Category Archives: Days in My Life

I don’t just sit around and watch TV.

A Laundry Run

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Now if only there were a helipad in the Laundromat parking lot…

Our place at Howard Mesa is 40 acres with about 1/4 mile bordering state land. The lot is pie shaped, with the pie “crust” at the top of a gently sloping hill. About 5 acres at the top of the hill is quite level — certainly level enough to land a helicopter.

PhotoLast year, when I worked at Papillon, I had my R22, Three-Niner-Lima, up here with me. Sometime during the summer, we had a load of cinders (volcanic gravel which is widely available here) delivered and we — well, mostly Mike — spread it out to make an oddly shaped landing pad. That’s where I landed Three-Niner-Lima, and this year, that’s where I’m landing Zero-Mike-Lima. The pad is less than 50 feet away from our trailer and its screened-in room. It’s also less than 50 feet away from the horse corral, where our horses go to drink and to eat whatever we throw down to supplement their grazing. As I sit here in the screened-in room, typing this, it’s right in front of me. I put a little fence around it to keep the horses from wandering in. That’s probably a good thing, because they’ve been itchy lately and scratching themselves on anything handy: the corral gate, tree stumps, the BBQ grill shelf. I can just imagine them scratching themselves on the helicopter’s stinger and cracking a tail rotor blade in the process.

Today, I flew down to Williams to do my laundry, check my e-mail, and do some grocery shopping. I loaded up my laundry bag and a few small bags of garbage (no garbage pickup up here), did a preflight, and climbed on board. Cherokee was in the corral, munching on some timothy grass when I started up. He didn’t look concerned until I brought it up to 75% RPM for my mag check. Then he bolted. I don’t know where Jake was. Alex the Bird and Jack the Dog watched from the screened-in room as I spun up and took off.

I did a quick circle over our property to make sure the horses were together. Cherokee really freaks out when he can’t find Jake. They were together, gazing about 100 yards from the pad. I was already forgotten.

I zipped out over the mesa, then dropped down on the north side. I circled Larry Fox’s house; if he’d come out, I would have landed and offered him a ride. But he was nowhere to be seen, so I headed south, to Williams. I flew out over the town once before landing at the airport. I dumped the trash, added 25 gallons of fuel, then started up again and repositioned to a parking spot. Then locked up and lugged my laundry through the terminal to the parking lot out front where my faithful MR-2 is waiting.

As usual, it started right up. I really love that car. I mean, how could you not love a car that is content to wait in an airport parking lot days, weeks, or months before you come to put it to work? A car that always starts when you turn the key? A car with 132,000 miles and its original clutch?

I did my Williams chores, angry with myself for forgetting the cooler. That meant I couldn’t buy ice cream. Not that I need ice cream.

The Laundromat was particularly weird for me. Laundromats are weird places, anyway. In Williams, the people who use the Laundromat fall into two categories: the usual folks who don’t have washers and dryers (normally apartment or trailer dwellers on the lower side of the income scale) and vacationers who have run out of clean clothes. Most of the folks there that day were in the first category. I was kind of a mix of the two, but I fit right in, driving up in my sad little Toyota, wearing ratty clothes because that’s all I had left. I was the only one who knew I hadn’t arrived in Williams in that car. And I’m pretty darn sure that I was the only one in the place who was living in a trailer with a helicopter parked 50 feet away from it. But I enjoyed the experience, especially listening to the tips offered by one woman about using the dryers: “Only put in a quarter at a time. Then pull out the dry clothes and add another quarter for the rest.” A quarter gave you 10 minutes of dryer time. She claimed that her clothes were often dry with only a quarter’s worth of time. She must have a lot of polyester and nylon; my 100% cotton clothes took 3 to 4 quarters to dry.

I bought a bunch of groceries at Safeway and a few odds and ends at the hardware store, then zipped back to the airport and loaded the helicopter back up. The broom and 5 4-foot lengths of half-inch rebar were particularly difficult to load up. (No, they didn’t fit under the seat.) By that time, the wind was howling at Williams — probably 15-20 knots from the south (where my tail end was pointed). I started up, warmed up, and hover-taxied over to the taxiway with a nice crosswind. Then I pointed into the wind, made my departure call, and took off into the wind, making a 180° turn as I climbed out. With the 30-knot tailwind I had, it took less than 10 minutes to get back. (Sure beats the 50 minutes it would have taken in the truck.)

