How is it that the very thing we seek our entire life,
is the very thing we grow afraid of?
For having finally received it,
we make the mistake of believing
it is ours to own.
How is it that the very thing we seek our entire life,
is the very thing we grow afraid of?
For having finally received it,
we make the mistake of believing
it is ours to own.
This nights have been warmer here, in the San Pedro river valley. A temporary trend with much colder nights on the horizon, long-time residents assure me. This morning found my house surrounded by a cool, dense mist. Erie and exciting at the same time. I ventured outside and onto the concrete patio with bare feet and a light hood pulled over top. A half dozen inch worms had found their way inside my house, dozens more outside. They moved ever so slowly toward my front door, zombies in very, very slow motion … contract … expand and move forward … contract … expand. The apocalypse was thwarted by the action of a stiff bristled broom, for now.
The mist grew thicker as the sun grew warmer, moisture drawn out of the grass, London rocket, and the nearby Hot Springs river bottom. A hundred meters was the best visibility for a while, until the same warmth drove it off entirely. Yoga was accompanied by the Mannheim Steamrollers’ Fresh Aire II and then a short run on a trail that crosses half the forty acres to the west.
Some song birds are returning already, or at least making themselves more known. Healthy white tail deer bounded just behind my well house, and fresh javelina tracks remind me that I am never alone.
Each morning I take in the latent aroma of freeze dried coffee and hear the monotone voice of the radio reporter who calls out the price of beans and corn, the auctioneer’s rhythm unmistakable. The soft voices of my grandparents speaking to each other echo in my memory of the early morning kitchen table. The door to the stairway would be open such that it blocked most of the entrance to the kitchen, reducing the clamor of breakfast preparation to a minimum.
No matter how I tried, I never woke early enough to catch either of my grandparents descending the creaking stairs, for Grandpa was there, sitting in his chair at the table, smiling when I came in.
“Well there he is! ‘morning Kai-boy!” he would say.
Grandma would chuckle, turn from the counter where she tended to a pot of oatmeal, and smile. “How did you sleep Kai?”
There was not a single morning, not as a boy, teenager, young adult, or even in my thirties when I tied my business road trips into visits to the farm that I did not feel welcomed, respected, and cherished. Those smells, sounds, and voices are yet here, alive, vibrant. They are welcomed ghosts of more than a decade ago. The rattle of the glass pane at the top of the stairs, the static of the countertop radio, the subtle hiss of water through the pipes from the basement to the main floor, and ultimately, the sound of Grandpa opening the ground level door that brought the smell of fresh cut grass, rain, or sheep inside.
This is why we come back here, to our family farm. This is why this place, more than any other feels like home.
A storm is pending.
Clouds build on the horizon, shades of gray darkening as layer upon layer obscure the sun.
The deer have hidden themselves, no longer standing around the watering hole. The birds are quiet too.
The movement of air is so subtle that even the tiny, thin leaves of the mesquite no longer tremble.
Not a sound, but for the fly trapped between the window and shade above my computer and desk.
It is the lull before the storm.
My anticipation is growing.
“Imagine a place where you can choose your journey through life. Where you can experience a lifetime of possibilities all in one place. Where you can make new friends and bring your family together. A place you can raise your glass, work, rest or retire. A place where exceptional is an understatement. It’s where you’ve known you always wanted to be — The Villages at Vigneto.”
This photo essay is part 2 of 2, and begins here.
Small communities as with large cities desire to increase their tax base and total revenue. New jobs are welcomed. And as cities continue to increase in size and density, these last, remaining places that remind us of a time before concrete was the norm are appealing. But unchecked development is not the answer, now more than ever. Behind the door dealings, special favors and regulations ignored never result in lasting, positive change.
Continuous, nearly unobstructed development has been business as usual since the end of World War II. The very definition of progress has gone hand-in-hand with demolition and expansion. We continue to hold the highest mark of success in real estate is manipulation of the environment to suit our needs. This is not sustainable. Building a 70,000 person community where only 5,000 currently exists is enough to give reason for concern, but constructing an Italian styled village complete with water ways, lakes, and fake Roman ruins is selfish, ignorant, and simply does not makes sense. The developer claims the village will have no affect on the water table and surrounding desert. That is impossible. They know it. And they don’t care.
