My new life

23 Jan 2011

Updated Apr 28, 2008; adds "Hiking the McDowell's..."

The Spring Has Sprung at Grayhawk

A fresh crop of roses from my back yard; Also, Climbing Camelback on Apr 2

SCOTTSDALE, Apr 2, 2008 - I have always had close relationships with mountains even before I became aware of it in this world. When Edmund Hillary became the first man to climb Mount Everest in 1953, I remember as a little tyke drawing the pictures over and over again depicting the shape of the world's tallest mountain in my scratch pad. I was just mesmerized with it. Later on, beautiful mountains, like those in Montenegro or the Canadian Rockies, always filled me with awe of their majestic beauty and rugged power. And when I first saw the photo of Machu Picchu many years ago, I felt a deep connection with the ancient place that I had never visited.

It was only in the last two to three decades that I began to understand the reason for my affinity for and connection to the tall powerful mountains. You see, there is a mountain in northern Montenegro named Djurdjevic Tara...

That's where my Serbian ancestors settled after the Battle of Kosovo in 1389 (see above map, photos, and Djurdjevic family history). The mother of my daughters used to throw her arms up in fake exasperation, "oh, the Montenegro mountain men!" - when she disapproved of some of my occasional demonstrations of raw power or rugged bluntness.

In 1990, I found out from a history expert in Belgrade that, before Montenegro, my ancestors were nobles with estates in southern Macedonia-northern Greece, near the birthplace of Alexander the Great (right). Even though the Djurdjevic's eventually migrated northward and settled around Belgrade, Serbia, they were known as the "Greeks" among the local population. I never understood why until 1990, when I found this connection to northern Greece and Alexander the Great.

I have always had an intimate and deep relationship with Camelback Mountain in Phoenix. In fact, it was Camelback that brought me here. Sitting on the southern slopes of the Mummy Mountain in March 1981, and looking across a valley at the lengthening shadows gradually extinguishing the orange glow of the sunset-lit Camelback Mountain, I said to my then wife, "this is where I want to live."

Ever since, Camelback has played a large part in my life. Camelback Road was the street we took when we moved to Phoenix. Camelback Roadd was my family address for the last 12 years of living in that part of Phoenix, before moving to North Scottsdale in Oct 2005. My last home was in the southern Camelback foothills just under the camel's head. Camelback was the beacon that brought us home from the many drives around the state of Arizona when our kids were small. Playing the game of "who is going to see Camelback first" was a way of amusing the kids on our return trips, and keeping them alert instead of cranky at the end of long drives.

I have climbed Camelback probably hundreds of times in the last 27 years. I used to do it on my birthday (June 3) in 110-115F heat. I did it in January, with with cold winds blasting through layers of my clothing. I have laughed on Camelback, cried on it, cursed it, prayed and meditated on it, faced possible death, rescued people, even left blood on the mountain a few times as Camelback took its revenge. What I did not realize was that the mountain did it to teach me some lessons.

Like back in July 1999, when I injured my left knee there coming down a steep and slipper portion of the trail. It was a warning that my marriage was on the rocks. But it took my conversation with Heather on Apr 1, 2008 (this past Tuesday) to understand that. That's when she told me about an ankle injury she sustained at Machu Picchu in Peru while considering a divorce in herself. My knee was operated on in June 2000, after my then wife and I had already filed for divorce. It mended over the next six months in sync with the reconstruction of my own new life.

Camelback struck back again in Nov 2004. This time it was my right shoulder's rotator cuff that was torn as ground gave way underneath me while I was trying to take a picture of a view to the north. My then wife Karen was standing a few yards away. Again, I did not understand Camelback's message until Tuesday night. My shoulder was operated on in May 2005. Karen and I filed for divorce in Aug of that year, kicking off a rebuilding process of both my physical and spiritual life.

When I got to Camelback on a spur of the moment, I realized that I had dressed subconsciously this morning in clothes that are perfectly adequate for mountain hikes. I had on a pair of jean shorts, a sports shirt with long sleeves, and black Nike running shoes (left photo). So rather than just pick out some stones at the base of the mountain... (above)

...I decided to take a hike to my "Prayer Rocks," about a third of the way to the top of the mountain (left), from where one can enjoying magnificent 270-degree views.

