The Incompleat Mark Alburger

Daily Blog
markalburger2009.blogspot.com (2009)
markalburger.blogspot.com (2008)
myspace.com/markalburger (2007)

Past and Upcoming Events
markalburgerevents.blogspot.com

Complete Works (In Progress, Always)
markalburgerworks.blogspot.com

Music History (Textbook)
markalburgermusichistory.blogspot.com

21st-Century Music (Online Versions of the Monthly Journal)
21st-centurymusic.com (Archive)
21st-centurymusic.blogspot.com (In Progress, Always)

Performing Groups
stcco.org
(San Francisco Composers Chamber Orchestra)
goathall.org
(San Francisco Cabaret Opera / Goat Hall Productions)

December 31 - Preposition Propositions

In Barstow.



After the train.



Near the tamarisk.



At the station of the crossed clouds.



Across the Mojave on 58.



Below the southern Sierra Nevada.



Up Tehachapi Pass's Joshua trees, snow, and (unfortunate) windmills.



Through the industrial violations of the high plateau.



By the town.



Down the grade.



Past oaks and digger pine.



Into the fog of the future with Harriet at the end of a most memorable happy year -- and, to all, many new ones more!

December 30 - Slip-Fault Sliding

Fly away up Oak Creek Canyon, past the increasing snows of Slide Ranch,



to the switchbacks by



the piney


overlook,



adjacent to the small world of a Sikh snowball fight and



Native-American vendors.



Declivity gives way to plateau thereafter, as we approach the scalloped plowed edges of a Flagstaff service station,



where the San Francisco Peaks reign supreme,



then down out from the elevation-c.-7,000 high country into Mohave County (there's no accounting for Arizonan non-Hispanic spelling)...



to the expanses of the Yucca Rest Area,



near the Arizona Needles,



over the Colorado



River at the spot on the map known as Topock



and back



to our strange wonderful state,



with towns named after strange/natural out-of-state formations,



and the ghosts of yuccas in the Sacramento Mountains marching off to uncertain futures.



Down the alluvial slopes into the line of a deserted overpass in Ward Valley (this land where I entered the state to take up more-or-less permanent residence so many years ago),



up into the Piute Mountains,



and down again -- a palm-and-cacti



pseudo-oasis



near Goffs finds views extending east to the aforesaid prominences



and west beyond a sad, silent, waterless flock to


the Providence range in the East Mojave Scenic Area: creosote bush, dark igneous table lands, and even a bit of relief for animal companions.



But other signs, including prices a full dollar more than elsewhere (hey, we're back of beyond; what can we expect?), are less encouraging (non-humans, refer back to previous scene). Nevertheless...



Ole!... Since the Scandinavian equivalent is not coming to mind...



On. To lonely railroads before the Cady Mountains,



and the evenglow of the Calicos



extending to the outskirts of Barstow for rest. Stop.

December 29 - Lifting Our Eyes

Jerome lies basking next to part of its raison-d'etre -- the open-pit-copper Clark Mine --



up nd at the Mingus Mountains,



in glorious views the San Francisco Peaks (north of Flagstaff),



Sedona Cliffs, and Verde Valley, on the way to the



Douglas Mansion



at the State Park.



From there, the town is part of the view,


along with the Mine (namesake of the aforesaid original big-time minor, obliged to look at his interloping late-comer arrival's digs down the hill) and


Little Daisy Hotel (rather a lot really, named for Douglas's rival excavation, and now an unexpectedly private residence),



old mine equipment,



stately walls,



views scrimmed,



stark, and



surreal,



extending downslope to Clarkdale (Clark's combo humanitarian-industrial founding), the Verde Valley, Sedona Cliffs, and Williams and San Francisco Peaks.



Upslope, lunch is at the Jerome Grand Hotel (a former hospital),



Bar,


looking out on the patio,


Valley,


and all the rest, again (now including the Powder Box Church -- now a private residence, and named for its construction utilizing old wooden boxes which once contained explosives).



Harriet buys me a new hat (much to the relief of some of my students), and we're out the door, back to Sedona.



First stop, Lower and Upper Red Rocks Loop Road, since it's about time to take in the picture-book vistas of Courthouse Butte and



Cathedral Rock,



set among various



foregrounds (clearly, look, but don't touch).



Dry Creek Road, the unique teal-arched planning-board-approved McDonalds, the adobe Safeway before Capitol Butte,



followed by Soldier (or Soldier's -- the first seems favored by a majority of guidebooks and maps, while the second is on the street signs) Pass's Coffee Pot Rock



evince the mixed blessings of development.



