I saw the sky last night. It was the sky I have seen before only in planetaria, but the bluest skies Ive ever seen are not in Seattle; they are in Arizona.

 

We had arrived in Tucson earlier in the day, and Jacki Mieler from the Arizona Office of Tourism, had arranged for us to have supper at the Lazy K Ranch a huge dude ranch made larger by its contiguity with the Saguaro National Park at the base of the Tucson Mountains.

 

For me, dude ranch conjures up Billy Crystal and a mid-life crisis, but the Lazy K was a surprise. In operation for more than seventy years, the Lazy K offers mountain climbing and rappelling down a 65-foot drop directly behind the main house. We saw the spotlighted mountain from a yoga garden that overlooks pastures filled with more than fifty Lazy K horses. From time to time, the yoga garden is also used for what seems to be southern Arizonas most popular pastimes: stargazing.

 

I had heard sun spots blamed for interference in radio transmissions, but I didnt realize that they might last anywhere from a few days to a few weeks, as hot gasses bubble up to the photosphere.

 

Located on the Tohona OOdham (Dwellers of the Desert) Reservation, Mount Kitts National Optical Astronomy Observatory (NOAO) is operated by the National Science Foundation and the Associated Universities for Research in Astronomy. NOAO has the largest array of optical telescopes in the world, with seven additional telescopes planned for the near future. The clear skies, relatively free of the light pollution of big cities, allow unimpeded observation about 250 nights of the year.

 

After the tour, Robert showed us to a steel dome the size of a small waiting room, where students manipulate the 16 Meade telescope. We got a chance to push the button to rotate the dome so that we could look at the sun through a hydrogen alpha filter that allowed us to focus on the sunspots.

 

Students come and manipulate the Meade telescope in a smaller observatory building, capturing videotape of their solar investigation, while staff videotape the student doing so. The videos presented to the students as mementos of the trip..

 

Although we looked through the eyepiece, scientists and students usually sit at a computer console from which they remotely control the telescope and record the images.

 

Through this telescope the sun seemed reddish, and we observed movement of the sunspots and the prominences or gas trails that follow magnetic lines. Although I have enjoyed a mild interest in the skies, visiting Mount Kitt was transformational in moving me from an observer to a participant in exploring the universe. I can only imagine what it means to young students.

 

Adults are not forgotten. For less than fifty dollars, adults can control a 36 telescope to explore the night sky. (The size refers to the diameter of the main mirror.) An advanced program, in which two people are treated as visiting astronomers, offers the chance to have access to a telescope overnight.

 

Upon our descent from the observatory, we had just enough time to for a brief visit to San Xavier de Bac Mission, a strikingly beautiful eighteenth century church gleaming in the Sonora Desert sun. The ornate interior includes hand-carved icons of angels and saints in an intricate reredos that soars to the ceiling. An effigy of St. Francis is covered with miniature tokens, mostly tiny metallic representations of human legs. A sign asked worshipers not to visit with St. Francis during Mass.

 

Although we didnt spend much time at the Mission, we were happy to have the opportunity to enjoy the visual feast in the southern Arizona desert.

 

On our return to Westward Look, we were treated to a tour of the grounds, including the chefs garden, the butterfly garden, the homey Wellness Center, and the original family home from which the dude ranch and this modern resort grew.

 

In the evening we enjoyed a special dinner in which each course was matched with a wine from Australias Torbeck Vineyard. As is the entire resort, food is prepared with a sense of place. Oddly enamored with the prickly pear, I sampled a prickly pear margarita before dinner. A little too sweet for my taste, it certainly was a colorful alternative to the usual tequila vehicle.

 

The next morning we were off to Whipple Observatory, another of the half-dozen observatories in the Tucson area. Originally, a multiple mirror telescope (MMT) with six coordinated mirrors provided the equivalent of a four-foot mirror. The current 6.5-meter mirror is housed in a four-and a half-story square building on Mount Hopkins, 8,550 feet above sea level.

