The Rim has an altitude of 7500 feet which is higher and cooler than most of the Colorado Plateau. Along the Rim lies one of the world's great belts of ponderosa pines. South and west of the Rim you quickly descend to absolute summertime hell. (Read, Phoenix.)
It's tricky for a full time RVer to visit high altitudes in low latitudes if he's out-northed them when he needs them. For years it used to frustrate me that I knew nothing of northern Arizona.
But when the new world order of Gasoline began, I saw my opportunity to stay in the southwestern states all year. So now these southern high places are easier to get to. What is better than turning lemons into lemonade? Thanks for bringing me to my senses, Petroleum.
Recently we hiked along the Mogollon Rim. This photograph barely shows that we were looking down from the Rim, towards Payson. In person, it was enjoyable even though it wasn't visually overpowering, but only if you used your inner eye to imagine the Colorado Plateau coming to an end. The last rock layer was red sandstone.
My first time at the Rim was just two years ago. I was finishing reading Karin Dinesen's Out of Africa, at long last. Perhaps the high plateau here inspired me to finish reading of her high plateau in Kenya. I had recently watched the movie for the first time, after years of phantasizing over the soundtrack, by John Barry...
...after a morning bike ride with the little poodle along, we'd have lunch and then I'd take a shower. It was a baptism that washed away the sins of sweat, salt and sunblock grease.
I would melt into the bed while the little poodle wriggled his way up to lay his head on my shoulder. Then he would sigh out his satisfaction, "It just doesn't get any better than this."
Together we would drift off to some place sweeter than sleep, always holding onto consciousness with the slenderest thread. And I would phantasize about pleasant bicycle experiences while "hearing" John Barry's soundtrack.
I would melt into the bed while the little poodle wriggled his way up to lay his head on my shoulder. Then he would sigh out his satisfaction, "It just doesn't get any better than this."
Together we would drift off to some place sweeter than sleep, always holding onto consciousness with the slenderest thread. And I would phantasize about pleasant bicycle experiences while "hearing" John Barry's soundtrack.
But back to reality. My first day near the Mogollon Rim had not been so great. I thrashed around in town with several frustrations. Finally we found a great boondocking site in the ponderosas that met all the requirements.
I finished reading Out of Africa that very night. The sequence of soundtrack, movie and book had now been completed. Would the soundtrack ever really affect me the same way, again?
Wanting to push these thoughts away, I stepped out of the trailer that first night on the Rim. The night-sky is full of harsh contrasts in a moon-lit forest. There, through the open patches in the ponderosa forest, stood the enskyment of a gibbous moon, high o'er the Mogollon.