From here, we ascend halfway up Airport Mesa to the, shall we say, Vortex View of



the Coxcomb,



Chimney Rock,



Capitol,




Sugarloaf,



Coffee,



Soldier,



The Sphinx, The Fin,



Wilson Mountain, and Steamboat Rock.



At the top of the Mesa, another stop --



are we viewed-out yet (with the Safeway down left from Capitol Rock and



the vista across the airport proper)?



Evidently not, because next is the beginning (but only the beginning, as the main course is unpaved) of Schnebly Hill Road, named after a founding pioneer in these parts, whose wife's given name was given to the town.



Here the world extends west to Mitten Ridge,



east to Munds Mountain,



and south back towards Capitol etc. And back towards there we head, to rendezvous with Roland and Liz at a local grill, for steaks and stir-fry and a far-inland fisherman's platter.

December 28 - Wringing Out Adventure

We wake to the chill and beauty of a clear central Arizona morning, light radiating off the snows of the Mingus Mountains, to rendezvous



in their art-filled house (including R's tropes on Picasso and Klimt in the back studio)



with Liz and


Roland March,



Harriet's younger brother, whom she has not seen in more than 16 years.



After a spirited lunch (watched over by L's Mata Hari),



featuring old photographs



of the siblings (note the budding author at the typewriter) and



family (father was a rubber tramp and boondocker [Quartzsite style] before the terms were common -- these are not vacation photos; this was a way of life, as H has written and I have musicized, indeed operaized, in the quadrilic Ring of Harriet... N.B. also the only saguaro cactus in this Arizona account),



we take our leave



and head



for the colorful cliffs of



Sedona (with Capitol Butte



looming over condos; and



Coffee Pot Rock, the Sphinx, and Wilson Mountain lined up like gawking tourists),



first going



uptown, and then way up Oak Creek Canyon, for books.



We return to the last light, by Twin Buttes, of



The Chapel of the Holy Cross --looking like part of a quadrilateral bit of granite below the top of one of the rock formations known as The Two Nuns --



on a hillock adjacent to The Madona (the smaller isolated spire just left of center) and the aforesaid



convent crew,



perched



resolutely.


We ascend the spiral ramp,



to the pastoral promontory perch,


with views of the setting sun, appropriately enough, beaming through Cathedral Rock (Catholic vortex, anyone?)


towards Lee Mountain, Courthouse Butte, and Bell Rock.


The sanctuary altar is as serene as possible,



given the throngs silhouetted in shining cliffs just before the 5pm closing.



Chasing the light south (away from Twin Buttes and a miniscule Holy Crossl)



towards the town of Oak Creek (which is not only not on the stream but not even in the same drainage basin), Courthouse glows



and Bell glowers, despite the latter's vortexational reputation,



yet beckons to be explored from a trailhead,


well-stocked with supplies.

December 27 - Let There Be Light

Sun beating down on the palms,



we cross the Colorado and ascend into Arizona,



taking in the sights and



sites of Quartzsite.



The miles unfold past saguaro and palo verde, Hovhanessian Mountains Without End, gas at $1.49/gal north of Phoenix, the last giant cacti on I-17 -- to Cottonwood, in view of the Sedona cliffs,



catching the light of the setting sun.

December 26 - Deck the Hallows

A caroler figurine looks out over the prospect of clouds and sun in the San Bernardinos north of the Mission Inn,


where we wake up near the sunshine of the Spanish Patio turrets,



dome,



and nearby mountains.



The clock says it's time to go (watch out for that arrow when marcheth on),



so down the Rotunda, beyond



the arcane arcade colonnade, and



the St. Francis Chapel area



vantage points of the



Jurupas et. al., over the



sacred rooftop passageway



with the northwest dome shining.



Move the car from across the street of the front entrance



arches



to the back and then recircle around this city-block hotel's east-face carolers,



to where Harriet patiently waits.



One last look at the third floor east court,



again looking out towards the Mt. San Bernardino environs



then dallying in the lobby,



before we break for coffee in Yucaipa



with the great John Curtis Browning.



On the road again, the magnificent mountain leads us to a



service station vista,



then views of Mt. San Jacinto on I-10,



where the phalanxes and



lines



of windmills in San Gorgonio Pass



almost redeem themselves,



an army



threatening us



to the north and



and south.



At last, into the preserved desert at Mecca Hills,



proceeding apace with vistas north to the Little San Bernardino



and Eagle Mountain realms of Joshua Tree National Park and vicinity;



south to the Orocopias,



with a cloud canopy over the Chuckwallas.



The rest area in the latter Valley



yields views of McCoy Peak, and,



as the light fades towards the Mules,



we take refuge in a blithe Blythe bar for albondigas and Dos Equis.