Apple orchards in late fall

It’s been a long time since I posted any travel news, even though I have been away from the farm often enough since the last entry. The Arizona/California heat, the brilliant desert colours seem far away now, and it will be difficult to finish reporting on that journey. Only two or three days were missing, however, and in the midst of a Canadian cold spell I might still attempt to go back.

For the last few years we left winter and darkness behind at this time of year to discover the wonders of different South and Central American countries. This year, however, due to family circumstances, we went back to Germany for the fourth time this year. During our earlier trips, two of them in the summer when Germany’s flora is at its most beautiful, we got to know areas of Germany I hadn’t known before: a week-long bike holiday brought us to the very north to the province of Schleswig-Holstein, bordered by both the North and the Baltic Sea, where we explored the area around one of the many lakes, the Ploener See. In August we found ourselves at the opposite end of Germany in Bavaria where we celebrated the wedding of our son. Great weather made both trips even more enjoyable.

Now, however, we had little reason to expect a repeat of such good fortune: traditionally, November is the most dreary month of the year here, grey, fog weighing heavily on landscape and people, moisture dripping from every branch, seeping through every crevice, in short, weather to huddle close to any source of heat within reach, to stay inside.

Sometimes it is good to have low expectations; that way it is easy to be positively surprised. I can hardly believe how lucky we have been so far: two weeks of fair weather with only a few hours of drizzle where I am in Northern Hesse. Especially these last few days have been unbelievably beautiful, the sky a deep blue, the mist creeping in during the night turning trees and meadows, even the most ordinary objects into something magical once the sun lights up the thick coat of hoarfrost. I walk home from my mother's place to my apartment slowly in the evening, stopping from time to time out of reach of the interfering light of the street lanterns to gaze at the sky. Even here I find Cassiopeia and the Big Dipper, the familiar V of Taurus with its faintly glowing cluster of the Seven Sisters above. Now, the moon is starting to fill out again, more 'ordinary' looking, but just a few days ago the pairing of brilliant Venus and the slender silver thread of the almost-new moon rising above birch and spruce silhouetted against the luminous early evening sky was achingly beautiful.

On the first weekend of my stay I visited my brother and family who live in a small town not far from Stuttgart. The weather had been mild and dry, even sunny, for the first few days of my stay, but on my way south clouds started to gather in the Frankfurt area and drew ever closer together the further south I got. It stayed dry, however, which gave us a chance for some wonderful walks through the fields and meadow apple orchards that are the most prominent landscape features here. The forested limestone ridge of the Swabian Jura rises in the distance, and Hohenneuffen Castle was well visible from where we walked. Government subventions after the war helped to develop the fruit growing industry, and still a lot of fruit, apples in particular, are produced in this area, often to be turned into juice or cider.

Not all of the trees are part of commercially owned orchards, however, and it was obvious that in this year of excellent yields there were enough people who couldn’t keep up with the bounty.

Living in a part of the world where, due to climatic restrictions, it had been difficult to produce any good-size apples until fairly recently and where it is still not to be taken for granted the sight of trees still loaded with fruit that was quite obviously not going to be harvested was not easy for me to accept. On the other hand, I thoroughly enjoyed to be able to sample different varieties, picking a couple here and there. My favourites, I think, are still the tart Boskoop apples with their red-green, somewhat dull skin.

It was not only the fruit that delighted me, of course. Trees always fascinate me, the older they are the more, and this venerable old apple tree was no exception. I'd like to think that it is still standing because the owner, like me, sees it not only as a means to an end but a sentient being worthy to live out its last days as Mother Nature sees fit. 

 

Cinderella tree: 'Shiver and quiver, my little tree, throw silver and gold over me'

Ringbolt Hot Springs

I took a long break, mostly due to the fact that this is a very early spring here in Alberta, and our field work started before I could finish reporting on the rest of the trip. The fields are once again seeded, and I’ll try to gather my thoughts and pick up where I left off. 
 

Monday, March 14^th

The ‘Coffee Cup’ in the historic downtown district of Boulder City was our choice for breakfast, just like last year. We needed a hearty foundation for the hike we had planned for the day. We stopped at the National Park visitor centre just before the Hoover Dam to make sure the rumours we had heard about Ringbolt Hotsprings being closed were not true – that was our big worry. What if we couldn’t show our friends this most amazing place? But our fears were soon put to rest: only during the hottest part of the year this hike is not recommended. 

