Monthly Archives: July 2017

Sixty-Six, for Sixty Six, Part XLIV: The Great Basin Road

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, Service Activities, Travel

July 5, 2017, Moab-  

(This is the first of several backdated posts from Road Trip 2017.  I will be in a place with spotty WiFi, over the next few days, and family time comes first, so this series will be slow in posting.)

It’s always tough to leave loved ones behind, but life must go on, and nowhere does it go on better than in America’s Outback.  The Great Basin is largely the bowl left by Lake Lahontan, and other large bodies of water, remnants of one huge sea, that once occupied our continent’s mid-section.  The present Lake Lahontan is quite impressive, actually, with the seasonal rains having been copious here, as elsewhere in the West, this past winter and spring.  I took about a half hour to visit the lovely giant.

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Much more was above water, this time last year.

I drove past the salt flats and noted they looked a bit browner than usually- another consequence of extra moisture.  At the foot of the Toiyabe Mountains, I came upon a forlorn looking man, whose jeep had just discharged a fair amount of water.  My jerry can took care of that aspect of the matter, in short order.  After, I followed him a short distance towards Austin, the nearest town, he told me to go on ahead, as the issue may have been the fuel pump, and he wanted to give it some rest.

It is a fair uphill, from the salt flats to Austin, so I informed the dispatcher, at Lander County’s office, of his issue.  After lunch, in Toiyabe Cafe, on Austin’s main drag, I noticed the town’s only flatbed tow truck was headed out, in his direction.  The ladies at the Cafe said the sheriff is most diligent about NOT letting stranded motorists wait too long.  That’s one of the fine things about people in remote areas:  Most everyone is a Good Samaritan.  T\

Toiyabe Cafe has some great eats, also.  Since my only beer is “near”, I guess I could wait.

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There’s no bush meat available, though, but who wants to eat a carnivore, anyway?

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I drove on and on, determined to make Utah’s sandstone country, by bedtime.  So, on past the Great Basin National Park, various other salt flats, the lovely towns of Eureka, Ely, Delta(UT), Salina and Green River, the Hyundai blazed.  Rooms in this bustling town were, of course GONE, by the time I pulled in, so a few miles down the road, in La Sal, I found a rest area/makeshift campground, guarded by this great sandstone:

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Since the people parked in the foreground made themselves at home, camp-style, I did likewise.  Things are relaxed (24-hour limit), in the Beehive State.

NEXT UP:  Wilson Arch, Bluff Fort and an errand accomplished.

Tremors

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Posted by on in Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Spiritual, Striving

July 9, 2017, Wilmette-

To reiterate, as I am drastically revamping the earlier version of this post:  I will recap the past several, enjoyable days, July 5-8, in my next several posts.

For now:

I was somewhat relieved, and gratified, to actually meet a person who had been rather skittish, with regard to such a handshake.  Turns out, she does seem overbooked.  It is either sink or swim, for most of us, so she is swimming, furiously.

I am still frightened by people who pretend to be friends, and exhort the rest of us, with intense, challenging inspirational rhetoric.  Someone posted online, about Mother Teresa.  I remember her as a rather somber, sad woman, not so comfortable with the adulation of an unskeptical public.  I mention this, because we do tend to move in on people who look shiny, on the surface.  Europeans look at Americans, and are stunned by the glad-handing and false promises that occupy many of us, who are out to get a leg up.  So, motivational speakers and preachers get caught with their pants down, some of them literally so.  That’s the thing that frightens me most:  Not traffic, not thugs, but the duplicitous.

I feel much better, this afternoon, having had an extended conversation with my online friend- far from duplicitous, and the epitome of real.  It could not have ended, any other way.  I look forward to continually learning from her, and other correspondents.  This is about purification, and strengthening- a process that lasts a lifetime.

Some tremors are necessary in life.

 

Interdependence Day

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Family, Personal Values, Poetry, Social, Spiritual, Striving

July 4, 2017, Carson City- 

We went, together, to a robust carnival

with Funnel Cake and kettle corn.

Little girl got her face painted,

lost and found her favourite stuffed bear,

and got to dance to a song by a local cover band.

She is guarded, carefully,

by all, whose hearts she has captured.

Group got a prime seat,

to view the fireworks,

on the high school field.

We, an eclectic family,

hang together.

Teams fought fires,

across northwest Nevada,

around Arizona,

and probably

in California, too.

Tight were those teams,

which made progress on their fights.

Families, nationwide,

had picnics and barbecues.

Some were simple;

some, elaborate.

Not much gets done,

anymore,

without prior consultation.

A friend in the Midwest

concurred with me,

that our species is evolving,

rapidly,

towards a tighter interdependence.

It is that,

which I celebrated today.

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Sixty-Six, for Sixty Six, Part XLIII: Ever in Wonder

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 3, 2017, Carson City-

Along the path to Grama’s, I walked.

