Humphreys Peak, Navajo Mountain, Mount Tipton
By: Mary Gygax Omberg
A few survivors of Campy's Arctic Survival Seminar on Humphreys, namely Joe McCosker, Norm Rohn, Chuck Stein, Mary Sue Jones, and I decided to go south to warmer climes for graduate work on Tipton.
We parted company with the main group after a rollicking good Mexican/steak dinner at a restaurant in Flagstaff recommended to somebody in the party by someone else - all the names escape me. Sunday night, we drove to the roadhead out of Kingman and camped. With the assistance of Dick Banner's excellent map, drawn from memory in topographical relief, we headed for our objective in the best weather to be had that weekend. Tipton treated us with a genuine bower of flowers. On her flanks we saw rainbow colors in Mojave Mound, California Poppies (evidently confused or lost in Arizona), Mariposa Tulips Phlox, Beavertail Cactus, Mallow, Ocotillo, miniature Daisies, Barrel Cactus, Penstemon, Cholla, Digitalis, and a host of others.
We commemorated Memorial Day by signing in the register, where I was chagrined to learn that I'd already climbed Tipton. Oh well, forgetfulness - just another sign of senility. There, too, Mary Sue finished the Arizona peaks. Our pace was leisurely and the return to Joe's camper, uneventful. We dined In Hobo Jo's in Needles where three members profited from a 6% discount. The curious should ask the more mature members of the party what the criterion was.
The quidnuncs among the Section will undoubtedly want to be appraised of the DIRT on the trip. Welllll, generally, the earth in the Grand Canyon area is red in hue. Specifically, the DIRT on the participants includes these revelations: Joe McCosker does not snore (ask me how I know); Norm Rohn is into Epiphyllums (and bless his heart, sent me some literature on. them); Chuck Stein is a computer wizard with a wrist mechanism that goes "beep, beep" and a mind that can make complex math calculations to determine who owes whom what for gas at 2:30 a.m. in the dark of the Eastland Mall parking lot (whew!); Mary Sue Jones turned in times that would qualify her for the Indy 500, and I was going to impart something juicy about myself, but I, huh, seem to have forgotten what that might be...
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