Unlike last year we stopped at the Hoover Dam bridge for a good look at the dam. It is, after all, a major tourist attraction, and even I had to admit that it’s an impressive construction. Seeing it wedged into that narrow canyon it didn’t surprise me very much to read that more than a hundred workers had lost their lives during the five years it took to build it. Lake Mead, the lake formed by damming the Colorado River, is the biggest body of water in the United States (by volume); right now the water level seemed quite low, though I don’t think any lower than last year around this time.

After the more technically minded part of our group had satisfied their inquisitiveness we drove the short distance to the Arizona Hot Springs (Ringbolt Hot Springs) trailhead. It was late morning, and the sun quite hot already.

Once we had traversed the half kilometre or so down the gravelly path and the steep canyon walls enclosed us it was nice and cool, the highway far enough in the distance that traffic noise didn’t interfere with the bird song from somewhere high above us.

Golden California poppies and brittle bush set the reddish rock ablaze, and in really shady niches I found this beautiful plant with its furry leaves and flower buds. 

Creosote bushes are tough enough to endure even the most adverse growing conditions, and their roots seem to bore through sheer rock. Sometimes I wonder what could possibly sustain them.

Lagging behind the others a bit a sudden movement caught my eye: a hummingbird, coming to rest briefly on the branch of a creosote bush, unconcerned by my presence. Unfortunately my camera wasn’t up to capturing this encounter.

Around noon we reached the Colorado, its calm waters a welcome opportunity to cool our heels. We saw a couple of canoes drifting upstream, a vulture drew its slow circles overhead. It is hard to believe that this is the same river that roars with such enormous force through the narrow walls of the Grand Canyon. Here, it would be no problem to manoeuvre a canoe even for a novice paddler, and indeed it’s another favourite way to reach the Arizona Hotsprings via that route. 

We still had the more difficult part of the trail ahead before we would reach the hot springs themselves. 

Now, the much narrower path hugged the cliff side for a bit before ascending through a short ‘chimney’ and descending to the mouth of the next canyon. 

We only had to follow the trickle of water now, the walls of the canyon narrowing evermore, the shallow, increasingly warmer water filling the whole width of the path soon. 

It was much easier walking barefoot now than trying to find dry rocks to step on, the gritty bottom stimulating the soles of my feet. The few slip rock passages, too, were easier to manage barefoot, though a few of us tackled them in a different manner. 

Only when we reached the ladder – no longer a worry for me like last year – I put on my shoes for a little while again.

Once we had all clambered up the ladder we could reap the reward for the hike: the warm pools of Ringbolt hot springs awaited us, a welcome opportunity to stretch our limbs in the water, enjoy a beer (which would have tasted only slightly better if it had been really cold), and marvel once again at the amazing setting of this great place. 

The uppermost of the three pools was just as hot as I remembered, and we quickly sloshed through on our way out higher up into the canyon that would lead us back to the parking lot eventually. We spread out our lunch on some flat rocks in the shade of a few creosote bushes and replenished the sun screen before winding our way through the walls of the canyon, which, after a while, opened up to a wide, gravelly area, affording a good view of the steep path we’d take to get up to where we had started. 

As so often, the way back seemed shorter the second time around. Every once in a while I turned around to take in the amazing view of the landscape below. No snakes, hardly any small lizards crossed our path; I was quite thankful for the lack of the former. We had been told in Phoenix already that snake sightings had been earlier than last year after the mild February. 

Once we gained the plateau the landscape became less dramatic, and soon the highway and the parking lot with our trusty Nissan Quest appeared in the distance. Hot, tired and happy we reached the end of our hike. 

Our destination for the night was Kingman, only about an hour and a half’s drive. Here, we had arrived at Route 66, and this, of course, called for a fitting dining experience at “Mr. D’z Route 66 Diner”. http://www.mrdzrt66diner.com/
 With its gleaming chrome, pink and turquoise furnishings, the juke box in the corner and Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley smiling from every wall it felt like we had been transported back to the fifties, and after a meal of burgers and fries we were ready for a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, after all, we would experience another highlight: the Grand Canyon.