 

The Whipple Observatory, operated jointly by the Smithsonian Institution and the University of Arizona, is about an hours drive from the visitors center, up narrow twisting road, often with nothing between the government bus and a tumbling, terrifying, fiery death not that it ever occurred to me.

 

Whipple has not only a huge 6.5-meter reflecting telescope, but also a 10-meter reflecting telescope designed to detect and trace the source of high energy gamma rays . While I didnt get the idea that any of us non-scientists really understood what that is about, we did have a wonderful time taking photographs of the surreal images provided by the collection of mirrors.

 

The top of Mount Hopkins had been leveled to make a space for the 550-ton building that houses the 6.5 meter telescope. Unlike most observatories, this one is not in a dome with telescope and slit tracking in tandem the advance of stars across the night sky. Instead, one wall and half the roof of the structure slides open, and the entire building rotates on railroad tracks to follow the stars.

 

We were disappointed that, despite the length of our five-hour visit and the idleness of the telescopes, we were never allowed the opportunity to look at an image, either through the lens or by computer, probably the most rewarding aspect of our visit to Mount Kidd.

 

The amount of information gathered at these observatories is staggering. One of the engineers proudly mentioned that scientists there had been able to gather information simultaneously from 252 galaxies, illuminating how difficult it is to imagine the magnitude of the universe.

 

Insignificant as we may be, we were getting hungry, so we headed south to our next stop, the Rio Rico Resort near Nogales.

 

Initially, Rio Rico disappointed me, even though several top management folks greeted us with lemonade and welcomes. I felt that this resort was trying too hard. Unlike Westward Look, it didnt radiate a sense of its desert environment. Indeed, one of our party remarked that we had found an oasis as the sprinkler system watered lush lawns, abundant oleander, and a golf course, designed by Robert Trenton Jones.

 

Any lingering disappointment melted away at dinner, when Executive Chef Warren Weekes and his able assistant, Adolfo Aris Cabrera created surprise after delectable surprise at the tapas bar.

 

The pan-seared goat cheese with sweet balsamic reduction was far different from the usual earthiness of goat cheese. Among the succulent prime rib and sesame duck, and the range of eminently satisfying palate pleasers, two stood out: medjool dates served warm with prosciutto and cabazola was melt-in-your-mouth medley of bleu cheese reigned in by the dates sweetness, and Caramba! The giant Mexican shrimp wrapped in bacon and grilled in a soy-prickly pear sauce must be the hors doeuvre favored by the gods. Every dish was a victory.

 

In the morning we had the opportunity to talk more with Chef Warren, when he met us in the lobby for a tour of Nogales Sonoma., in Mexico. Warren, who is married to a woman from the Mexican side of the line, has gone native in more than his cooking. He clearly identifies with the people of Nogales and celebrates their culture as much as their food.

 

In Nogales Sonoma, we stopped for brunch at El Toro, a colorful and popular restaurant that serves traditional peasant food. There we enjoyed a sampler of earthy foods such as pigskin stewed in tomatillos, enchiladas, tamales, and quesadillas. After we had eaten, Warren brought out tortilla chips so that we could try the traditional warm salsa, which I thought similar to a marinara sauce with roasted peppers and garlic, and salsa fresca, a course topping which Americans usually call by the misnomer pico de gallo. A third dish was less familiar: large cubes of pickled beef liver and potatoes. Those who tried said it tasted like pickled beef liver. I intend to live out my life without verifying what that means.

 

From El Toro, we toured the disparate neighborhoods and stopped at Leys Supermarket, which seemed almost anachronistic in this old town. At Leys the most important product appears to be security. We were first accosted in the produce department by a clerk and plain-clothes security, because one of our group was wearing a backpack. She was escorted to the front of the store to check the bag or return it to the van. While the rest of us felt vague sympathy, two more employees approached because several of us had camera bags, also verboten. Happy to escape a body cavity search, we returned our camera bags to the van, although I was uneasy about leaving undeveloped film in the Mexican heat.

