Telegraph Pass


Today after school I surprised Rhiannon with a nature hike. I have learned from past experience that saying things like, "hey, Rhiannon, let's go on a nature hike!" are met with protests not unlike the brave soul who stood in front of the tank in Tiananmen Square. So today I just trundled her into the car and drove to the trailhead for Telegraph Pass, a desert mountain trail that connects with other trails going up South Mountain. The lower half of the trail is fairly easy with rolling hills and is paved for the first half mile giving way to rocks and dirt farther on.

About five minutes into our drive, Rhiannon begins setting our agenda for when we get home:

"Dad! When we get home, you can unpack my backpack and check your mail and then we can play Starfall (Rhiannon's favorite online reading game site) until mom gets home."

"Sure, Rhiannon."

"Dad! This sure is taking a long time to get home."

By now we have turned into the parking area just off of Desert Foothills. The lot is mostly full; one can tell we are in a tonier part of Phoenix because there are two Audi TTs in the lot, a Hummer, and lots of cars with rooftop bike racks.

"Where are we?"

"I thought that since it is such a nice day outside that we could go to the mountain and take a walk. There is something I want to show you."

"Okay." She says it as if she is actually okay with the idea.

I unbuckle Rhiannon from her booster seat. Her face is smeared with Nutella that she has dutifully licked off of the graham crackers she was given prior to leaving Kids' Club. I apply some saliva to my finger and clean Rhiannon up a bit. She looks especially waify today, and her hair is sticking out as if she just woke up.

"Shoulders?"

I am expecting this. Rhiannon weighs about forty pounds now, so carrying her on my shoulders for about three miles on rolling terrain is a great way to burn calories and bond with the kind. She loves it and asks me to skip through the parking lot, which I do, calves burning.

About ten minutes into the walk past saguaro and barrel cacti, Rhiannon asks what it was that I wanted to show her.

"Is it a toy store?"

"No. Not out here on the mountain."

"Oh. What is it then?"

"You'll see."

"What are those towers up there?" Rhiannon points to the top of South Mountain.

"Those are the TV towers."

"How did they get there?"

"They put them on big trucks and drove them up the mountain."

I don't think Rhiannon realizes that there is a road that winds around the other side of South Mountain, and instead is imagining these big-rigs powering up the sheer, south face of South Mountain instead. "WOW!"

Soon we reach our destination. About halfway up Telegraph Pass there are examples of Hohokam rock art. These petroglyphs feature human figures, horned animals, lizards, snakes, and geometric patterns.

"Nobody knows what these pictures mean," I tell Rhiannon.

"Maybe they are just pictures."

"Maybe". I used to get shouted at in art history class by saying stuff like that. Good for her.

"Can I sit on a rock?"

"Sure."

We sit and I give her some pretzels. She can see the suburbs spread out below us. The setting sun has made the mountains near us golden.

"Dad, it's beautiful."

"I'm glad you think so, Rhiannon. I think it's beautiful, too."

"My hands are cold. Can we go down to a sunny spot?"

"Sure."

She gets on my shoulders again and we walk down the mountain. On our right is a wadi, a dry riverbed.

"Rhiannon, there used to be a river there a long, long time ago. The water used to come down off the mountain and run into this riverbed."

"Was there some kind of faucet up there?"

I laugh. "No. There was just a lot more water here at one time."

"Oh."

We walk on and see a tumbleweed that was not on the trail when we came by earlier. Rhiannon has never seen one.

"Look, Rhiannon! Tumbleweed!"

She gets down off of my shoulders and cautiously approaches the dry ball of grass and seeds. "What is it?"

"It's actually alive. It gets blown across the desert by wind and leaves its seeds along the way."

Rhiannon sniffs the buds in the tumbleweed and watches as the wind knocks it around. I pick her up again and in a few moments we are at the car. I strap her in and give her apple juice. When I sit down, she tells me:

"Well since we spent so much time on the mountain, I don't think you have any time left for email."

"We'll see about that."

Rhiannon. Cute on schedule.

Andrew (Papa)