Back at Howard Mesa, the horses were in the corral, hanging out by the water trough. I came in from the north, watching them the whole time. I think they were sleeping, because they didn’t seem to notice me until I was about 100 feet from landing. Then they walked out of the corral and stood beside the fence at the far side, watching me, ready to run if they had to. They didn’t have to. I set down gently and shut down.

It took a lot of trips to unload the helicopter. And a lot of time to put all the stuff away.

But at least I got my flying fix for the day.

Smoke

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Arizona is burning (again), but not here.

The other day, one of my editors asked me, in an e-mail message, whether there was smoke where I was. She lives in Salt Lake City, UT and smoke from fires all the way down near St. George was coming up her way. At the time, I reported that Howard Mesa was smoke free.

But yesterday morning, when I opened the camper door to let Jack out, I smelled smoke — enough of it to throw my shoes on and walk over to the shed, which has a view out to the west. I scanned the horizon, looking for the fire I smelled. But there was nothing definitive in any direction. (I have a good nose for smoke. When we lived in Bayside, NY, I once woke up in the middle of the night, smelling smoke. It turned out that a church 13 blocks away had burned to the ground during the night.)

SmokeI didn’t see or smell smoke all day yesterday. But in the evening, as the sun was setting, I saw the smoke on the northwestern horizon. Probably the fire out in the St. George area about 120 miles away. This morning, the smoke from Arizona’s big fire — the second biggest in its history — had drifted north, past the San Francisco Peaks, shrouding the eastern horizon. I almost missed the sunrise. The sun fought to be seen through the thick smoke, appearing as an orange globe poking out through the top of the thickest of it. There was little light from the sun at first. Then, when it broke clear of the cloud layer, I could feel its bright warmth. The smoke cloud faded back to a blue-gray blanket on the horizon.

As I type this, the Cave Creek Complex fire has burned 140,000 acres of Arizona desert. I’m not sure exactly where it’s burning, but descriptions of its progress has me worried about one of our favorite fly-in destinations, the landing strip at Red Creek on the Verde River. The Sonoran desert out there is beautiful, almost pristine because of its remoteness. The landing strip, although rough for airplanes, is fine for helicopters. There’s a picnic table there and a bunch of donated equipment, including lawn chairs, water bottles, and emergency equipment. There’s also a trail down to the river, that runs past an old bunkhouse. At the river, tall trees offer cool shade. A secluded paradise, a secret on the Verde River.

When the fire is finally out and the temporary flight restrictions removed, I’ll fly down there and see what’s left of the area.

About Horses

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A little insight on how herd animals think.

Horses at Howard MesaHorses are herd animals. That means they like to be together. When the lead horse moves, the rest of the herd follows. My horses follow that rule. I only have two of them: Jake, a sorrel Quarter Horse, and Cherokee, a Paint Quarter Horse. Jake is generally the boss, but they’re good buddies and they’re always within sight of each other, if not right next to each other.

They’re with me now at Howard Mesa. The 40 acres is completely fenced in and they’ve been wandering throughout the entire place, looking for the best grazing spot. They come up to their round pen to drink or for dinner — I toss them some alfalfa to supplement their grass diet — but otherwise, they can be anywhere inside the fence. Sometimes I’ll see them far down in the west corner. Sometimes they’re on the east side. But they’re always together. So imagine my surprise when Cherokee returned to the round pen without Jake. Jake wasn’t far away — only 50 yards or so — but Cherokee trotted up as if he’d been spooked by something and decided to hang out in the round pen for a while. He nibbled on what was left of the alfalfa, then went for a drink. Then he seemed to doze off, standing by the water trough.

Meanwhile, Jake wandered off.

I watched from my seat at the picnic table, where I was writing another blog entry. It was very interesting to me. I couldn’t see Jake anymore but I assumed Cherokee could. I thought I heard a car on the road, and got up to take a look. (Nah.) When I came back, Cherokee was awake, looking at me. And I think he realized that Jake wasn’t around. He decided to go find him. I watched him leave the round pen and walk purposefully toward where we’d last seen Jake. His head turned one way and then the other. He was looking. He had no idea where Jake was. And then he whinnied — loudly.

I could see him starting to panic as he trotted around, whinnying his distress call. But it was windy and with the sound of the wind in the trees and grass, I didn’t think his voice would carry very far. He came back to the round pen, looking very upset, then trotted out again, looking. I decided I’d better find Jake.