 

Back at the scene of the potential crime, Warren explained the different varieties of chile, their relative heat on the Scoville Scale, and how they are best used in cooking. From the produce section, we went on to watch customers await preparation of the tortillas, ordered by the kilo, and Warren explained how to select a good tequila, including reposado and añejo.

 

After the supermarket, we briefly toured the affluent section of Nogales Sonada, although the narrative seemed too much directed toward titillation, imbued with drug connections and violence.

 

More interesting was the discussion of the local economy and the impact of the mercadora on the locals. Companies such as Samsonite, Swingline, and Q-tip that have crossed the border for a workforce to whom the $8.00 a day in pay with a like amount in  benefits quadrupled what they otherwise earn and a fraction of what it would cost the companies a few miles north.

 

Twice a year, Rio Ricos Bread Across Borders program delivers goods, including food, clothes, and school supplies to hundreds of families and orphans in Nogales Sonora.

 

We stopped for lunch a Las Herraduras, which was billed as a Mexican feast, but the sad truth was that we had over indulged too recently at El Toro, and none of us was ready to eat. Las Herraduras was more upscale than El Toro, but it offered only a limited menu of carne asada (Barbecued beef) pork butt and pork carnitas, which were close enough to tacos that I would have considered them just another version with different meat fillings. After some cool drinks and a brief tour of the kitchen, Warren ordered up some very tasty carnitas for the road.

 

The line for the border was long, so we left Ricardo to fend for himself with the van and leapt into the frenetic activity of Nogales just south of the border. Like any border town, it was rife with native trinkets and crafts. Aggressive vendors attempted to lure passers-by to their stalls instead of their neighbors. Some were in complete earnest, while others seemed to caricature themselves with offers of goldfor your neighbors wife or Rolex watches almost real!

 

Warren and Ricardo run the tours about once a week. For about $60, safe transportation into and around Mexico, food, beverages, knowledgeable guides, and a chefs view of produce and drinks, I think it quite the bargain.

We said good-bye to Chef Warren and made a dash for Patagonia Lake, where park ranger Steve Haas awaited us.

 

In a state where only 13 percent of the land is privately owned and the question of water supply imbedded in ones awareness, Patagonia Lake is like an oasis in the desert. Well, I suppose that it is an oasis in the desert. The lake was formed in the late sixties when Sonoita Creek, which supplies it, was dammed. With ranger Steve, the parks manager, at the wheel, we toured the lake in a pontoon boat while volunteer John Webb described our surroundings. Steve mentioned that budget cutbacks have made loyal volunteers such as John critical to properly operating the park.

 

We were surprised and delighted at the abundance of wildlife around the lake, with blue herons taking flight as we hugged the shore, one obligingly swallowed a large catfish before our very eyes for a photo op. Around us swam dozens of whiteface coots. From time to time along the shore, we spotted some of the small deer that roam the park.

After our leisurely tour of the lake and a brief visit with a snake that Steve houses in the nature center, we headed for the hills and Hacienda des Sueños, the bed and breakfast where we would spend the night - and one of the most wonderful houses I have had the pleasure to visit.

 

I like rambling houses, and Hacienda des Suenos rambles more than a travel writer with an audience. Although Patagonia, as much an art colony as a town, is only about an hour from Tucson (Everything seems to be about an hour from Tucson!) it is a suburb of a miniature version of Mayberry. The center of town is a few scattered restaurants and a former railroad station that now serves as a Town Hall. The hacienda is in a remote section of Patagonia. While it seems to be out of sight or hearing of any possible neighbor, it is actually only a few minutes from the town and The Velvet Elvis.

In addition to serving delicious fare that happens to all be organic, The Velvet Elvis is a story unto itself. Yes, it does contain a rendering of Elvis on velvet, but that came after the restaurant was named. Proprietor Cecilia  San Miguel decided that Velvet Elvis was merely a whimsical name. It was later that a friend donated the fuzzy portrait of The King. As it happens, I didnt even notice the painting when we first entered because the life-size sculpture of the Archangel Michael that guarded the door had my undivided attention. The sword-wielding archangel was carved out of a single block of cedar in Guadalajara for the Mission of San Miguel across the town common and down a few houses from the Velvet Elvis.

