Feburary 7, 2018 | Rob

When I moved to Arizona in 2006, I only planned to stay for 5 years – or, the duration of graduate school. That turned into almost 12 years, each one of which was a wonderful and important part of my life.

Arizona is a beautiful state, full of interesting people, places, and things. Obviously, I’ll miss my friends, the winter weather, the sunsets that encompass the entire horizon, and so many other things. But being a fan of the obscure, I’d like to highlight a few of my most favorite, but less obvious, things that I’ll also miss about Arizona.

I have walked, jogged, biked, strolled, boated, and kayaked, around Tempe Town Lake. Once, I even swam in it briefly. Along the way, I’ve become familiar with the variety of public artwork in its vicinity.

Most of that artwork is in plain sight – meant to be seen and enjoyed by the public. But if you want to see something obscure, go walk beneath the Tempe Light Rail Transit Bridge on the North side of the lake. When you get there, veer off the path toward the base of the bridge on the east side, and look behind some weeds. There you will find what I call, “The Equation.”

“The Equation” is a complex mathematical formula inscribed into the cement face of the bridge, along with other artistic cement work that resembles cracked mud. It is not small, measuring maybe 6 to 8 feet long.

So many questions… What does it mean? Why is it there?

I had always assumed that it was some elegant and important physics formula related to the engineering that went into the bridge’s unique architecture. But no so.

According to this website here, “The Equation” is a formula that describes the pattern of cracking that takes place as mud dries:

“Included in the casting is the written equation for the fractal formula of the formation of cracked mud. The fractal geometry references the bridge structure.”

“The Equation” was created by artist Buster Simpson, who calls it “Dry Mud Wall.”

Although Keet Seel does not have the draw of more popular Arizona hikes like Havasupai, it stands out as a very special place in my mind. I hiked it alone in 2014, and I don’t think I know anyone else who has been there.

The Keet Seel hike has some things in common with Havasuipai. It is on Native American land, it is about 9 miles of trail that drops deep into a canyon, and it is mostly a destination hike. In this case though, the destination is one of the largest cliff dwellings in the southwest.

The hike is only open to visitors for a narrow window of time between Memorial Day and Labor Day, and you have to reserve a permit for it in advance. Once you do have a permit, you could drive 300 miles to get there from Phoenix, and then be denied entry if there happens to be a rain storm (which is very possible during the late summer monsoon season). I think these factors are what makes Keet Seel an obscurity even for most avid hikers.

Not only do visitors get to see the 700-year old cliff dwellings, but a ranger will give a personal guided tour of them and explain about their history too. Among other things, that is what makes this such a special hiking destination.

If you were to ask me what my favorite restaurant in the greater Phoenix metropolitan area is, I might have given you different answers at different times. Those answers would include Postino, Culinary Dropouts, or Ike’s Love and Sandwiches.

All of those are excellent choices. But recently, I stumbled onto something that is on another level.

When I was working in Phoenix last year, Becky picked me up after work one day. We picked a random place to eat at on the way home and happened upon a little Japanese place in downtown Phoenix called Harumi Sushi.

I don’t remember what we ordered, but it entailed a lot of raw fish, sauces, and words I can’t pronounce. I’ve never tasted anything like it. I’ve only eaten there once, and I’m ok with that because I’ll remember it forever.

I would link you to their website, but they don’t have one (because they are obscure).

The day after I first arrived in Arizona, I was greeted by a small gecko hanging out on my luggage. Since I love reptiles, and geckos in particular, I saw this as nothing less than a good omen for my future in Arizona.

I learned that these geckos are known as Mediterranean House Geckos (Hemidactylus turcicus), and they are all over the Phoenix area. But just like me, they are not native to the area. As their name implies, they originated from Mediterranean countries. Somehow, they got introduced to the American southwest, and thrived.

When I was new to the area, I took inspiration from the geckos’ ability to adapt to their foreign environment, and I hoped to blend in with my new surroundings as well as they do.

After more than a decade in Arizona, I felt like I had adapted well. Thanks for the inspiration, little geckos. I'll miss you, and everything else about Arizona!