Explorations with the Ski3pins: Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge

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Part three of our winter adventure. Click here for Part Two.

A Land of Blue Lights

We drove through the gate and cattle guard that announced the entrance to Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge and stopped at the kiosk just inside to register.

We obtained our mandatory permits and gathered information with a earlier stop at the Refuge Headquarters in Ajo, Arizona. The registration process at the kiosk requires entering a valid permit number.

This was our first visit to this vast expanse of the Sonoran Desert. This was also an area that presented new kinds of risks.

We stopped for lunch at Little Tule Well and stretched our legs with a walk.

The windmill was disconnected and the fiberglass tank was empty.

Our route took us across the wide Daniels Arroyo. Two USF&W law enforcement vehicles were parked at the wash, one with an empty trailer. These were the first vehicles we encountered. The road climbs another 2 miles to where it ends at Charlie Bell Pass. We watched a white vehicle in the distance coming down the road toward us. The road narrowed and was rocky and slow going. 4x4 low helped with comfort crawling over the rocks. A white Ford Raptor F-150 pickup pulled aside to let us pass. The green graphics identified the agency and the young Border Patrol agent just nodded in response to our wave. The road leveled out at a wide area at Charlie Bell Pass. A camo green side by side utility vehicle was pulled to the side, parked with the driver aboard. We circled around the tall pole with a blue strobe light at its top.

Our windows were down with us enjoying the day's warmth. We stopped to acknowledge the driver.

"Why are you dressed like that?" the Lady asked, leaning out her window.

"It's cold riding in this machine," the man answered.

He was seated, dressed in a waist length uniform jacket. A straw cowboy hat was pulled down tight on his head. A black scarf was wrapped around his neck, covered his mouth and nose, and left only dark glasses between scarf and hat. He did not move.

I backed the truck into a space to the side, although we were the only vehicles here.

"Do you want to see our permits?" the Lady asked as we approached. She had both our permits in her outstretched hands. "We always get our permits and we never see anyone to show them to."

"I want to see your permits," the man answered and stood up as he exited the side by side. He was armed. He introduced himself. "I am a U.S. Fish & Wildlife Federal Law Enforcement Officer." For this narrative, I'll call him Joe.

The Lady handed him our permits. He carefully looked over both of them.

"So this is how they're doing them now," he observed without looking up.

"Yes," I offered. "The volunteer at headquarters photocopied both sides of the form we filled out and signed. She entered a permit number at the top of the first side. She kept the originals.

"She gave us each two copies," the Lady added. "One to keep in the truck and one to carry with us at all times when we hike. We're putting one copy in our packs."

"Good," Joe said and nodded.

I asked Joe about the pole and emergency station.

"Is the red button pushed often?" I asked.

"All the time," Joe said. "People are hurt or thirsty, injured or scared. They push the button. You can push the button if you need to."

"We have our InReach device with us too and people know where we are," the Lady added. "We'll push that button too."

"Good." Joe replied.

Joe was the kind of guy who offered very little in conversation. We had the strong sense that he was an observer by nature and he knew most everything that went on out here.

"Do many visitors come out here?" I asked.

"Not many, especially over the holidays. No visitors. You'll see Border Patrol."

"Yes," I replied. "We saw the young Border Patrol agent driving down from here."

"Oh," Joe nodded and continued. "Not many visitors. Who you'll see the most is the do gooders, the Samaritans."
"Samaritans?" I asked, puzzled.

"Samaritans, they come out here looking for remains," Joe said. He looked at our faces and continued. "They get a phone call that someone who was crossing didn't show up at their destination or somebody fell behind. They come out here looking for the remains. They are out here often."

"That is so so sad," was all we could offer in response.

"Is it okay we camp here? We are hiking to the petroglyph site." The Lady asked Joe.

"The one a couple miles down the road?"

"Yes."

"That's a good one. I expect you know how to get there." Joe added and then answered. "Yes you can camp here. With all the border activity out here and the Border Patrol coming through all the time, your night may get interrupted."

"We'll set up out of the way over there," I said and pointed to the edge of the cleared area.

Joe climbed into the utility vehicle and started down the road toward Daniels Arroyo. We would see Joe again.

It was a cozy spot. The view in all directions was wonderful. I pointed the truck directly at the blue light so it could not seen from the camper's windows. I did not want to be dreaming, "Attention Kmart shoppers!" all night long.

