Easter in the desert

Sitting in the shade of the Sparklight pole and getting caught up on what's been happening in the world. Life where we are at the moment has a definitely surreal feeling (which is no doubt true of almost everywhere else, too, in various ways). Saw one of the neighbors in the RV park going for a walk this morning wearing a face mask. Okay, dude, that's a little weird. It's a bright sunny day in Arizona, there are no other humans within a hundred feet of you, and everyone that is around the RV park has been here as long as you have. I can see wearing a mask into Walmart, assuming a person has one, but when the only other warm-blooded creatures outside at the same time as you are a couple of horses?

On the other hand, we went over to The Kid's yesterday for Easter dinner. Saw one of her neighbors getting picked up by his car pool to head for the Morenci mine (yes, leached sulfide copper mines apparently qualify as essential because the local mines are operating the same way they always do, full shifts seven days a week). No mask, of course, just casually stowing his hard hat and back pack in the vehicle and heading for work like he does on a regular basis. Not that it was particularly surprising to see him without a face mask.

In what is a not surprising and typically American reaction to a public health crisis, way too many people are doing the exact opposite of what would be logical. Young people hear that COVID kills old people so they don't worry about it. The CDC and state health departments are running nonstop PSAs explaining why self-quarantine and face masks in public are necessary, but it's not registering with the people who should be hearing it. The purpose of the face masks, after all, is not to protect the wearer other than it stops you from touching your mouth or nose without remembering to wash your hands first. A homemade cloth face mask or even a genuine N95 mask is not going to stop most viruses from being inhaled if you happen to walk through a high enough concentration of them.

Corona viruses, like all viruses, are unbelievably tiny. Remember, a virus isn't even a living organism, it's just a chunk of DNA or RNA with a thin protective coating (one that breaks down fast in ordinary soap and water, in direct sunlight, and when hit with bleach or other strong cleansers)(for what it's worth, Purell is useless. Purell can kill bacteria, but bacteria are alive and viruses aren't).

Nope, the purpose of the mask is to keep people who are asymptomatic or are in that infected but not yet sick stage from spewing their pathogens on the rest of us. The mask may not keep viruses out, but it can keep your disgusting virus-laded spittle from landing any place other than the inside of the mask. Remember, one of the more insidious things about COVID-19 is it has a really high percentage of persons who are either asymptomatic or have such mild symptoms they pass the few symptoms they have off as a mild cold or a touch of a seasonal allergy. For about 80% of infected persons, COVID-19 is a minor blip, not an issue.

The asymptomatic factor, incidentally, is one reason I think health departments should be testing as many people as humanly possible, not just people who are unlucky enough to have symptoms or know they've been exposed. One of the big unknowns with COVID-19 is just how widespread it is. All the numbers we see now are based on known cases, and the only way a case becomes known is for a person to be tested. How far has the virus spread? Has it hit the point that Tony Fauci fears, a level that will turn it endemic, a widespread pathogen that never goes away but has seasonal flare-ups like influenza? Or, horrifying though the numbers currently are (well over half a million known cases), is the virus still confined to a relatively small percentage of the U.S. population? As an eternal pessimist, I tend to think along similar lines as Dr. Fauci.

On a more cheerful note, The Kid and I spent a few hours yesterday morning hiking at Gila Box Riparian National Conservation Area. We were hoping the cacti had begun blooming, but not quite. By next weekend the prickly pear should be spectacular out there. We did a fairly short hike, one that started close to the wildlife viewing platforms overlooking Bonita Creek, wandered up to the Kearney monument, ambled along the edge of the Riverview Campground (really nice, by the way, -- the BLM does a nice job on developed campground design), and eventually looped back to the wildlife viewing platforms. We sat for awhile, admired the soaring abilities of turkey vultures, and decided that once again we were there at the wrong time of day to see bighorn sheep.

The BLM day use and camping areas are still open. Maybe their management decided their designs have social distancing built into them. I know every BLM campground I've seen has the individual campsites widely spaced and even picnic areas position the tables and grills pretty far apart. I'd kind of like to camp out at Riverview because maybe then we'd actually get to see some of the wildlife, but I'm not real keen on us driving the Guppy over a one-lane road with 19% grades (short ones, granted, but not super short) and some interesting blind hairpin turns. Then again, I woudn't be behind the wheel. . .

Photos are from yesterday's hike. Can never remember what the yellow flowers are called, but there were a lot of them. River view is of the Gila River as seen from the Kearney memorial. The monument commemorates where Phil Kearney and U.S. army troops camped while en route to California in 1846. One assumes they actually set up the encampment down by the river and not on top of a hill, but who knows?