As with Gold Canyon and dozens more, pavement will be poured to make for easy driving. Walls will go up to keep the very wildlife out that we used to welcome. Neatly sculpted trails will invoke a sense of walking in the very wilderness that is fenced out. Open spaces will be designated as a homage to what was destroyed. Street names will again be the last tribute to the very desert we cherished, only this time translated into Italian. Vigneto has been met with national criticism in dozens of articles, reports, and TV coverage, some of which are captured here:
Hot pursuit of permit that ‘isn’t needed’ defines Vigneto development controversy
Tucson News, Jun 1, 2019 – Full article
“First, Vigneto’s developers say they don’t need a federal Clean Water Act permit to develop the site. They say they could and will build the project in a different fashion if they don’t get the permit. Second, they want the permit anyway.”
Whistleblower says he was pressured by Trump administration
CNN, July 9, 2019 – Full report
“In the summer of 2017, Arizona developer Mike Ingram’s proposed housing and golf course project in the desert was facing a road block because of a decision by the Department of the Interior. A field supervisor for the US Fish and Wildlife Service had determined that it was “reasonably certain” that threatened and endangered species could be harmed. But that decision suddenly changed following a secret breakfast meeting at a Montana hunting lodge between Ingram — a donor to President Donald Trump and co-owner of the Arizona Diamondbacks — and David Bernhardt, then the Trump administration’s deputy Interior secretary.
Following the meeting, which did not appear in Bernhardt’s official calendar and has not been previously reported, the field supervisor says he was pressured to reverse his decision, allowing the project to move ahead. “I felt pressured to reverse my decision … in simplest terms, I was rolled,” Steve Spangle, then a 30-year veteran of the Fish and Wildlife Service, told CNN in an interview. “I made a decision, which was my authority to make in Arizona, and that was overruled by higher-ups in the administration.”
Villages at Vigneto decision targeted by Grijalva
Herald Review, Jul 20, 2019 – Full article
“The backlash to change a U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) opinion on the need for an environmental assessment to be completed before moving forward on a massive Benson development has been resounding across the nation.”
Housing development near San Pedro River gets green light, again
Arizona Public Media, August 8, 2019 – Full article
Tricia Gerrodette is a longtime advocate for the San Pedro River. “I still find it incredibly hard to believe that a project of this size has never had an official environmental impact statement done on it. And that’s just wrong,” she says. Gerrodette and other project opponents are concerned about how the development will affect the river, including depleting groundwater and damaging prime riparian habitat and endangered species.”
Lawsuit challenges federal approval of Benson project near the San Pedro River
Tucson News, Aug 24, 2019 – Full article
“The lawsuit is the latest in a string of suits challenging the Clean Water Act permit for the 28,000-home Villages at Vigneto project. On July 26, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers reinstated the permit for the project that it had approved in 2006 but later suspended.” and “Steve Spangle, former longtime head of the wildlife service’s Arizona office, told the Arizona Daily Star this spring that he was pressured by his supervisors into scaling back how broadly the feds analyzed Vigneto’s environmental impacts.”
Court asked to vacate Corps decision on Vigneto permit
Herald Review, Aug 31, 2019 – Full article
“Earthjustice is asking the court to ‘declare the Corps violated the Clean Water Act by granting the 404 Permit without objectively analyzing whether granting a permit was the least environmentally damaging practicable alternative and without adequately mitigating the impacts of the 404 Permit or ensuring that granting a 404 Permit is in the public interest.'”
Feds reissue permit for 28,000-home development near San Pedro River
AZ Central, Aug. 8, 2019 – Full article
“The Army Corps of Engineers has given a green light to a developer that plans to build a 28,000-home development near the San Pedro River in southern Arizona, reissuing a permit that was suspended in response to a legal challenge by environmental groups.”
Villages at Vigneto will impact the San Pedro River. Not even slick PR can hide that
AZ Central, Sept. 27, 2019 – Full article …
“The San Pedro River is the last free-flowing river in the desert Southwest and one of the nation’s environmental crown jewels. It provides crucial habitat for about 45% of the bird species in North America and is home to a rich variety of native wildlife. Millions of songbirds migrate through this birding mecca every year. The river’s health is critical to the long-term survival and recovery of endangered species, including the yellow-billed cuckoo and the Huachuca water umbel.
But the river is in trouble. According to reports by the U.S. Geologic Survey and the Upper San Pedro Partnership, excessive groundwater pumping has depleted the aquifer that feeds the river, creating a groundwater deficit that leaves the San Pedro River with little or no water to spare.”
The battle over Villages at Vigneto is much bigger than you think
AZ Central, Sept. 30, 2019 – Full article
“Because even if the nearby San Pedro is the Southwest’s last free-flowing river, and there has been plenty of study on how groundwater pumping may impact its flow, much of that data is piecemeal and concentrated on the Sierra Vista area. Areas further north are much more of a mystery. And that makes them a case in point, because many rural Arizona communities lack this sort of data.”