 

Cecilia has purchased the mission for a no-smoking bar (in Patagonia!) where artists are painting representations of religions of the world on the original adobe walls from 1915. The mission, still undergoing renovation, is a beehive of activity with masons and carpenters and artists working side-by side to complete the project. What appeared to be a baptismal font in front of the entrance was being built while we were there, and a serpent undulated along the length of the top of a long wall.

 

But we were talking about the Velvet Elvis, where Cecilia painted pictographs on the floor because an inner voice told her This is the voice of the ancient ones.

 

Organic food, pictographs of the ancient ones, images of Elvis, a shrine to the Virgin Mother, a cedar archangel, and paintings of Native American women on the walls are only the surface of Cecilias story.

 

The lovely and vivacious proprietor was a recent widow when she encountered a couple at an airport. Learning that Cecilia had no attachments in Seattle, the woman told her that she should go to Patagonia, Arizona. While visiting her family in Latin America, Cecilia kept hearing the womans advice. So, when she returned to the States in April 1997, she went to look at this Patagonia, and soon after she was setting up shop with Elvis.

 

The little restaurant is filled with locals and a few outsiders, some of whom have made the trek to Patagonia just to eat at the VE. And why not? It has something for everyone. The organic food is for the sophisticated palate, says Cecilia. The Native American spirit expresses my strong connection to Native Americans. The images of the virgin mother are gifts. She is the patron saint of Mexico, Our Lady of Guadalupe.

And the food? It is worth the trip, you bet.

 

The next morning we headed for Kartchner Caverns State Park. The newest section was not yet open to the public, but we were lucky enough to join a practice tour.

 

The caves were nice, almost as beautiful as Virginias Luray Caverns. There were some formations I didnt recall having seen before and I dont mean the tidy piles of bat guano that greeted us from place to place.

 

These caves, a relatively recent discovery, were kept secret while the young men who found them and the family that owned the property figured out how to protect them and maybe earn a few dollars along the way. The result is impressive conservation measures.

 

After touring the visitors center, a non-polluting electric tram takes visitors to the cave entrance, a convenience for the elderly and infirm who happen to be exploring caves (The walled, paved trails are entirely wheelchair accessible), but it also protects the landscape and keeps visitors relatively dust free. 

 

Dust or lint, we learned, can be a hazard to caves, introducing algae to the environment. So how do you keep lint out of the caves? I am ever so glad you asked.

 

            As we entered the opening of the cave, we were misted by a fine spray overhead. In the 90-plus degree heat, I was thankful, but the spray also moderates the arid air and rinses off or dampens down any free dust and lint before we enter the first of four sealed conservation chambers designed to keep humidity in and arid desert air out.

 

Nonetheless, when we entered the first chamber, it felt like a steam bath. Like canal locks, everyone must be in and the first door resealed before the second door is opened.

 

As we entered each chamber, we experienced a greater degree of comfort until we finally reached the caverns, at a constant 68 degrees, with 99 percent humidity.

 

The cement paths either have very high curbs or very low walls. Because lint can be a major problem, any that visitors might bring in despite the extensive measures in place can be sluiced by pumping water through the trails after the last of the days visitors have left. Not forgetting that the caverns are in the desert, the water is then recycled to water plants around the visitors center.

 

The cave offered many familiar formations, crenellated columns and bacon and eggs (which we have seen done better at Luray), but the indirect lighting and use of flashlights maintained the atmosphere and integrity of the caves better than most. Although the guide told us that the bizarre curlicue helectite formations are not uncommon, I dont recall seeing them. Here they were profuse.

 

One other aspect of the conservation efforts relates to the guano mentioned earlier. To protect the 800-1000 bats that live in the cave, the caverns are closed during maternity and nursing period, usually from mid-April to mid-October. It is gratifying to see such efforts to protect nature, both the caves and their residents.

