.
There is a bit of a tunnel, which has seen a great deal of water. We squat to investigate the echo of a cavernous trickle deep within.
Perhaps there are tenacious plants making a living back there in the dark of shade.
In the fifty plus years that I have been visiting Redington nude, there hasn’t been a day that couldn’t be something wonderful and new.
Yes, there are more enjoyable days than others.
The presence of water makes a huge impression.
The lack of shade on a particularly hot day can be oppressive. But even in those, one can walk on the rocks, discover tenacious life, and see change.
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