Here at The Show, we’ve spent the last year exploring the Sonoran Desert. As we head into the final season — winter — we’re sharing a collection of essays about life here in what we’ve dubbed Saguaro Land. Here’s local writer Julia Fournier with a story about being deserted in the desert.
Dad was an Eagle Scout and I credit him for my safety mindedness and over thinking tendencies.
Road trips involved preparation: a complete vehicle inspection, water, sensible clothing and shoes. Also, route, departure and arrival details shared with someone responsible, preferably him.
So, on Aug. 1, 2020, when I found myself with the second flat tire of the day — and no spare — just 30 minutes after having the first one replaced in Quartzite, I was infuriated with myself for betraying my upbringing.
The roadside assistance recording offered no consolation and the advisory at the end of the loop was terrifying: “Due to the current COVID-19 health crisis, customers are prohibited from riding along with tow truck operators.”
It was dark out there, desert dark.
The only signs of life were cars zipping east on the 10.
In the middle of nowhere, somewhere west of Tonopah, there is no Uber.
Dad will get me, I think weirdly.
Like that time in 1982, when I called from a Gallup truck stop announcing that I was on the way home after a year in Honduras.
Assuming I’m traveling by bus, Dad offers to fetch me at the station in Phoenix.
“Umm, I’m hitchhiking,” I confess and began describing the cab of the eighteen wheeler.
“Hey Jules?" he interrupts, “Tell that truck driver your dad is picking you up at the Denny’s in Flagstaff. Also tell him thanks from me for getting you there safely."
“I’m coming,” he says calmly, “I’m on the way.”
But this time Dad cannot rescue me.
He’s been gone for 20 years.
A tow truck has been dispatched.
The original text messaged wait time — an hour and a half — is still the wait time after an hour.
I have a half canteen of water and I’m sweating a half canteen per minute.
Where’s my gallon of water? Why didn’t I check the tires?
On the side of the I-10, in pitch black, I think the most frightening thing is the speeding cars that could crash into my vehicle despite the flashers.
I walk off the asphalt and out onto dirt and cactus in my freaking flip-flops for fear this might happen.
But as it turns out, passing cars are not the scariest thing.
A car stops. A man gets out.
Maybe he’s OK?
Maybe he has good intentions?
“Hey honey do you need help?”
“No-o, thanks, tow truck coming!”
Over 30 yards apart, we are yelling at each other.
“How long?” he shouts, slowly walking toward me.
I hold the phone to my ear pretending like I’m talking to someone.
I shout at the guy, “Oh, hey, my dad is talking with highway patrol! They passed by and saw us. They’re coming back. My dad says thanks for offering to help.”
I get into the suffocating car, lock the doors and rummage around for the bear spray and pocket knife.
He finally leaves.
I have never felt so glad to be deserted.
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The Show's Amy Silverman reflects on the Saguaro Land series, and the plight of the iconic Sonoran Desert cactus that is its namesake. -
The Show is exploring the desert season by season in the series Saguaro Land — through music, art, literature, food, drink, flora and fauna — and now through design. -
Journalist Caroline Tracey has watched as Instagram and other platforms have turned a spotlight on the desert in ways she finds both refreshing — and troubling. She spoke to The Show more about the trend and what it means. -
In The Show's newest installment of Saguaro Land, we learned about using the desert to make music from Kyle Bert, who has been turning agave stalk into didgeridoos for 25 years. -
Tempe artist Safwat Saleem used baking as a metaphor for describing how he and his young daughter are learning to thrive in the Sonoran Desert.
