(DON THOMPSON / iNFOnews.ca)

OPINION

I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with Arizona.

Much like Florida - where natural wonders are only exceeded by political goofiness - the heat alone makes in quite uninhabitable for a few months each year.

Summers in Arizona don’t go by the calendar. Rather, the average daily temperature in Phoenix from May 29 to Sept. 20…is 98-degrees Fahrenheit or about 36.67-degrees Celsius. In July, the average is 106-degrees F…a tad over 41-degrees C. The average overnight temperature is 85-degrees F…29.44-degrees C.

In Ocala, FL, my hometown which is near our horse farm, the average high in July is 90-degrees F…about 32.2-degrees C…with an average low of about 72-degrees F…about 22.2-degrees C. Some say Arizona is more comfortable because, “It’s a dry heat.” 

I’ve spent time in both places and I can tell you that the word comfortable doesn’t come to mind in either place at those temps. It is - for those of you who like to cook - roughly the difference between roasting and braising.

July in Vernon, B.C. - my other home - averages 85-degrees F during the day…and 57-degrees F overnight…that’s 29.44-degrees C and a tad under 14 C, respectively. Humidity…about 35 percent. As we say in the South, “Mama didn’t raise no fool.” There’s a reason we’re home in “Beautiful British Columbia” every Summer.

But, as usual, I digress. Back to my love-hate relationship with Arizona. In my past, I have visited a few friends who Wintered or lived year-round there. Don’t get me wrong, there are some incredibly beautiful spots…the least of which are not the Grand Canyon and Sedona.

A couple of unexpected encounters with Arizona fauna over the years have tempered my complete embrace. On a golf course west of Phoenix - there are about 200 courses in the area so I don’t remember which one - my friend and I were on a green about to putt when we both heard a buzzing sound…much like a chain saw. In a few moments a swarm of Africanized honey bees appeared on the horizon.

My friend and I looked at each other and decided to simply stand still rather than run to the cart and flee…they were too close. The swarm covered an entire acre…about 30 feet above the ground…moving directly across us at about 10 M.P.H. in a cyclonic pattern. They literally blocked the sun. The buzzing from what was clearly millions of bees was as loud as a small jet.

In a few moments they were hundreds of yards away. I told my friend, “I bet you miss this putt.”…as he sent an ten-foot putt eight feet past the hole…he took two more putts. I lagged my eight footer to tap-in distance…and we moved to the next hole.

My friend asked, “Did we just see that?” I waited a couple beats before responding, “See what?” We grabbed another beer.

Two years later…same friend…different golf course. Near a green on the back nine, we heard some kind of scuffle…a hissing sound and the unmistakable rattle of a poisonous rattlesnake. Cautiously approaching the sounds, we found a six-foot Western Diamondback Rattlesnake fighting off a good-sized Gila Monster poaching on nearly a dozen small baby rattlers.

Gila Monsters are usually night-time varmints…so it was the first time I ever saw one in the wild…and fighting a rattlesnake. The snake eventually drove the Gila Monster away…and we returned to our game. I suggested that should we hit a ball in the far rough for the remainder of the round…simply take an unplayable and drop where there was green grass.

On another trip to Arizona with friends…six of us were on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon for a mule ride from the rim to the canyon floor…five and a half hours…before overnighting at Phantom Ranch and a four-hour return mule ride the next day.

I have nothing against mules, really. But I considered the switchbacks and sheer drops of hundreds of metres…looked at what I thought were some sad - possibly depressed, maybe suicidal mules - and opted for a helicopter ride to meet my friends at the bottom.

It is true that only one person has ever died in nearly 100 years of riding mules to the Canyon floor…a guide who was crushed when the normally sure-footed mule fell on him. I just couldn’t get out of my mind…what if my mule decided, “The hell with it…is this all there is?” And just my luck…the terribly depressed, I’m-gonna-end-it-all-today mule took a leap.

Helicopters aren’t the safest aircraft…but my days in the Air Force had long ago ended any fear of flying. My friends loved their mule rides…though hardly anyone could walk right for two days. I on the other hand sipped Champagne, enjoyed the chopper tour…rode in a Jeep to the lodge where I awaited my friends…again sipping Champagne and I was walking just fine.

Arizona - like Florida - is a must-see place eight or nine months a year. You can kayak Emerald Cave…hike and swim in Havasu Falls…tour the Grand Canyon…Hoover Dam…climb rock formations in a Sedona Pink Jeep Tour…take in Monument Valley, the backdrop for hundreds of western movies…view Antelope Valley’s mysterious sandstone formations…hike the wonders of Petrified Forest National Park…and visit Taliesin West, architect Frank Lloyd Wright’s Winter home and studio.

But you see, like Frank Lloyd Wright, I know…you don’t Summer in Arizona or Florida.

— Don Thompson, an American awaiting Canadian citizenship, lives in Vernon and in Florida. In a career that spans more than 40 years, Don has been a working journalist, a speechwriter and the CEO of an advertising and public relations firm. A passionate and compassionate man, he loves the written word as much as fine dinners with great wines.

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