Visualize This

This photo makes me think of Phoenix. Then I think of the silhouetted power lines I often see in the evening. That makes me remember a tattoo that a friend of mine has on his forearm. And then I contemplate how the imagery of tall palm trees and power lines against a skyline has been adopted by so many Phoenicians as a symbol of life in Phoenix. That leads me to wonder about our collective identity as a city…and then I remember that most of us could care less. Which makes me think about how Phoenix natives never talk to their neighbors. I COULD GO ON. All this happens because I look at a simple photo.

I’m taking a break from making maps.

It’s actually my favorite part of “writing” this book (I guess since I enjoy it, I’m not really justified to take a break but whatever). For every hike, I must turn in a map so the cartography department can accurately create another map that’s included with the trail review.

I like to do it because I get to make pictures. I use the image from my EveryTrail app or a scanned trail map and then I add arrows and notes using Snagit.

It’s not a far cry from what I do in my current day job in which I must find the most meaningful way to accurately communicate complicated information.

In short, that means turning most things into pictures.

I’m probably betraying my kind here, but I believe that humans are much more sophisticated in reading the pervasive visual language than the traditional written language.

Don’t argue with me. I learned this in my Art History classes.

They say the average modern-day American views (it’s too late in the evening to look up the estimated number right now but think about every billboard, computer icon, television show, packaging design for products, etc. you see each day) a ton of images in a day. Compare that to the actual words you read in a 24-hour period.

See what I’m getting at?

When my book comes out, I can expect most “readers” to flip through the pages, scan the photos, glance at the maps, and maybe, maybe read a caption or two.

I can’t blame them. I do the exact same thing.

Taking that into consideration, I suppose I shouldn’t feel so guilty about busying myself with map-making in order to avoid the writing.

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Things I’ve Learned

Striking Photography by Bo Insogna

I’m scared.

Well, it’s another blog post about hiking.

Here’s a list of just a few things I’ve learned so far, in no particular order.

1. A rattlesnake bite does not equal instant death. I always assumed that if I got bit by a rattler out on the trail, I’d be dead within minutes. Not true. If you get to a hospital within a few hours, you won’t die.

2. I can tell the difference between three types of cholla: teddybear, buckhorn, and jumping. This is probably only exciting to me.

3. Baby Regal Horned Lizards are really cute. Then again, as my friend Lisa has pointed out, baby anything is really cute.

4. Saguaros were a food source for the ancient Hohokam people. I don’t know how it was prepared or any other details. Sorry.

5. You’re supposed to remain in the center of a hiking trail so the path remains as narrow as possible. This way, hikers aren’t constantly causing the trail to widen and, in the process, destroy surrounding plant life.

6. I have difficulty staying in a good mood after six miles. Right around mile six, I get angry for a little while. Fortunately, I get over it.

7. When encountering other hikers on a hot day, the right thing to do is to ask if they have enough water. We always try to bring extra just in case.

8. In a lightning storm, try to do as many of the following as possible: get to low ground, find a some bushes or small trees, crouch down in the bushes, stay 40 feet (or more) away from other people in your hiking party, wait it out.

9. Counting the seconds between a lightning flash and its thunder to estimate its proximity is B.S. All you need to know is, if you’re seeing lighting and hearing the thunder, it’s close and you’re in danger.

10. When sweating a lot, it’s just as important to replace your salts as it is to hydrate. Munching a handful of salty pretzels or nuts while on the trail can make a huge difference (hmmm…maybe this has something to do with #6).

Lucky Girl

This will be easy!

This weekend, we planned a 6-mile loop around Little Granite Mountain in Prescott, AZ. Due to poor instructions, we back-tracked and had to restart, which added 1/2 mile to our day’s total. No big deal.

As we abandoned the first leg of the trail to hook into the 2nd part of our loop, we discovered that this loop seriously sucked. The trail was overgrown with massive thickets of chest-high thorny bushes. As the branches snagged our clothing and scratched our bare legs, we ran into two women on horseback.

“This trail gets really rough,” said one of the middle-aged horse ladies, “hikers don’t usually come around here.”

So we turned back…adding 1 more wasted mile.

Once we returned to the original trail, we decided to continue to Vista Point, located on top of Granite Mountain.

“The map says it’s 4.1 miles total,” I said. I knew I could handle that.

After the first mile of climbing, however, I turned into a little monster. At this point, I had already hiked 5 miles and we weren’t at the top. Not even close.

I was mad.

“Okay, you’ve got to start talking about something to keep my  mind off my misery,” I told Lou.

“What do you want to talk about?” Lou innocently asked.

“I don’t KNOW!” I snapped.

The conversation ended. But I kept complaining as I realized that the map indicated one-way mileage, not the trail’s total. With our wasted backtracking and the improvised commitment to complete this Granite Mountain Vista Point trail, I estimated we’d be close to 10 miles by the end of the day.

“G*dD*MMIT!” I blurted, out of the blue.

“Just take a minute and look where we are,” Lou said as he gestured toward the incredible scenery before us.

“I GET IT!”

Whatever.

Poor Lou. I repeatedly apologized later, of course.

“I think you handled it really well,” he said. “We just have to accept that, during this process, we’ll each have a moment where we’ve just had it. You pushed through and finished. I’m proud of you.”

This actually happened. Lou is actually this good to me.

I can’t believe my luck.