I had intended originally only to come to the Prayer Rocks. But I now I felt an urge to continue climbing. It was a beautiful day and I had not been on Camelback for at least four years. I took one final look toward the East, where I spotted some pretty green horseback riding rings (far right). Then I said goodbye to my Prayer Rocks, turned around to go up the mountain. Just as I did that, I noticed a sign of the cross on one of the big black rocks in front (above left). I had never noticed that cross before.

I did not get more than 100 yards up the trail, when two doves emerged from out of nowhere and started walking in front of me on the path, obviously trying to draw my attention to them (above three photos to the right). I could not believe how tame they were. Normally, birds flutter away from man, especially a man in motion. But these two doves intercepted me, and were strolling all around me casually as I was taking their pictures. I realized this must have been another message I was receiving from the Spirit. But what? Because they were a pair of doves, and doves are symbols of peace and love, I figured that the sign could be that I would not be walking my path to eternity alone; that there is a woman who is The One for me who would be joining me on this journey. Later on, Heather confirmed my intuition, saying that doves usually represent the Spirit's presence. But having two of them appear to me at the same time was extremely unusual and a very powerful sign.

The doves slowly sauntered off the trail. I continued my climb. Along the way, I took time "to smell the roses," meaning to enjoy the beauty of nature, such as that gorgeous cactus (two left photos). At my "usual" rest point, about half way up the mountain, I paused to take in some spectacular views of Phoenix - to the South and to the East (right two photos).

And then I remembered that I was about to climb up to the "Green Widow" (left). Green Widow is the name I gave this solitary Palo Verde (tree) probably some 15-20 years ago, when I first noticed her perched on that side of Camelback. Now, with my discovery of the Green Man legends, this green tree took on a whole new meaning.

When I reached the Camelback saddle, about two-thirds of the way up the mountain, I decided to make it my final ascent point. Since one can enjoy from the saddle 360-degree views of the Valley of the Sun, I took four more shots (above).

This is where in the past I would also usually rest for a few minutes, take a drink of water, and then head back. Alas, since this was an impromptu climb, I did not bring any water ("shame on you!" I chastised myself as a supposedly experienced Arizona climber). But I noted that I had barely perspired. So not having any water wasn't a big deal. On my way down, I noticed how some other people were dripping with sweat and panting as they were climbing. I credited my yoga practices for enabling me to get this far up the mountain so effortlessly.

As I was approaching the Green Widow on my way down, I realized to my utter astonishment that she was no longer alone. There was another Palo Verde tree, not more than 10-15 yards away (left). I had never noticed it before, maybe because I never paid attention to that scene while climbing down the mountain? Whatever the explanation, I decided it was time to rename her Green Woman. And to give her (new?) partner the name of Green Man. Later on, I took three more pictures of the Green Widow (i.e., Green Woman now), looking from the ground up (three right photos).

On the way down Camelback, I paused for a few seconds to take another video of the beautiful views to the North (above left). The whizzing sound you will be hearing in this YouTube recording is the strong wind which again started blowing at that point.

SCOTTSDALE, Apr 9, 2008 - The Spring has sprung at Grayhawk. Check out today's crop of roses from my back yard...

And their smell is heavenly, too. There are also more than a dozen buds of various colors either blooming or getting ready to open up. So it looks like I'll be all set with natural beauty and fragrance for the next few weeks. Since I cannot give them to you in person, I dedicate them to all the women in my life - past, present or future. Enjoy!

SCOTTSDALE, Apr 18, 2008 - I returned today from New York to some more beautiful springtime blossoms around my house at Grayhawk...

...starting with that bright red cactus flower, the dainty peach, pink and orange roses, and the passionate deep indigo Mexican petunia, being watched over by my Owie dual. And yes, the dove is still here and laying in its nest, probably keeping its chick nice and warm until it is strong enough to fly and fend for itself.

But my greatest joy was to see my two bougs flowering again (above), after my gardener had forsaken them for dead a year ago. They were badly burnt by the frost in the winter of 2007. But I did not give up on them and kept nursing them with water and plant food all last year, even though they never bloomed. And now they are coming back to life with (grateful?) smiles on their faces... :-)

Finally, I brought back with me from my walk in New York a piece of Westchester granite with enough quartz in it that it sparkled even in the darkness of the night (right photo... the other three were taken with a flash).

