Florence Junction to Tempe

After leaving our campsite in the desert gardens south of Florence, we proceeded another 40 or so miles northward to a BLM area near Florence Junction. It was listed in our Don Wright Free Camping Guide, but the directions were so vague that I was sure we wouldn’t be able to find it. “From the junction of Highway 60 and Highway 89, head past the rest area on the north, past a tree on the south, cross the railroad tracks, go south through a gate about a mile.” The highway was 79, not 89, and we saw a rest area but no tree. Just past the railroad tracks was an unmarked dirt road with a cattle guard and gate. Miracle of miracles! About a mile back were lots of nice campsites. We chose one by some big trees next to a dry wash. It had a campfire ring and a fair amount of trash; I cleaned up the trash and Steve scouted for firewood, and we had a nice spot with a campfire. There was less cactus for the dogs to pick up, but there were cows. Ellie’s herding or guarding instinct kicked in, and she patrolled our perimeter, carefully herding the cows away anytime they got too close to camp. Tex found the cows, or rather cowpies, irresistible. He would go out on patrol and come home brown and smelly from rubbing himself. We had to bathe him not once but twice. He hates baths, and felt very sorry for himself.

From that campsite, it was only about an hour and half to our son, Chris’s, in Tempe. We arrived Saturday morning, and he and Steve spent the next several days tearing apart and then rebuilding his patio roof. I played clean up crew one day, then spent another checking out the yarn shops and quilt shops in the area. On our last evening there, we went to a really fun restaurant called Oregano’s, near ASU. The food was delicious and the portions gargantuan. Possibly the best part was the dessert--a huge half-baked peanut butter chocolate chip cookie, baked in its own little iron skillet and brought to the table piping hot with a huge scoop of ice cream on top. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Even Steve and Chris, who are not normally big on sweets, ate their fair share. I should have had the camera, but, as usual, it didn’t even occur to me to bring it along.