The magic of a place like the San Pedro is not in what we do to manipulate the land, but in how we adapt to enjoy what is here, waiting for us to discover. Javelina, deer, fox, hawks, owls, wild turkeys, bobcats, mountain lions, bear, snakes and 350 species of migratory birds remind us that we are the visitor. Take these few remaining places that hold some semblance of a natural world, and you have taken everything.
Rain in the desert is a welcomed affair. A light sprinkle, a massive downpour, or a steady flow for hours. It’s the contrast, the incredible change in temperature, aroma, and “electricity” that makes one want to just stand and watch it come down for hours.
This morning I awoke a little past 5 am to the rumble of the sky above me and the shaking of the construct below, an elevated porch on which I sleep in a tent every night. Pent up, potential electrical charge found repeated orgasmic release in the clouds and surely, to the ground as well, out there, beyond the mesquite that surrounds me.
I was thrilled by the abrupt awakening, the storm a distressed lover who yet unsatisfied by dreams moves into the day with the embrace of thunder. While I lay there for fifteen or twenty minutes, the cool splash of droplets that found their way through the window mesh, the storm was clearly, directly overhead. Sleeping outside, four meters above the ground on a metal deck connected to a metal house, I figure it was the safest place for me to be, or really quite stupid. At that moment my physics brain was unable to discern, so I took the safe bet, gathered my things and hurried inside.
This storm is the first I have experienced here, since purchasing this house and property six months ago. I am reminded of the splendor of the Buffalo Peak Ranch in Colorado where the boundary between the outside and inside of the cabin is thin, just enough to keep the water out, but everything else is welcome in.
Doors wide open on either side of my studio space, a pesky, bold grey striped squirrel who has marauded my garage, compost, tools, and engine compartment of my new car decided to venture in. He stopped about three meters to the right of where I sat, looked to his right, then left, spotted me and darted back out the door. I jumped up and pursued him but he disappeared without a trace. He hasn’t been back … yet.
Time to refill my tea and settle into the tasks at hand. Already, it is half past 1 now, the day gladly spent listening to the rain over Cascabel.
The Meru Simba Lodge dining area is unusually occupied at 22:40 this evening. Two men to my back and side speak quietly in Swahili. One told me he cannot go home at this time, as the elephants are on the road, having crossed out of the Arusha National Park earlier in the evening. We both heard what sounded like a half dozen gun shots, he further explained these were locals, not shooting at them, but scaring them back into the park. No one walks at night unless they must for the elephants are far more a threat than the cheetah, here, at the base of 4000 meter Mt. Meru.
This is my twelfth day in Tanzania, each rich, full, and fully engaged as I work with my colleagues, ambassadors to astronomy for this Telescopes to Tanzania and Astronomers Without Borders project. But tonight it is raining for the first time since my arrival. Light at first, the tempo and volume has increased and the wonderful aroma of cleanly washed atmosphere.
The temperature has dropped, a light breeze brings a subtle chill, the aroma of wet forest and the banter of the drops on the thatched roof remind me of the need to breathe it all in.
There is nothing quite like a rocket launch. The anticipation builds with the first arrivals, waiting in line from late afternoon into the evening, sun scorching, humidity suffocating. Hundreds, eventually more than 2500 people came from across the United States, from around the world to witness a dance between technology, gravity, and the stars. The possibility of catastrophe and success feel equally balanced, a tug-o-war that no one can fully predict. Only after the vehicle and one-of-a-kind payloads are far away from the launch pad, is there a sense of growing comfort to override the lingering fear.
In a time when the news is too often confusing, saddening, even heart wrenching, I am reminded of the ways in which we successfully come together to design, build, and delight in exploration of the unknown. This spacecraft started it’s journey four decades ago, with Carl Sagan, Louis Friedman, and NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory director Bruce Murray … and my childhood mentor Carl Berglund and his team at JPL. He was the lead engineer on the original SolarSail, as described by Jason Davis for the Planetary Society in Old documents shine new light on NASA’s plan to send a solar sail to Halley’s Comet
The Planetary Society is now successful in launching not one, but two LightSails, demonstration that we live in a NewSpace era, no longer bound to the encumbered government organizations. In one week, LightSail2 will disembark from its carrier vessel and demonstrate the capacity for a spacecraft to maneuver, even alter its orbit around a strong gravitational body using electromagnetic impulses, reaction wheels, and the pressure of light from the sun.
This was my full circle, a return to ages 6 and 7 through my early teens when repeat visits to NASA JPL helped shape my passion for space exploration. Thank you Carl, Dan Heim, Jim Bell and the School of Earth & Space Exploration at ASU, my associates at LIGO and ISU, and many more who have in the past decade brought me back into the space sciences and a foundational sense of hope for what we can do.