Horses at Howard MesaIt took some doing, but I finally found Jake about a third of the way down the hill, at least a quarter mile away. I called him, but even if he heard me (which I doubt), I knew he wouldn’t come. (Jake is not like a dog. He’s more like a cat.) So I called Cherokee. At least he indicated that he heard me. But he was too panicky to even think of why I might be calling him. Long story not as long: I went back to the round pen, put the lead rope on Cherokee, and led him down toward Jake. When I had a good view of him, I pointed him out. But horses don’t understand pointing fingers. He looked everywhere except where I was pointing. Then Jake saw us. He let out a loud whinny that seemed to say, “What the hell are you doing up there?” Cherokee whinnied back. I took off the lead rope and he trotted down to his buddy.

A few minutes later, they returned together to the round pen. The two of them stood over the water trough — Jake’s favorite place to stand — and took a nap.

I Made It!

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I arrive at Howard Mesa for my summer vacation.

It was months in the planning. And, near the end, it didn’t seem as if I’d make it as scheduled. But on Saturday, June 25, I flew up to Howard Mesa with whatever gear I could stuff into Zero-Mike-Lima. Mike, with his pickup filled with purchases, Jack the Dog, Alex the bird, and the horse trailer with two horses, came up the slow way.

I left Wickenburg about forty-five minutes after Mike. I wasn’t in a rush. The idea was to get there before him, but with an estimated flight time of about an hour and an estimated drive time of 2-1/2 hours, I had plenty of time. It was a relatively smooth flight, but the sky was quickly filling with cumulus clouds. Unusual, given that it was only around 8 AM. I was sprinkled on just east of Paulden, but it wasn’t enough rain to get the bugs off my cockpit bubble.

There was also enough sun during the flight for me to sun my legs. I was wearing a pair of ratty gym shorts with my Keds. I hate getting a Keds tan — that’s when your feet are white and there’s a tan line across the middle of your foot. So I took off my shoes and rested my heels on the tops of the pedals. I was pretty surprised that I still had good control of the pedals, even with my legs stretched almost straight out. Not that I needed to do much pedal pushing. At 110 knots, it isn’t tough staying in trim.

I stopped for fuel at Williams, where the 100LL price is currently $2.89/gallon. That’s 40¢/gallon cheaper than Wickenburg. I took 38.3 gallons. The Airport Manager, George, and his wife came out to look at the helicopter. He wanted to help me fuel, but I insisted on doing it myself. It was cool and breezy and quite a pleasure to be outside.

George wants me to offer helicopter rides from Williams airport for the summer. I told him I probably wouldn’t because I only planned to be in the area 6 to 8 weeks and I had lots to do at my place at Howard Mesa.

I took off after 20 minutes and headed north. Valle’s Planes of Fame museum was having their semiannual War Bird Fly In and I heard the pilots doing fly bys chatting on the radio. Things got a bit tense when one of them called a Mayday, but he evidently resolved the problem because he kept flying. (Hell, it the word Mayday ever comes out of my mouth, you can bet I’ll be on the ground as soon as possible.)

Since I had time, I decided to do a little fly by of my own. Zero-Mike-Lima isn’t a war bird, but kids like helicopters and I figured that if any kids were there, I’d give them a little bonus. I got into the pattern behind something slow — slower than me — and had to cut power and pull back to avoid flying up his butt. He did a low, slow fly by on Runway 14, which is closed, and I followed him, trying to hang back so I would steal any of his thunder. Then I dropped down to about 50 feet AGL and, as soon as he was out of the way, pushed my nose forward, increased power, and zipped past whoever may have been watching. Then I headed south to Howard Mesa, anxious to get away from slow-flying airplanes.

Alex in his cageI landed on my gravel helipad near the trailer and shut down. Then I proceeded to do chores. Unlocking the camper, turning on the power and refrigerator, tuning in the stereo (presets get lost when you shut power), hooking up the water, setting up the pump, opening the gate, putting out the carpet. I was just staking down the awning when I heard Mike’s truck pull in. He unloaded the horses and other critters and I made him lunch. Then we put away all the things he’d brought: Alex’s big cage from the coffee shop, the cabinets I’d bought for the shed, and the tools I’d need to work over the summer.

It was after 12 PM when we headed down to Williams. I had a radio interview with Inside Mac and they had requested that I call their toll-free number from a land line. Since there’s no land line at Howard Mesa, we decided to take care of it in Williams, where we had some shopping to do anyway. I found a payphone in the Fray Marcos hotel, spent exactly 12 minutes on the phone with a guy who mentioned the title of my Tiger book, using the wrong title (“virtual” rather than “visual”) about ten times. Then we hit the hardware store and Safeway supermarket and headed back up to the mesa.

