Colorado River Canoe Trip - The Colorado River of today bears little resemblance to what it was in John Wesley Powell's day, but it is still beautiful, still awe-inspiring. In 1869, Powell explored parts of the river that were uncharted and widely believed to be un-navigable, and his accounts have inspired adventurers, dreamers, schemers and politicians for the past one and a quarter centuries.

For the past 20 years, I have made it a habit to return to the river and camp along its banks at least a couple of times a year. The soul-soothing effects have been profound and addictive, although in recent years, it has become increasingly difficult to find solitude and peace.

Last July, for example, after having driven westward all day across Arizona, I decided to cool off at a deserted public boat ramp on the river. I had no sooner taken off my shirt than an official-looking truck with a spotlight screeched to a halt behind my truck. More...

Exploring Black Eagle Mine Road - Black Eagle Mine Road runs through an old mining district. It passes by Barry Storm's Jade Mine, the Black Eagle Gold Mine, and Kaiser's Eagle Mountain Mine which is still on the blocks as a possible dump location for Los Angeles' trash. Even though this has been ruled against in the courts, interested parties continue to press for this outcome. This difficult, 4-wheel drive only, rocky road passes by many side roads to other old, abandoned gold mines as well. Driving it gives you an idea of what mining was like for the old timers in the rugged foothills of Black Eagle Mountain.

Beginning 6.5 miles north of the Cottonwood Visitor Center, this dead-end dirt road runs along the edge of Pinto Basin, crosses several dry washes, and then winds up through canyons in the Eagle Mountains. The first 9+ miles of the road are within the park boundary. Beyond that point is BLM land. Several old mines are located near this road. More...

Camping Adventures and Bees - Millions of years ago, according to one theory (mine), the mammoth child of some now extinct race of giants spilled globs of wet sandstone clay, red as rusted iron, on the Nevada desert in what is now known as the Valley of Fire. Perhaps she was modeling some kind of prehistoric jack-o-lanterns, for she poked holes in them with her fingers so the mounds were riddled with grotesque eyes and noses and mouths. Whatever her intention, she left them to dry and forgot to come back.

Some of the globs are 100 feet high, some only 10 or 15. As I arrive, looking for a place to camp, the late afternoon sun is turning them red as fire and the holes - enlarged and sculpted now by eons of wind-blown sand - hold shadows so black that I know without going too close that some blood-thirsty, bone-crunching horror lurks in the holes, just waiting to pull me in. I decide that this is just the right place, for even though I am now a jaded old iconoclast who, in my sixties, has taken to wandering around in the desert alone, I have never lost my childhood delight in using my imagination to terrify myself. More...

Butterflies of New Mexico - Now that winter is but a cold blast from the past here in southern New Mexico, thoughts gladly turn to the flowers of spring; swarms of hummingbirds, robins and other migrating birds; and the delightful prospect of butterflies lighting up the landscape.

Of the state's 300 plus species (New Mexico is ranked third in the nation for butterflypopulations), about 160 can be found in the southern region. As warmer temperatures coax flowers into bloom, the vibrant iridescence of the first Spring Azure makes an appearance. More...