This photo essay is part 1 of 2.
I am a new resident to the San Pedro River Valley, a place as magical and invigorating as any of the wilderness ares I have visited in the western United States. I feel incredibly fortunate to have come into land and a home here in Cascabel, to share this place with an incredible diversity of native wildlife and human visitors from varied backgrounds and interests. We have in common a shared concern for the future of this valley, a narrow corridor that follows the San Pedro from South to North, bounded East and West by designated wilderness, BLM and State land, and private parcels.
Each year, the Nature Conservancy hosts river walks to record the amount of water running at the surface of various streams across the US. For twenty one years, the annual San Pedro river walk has grown to more than 100 volunteers and a total of 300 miles traversed in the San Pedro and its key tributaries. Partners include the Bureau of Land Management, National Park Service, Arizona Game and Fish, Community Watershed Alliance of Benson, and private land owners throughout the river valley, from northern Mexico to the headwaters to the Gila River, a tributary of the Colorado River.
I was fortunate to be invited to participate, following in the footsteps and guidance of my neighbor and renowned naturalist Ralph Waldt and valley resident Sam. In 2018, the 20th year of mapping, just 23% of the river had surface water, the lowest number on record. This low point is consistent with climate, water and drought data recorded throughout the Colorado River Basin. Records indicate early 2018 was the third driest in the Colorado River Basin historic record.
Prior to the 1800s, records and stories tell a very different story. The river was wide and meandering, rich in wildlife of an even greater diversity than now. The fish were reported to be over three feet long, and the valley lush with grass, not mesquite or cacti. Native Americans called this valley home for some 14,000 years prior, with the San Pedro hosting some of the oldest archaeological sites in North America.
But with advent of cattle ranching, timber removal to fuel mining steam engines, beaver removal to reduce malaria, and settlement came topsoil erosion, followed by the narrowing and cutting of the river into far deeper banks. Today, in places, the river lies more than twenty feet below its original bed, a reality check when looking back up to the sky line from where we walked.
Two decades of mapping, however, do show that conservation actions on the upper San Pedro are having a positive impact. The mapping information, along with USGS research, has helped TNC and its partners design an innovative, regional recharge effort to collect storm water and other water sources and put it back in the underground aquifer to replenish river flows.
However, continued depletion of ground water by developers, including the proposed 27,000 home / 70,000 resident Vigneto community near Benson will only further deplete the already heavily-taxed water table.
A recent University of Arizona study confirms that groundwater pumping is drying up Arizona rivers, as told by AZ Central, July 25, 2019, “Groundwater pumping has caused stream flow in U.S. rivers to decline by as much as half over the last century, according to new research by a University of Arizona hydrologist … research confirms that groundwater losses, primarily due to pumping water from below the surface for agricultural and municipal uses, decrease the overall surface water supply and have caused some smaller streams to dry up. This has a downstream effect that influences water levels far beyond the groundwater pumping location.”
This photo essay continues with part 2.
My first two months living in the San Pedro river valley a has been an extraordinary, daily adventure in temperature extremes, welcomed sun rises and stunning sun sets; no less than a dozen species of birds just outside my door, and the daily visit of four deer to my watering hole. I have been surprised by the rapid taming of an otherwise wild turkey who decided of her own accord to tap on the glass of my glass door, to tell me when she is hungry. She then follows me around the house to the spot (at a safe distance) to where I feed her. Her sister (I assume) has a family of a dozen poults that follow her across the yard once every three days or so.
The humming birds discovered two new feeders in less than forty five minutes, the seed feeder however hung in disuse for nearly a week before being discovered. Hawks with four foot wingspans, ravens, doves, and an incredible diversity of lizards occupy this land. Myriad spiders, moths, scorpions, and flies find their way into my home, ultimately trapped on sticky boards.
While I am an avid hiker, backpacker, and wilderness explorer, I have to admit to being somewhat challenged in the transition to a home in this desert biome. I am daily reminded how cities filled with concrete, pavement, invasive species, and manicured lawns have nearly completely eliminated the original, native species. I have not seen a black widow spider in Phoenix since the first year my parents and brother moved there in 1986, and never saw a scorpion. Yet here, in Cascabel, both are daily visitors to both the inside and outside of this abode. I may be a member of the species that can dominate with tools, vehicles, and weapons on the environment, but when it is just me, my hands and feet and nothing more, I am the one who is vulnerable in this complex ecosystem. Far from the lush water way of the 1800s, the San Pedro river valley remains a reminder of a world that was … and we hope, will continue to be.