I rode my motorcycle to the San Xavier del Bac Mission today. It’s façade is pictured here.
I deserved the break from the stress of carefully packing and shipping 2 large paintings and a drawing to Wright State University for the Midwest Paint Group’s exhibition of “Realism and it’s Discontents” opening on March 27, 2012. I deserved something enjoyable after paying the exorbitant price for the shipping and insurance since the package was too oversized for Fed Ex.
This is the first post I’ve made that is not about painting. I simply had such a good time I wanted to write about it.
Two events made the 2 hour excursion particularly delightful. First, my license to drive (and ride) was reinstated recently and also cataract surgery on both of my eyes has made all that I see quite vivid. Can you imagine what it’s like to be unable to go where and when you please? Not driving is un-American, isn’t it?
The road from my home to the mission has been newly paved so the 40 minute ride on that stretch was smooth and sweet. Quite as grand as the back country roads in Maine where Barbara and I spend our Summers. The great difference between midcoast Maine and the Sonoran Desert however is the dry hard earth on all sides of this road that allows only mesquite, creosote, and cactus to thrive. When riding, I’ve always feel like I was caressing a massive sculpture because I’m so much in the landscape and a part to it’s surface as it twists, turns, rises, and drops as I power up or coast through hills and curves.
There was no one on the road but me except for occasional fellow bikers coming South (I counted 3 today) and it’s always a pleasure to acknowledge the fellow celebrant with the traditional below the hip and left handed wave that says……Hey, ain’t this grand!!
My old Honda GoldWing that I bought new 30 years ago was humming along just as well as the day I got it.
If you’re a romantic (and I am), in this relative solitude you may speculate about the way of life of the Apache, Pima, and Tohono O’Odem people who certainly lived right where I was passing (and I did) . And the closer I get to the mission, I think of the Jesuit Priests who built San Xavier who some call the ”White Dove of the Desert”. Easy to see why by it’s appearance.
In fact, the Mission is located on the Tohono O’Odem reservation. And a few miles up the road in Tucson, Wyatt Earp shot and killed some of his enemies in a manner that wasn’t technically legal.
A few road signs warn of “Do Not Enter when Flooded”, and “Open Range”, and “Watch Out for Animals”
But since the Monsoon rains ended months ago, and since the cattle are big and dark against the bright landscape, and since I only see Javilina at dusk and dawn, I keep up my 50 mph pace. I pass Helmet Peak which was given that name due to it’s appearance as a Conquistador’s helmet. To climb it’s steep face to approach to the summit would be impossible except for expert rock climbers. But still, I imagine myself on the way up.
I entered the reservation half way to the mission and soon was riding along beside a dark butte on my left. The butte was covered with huge Saguaro cactus. What a color emerged with the mix of the chocolate mountain and pea soup green Saguaros.
At the north end of the butte the first houses of the Tohono O’Odem began to appear. Often adobe and just as often cinder block with an occasional ramada on the dusty property to protect them from the 110+ temperatures of the Sonoran summer.
Soon I came to the side road that approaches the mission from West to East. The speed bumps slowed me enough to appreciate the several thousand white crosses that covered the fenced off desert on my left. I was moved by the sense of tribal community from that moment and it continued throughout the vicinity of the tribal school and the tribe’s commitment to the mission that they have restored immaculately along with Italian fresco painters. I saw the mission about 15 years ago for the first time and the quality of the restoration is overwhelming.
It was refreshing to enter into the cool interior having just passed through those huge carved wooden doors
There must have been 50 people within and they were quite respectful toward where they were and what they were looking at. This was very unlike my visit to the Taos Church (that O'Keefe painted) where I witnessed a crowd of tourists disrupting a Mass. They were oblivious about the purpose of the church to the celbrants.
Here, within the White Dove of the Desert, one woman was on both knees in front of the main altar.