2016.03.22-24 – Cacti and Cupped Tires

I rolled into California in early February, expecting to spend four to six weeks traversing this massive state. After well over three thousand miles, I was finally leaving. From north to south, the state is roughly eight hundred miles long. My zigzagging had added thousands of miles to the adventure! It had to be done, however, to visit both the inland mountains and the contoured coastline. California had been a stronghold of friends, of smiling faces, of warm showers, of fluffy beds. It had felt familiar from my own coastal explorations in years past. Now, I was off into the desert southwest. Although I had visited sections before, I was undoubtedly heading into fresh and exciting territory.

My hastened departure from California ended up coming from a bizarre source. A run in with a Honda dealership in Los Angeles had encouraged me to get my engine valves adjusted as soon as possible. Not wanting to pay Los Angeles prices for a relatively simple mechanical procedure, I made an appointment in Tucson to get my valves adjusted. Saguaro National Park lay just beyond the limits of Tucson, so I had to make the trip anyway.

From Joshua Tree, I headed south towards Yuma, passing by border patrol multiple times before I stared the seemingly endless drive across the desert to the east. Under the waxing moon, the desert shimmered in a pale glow. Before I knew it, I was in Tucson, bedding down at a Wal-Mart just off the highway.

In the morning I headed into Steve’s Royal Automotive Services to have my valves adjusted. Steve greeted me with a wry smile and a hearty handshake. Knowing that I was on a road trip, he made me his top priority. Popping the hood, he checked the valves, declaring that they didn’t really need adjusting. He hopped in and we drove around the block to hear the shrill hum emitting from my engine. After giving me a short history of the neighborhood, he told me to accelerate while he stuck his head out the window. With a knowing look in his eye, he said that it sounded like I had an exhaust leak. Not knowing how much that would cost, my stomach whirled about in dismay.

We brought Sam back into the shop, lifting him up so that we could check out his underside. Clearly the snowy winter and salty roads had done a number on him. Almost immediately, Steve and Tom located the site of the leak. They also mentioned that my tires were badly cupped, wearing dangerously close to the threads. Steve said that the car was safe to drive, but I could get a flat any minute or the exhaust leak could worsen at any point. He didn’t want to send me back out on the road like that, so he started making phone calls, securing the necessary parts to repair the leak and walking me through his selection of tires. I have dealt with a few mechanics on this trip and Steve’s personality and work ethic left me entirely confident that he would make sure that I would have everything I needed to continue on safely on my journey. I could also that he would do so without robbing me blind.

Over the next few days, I spent many hours hanging out with Steve, Tom, and Brandon at the shop. They let me watch what they were doing to the car, explaining why certain things had to happen. I became a part of the process in a way that mainstream corporate auto shops aren’t allowed to do. In fact, I felt almost like a part of the family. Sarcastic jokes, political commentary, and bizarre customer stories kept life interesting. In the end, I walked out of the shop with four new tires and no exhaust leak. I’ll admit I could have done without the $800 bill, but such is life. Regular maintenance was always going to be part of this trips economic reality.

Whenever Steve wasn’t working on the car, I sped off towards Saguaro National Park. Like Theodore Roosevelt National Park and a few others, Saguaro has two different units on either side of Tucson. Both units are brimming with Saguaro cacti, but they offer different opportunities for adventure. On a whim, I decided to head east first. Just beyond the limits of Tucson, the terrain rises into steep hills covered in low shrubs and the occasional cactus. The road climbed steadily through the hills until it cut through a pass between two steep peaks. From that pass, the valley spread out below me like an endless, flat expanse of desert. Although marginal developments dotted the valley, the sunburnt sands stretched as far as I could see, eventually rising into another cluster of peaks. Across that vast expanse, the winds flowed unimpeded, gathering strength until they crashed into the hills of Saguaro National Park.

Beginning my descent into the park, I curled down switchback after switchback until I finally landed at the visitor’s center. After stamping by book and watching the park film, I headed off towards the King Canyon trailhead on the recommendation of a friendly ranger. As I packed up in the parking lot, I bundled up against the unrelenting mid-day sun and dry heat. Although I have definitely come to appreciate the beauty of the desert over the past few weeks, I can’t say that I am a fan of the heat. Luckily, the hottest parts of the day can be easily avoided by finding respite in the shade and waiting until the heat has passed. Sometimes, however, I don’t have that option! In this section of the Sonoran Desert, the tallest living things are the Saguaro cacti and they doesn’t offer much in the way of shade.

Despite its relatively limited growing region, the Saguaro cactus is the quintessential cactus of the desert. It is the cactus that Wile E. Coyote would find himself tangled up in after the nimble Roadrunner had outmaneuvered him. Its height sets it apart from the rest of the desert flora. It is a king among cacti. The Saguaro, however, is in danger. As temperatures shift and oscillate, the cactus struggles to maintain equilibrium. The park has seen a dramatic decrease in its cactus population over the last few decades. Surviving cacti and their offspring now sparsely populate the hillsides and valleys that used to swarm with the Saguaro.

Climbing King Canyon towards Wasson Peak, the wind buffeted me onwards. Each gust whistled through the rough, unforgiving underbrush of the desert. That noise, however, was far less distinct than that of the Saguaro. Although its sentinel-like stature seems impervious to wind, each gust created a chorus of whispers as cut through the Saguaro’s spines. While that same wind had effectively pushed me up the mountain, it protested as I began my descent. As I hiked past abandoned mine shafts and branching trail systems, I continued to stare off into the desert plain below where clouds of dust marshaled in the powerful breeze. With more than a little surprise, I realized that I was witnessing the beginning of my first dust storm. Whirling columns of dust shifted back and forth before the impenetrable mass that followed just behind. This was yet another aspect of desert life that I hadn’t experienced. I quickened my pace, hoping to get to my car before the swirling sands hit. There was no other shelter in sight. My inexperience with dust storms did me a bit of a disservice in Saguaro. I had far more time than I had originally imagined. The storm hit just as I was leaving the valley. I saw the hills where I had hiked blanketed by the swirling mass.

I spent most of the next day with Steve and the crew working on Sam, but snuck away with time to explore the western section of Saguaro before it got too dark. With no hills or valleys separating it from Tucson, Saguaro-West feels crowded by the outskirts of the city. It doesn’t have the same hiking options as its eastern counterpart, which served me just fine as I didn’t want to be caught out after dark. Instead of taking to the trail, I drove the famous park loop, getting out frequently to walk among the desert. Cyclists whizzed by frequently, but fellow motorists were few and far between. I felt like I had the whole place to myself. With the sun drooping towards the horizon, the light captured the multicolored flora of the desert, igniting the yellows, greens, and reds that remind you that this place really is alive.

After my last night in Saguaro, I checked in with Steve once more before I headed out. We ran a few more diagnostics on a problematic tire pressure gauge and troubleshooted solutions down the road. As I headed out, they showered me with suggestions about my route north and I promised to send them a postcard somewhere along the way. Car trouble may be an economic drain and a time suck, but I am grateful that it landed me with this crew for a few days!

Crossing a state border? Better have a map!