 

The caves behind us, we wanted to try some of that Arizona wine we hear so much about, so we headed for our first winery. Fortunately, we had noted wine connoisseur Michael Vaughn along with us from Toronto. Left to my own devices, I choose a wine based on how easily the cap unscrews. Well, possibly my palate is slightly more sophisticated than that, but Michael was my guide, and I made sure to have the same wine that he was tasting to try to put the language he used to describe it into a context I could understand. It didnt work terribly well. I was more impressed that he could tell the degree of acidity with remarkable accuracy and instantly determine not only what varieties of grapes constituted the varietals, but whether the oak was English, French or a combination, and how long it had aged in each. My judgments were more along the lines of, Oh, that's nice or I don't like that.

 

We sampled wines from several vineyards that afternoon, but we ended at Callaghan Vineyards where owner Kent Callaghan and his friend Al Buhl from Dos Cabezos Vineyards, about eighty miles away, greeted us on the porch. Of his warehouse cum store.

 

Kent apologized for wearing a soiled tee shirt and shorts. He had just finished picking grapes. As tired as he had to be, the vintner became increasingly animated as he discussed  each of his wines. Michaels enthusiasm outmatched him. The bored resignation that had registered before was replaced by growing excitement as his nose plunged deeper into his glass for longer periods of time. I know rapture, and this was it.

Oh, thats nice, I contributed. Kent and Michael kept talking.

 

Kevin also had a few bottles of Dos Cabezos wines on hand, and Al joined the excitement as Kent and Michael became increasingly animated in their wine exultation. (Maybe the amount of wine we had tried contributed to the excitement. Even Michael had foregone swish and spit for savor and swallow.)

 

It was dark when we dragged Michael out of Callaghans, and we had added a number of bottles of wine to the blue agave tequila, reposado, and anejo that had wandered into the van.

 

Thus reinforced, we headed for the Café Sonoita, a deservedly popular restaurant with a varied and sophisticated menu and an equally sophisticated wine list. The prime rib stuffed with jalapenos was deservedly popular, and the pork chops were done with a prickly pear glaze. Heather, from the Arizona Office of Tourism, and I. the major prickly pear consumers, high-fived over yet another use for our favorite cactus fruit, but I finally settled on the more pedestrian filets mignon. Sometimes a man just needs to have meat and potatoes.

 

My personal highlight was the thick block of chewy fudge brownie topped with ice cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce. In a realm where I am truly a connoisseur, I had found paradise. In the Arizona desert. Who would have believed.?

 

After dinner our group separated for the first time, half to Hacienda Sueros and half to the Sonoita Inn. The Hacienda people won. I stayed at the Inn because a colleague wanted to use my trusty laptop to transfer some digital photos to a CD.

 

The Sonoita Inn was built by a horse.

 

When Secretariat (born in Virginia, thank you.) won the Triple Crown in 1973Margaret Carmichael, a co-owner, used part of the winnings to build the barn like structure with adobe bricks made by handicapped residents of Tucson. Nonetheless, it was a barely utilitarian accommodation compared with Hacienda Sueros, where we joined our colleagues for breakfast.

 

While I am still partial to the rambling Casa de Sueños, this B&B is a modern unmistakably southwestern beauty, impeccably designed and decorated, with four guest rooms along one side of a courtyard with a Celestron 2000. The owners live on the other side.

 

Breakfast was French toast baked in a Dutch oven with blueberries lining the bottom. Along with fresh orange juice, savory sausages, cut-up fruit, and excellent coffee, it was an entirely satisfying meal.

 

Unfortunately, it was my last meal in Arizona, at least for that trip. With the kind of hospitality, food, scenery and variety of activities in this beautiful state, I dont think that it will be too long before I return with my family. I have already managed another quick visit in the interim.

           

 

The author wishes to thank the Arizona Office of Tourism for its generous support and assistance.