SCOTTSDALE, Apr 18, 2008 - This afternoon, I went to the DC Ranch Marketplace intending to check out the regular Saturday art show that's put on by local artists and artisans every weekend. Before I even got to it, I was distracted by some unexpected sights and sounds...

A pet adoption dog show was also going on (left two photos). So my visit to the marketplace turned into a "Dog Day Afternoon" (a 1975 Al Pacino movie that has nothing to do with dogs). :-)

We used to have a Bassett Hound whose name was Fred. The Bassett in the middle right shot looks bigger and paler than Fred was, but just as cute. The caption for the rightmost shot should be, of course, "Puppy Love," what else? :-)

You could say the same about the leftmost picture, except that that white "puppy" is quite large. No problem. My daughters used to call our 90-pound Golden Retriever a puppy practically until he died. :-)

Now, speaking of large, take a good look at those calf-size Great Danes in the two right shots above. That one in the rightmost picture looked straight at me as if saying, "and just who do you suppose gave you permission to photograph the GREAT ME?" :-)

SCOTTSDALE, Apr 26, 2008 - I woke up this morning well rested, but without any momentous dreams or important signs emanating

from them. As I watered the roses in my back yard, I noticed that where used to be one dove laying on a nest under the grapefruit tree a few weeks ago (click on the picture to enlarge), there were now two. They fluttered away as I walked by. So either the father has returned, or the young chick is already flying by itself. Anyway, I stored that thought in the back of my mind as I went about my leisurely Saturday.

I read this morning again the tips from the organizers of my expedition to Machu Picchu and other Holy Mountains' in Peru, and found them just as daunting as the first time I saw them. As a city slicker and a desert rat, I felt like a babe in the woods in this high mountain hiking and camping environment. I don't mind getting banged up and dirty and sweaty and full of cactus and other thorns, but hiking at 16,000 feet? Well, it will be a challenge, but one I am looking forward to.

So I decided to go to the REI store and start my high mountain hiking and camping education early. The first thing I saw was a "Camelbak" backpack with a built-in 3-litre water bag. "Hm..." I thought. "Maybe it's time to replace my 16-year old belt with a water bottle that my younger daughter Emily bought for her Costa Rica trip in 1992." It's pretty much in shreds and tatters by now. I also thought the brand name ("Camelbak") was auspicious even if they can't spell. :-) So I bought the backpack for my bike rides and hiking here in the desert from a nice fellow-biker (Stan).

I then talked for probably half an hour to a very knowledgeable young man (Dustin) about what kind of gear I would need for high mountain hiking and camping. I did not buy anything, but he marked for me on their catalogue printout the items he would want to have if he were doing it (which he has done before). He led me to another nice man (John) in the shoe department. I did buy a pair of Gortex hiking boots as I wanted to break them in before my Peru trip. I even kept them on. Might as well start breaking them in right away, I figured.

Then as I was walking out of the store, an idea flashed through my brain. It was another mountain call. This time, McDowell Mountains were calling me. So I decided to go home, get my new backpack ready and filled with water, and then go for a hike through McDowell Mountains, just back of my DC Ranch Village Club (see the map below).

I have piddled around the McDowell Mtns foothills before, but have never really gone on a hike there. So it was to be a new experience for me and a challenge of the unknown. I was excited and looking forward to it. My heart was singing with joy as I was ascending the lower slopes.

After about half an hour of walking through the desert, I looked at my legs and new shoes. They were full of thorns. "Not much of a trail," I remember thinking. Then I chuckled at the thought of Moses wondering through the desert for 40 years and of all the thorns he must have collected. Silly thoughts like that, kept coming to me as my heart was light and my mood playful. The outside temperature was about 95F but I did not feel it nor know it at the time.

I loved the solitude of the McDowell Mtns desert. Unlike Camelback, where you see hikers and other signs of modern life all the time, the only thing around me here was the Sonoran Desert in its springtime splendor. The only sound I could here was the buzz of insect. The only evidence of other forms of life were occasional droppings on the ground, smaller ones of coyotes, the bigger ones of mountain lions. No birds. No airplanes. No It was me and myself, hiking alone in the McDowell's. My only regret was that I did not bring my camera so I could record my first ever McDowell Mtn experience. "Oh well, the next time..." I thought. I already knew there will be many "next times."

