Petroglyphs

I am such a terrible slacker.  The worst 'blogger' ever.

Anyway, ages ago, while in Arizona with the parents, we went hiking into the Superstition Mountains to check out some petroglyphs.

 

Hats for everyone. 

In preparation for the subsequent photos, please recall the work of photographer Timothy O'Sullivan, and how he had little regard for things like flat horizons.  If you don't want to click on the refresher link I've kindly provided, just gaze upon the two photos below.


Karnak, Montezuma Range, Nevada, 1867, LOT 7096, no. 76, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.

 Witches Rocks, Utah, 1869,LOT 7096, no, 19, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.

 All the O'Sullivan photos I looked at during last May's Special Event hosted by an Unnamed Washington, DC Institution must have really made an impression.  At the post-hike, end-of-day-photo-download, I showed my snaps to Mum, who said, "Those are all crooked!  Cactuses don't grow diagonal!"  


So know that some horizons will be uneven and cactuses will be diagonal.  Just bear with it.  It's artistic, or whatever.

That cactus was actually diagonal.

Intrepid Explorer Stance.

The hike is some-odd miles back onto a steep valley into the Superstition Mountains.  The first bit is more boring, as it's across some kind of plateau.  After that it gets more rock and winding.  The petroglyphs are back in the valley, around a water source.  (Spring?  Little mountain stream?  I don't rightly know.)

There is a lot of fun climbing right before you reach the water pools and the petroglyphs.

Looking out through the valley.

Goats?!

Mum and Dad make friends with some Canadians.  The Canadians are all over Arizona, and as they're just as friendly as they are back in Canada, I welcome them.

Mum and Dad didn't scramble about the rocks as I did.  They watched some crazy squirrels instead.

Mum was laughing hard about this one, and Dad was like, "Did you see the snake one?"

Dad had this really nice walking stick back in Pennsylvania, and he wanted to bring it out to Arizona.  He hit a difficulty though, as he wanted to pack it in his suitcase.  (I know.  Really.)  The solution was to chop off a substantial bit of it.  The stick then fit into the suitcase, but isn't much good for hiking anymore.  It's really only good for shaking at young whipersnappers, telling them to get off the rocks.

This was a really large rock with deeply worn holes in it.  The holes had formed over centuries of grain-processing done by the First Nations people who lived in the area.

Another 'use' for the shortened hiking stick.