Here’s a new hero in the ongoing struggle against man’s nearest competitor for North American “Apex Predator” title. A dad who takes on a coyote bare-handed to protect his son deserves something more than a Hallmark card on Father’s Day. The same coyote apparently attacked a woman and her two dogs earlier the same day, according to the news story. The dead coyote is being tested for rabies, which would be bad (and painful) news for the victims if the test proves positive but would be somewhat comforting in explaining the animal’s aggressive behavior. Note too that this all took place in a small town in New Hampshire just a few miles from the Atlantic coast — more evidence of the now continental reach of canis latrans.
Here’s a “Lost in the Woods” story with a happy ending. Colorado family returning from vacation in California detoured off I-15 into the Arizona Strip for quick visit to North Rim, bogged down in mud and snow 40 miles into the backcountry. Father and son hiked 20 miles back out to call for help and local Sheriff’s deputies, BLM and Park Rangers combined to locate and rescue the rest of the family. A couple of lessons here. First is “inquire locally.” Don’t venture into unfamiliar terrain without stopping by nearest convenience store, bar or preferably the local ranger station to ask for directions, road conditions and weather report. (On that last point, I would expect Coloradans to be familiar with the relationship between altitude and temperature. Might be sunny and warm in Southern California, but the North Rim of the Grand Canyon is up above 7,000-7,500 feet. As a rule of thumb you can expect temp to drop about 5 degrees Fahrenheit for every 1,000 foot gain in altitude.) Finally, as a hidebound old paper map & compass geezer, let me caution you youngsters about becoming over-reliant on your new-fangled electronics. This Colorado family was misled by their “smartphone” mapping, which led them onto an unpaved road impassable in wet weather. Then, when their SUV got stuck, they found themselves out of cellphone range.
“Those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it. Yet those who do study history are doomed to stand by helplessly while everybody else repeats it.” An old New Yorker cartoon, one of very few both funny and true.
The new year’s calendar reminds me the Historical Society’s annual get-together is in Silver City April 16-18. Should be an exciting event, and I look forward to seeing some old friends.
Readers with more vivid imaginations may want to skip this post, but it’s kind of a necessary bookend to my previous post on the risks of White Sands. In re-checking some of the links in that piece, I turned up a recent Park Service release on a body found out near 49 Palms in Joshua Tree National Monument. Identity unknown, and I wondered whether the deceased might be the woman who disappeared out in Mohave Nat’l Preserve last summer. More likely the dead person will prove to be a 51-year-old hiker who disappeared in that area in July of 2018. But I was interested to note the Joshua Tree remains were discovered in steep, rocky terrain well away from the nearest hiking trail by an un-named “cooperating agency” examining aerial photos taken this past summer. Curious to know more about that mysterious agency and why it would be conducting a detailed aerial survey of the desert back country, I tried a web search for “human remains” and instead turned up a couple of equally interesting stories on an unrelated subject.
Most recent of these is that of the three mountain lions recently put down by Arizona Game and Fish rangers who caught the cats dining on a recently deceased human about 50 yards off a popular Tucson hiking trail. The rangers don’t believe the lions killed the dead person, but it’s somehow more disturbing they were feeding on the body, since mountain lions are predators, not scavengers. More ominous, the cats “repeatedly showed no fear” in the presence of the officers.
Effective just before Christmas, the 275 square miles of New Mexico desert formerly known as White Sands National Monument became the nation’s newest National Park. I’m not sure that’s a good thing. Although both are run by the Park Service, it’s been my experience Parks tend to accumulate petty rules and officious functionaries more rapidly than Monuments. But maybe that’s simply a result of visitation, with the most beautiful and famous sites so overwhelmed by nature-loving daytrippers that a corresponding bureaucracy is needed to handle the crowds.
Although it’s been some years since my last visit, I hope the Arena Blanca is still a considerable way short of the sad condition of Zion, Yosemite and the South Rim. Kids can still have a lot of fun in the Sands without venturing beyond sight of the parking lot, and desert rats like myself can immerse themselves in the trackless expanse of the dunes with a ten-minute hike from pavement. That access can make the dunes quite dangerous, however. Please keep the risks in mind if you’re following Nana’s trail.
According to my latest royalty statement, I’m selling books in Europe as well as the U.S. Tracking Nana has found a market in Britain and Spain, and I was surprised to find it selling in Germany as well. I’ve seen German tourists around the Southwest over the years but didn’t realize many of them share an interest in the Apache Wars.
A friend steered me toward enlightenment in the works of Karl May, a turn of the (last) century author who might be described as Germany’s Edgar Rice Burroughs. Like Burroughs, May was an enormously prolific and popular writer in his time, selling 200 million copies of his works worldwide. He wrote page-turners set in other exotic locales, but his most popular and enduring creations were the Apache chief Winnetou and his bloodbrother (May’s alter-ego) the intrepid German-American frontiersman Old Shatterhand. Unlike Burroughs, who is only vaguely remembered today as creator of Tarzan, May’s books remain popular in Germany more than a century after his death in 1910, spawning stage plays, TV shows, comic books and movies.
Although May visited America once it was for just six weeks late in his career and he ventured no farther west than Niagara Falls. His Westerns were entirely the product of his vivid imagination, and bore little more relation to the reality of the frontier than Burroughs’ Martian potboilers did to the real Red Planet. In May’s stories Winnetou rises to become first chief of the Mescalero and then leader of all the Apache bands as well as the Navajo — an ambition that would have daunted Old Nana himself. Some of May’s adventures are available online, but I’m not sure whether those listed are English translations or in the original German.
I’m temporarily between travels and adventures, hoping for a quiet winter, precariously perched between river and desert at the sharp end of Nevada. Last year was too full of alarums and excursions for a man my age, and ’20 looks to be even more hectic. But “time enough to rest in the grave,” as the man says.
In the brief interval before greenup (and it’s already sprouting in my back 40) I hope to catch up a little on this website. Even with my clumsy and sporadic efforts at promotion, the book is selling well. I’m especially pleased to be the best-selling author in Hillsboro, NM. I’d rather that honor than to make the NYT list.
An important update for those planning to retrace the Raid today: on my last trip into the Gila I found the road through the Monticello Box closed. A cowboy (who showed up so promptly that I suspect there are cameras as well as a sturdy chain and padlock guarding the gate) advised me the county abandoned the road through the canyon some time ago. Too bad — the drive through the box was one of those adventures I wouldn’t nave wanted to miss.