By now I was deep into the mountains, walking through what looked like a fairly wide gorge. There was gulch in the middle of it, a dry wash (an "arroyo," as the Mexicans call it). I decided to cross it and continue hiking on its left bank. Just as I climbed up on the other side of the gulch, I heard a flutter of wings. Two doves flew out of the underbrush and landed on a nearby tree.

"Here we go again," I thought. "I am in the middle of nowhere, and suddenly the doves appear again." I paused and looked at them. "Are you trying to tell me something?" I asked. I knew that doves are believed to be the Spirit's messengers, and have, in fact, experienced some of that on Camelback Mtn myself recently. "Okay, I'll follow you and see what happens."

As if following my thoughts, as soon as I stepped toward them, the two doves flew away again, this time across the arroyo to the other side. They landed on another tree, maybe 100-150 yards away. I looked down. The place looked foreboding. There was a steep drop here, maybe 25-30 feet to the bottom of the arroyo, not exactly an ideal place to cross it. I did it anyway and came out of it unscathed.

When I climbed up on the other side, I looked up toward the tree on which the doves had landed. And then my jaw dropped. I saw the trail there. The tree was right on it. I had been walking all this time through the desert way off course. No wonder I got all those thorns embedded in my shoes, socks and legs. So the doves led me to the trail.

Several other doves appeared from out of nowhere and fluttered around me. "They must be nesting somewhere around here," I thought.

I pulled out as many thorns as I could out of my body and the shoes, and continued my hike the rest of the way on the trail. I eventually ended up at a summit of sorts called the Gateway Saddle. There was a beautiful view of the city and the western Valley of the Sun vistas from there. As it was getting late in the afternoon (around 4:15), the sun was also getting lower on that side of the horizon. I decided to rest here for a few minutes and say my prayers to the four winds, as I did at my "prayer rocks" on Camelback on Apr 2. And then I headed back down the trail toward the Club.

As I was passing that area where the two doves appeared to me, I was wondering if they'll still be there. One of them was. She fluttered again to a nearby tree. As I was talking to her sweetly, I heard the sound of another bird coming from the sam

e tree, but behind her. It was a different call... a single long note. I walked on a bit to see if I can get a better angle at that bird. It was a quail! I have never seen quails in the desert before. Suddenly I began to feel as if I were becoming an aviary magnet. :-)

The rest of the way down, I collected four rocks that I will add to my "mesa." I decided I will have four of them from Camelback, four from the McDowell's, four from the Djurdjevic Mtn in Montenegro, and one in the middle - the shiny quartz from Westchester, New York, that I brought back from my last trip.

Other than that, my descent was uneventful. Well, not quite. As I was crossing the parking lot on the way to the Clubhouse, a vision of loveliness spoke to me. A young woman, with a face that was a mixture of Caucasian and Asian features, wearing a short airy cream-colored summer dress that was flowing around her curves like a ballet costume, asked me, "did you just come down from a hike?"

"I did," I replied. We chatted for a while about it. And then we went on our way.

Michelle looked way to young for me, but she was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen - the icing on the cake of a lovely McDowell's hike, thorns and all.

All around, my first training session for Peru amounted to about 6 miles with a 4,000 foot elevation difference in 2 hours in 95 degree weather. "Next time, you have to do it in Flagstaff," said Heather, my Inka Shaman friend, when we talked about it on Saturday evening. Indeed, that's not quite 16,000 feet like the Ausangate Pass in Peru, but at 10,000 to 12,000 feet, the San Francisco Peaks are high enough.

"BRRRR.... though" thought this desert rat. :-) "Gotta get some of that cold weather gear first."

SCOTTSDALE, Apr 28 - I told you I'd be back on the McDowell Mountains again. Just didn't know how soon. Mountains have a strange e

ffect on me. Like magnets. Once I get under my skin... they keep pulling me back to them. [Funny, I can also think of some women who had had the same effect. Hm... :-) ] What was supposed to be just a little few hikes to break in my new boots, now may end up being a series of "training sessions" that may wear them out before the "main tent" event (Peru). :-)

Oh well... It's all good fun. At least mountains don't break your heart. Okay, okay... I know. I've left enough blood on the mountains to realize that they can break your bones and tear your muscles and skin to pieces. But flesh and bones seem to mend more easily than broken hearts. Enough metaphors...