With a few hours of daylight remaining, we set off to find the ancient rock art site. The road continued past Charlie Bell Pass and is gated at this Wilderness area boundary. It was obvious the road is used often by the authorities because of the border related activities. The road's condition deteriorated markedly as it descended with eroded exposed bedrock and large rocky steps. The only vehicle tracks visible were from a side by side and one set of BF Goodrich All Terrain tires as on the young Border Patrol agent's Raptor pickup. There were a few old shoe prints. The newest sets of tracks were made by classic vibram soles, often found on government issued boots. We like to take note of signs left by other visitors. If the ground at our campsite was not so hard, I would have swept the ground clear and set a track trap, an excellent way to see who or what had been visiting during our absence or overnight during sleep.

The silence as we walked was wonderful. As part of the Goldwater Air Force Range, this is restricted airspace. There was no background aircraft noise, an awful intrusion we subjectively accept into our day to day lives. Get away from it for a couple of days and, my goodness, how much noise you realize we live with.

The Saguaros and Prickly Pear Cactus were so much fun to see.

We reached Charlie Bell Well and turned off the rough road.

The wash to the north was wide and choked with Saguaro and Palo Verde trees.

We searched the slopes to the north of the wash. The size and extent of this petroglyph site was amazing. We could spend hours here and we did.

Although most glyphs were geometric designs, we did find several intriguing anthropomorphic figures.

The late afternoon light brought a vibrancy to the landscape as we climbed back up to Charlie Bell Pass.

We studied a still standing saguaro skeleton.

The last sunlight and long shadows stretched out to the east as we returned to our campsite.

This was one of the most beautiful evenings of our trip. We were alone. All was quiet.

Please note the point of light in the bottom center of the above photo. That is the blue strobe light atop the next emergency aid station to the west. Its blue light flashes three times and pauses for five seconds. The light at Charlie Bell Pass flashes ten times and pauses for five seconds. The light visible far to the east - at the kiosk entrance to the refuge - flashes once. This is a land of blue lights.

We sat out in our chairs well into the night, enjoyed the solitude, and then turned in. What would this night bring?

"Headlights are way out on the road to the east," the Lady stated as she looked out the window, It was around 6:30 in the morning and a bit over an hour before sunrise. I confirmed distant headlights from two approaching vehicles.

"Well, even if they hurry, that last two miles of road will slow them down. If they're coming out here, it will take time." I said.

The Lady replied, "My guess is Fish & Wildlife and they'll park where they did yesterday at Daniels Arroyo."

We went on with our morning activities including a walk up the ridge line in the early light. We were finished with breakfast when the side by side reached the gate.

I walked over as Joe worked the combination lock to open the gate. He did not look up but asked, "How was last night?"

"Absolutely quiet," I answered.

"Quiet?" His quick question underscored his surprise.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Not a peep out of anybody."

Joe paused for a moment, then nodded his head and said, "That's good,"

"Joe, I hope you have a good day." I said as I turned and walked away.

"Thanks." Joe drove the side by side through, locked the gate, and started down into the broad Growler Valley.

We followed soon afterward, anxious to see what else we might find back at the petroglyph site.

Along the way we found an interesting fragment of glass, a Big Boy Beverage bottle.

During our hike back to Charlie Bell Well, we found new boot tracks that avoided the road by heading west down a small wash. One person had moved through during the night.

We enjoyed our further exploration of this extensive rock art site.

I became particularly interested in finding rocks that had split apart long after they were inscribed.

We spent another couple hours exploring and photographing.

This glyph got us to wondering how many ghosts wander through here.

We heard Joe's utility vehicle for 15 minutes or so before he was close enough to see. We were finishing a snack when we saw the first flashes through the Palo Verdes. I suggested we move into the open so we could be seen. The Lady was wearing her red fleece vest. I had on a bright blue shirt. Joe's eyes remained on the rocks in the rough road ahead. We watched his body roll and absorb sharp bumps. We did not envy him on that machine. The Lady gave a big wave as he was across the wash from us.

"Did he see us?" I asked.

"Yes, he lifted his arm. He saw us."

The utility vehicle bumped and banged as it drove out of sight. We did not see Joe again.

Shortly after, we hiked back to the pass. We broke camp. We'd find a different spot in the Refuge to stay another night. A spot without a flashing blue light next to us.

Descending from the Charlie Bell Pass, we pulled aside for two USF&W law enforcement trucks coming up. Parked down at the broad wash in Daniels Arroyo were three trucks, a pickup and two multi passenger vans. Samaritans were out searching. Joe was right, law enforcement and Samaritans. We were the only visitors.

About ten miles out we found a great spot for overnight.

It was the middle of the afternoon so we showered and relaxed. The warmth was perfect.

We walked at sunset. The law enforcement vehicles drove out followed several minutes later by the Samaritans. We were again alone - as far as we knew - in this vast beautiful place.