We have forty acres at Howard Mesa and one of the first things we did after buying the place was to fence it all in. It took about a mile of fencing and $8K to get the job done. It was done by Grantham Custom Fence of Wickenburg and they did an incredible job. The straight bits are perfectly straight and the fence is good and sturdy. We do need to make repairs now and then when the top wire gets damaged by an elk jumping over. My only complaint is that the corner posts are coming out due to the annual freeze-thaw cycles. Although Ty’s guys used concrete and dug each one in at least two feet, the earth squeezes them up a little every year. The fence is still sound, of course, but it looks a little weird in the corners.

The reason we fenced it all in was so the horses could run free. We call it the “salad bar” because as soon as they step off the trailer, they’re grazing. They love it at Howard Mesa, although the first night they were up here this year, they did get snowed on. They have a round pen here where we put their food and water, but the gate is always open. They come and go as they please. Right now, as I write this, they’re about 100 feet away, grazing.

Somewhere along the line, Jack the Dog decided that it was his job to keep the horses away from us. He’d wait until they were about 50-100 feet away, then tear off after them, barking. Cherokee, who is afraid of rabbits, would take off and Jake, not quite sure why Cherokee was running, would start running, too. It look a lot of yelling and rock throwing — yes, at the dog — to get him to stop.

Cherokee at CageMike spent the afternoon hooking up the camper to our septic system. It was a good thing he did, because the camper had been used for three short trips without being dumped and it was beginning to get stinky. I took care of things inside — putting away groceries, making the bed, cleaning things up. Two hot showers later, we had dinner at the picnic table outside the camper, with our horses and the San Francisco Peaks to admire while we ate. Cherokee decided to stand on the other side of the bird cage while we ate dinner. His head was about 2 feet from Alex. Alex was very quiet while Cherokee was there. Then Cherokee decided to sample the corn cob litter I’m using at the bottom of Alex’s cage. I think he likes it. We had to scold him and chase him off. Jake came over and watched us eat our corn. I think he was begging. It was very weird having the horses so close to us — less than five feet away — while we ate. I’m not sure how much I like it. Meanwhile, Alex has already learned to imitate the squeaky screen door. He makes the sound every time we open the door. I’m waiting for him to learn how to call Cherokee.

We watched the sun set and it immediately cooled down. It had been in the high 70s all day, with several isolated thunderstorms that had missed us by a few miles. Nice rainbows. When the sun set, the temperature dropped about 10 degrees in less than 30 minutes. We went in for the night because we were cold.

Sunday dawned with a beautiful cloudless sky. For a while, there was very little wind. We had a light breakfast and set about our morning chores. My job was to take the new weed whacker and whack weeds. I started with the horse’s round pen, which we use to feed them. The weeds were knee high in some places, but I made short work of them. Then I whacked around the camper and went after the tumbleweeds growing on the southeast side of my helipad. The tumbleweeds were young and fleshy and they splattered me with green stuff. Anyone who uses a weed whacker without eye protection should have his head examined.

Mike worked on the shed’s roof. Some of the shingles on top were loose and he wanted to seal them up with glue and special nails. he finished before me and spent a lot of time watching me go after the weeds. I finally stopped when the engine was out of gas. I was out of gas, too. And my right arm was so weak I couldn’t lift a glass of water to my mouth.

We decided we’d go to Flagstaff for the rest of the morning, but changed our mind halfway down the mesa. Instead, we’d go to either the Grand Canyon or Williams for brunch. We decided on Williams because we didn’t feel like dealing with weekend traffic at the canyon. Bad decision. We wound up in a terrible restaurant in downtown Williams. The food was only partially edible, the service was terrible, and the waiter was skeevy. And it wasn’t cheap. A learning experience, we agreed. We wouldn’t go there again.

We went for lattes in a coffee shop and I discovered that they had free wireless Internet. I’ll probably have a latte there tomorrow morning while this is sent to my blog server and I collect my e-mail.

Zero Mike Lima at Howard MesaBack on the mesa, we relaxed for a while before doing our final chore for the day: surrounding the helicopter’s landing area with a “fence.” We had some plastic fence posts designed to hold electric tape. We’d bought the whole system — complete with solar fence charger — as an option for when we went camping with the boys. But we’d since used the fence charger and some of the tape to surround the chicken coop and keep our neighbors dogs and coyotes out. We had these posts and plenty of tape left, so we used them to make a perimeter around the helicopter. The idea is to keep the horses out of the landing zone when the engine is running. Our horses respect fences, so we knew it would keep them out. We just weren’t sure how well the posts and tape would hold up to rotor wash.