By now, you can probably tell what frame of mind I was in when I set off on this hike. My fully-mended heart was bursting with joy. Unlike two days ago, I did take my camera with me today. So you'll be able to join me visually in this expedition. And then I realized just how stupid I was. I did have my cell phone with me on Saturday. It has a perfectly good camera (as you can see by this shot I took today - right). But I never think of my cell phone as a camera.

I also remembered to pack some trail mix this time. Which turned out not to be such a hot idea, as you will see shortly. Okay, off we are...

First, a panoramic view of McDowell's I took today from Fwy 101 at about Scottsdale Rd, looking east. Second, remember the Saturday map? Here it is again. Just add the loop around Gateway Peak, and about 30 mins to total time. So today's hike was 2.5 hours vs. 2 hours on Saturday.

And now here's what the mountains looked like at the start of the trail. I marked the approximate route on it (far left). I don't know if it is just me, but every Arizona mountain I hike seems to have some sort of a "Nipple Peak" (middle left - also check my Sedona and Tucson hikes for additional examples). The middle right photo gives you a better feel for the looping Gateway trail. And the right most photo in the above sequence was taken from about half way up the mountain.

Close to the Gateway Saddle views start to get really interesting. Local Valley residents may recognize some landmarks in the distance. As I was approaching the summit ("Gateway Saddle" - middle right), my iPod was aptly playing Antonin Dvorak's beautiful Slavonic Dance No. 2 in E minor op. 72 (click on it to listen a YouTube version of it). The last chords of this exquisite piece of music died off as I stepped onto the Saddle. It seemed as if God were directing the "iPod Philharmonic." :-) For it was a wonderful prelude to what was to come...

It was here at the Saddle where once again I said my prayers. Then I headed down the mountain, but this time following the Gateway loop...

... first to the southeast (left two photos), and then straight south, where in the distance you can see "my mountain" - Camelback (middle right), and a bit later on also Squaw Peak (right).

It was at about his point that I was starting to get hungry, having been on the trail for over 90 minutes. So I reached for my bag of trail mix. What a mess! Don't ever buy trail mix that has chocolate in it for hiking in the Arizona desert. I should have known better, having lived here for nearly three decades now. By the time I got two handfuls of trail mix, my hands were covered in melted chocolate and my face looked like the two-year old Nikolai when he dips into Godiva's delights. It's a good thing I brought a small towel (for heat and to soften the pressure of the backpack harness). By the time I was finished wiping myself off, the white towel had changed color to beige. Or a Dalmatian, if you want to be more accurate. :-)

That's when I saw a most amazing sight, a light that seemed almost ethereal (left). From that, sprung the idea for another "Love & Light" image design (right), my new sign-off phrase for some of you.

Once at the bottom of Gateway Mtn, I took a picture looking up, so you can see what I had just climbed (left). And then I was back at the DC Ranch Village Club from where I started 2.5 hours earlier. Oh, yes... in case you're wondering if that's a club for the disabled people of Scottsdale, I've been asking myself the same thing for years. They have more disabled parking spaces here than at shopping malls or ball games (middle left). But not everybody gets exercised here, not over parking spaces nor anything else. The young woman floating in concrete on that tube doesn't seem to have a worry in the world (middle right). Finally, just before I left the Club, a sunset had lit up the McDowell Mountains in the the east like a giant floodlight (right). The scene was just spectacular. I took this picture from the Club's balcony overlooking the pool area.

Back home, I took two more pictures that are worthy of note. First, of the beautiful red hibiscus flowers that wrapped themselves around a giant mesquite tree in my back yard. Second, of my own "Great Arch," right next to the hibiscus bush. Who is to say that St. Louis is the only place in the U.S. with a Great Arch? Or the more romantic among you may think of this nature's sculpture as "kissing cacti". But don't ask me what I had to do to induce them to do it. That's a secret. What happens at Grayhawk, stays at Grayhawk... :-) [On the other hand, if you want to guess what I did - guess away! And let me know].