The sky first hints of the new day to come with a deep purple to the east, and soon the few brightest stars, visible in the city the night after a full moon, disappear. The faint purple glow isn't enough to see my way by and I've still got half a mountain to climb, so I continue upwards by the dim beam of my headlamp. By the time I reach the summit, the purple has given way to dark blue, and soon thereafter pinks and oranges and lighter blues yet. Several hikers stand at the summit, and together and separately we wait for the main event, when the sun first shines its radiant yellow over the horizon. Like clockwork, the big moment arrives, and instantly the sun proves too bright to look at, even when it's as yet a tiny sliver peeking over the Usury Mountains. My heart fills with happiness to be alive on this planet, this morning, watching this nuclear explosion rise into the sky.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Hike #5: Dawn
Monday, January 5, 2015
Hike #4: Dusk
I started today's hike after sunset and finished under the pale glow of the moon one day before fullness. My route was an out-and-back, starting from the 40th St trailhead on the north side of the Preserve and turning around at the 36th St trailhead on the south side.
If hiking during the day is about seeing nature, hiking at night is about hearing it. Tonight the air was still and quiet, and I heard the hoots of owls and the yelps of coyotes. But mostly I heard voices of other hikers far off, as well as the distant, unceasing roar of freeways many miles away.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Hike #3: Perihelion
Today's hike was a quick out-and-back up and down Lookout Mountain, which is the mountain north of North Mountain. A few years ago on Lookout there was a large beehive obstructing the trail near the summit and if you got close enough you could observe the ceaseless activity of thousands of worker bees. Today the only buzzing to be heard was from an electric remote-controlled helicopter a man was flying at the bottom of the mountain.
Today is the perihelion. That's the yearly moment when the Earth is closest to the Sun. This year the moment happens about a half hour before midnight Arizona Time, so anyone a timezone or more to the east observes the perihelion during the next calendar day, Sunday.
The perihelion is also the moment when the Earth travels fastest through space relative to the Sun. The fact that the Earth speeds up and slows down during its elliptical orbit causes several asymmetries in astronomy and timekeeping.
The northern hemisphere's summer season lasts longer than its winter season because the Earth moves faster around the sun during the winter, which means…
The northern hemisphere receives more sunlight than the southern hemisphere.
The month with the fewest days is February, a winter month in the northern hemisphere, whereas the two consecutive months with the full thirty-one days are July and August, both summer months.
In the northern hemisphere, the earliest sunset happens before the shortest day of the year and the latest sunrise happens after. By how much earlier or later these days occur depends on the latitude of the observer. In Phoenix we have a few days to go till the latest sunrise, but cities far enough to the north, such as Seattle, may observe the latest sunrise as early as December.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Hike #2: Sunny
Laura, back from her eight-day trip to New York, joined me for today's hike, a mid-morning out-and-back up Dixie Peak.
In the apartment before the hike, I told Laura about my new year's resolution to hike-and-blog. She told me it'll lead to boring blog posts. No one wants to read about me walking around in the desert, she said. No, no, the blog posts won't always be about the hiking, I said. The hiking is merely a prompt for the blogging; I'll write about whatever I think about while walking around. It'll be like Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, the travelogue about hiking the Appalachian Trail in which Mr. Bryson wrote less about hiking and more about the neglect of the National Forest Service and the extinction of indigenous American flora. That's what Just Enough Craig will be like—though maybe a little less pessimistic than Mr. Bryson's book.
Later, while descending Dixie and bemoaning my ignorance of indigenous Sonoran flora, I thought of an idea for a smartphone app: a hiking guide that takes the user on different trails and uses GPS to help the user locate specific sites, with each site focusing on a different species of plant. The app would show photos of the plant to help the user identify it, and then link to the Wikipedia page, or maybe have a condensed summary of interesting facts. For example: “Creosote bushes have a distinctive smell, especially after rainfall. Rub your fingers on the leaves to release the fragrance.”
Laura liked the smartphone app idea and identified the first two steps for implementing it. Step one: buy a smartphone. Step two: learn how to program smartphones. Alas, the first step might be beyond my capability.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Hike #1: Wintry
This morning I awoke to a rare wintry day in Phoenix, with the temperature down and the sun hidden behind gray, dreary clouds. Puddles that had formed from yesterday's rain still lay around the parking lot outside my apartment. It looked to be a good day for a hike.
Through teeth-chattering cold I rode my bike to the nearby 40th St trailhead, locked up, and began walking towards my one and only target for the day, Piestewa Peak. Despite my new year's resolution to read more, I didn't take any time to read the map on the sign at the trailhead. It's impossible to get lost in the Preserve.
Early on I found some soggy, half-deflated “happy birthday” party balloons caught under a tree. I tied them to a nearby trail marker and tried to take a photograph. At this time I realized my camera battery was discharged, so no one gets to see any photos for today.
In the words of a small troupe of small boys coming down the summit trail of Piestewa Peak, “Happy New Year!”