We got to try it out a few hours later. I was keeping Mike’s truck with me at Howard Mesa, so I needed to take Mike home. Let’s see…two hours round trip by helicopter or five hours round trip by truck? Tough decision, huh? Mike waited outside our little fence while I started up, warmed up, and brought it up to 100% RPM. The fence held. Mike climbed aboard and we took off. The horses watched from 150 yards away. Cherokee looked very confused.

We had a quartering headwind for most of the trip home, so it took us the full hour. Mike offloaded his stuff and put a few things from the hangar on board for me. I took off for the return trip with a quartering tailwind that brought my ground speed up as high as 144 knots. Yee-ha! I got back to the mesa in about 45 minutes.

As I came in for my landing, I looked for the horses. They were about 100 yards from the landing zone. When they saw me coming in, however, they took off running. Unfortunately, they decided that the safest place was their corral, which was about 50 feet from my fenced-in landing zone. They stood by the gate and watched me set down. I think Jake recognized the big red thing that had been parked there all weekend and had left just two hours before. I waved at them. When I killed the engine, I got out and talked to them, then got them some alfalfa. They forgot all about scary loud red flying machines.

I’ve done my chores for the evening and taken a walk “around the block” with Jack the Dog. The sun set about 20 minutes ago and it’s starting to get cool. I’m wearing long pants, a long sleeved shirt, and a sweatshirt. Mike, who called a while ago, says it’s in the 90s back home. He’s watching the Mets/Yankees game on television and says the house is weird with no animals or other people.

To me, Howard Mesa is weird with all these animals but no Mike.

On Old GPSes and New Activities

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I discover geocaching and plan to take it to the extreme.

Years ago — I really don’t know how long — I bought a Garmin GPS 12Map. At this time, it was hot stuff. It was one of the first 12-channel receivers, which means it acquired satellites quickly and managed to hold enough of them in transit to be useful. It had a grayscale screen with a moving map. It had about 1.4 MB of memory, which you use to store detailed maps, so that detail would be available when you were using it. Although it didn’t talk to my Mac, it did talk to my PC. I downloaded Garmin maps into and uploaded waypoints and routes from it to another, more detailed software package.

I used it a lot. This was before I seriously got into flying and I had my Jeep, which we used to take on back roads once in a while. We’d load up the maps for where were were going and take a drive. We always knew exactly where we were and could consult the map to find our way in or out of a location. We also knew the names of all the land forms and other named places we passed.

I also used it for horseback riding. The GPS had an automatic tracking feature. I’d start it up, clear the track log, and attach it to my saddle, antenna side up. It would faithfully record every twist and turn in the trail. When I got to a gate, I’d mark it as a waypoint. Then, when I got back to my office, I’d upload the route information to the mapping software and display the horse trail on a topographic map. Do that a few times on all different trails and, before you know it, you’ve mapped all the trails on a topo map. Cool.

Although I stopped using the GPS regularly, I never really stopped using it. (Not like I stopped using my Palm or my Newton. But let’s not go there, huh?) Most recently, back in September, I pulled it out, loaded a few topo maps into it, and took it on a driving trip on the north side of the Grand Canyon. (I’m pretty sure I wrote about that trip in these blogs somewhere, probably in the “Travels with Maria” category.) Basically, any time I plan to take the Jeep off pavement, I bring the GPS, loaded with appropriate topo maps, with me. I have mounting hardware in the Jeep and a cable that provides power to the GPS. So as long as the engine’s running, I don’t have to worry about batteries.

For the record, I don’t use the GPS to drive from point A to point B on paved roads. If you need a GPS to do highway or city driving (“Turn left here.”), you really shouldn’t be driving. Take a cab or hire a chauffeur. Or ride Greyhound, and leave the driving to them. Or learn how to read a damn map!

Now, five or more years later, my GPS is outdated. Sure, it still does what it always did, but there are so many more GPSes out there with so many more features and so much more power. Color screens, more than 50 MB of memory, more waypoints, etc. For the past year or so — actually, every time I take out the GPS and use it — I think about how nice it would be to store 100 topo maps instead of just 4 or 5. That would certainly save a lot of trips to the PC in my office, just to load up maps. I could load all the maps I normally need and have that detail every time I went out.

