[G2:1179]I have no good explanation for it, but I made the conscious decision this morning not to put on sunblock. I applied it to my nose, my forehead and my ears (I will at least avoid crispy ears), but I didn't take the time to cover the rest of my exposed skin. And now my arms are the color of my shirt — [g2link:1219]which, by the way, is red[/g2link].
I realized about the middle of the day I was burning, but things were moving so fast I just never paused to apply.
My first stop was at the World's Largest Kachina Doll, a surprisingly unconventional sight among so many affluent homes with their taupe adobe and strategically planted saguaro. I had intended a hit-and-run, but the kachina's current owner happened to live on site and came out to surprise me with an interview, as well as a can of ant spray to fend off the 200 biters that had overrun my camera bag.
Then it was back to Dreamy Draw Dam after having discovered online an aerial photo of what I couldn't find before. Turns out I drove right past it the first time, but only because it isn't much to look at. I imagined what you probably imagined — a big, sleek, concrete thing, either very long or very tall. Nope, just [g2link:1189]a big pile of rocks[/g2link], same as all the other rocks.
It's a highly restricted pile of rocks, though, with enough signs warning everyone to [g2link:1186]keep out[/g2link] that I was a little nervous in this age of "heightened awareness" that someone was going to call the authorities on the guy pointing the zoom lens at it.
Next was [g2link:1195]Hunt's Tomb[/g2link], a hilltop pyramid housing the remains of Arizona's first, second, third, sixth, seventh, eighth and 10th governor (all the same guy). It overlooks Papago Park, which, with its cartoonish rock formations and palm-lined oasis, has an undeniable Bedrock feel. I highly recommend it.
Incidentally, this is, I believe, where the sun really got me. In all my time outside in Arizona thus far, I've never felt hotter. I think perhaps it was the reflection off the tomb's glazed bathroom tile that did me in. I was thankful for the fortuitously placed water spigot I had parked the Femme Canyonero next to, which I used to sponge myself off before changing into a fresh shirt. I probably should've also put on some sunblock at that point, but I'm not a smart man.
[G2:1213 class=right]Besides, I had only 20 minutes to get to the home of [g2link:1198]Louis Lee[/g2link], a man now in his 90s who's spent half his life making a rock garden. Actually, it's more like a rock maze; I got lost in it, I really did. I think there are enough stones in these walls and arches that you could cover up another UFO.
Finally, after a second Rockford moment at [g2link:1210]Copenhaver Castle[/g2link], a $10 million King Arthur-style mansion built on the side of a mountain, I raced out to Buckeye to see Hobo Joe. Joe is the largest known vagrant in the world, who once was the icon for a now-defunct chain of restaurants and who currently stands outside a slaughterhouse as a memorial to his sculptor.
Sound confusing? It is. But just by accident, I was introduced to the one person who could explain it to me. She's the woman who was widowed by the man whose friend was the fiberglass expert who left Joe here after the men who were supposed to pay him for the statue went out of business due to some shady dealings.
That didn't help, did it? Don't worry, the woman wouldn't let me leave until I heard the whole story (as well as some other stuff about the threat of local dairy closures and the oddities of living along the Gulf of Mexico), so I'll be sure to straighten it all out for you in the book.
For now, I'm going to eat my Burger King, watch a Battlestar Galactica rerun and fall asleep to the sound of idling Peterbilts.
[G2:1178]
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