That path crossed a road,

and for crossing alone,

I felt a sting on my backside.

There are limits to what a three-year-old

can do, alone.

Along the path to the shopping center, I walked.

That path crossed several roads,

and for being alone,

I was briefly accosted,

by a couple of ruffians,

and almost struck by a wayward car,

that had jumped the curb.

There are challenges,

for a nine-year-old,

when walking, alone.

I sat in the airplane,

gazing out at the clouds,

and their patterns.

I was seeing for the first time, at their level.

The path through the skies,

held promise

and peril.

Many are the possibilities,

for an eighteen-year-old,

striking out, on his own.

Turning around,

in that crowded,

light-filled, noisy room,

I returned the gaze of one,

who had seen something in me,

that others overlooked.

My path was no longer

for me to walk in single file.

Life brings affirmations,

to a thirty-year-old,

who need not be alone.

Holding the little being

to the light,

I spoke words of welcome.

My line now continued,

for at least one more generation.

The Universe sang songs

of certitude,

to a new father,

listening, alone.

Father and son walked

from the car,

towards the hospice door,

and witnessed the wispy spiral

carrying dust and leaves skyward.

I touched her still-warm body,

and kissed her face,

with her eyes still open,

in seeming astonishment.

The path is ever-shaky,

for a sixty-year-old,

once again, alone.

Time and again, since then,

I have followed things through,

to completion,

having been roundly chastised,

by a well-meaning watchman,

for all those things,

I did not finish,

in times gone by.

The paths have been many,

and the rewards even greater:

Filbert Steps, Portlandia,

Space Needle, Stanley Park,

Wrangell, Mendenhall,

Mount Verstovia, Beuk-ai Temple,

Tuileries, Jeanne d’Arc’s Tower,

Mont St. Michel, Carnac,

Daily Gourmand, Old Bruges,

World Cup rally at the Bourse,

McAuliffe Square,

Luxembourg’s National Day,

the Dom of Frankfurt,

the Temple at Langenhain,

Waikiki, Iolani Palace.

The paths have seen me through,

to their ends:

Prescott Circle,

Black Canyon,

Granite Mountain,

and the Memorial to

its 19 Hotshots,

Bright Angel,

Spirit Tower.

The trails continue,

and the wonder,

at the limitless,

open to a sixty-six-year-old,

who  feels far from alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XLII: More Flow than Ebb

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Hiking and Nature, Travel

July 2, 2017, Sparks- 

The drive through northwestern Arizona and western Nevada, yesterday, was quite pleasant, thanks to a well-maintained vehicle and the unusual amount of energy I felt.  This last was despite having had to tend, however briefly, with a neighbourhood emergency, in the wee small hours of the morning. Long story short, when it comes to the welfare of children, or vulnerable adults, I am not going to just look at the clock and roll over, back to sleep.  Police were called, matter was resolved, and I did get back to dreamland.

One of my concerns, along the way, was the water levels of the major lakes, en route.  I stopped, briefly, for a look at Lake Mead, before doing the customary straight shot through Las Vegas.  The reservoir, which has suffered, mightily, in the drought of the past several years, has made a modest recovery, this Spring.

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The shimmering haze reflected the heat, 112 in mid-afternoon.  Needless to say, this is why I don’t tarry in LV, in July.   A brief stop at Snow Mountain, north of the valley, for a turkey wrap, was sufficient.

Another of my interests, in western Nevada and across the Mountain West, is the architecture of various mining towns.  This runs the gamut from Victorian elegance to honky-tonk kitsch.  It’s all good.  I stopped in the eclectic little town of Goldfield, between Beatty and Tonopah,  On the west side of town, there are a few examples of the latter.

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There is also plenty of faded elegance, begging for restoration. In the background, stands the vacant Goldfield Hotel.

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This is not exactly the Arc du Triomphe, but it serves as a reminder of the frontier spirit.

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My mining town fix having been satiated, I headed on, to Tonopah, stopping at one of that fine town’s newest offerings:  Beans and Brews Coffee Shop, for a much-needed boost.  Tonopah, also, has much to offer, in the way of late 19th Century memorabilia, as I’ve documented on prior trips.  I had four more hours of travel, though, so my cup of Joe was to go.

Hawthorne, just above Walker Lake, has seen my smiling face a few times.  This town, you may remember, is where my Nissan began to falter, two years ago, and my angels took over, to get it to Reno. The guys at Pizza Factory,  prepared a delicious baked spaghetti with meat sauce, which I took to an overlook, four miles north of town. Walker Lake also looks in much better shape.

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My Reno/Carson family were glad for my arrival, at 10:15 PM, and we caught up on life, for about an hour.  Today was more of the same, in the modest family home, here in Reno’s neighbour.  The kids made slime, the adults watched family-friendly movies and the menagerie kept guard.

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