But I don’t use it all that much and I can’t really justify the expenditure of $400 to $500 for the latest version of a “toy” I already have. (Hey, at least I could write paying articles about the iPod Photo.) So I haven’t replaced it.

Then I discovered geocaching. Wow, what a silly sport. Person A takes a weatherproof container that can be as small as a film canister or as large as an ammo can and fills it with trinkets like tiny stuffed animals, keychains, stickers, and beads, adds a small notepad with a pencil, marks it as a geocache, and hides it somewhere. He then takes the GPS coordinates (several times, to make sure they’re right) and publishes them on a Web site like www.geocaching.com, along with a name for the cache and a description or hints. Person B, having nothing better to do with his time, gets those GPS coordinates off the Web site and looks for the cache. When he finds it, he removes one relatively worthless item — perhaps the keychain — and replaces it with another relatively worthless item — perhaps a pin-on button. He also makes a note or two in on the notepad and then, when he’s back in front of his computer, he logs his find.

It may sound easy, but it isn’t. I went in search of one yesterday, just to see if I could find it. Named “Airport,” it was on the side of the road, not far from Wickenburg Airport. We zeroed in within 40 feet, stopped the Jeep, and got out to look. Unfortunately, our wet winter had resulted in tall grass and weeds that are now dead and likely hiding places for snakes. We arrived not long after sunset, while it was still dark, and cautiously searched the brush. At one point, my GPS told me I was within 4 feet. But I just couldn’t find it and I wasn’t prepared to push aside dead grass to look harder for it. So we let it go. I’ll try again another day, when I’m better prepared with a stick, a gun full of snake shot, boots, and gloves.

What I like about the idea of geocaching is the challenge of it and the fact that it forces you to go outdoors and explore off pavement. This alone is a good reason for people to do it. Think of all those mall walkers, trying to get exercise by walking in the mall. Now take off their walking shoes and replace them with hiking shoes, give them a GPS, and tell them to find a cache. They’re still getting exercise, but they’re breathing fresh air. They’re also seeing trees and bushes and grass and sky and maybe a few animals rather than whatever’s playing in mall shop windows. And there’s no Starbucks to lure them in for a mochachino. The terrain may be a bit more rugged and not suitable for some of the less steady folks, but I think it could work for lots of people. And even if they don’t find it, they’ll still probably have some fun.

I can imagine it now: five women and a man aged 60 to 75, out in the desert on a trail. They’re wearing sweatsuits that they bought in Wal-Mart, one of them has a sweatband around her head, and another has a walking stick she bought at the Grand Canyon. One woman, the tallest, is holding the GPS up, looking at it through the lenses of her half-frame glasses. (She got the GPS away from the man early on, when it was clear to her that he couldn’t program it.) “It’s this way,” she announces, pointing to her left. The group starts walking.

But seriously, it seems like an interesting activity and a great excuse to get outdoors.

Of course, I’ve started thinking of making it really challenging, not by hiding the cache in tall, potentially snake-filled weeds at the side of the road, but by placing it in a location that’s difficult to get to. A location with no roads or trails. A location that — you guessed it — is accessible by helicopter.

I call it extreme geocaching and it’s for people who need an excuse to go beyond the boundaries of civilization, to places no one ever goes.

All the cache locations would be within a mile of a Jeep-accessible road, but there may not be trails to get to them. It would take real skill and determination to reach them. But it would be worth it, not only for achieving a difficult goal, but for the destination itself. You see, the GPS coordinates wouldn’t take you to a bush or hollow tree. They’d take you to an interesting site with ruins, abandoned buildings, swimming holes, or hot springs. Someplace to explore. And you wouldn’t find dime-store novelties in the caches — there would be stuff with value, like current maps, books, flashlights, CDs, and gift certificates.

There would, of course, be a safe helicopter landing zone within a quarter mile of each of the caches. That would make extreme geocaching the perfect helicopter sport.

Of course, I feel pretty silly talking about extreme geocaching when I can’t even find a metal container on the side of route 60 just outside of Wickenburg.

Anyway, if you have an interest in geocaching, visit the Geocaching Web site. You can enter a zip code near the top of the Home page window to search for caches near you. I was amazed to find that there are about 6 of them within half a mile from my house. (We’ll take the horses out to find them when the weather cools down a bit.)

And if you live in Arizona and want a real challenge, keep checking in here. I expect to establish my first extreme geocache later this month. Use the comments link for this entry if you have any suggestions for what the cache should include. Keep in mind that my budget is $100.