First, in the morning, I had decided I was going to take Grace and Maggie hiking in Madera Canyon. On Saturday night, I researched the available trails and picked a moderate one, known for it's good views. I also picked one that was under 6 miles so the girls wouldn't die on me.
I left the house around 9:30AM - it would have been earlier, had the electricity not gone out the night before, leaving me awake most of the night, paralyzed with the fear that someone would break into the house while the fortifications were weak (which is completely untrue - the fortifications remain the same whether we have electricity or not; it's my ability to call for help that is severely disabled without electricity). Irrational, I know, but nonetheless, I had a pretty sleepless night and my hopes for departing earlier were dashed.
So, as I was saying, I left the house around 9:30AM. We still don't have the physical tags for the Jeep, but it is completely insured in both the U.S. and Mexico, and we have the temporary license plastered across the back window. We also haven't had the tags long enough yet to make an appointment with Border Patrol to SENTRIfy Bubba. (SENTRIfy = the process by which we give BP money and they allow us to use the express lane with Bubba for frequent border crossing; each person and vehicle have separate SENTRI certifications.)
What this all means is that I got to the border around 9:45AM and sat in line to cross for over an hour. And then, when I got near to the Border Patrol agent, I realized that I COULD NOT FIND MY PASSPORT.
Can I tell you something, folks? And I mean it: never, ever, never try to cross the Mexican border into the U.S. without your passport. It's just stupid.
Meanwhile...so, I start to panic about not finding my passport, but I think I can use my SENTRI card for ID, along with anything else with my picture on it in the car. The BP agents, as is their wont, proceed to give me a hard time. I'm showing them my SENTRI card, my drivers license, a photocopy of said passport, the registration for the car, the insurance papers for the car...shit, I'm offering to gift them Maggie.
I even tell them my whole sob story about being affiliated with the U.S. Consulate in Nogales, but without having the official paperwork to back my story up, they thought I was full of it. So my story about Bubba just arriving from Lima, Peru, just wasn't jiving.
Then, of course, their radar is raised by the fact that they can't see the freakin' temporary tag in the back (plastic, might I add, and really quite filthy) window. So they write down the vehicle's VIN number.
And just as their hard-ass stares are beginning to relax a bit, they ask me for Grace and Maggie's vaccination records. Are you kidding me???
I have never once - NOT ONCE - been asked for their vaccination records while crossing the border with Anthony (Mr. Man with the diplomatic passport, the official credentials and a gun). Oh no. They wait until I'm having a really hard time crossing and then clobber me with them.
Lucky for me, they told me to bring them next time and let me through. What a severe pain in the tush.
So, we then start driving for Madera Canyon. For whatever reason, I thought it was much, much closer to Nogales. I drive and drive and drive up I-19, the main interstate that connects us at the border to Tucson, and realize that I am not seeing the signs. I drive for 45 minutes, before I pull off the highway and go consult my directions again (I would have used the GPS system, but it was in the console, which I conveniently could not get open). Of course, I had passed the exit 3 exits back.
So we back-track a bit and find the right exit. Then it's another 20 miles or so east, toward the Santa Rita mountains.
We arrive at the first parking lot for Madera Canyon and I inquire about a yearly parking permit at the Visitor Center. The very kind gentleman gently informs me that the pass can not be bought there that day because the location for sales is up the road above parking lot C, which, due to the snow in the mountains, had been closed. He also told me that all the parking lots were full anyway.
So I drive by all the parking lots (because the nice man *had* to be lying, right?) and, sadly for me, all the parking spaces are indeed full. Sadder yet, there are really only a handful of parking spaces anyway.
It is now 12:30PM and the kids and I have now spent 3 hours trying to go on a hike. I see a dirt road just beyond the visitor center and I take it - we drive a few miles into what the park ranger described as "back country" and park Bubba. We wander around for about an hour or so, taking in the scenery: the beautiful Santa Ritas, the vast dessert beyond, and the free-range cows that litter the landscape. Seriously: free-range cows.
The Santa Rita mountains, with their fresh snow.
That's right, Anthony - I totally snagged your Cubs cap.
The girls were almost impossible to control when they heard the cows mooing.
One of the aforementioned free-range cows.
Desert and lakes beyond
So after all this awesomeness (i.e. wrangling two over-excited mutts for over an hour), we drove back to Nogales. All told, a semi-successful, 6-hour trip.
I rewarded myself with a shower and a movie.
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