THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH

"It looks to be about five miles" said Dr. Barry Knisley as I started out from the southeast corner of the Wilcox Playa, a large salt flat in a bowl of mountains in Arizona's Sonoran desert. "We'll pick you up at about ten at Marutha Meadows."

_______________

Barry, Mark, and I had driven out at dawn on that last day of field research before returning east in August 1982. We were studying tiger beetle population stratification and speciation in the internal drainage valley that had once contained Lake Cochise. The metallic beetles and their predacious larvae had found ways to survive the desert heat and evaporating lake, from heading underground until late summer monsoons to building turrets over their burrows to get jaws and flies above the surface heat. The site for Cicindela marutha was a patch of dunes on the northern rim of the playa, where the bright green adults laid their eggs into the cooler north slopes of sand mounds. For me, the summer of entomology research right after college graduation was a trial before a final decision on putting my energy into getting into a Ph.D. program or medical school.

I had wanted to hike across the playa before launching into the pre-medical trial back in New Jersey. From the roads around the edge of the ancient sea bed, one could make out hilly landmarks all the way around. It was a different story when I stopped to get my bearings at two miles out. From the center of the bowl, all I could make out was cracked earth in all directions. Steering by the sun, I resumed my trek in what I hoped was the right direction with heart pounding a little faster than aerobic metabolism demanded. 

A piece of driftwood emerged from the haze up ahead. As I approached, it transformed into an old wooden sign reading "UNEXPLODED ORDNANCE". I looked right and left and there were similar signs as far as I could see. It was either go through or go back.

Skirting small hummocks in a steady jog, I soon saw the low hills of Marutha Meadows in the distance. Then I could make out Mark standing on a dune and writing in the field notebook. A little closer and there was Barry squatting to insert a marker beside a larval burrow.

________________

"You made it!" he exclaimed, standing up and squinting into the now high sun. 

"What's up with those warning signs out there?"

"Ah, so that's where the old bombing range is", he pondered. "I'd heard that the airforce used the middle of the playa for target training during World War II." 

"Thanks for the tip", I joked. "Any other advice?"

"Have you heard of osteopathic medicine?"