Category Archives: Travel

Stairstepping in Kodachrome Land, Part 2: Cathedral Gorge and Panaca’s Box Butte

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Posted by on in Community, Hiking and Nature, Travel

June 3, 2016, Panaca, NV- Kodachrome turned into monochrome, once I left Pioche.  No matter, though; Miller Point overlook, on the north side of Cathedral Gorge, has views that elicit thoughts of how the Grand Canyon must have looked, back in the Triassic Era.

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Cathedral Gorge, from Miller Point

The Edwards Brothers, Nephi and Elbert, discovered Cathedral Gorge in 1911, making it a playground for their family. They built a series of ladders and explored several caves here.  The Edwards family pushed to have the State of Nevada safeguard the gorge, and in 1935, it became a state park.

Here are several more views from Miller Point, and along the first section of trail, below the Point.

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Cathedral Gorge, from Miller Point

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Cathedral Gorge, from Miller Point

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Cathedral Gorge, from Miller Point

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Cathedral Gorge, along Miller Point Trail

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Cathedral Gorge, along Miller Point Trail

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Cathedral Gorge, along Miller Point Trail

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View of Juniper Draw Loop, from Miller Point Trail

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Eagle Point, from Miller Point Trail

It’s a reasonable assumption that I will be back here, relatively soon, for a full exploration of Cathedral Gorge on my own.  The heat precludes doing so in summer, so maybe next Spring.

Panaca, a short distance down the road, is a rather utilitarian community, with modern buildings that distinguish it from Pioche- as does the sere Great Basin landscape. It is a friendly town, and when my attention was drawn to the sizable butte, just beyond the fence of Lincoln County High School, two girls playing in a nearby yard called to their father, who came outside, saw where I was heading, and shook his head, in a good-natured way.  Not many visitors, apparently, are interested in this formation- which goes by the simple name of Box Butte.

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Box Butte, Panaca, NV

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Small cave, Box Butte, Panaca, NV

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Small cave, Box Butte, Panaca, NV

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West side of Box Butte, Panaca, NV

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Free-form mural, inside cave, Box Butte, Panaca, NV

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East side, Box Butte, Panaca, NV

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Crane-lifted slabs, top of Box Butte, Panaca, NV

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East side, Box Butte, Panaca, NV

As I drove off, I heard the girls call- “Daddy, he’s leaving now.”  It is unusual to be of note, but something tells me I’d be welcome back, if only to take further examination of this local play place.

I didn’t spend a whole lot of time stopping and photographing the innumerable wonders of southern Utah- if for no other reason than I had a destination, in the Native American Baha’i Institute, some 380 miles further southeast.

NEXT UP:  Navajo Lake and Orderville Canyon, Utah

 

 

 

Stair-stepping, In Kodachrome Land, Part 1: Pioche

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Posted by on in Historical, Travel

June 3, 2016, Pioche, NV- It was not a hard choice, as to where to stop for the night, yesterday.  Little Pioche, just west of the Utah state line, is a budding Virginia City or Bisbee.  It has all the charm of the better known mining towns, so my stay at Motherlode Motel was a no-brainer.  I came this way in 1980, on the way back to Flagstaff, from Oregon.

The drive involves what I call stair-stepping:  U.S. 93 goes on to Panaca, just east of Pioche; then there is a drive on two contiguous state highways, to Cedar City; this is followed by an alley-oop, over the Cedar Mountains on Utah Highway 56, to U.S. 89, which goes to Page, on the southern shore of Lake Powell.  From here, I would continue the process, taking AZ Route 98 to the Navajo Nation town of Tsegi, U.S. 160 to Indian Route 59, just east of Kayenta, then IR 59 to Many Farms, U.S. 191 to AZ 264, at Ganado, then the 191 again to I-40, and a couple of Navajo roads, which I will mention later, to Native American Baha’i Institute of Learning.

So, the rest of this is fairly simple.  The rugged Southwest is meant to be enjoyed, within the boundaries of preparedness and common sense.  This was the fourth day of Big Heat.  Even in mountain-girt Pioche, it would hit 85 today.  The sizzle was already evident, as I walked the short distance from motel to downtown.

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Motherlode Motel, Pioche, NV

The Lincoln County Courthouse and Mountain View Lodge attract the visitor, en rout to Main Street.

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Lincoln County Courthouse, Pioche, NV

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Mountain View Lodge, Pioche, NV

It is recorded that President Herbert Hoover stayed here, in 1930.  A more earthy sort of clientele would have opted for the accommodations shown below.

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Overland Hotel and Saloon, Pioche, NV

There was, however, an Opera House in town, which may have appealed to Mr. Hoover.

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Thompson Opera House and Gem Theater, Pioche, NV

Before going in for a hearty breakfast at the historic Silver Cafe,  a stroll along Main Street was in order.

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Historic Silver Cafe, Pioche, NV

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Main Street, Pioche, NV

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Mining Concern, west of Main Street, Pioche, NV

The pleasant little park at the end of Main Street was established in the 1980s.  The original developers were killed in an auto accident, in 1986, whereupon the community banded together and finished the job.

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Heritage Park, Pioche, NV

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The Mary Louise Mine Entrance (sealed), Heritage Park, Pioche, NV

Like many Western towns, Pioche attracted some free spirits.  This Spiritist Hall existed for a time, in the early Twentieth Century.

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Channel of Light Building, Pioche, NV

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A downhill view of Main Street, Pioche, NV

After breakfast in the bustling cafe, another quick stroll back to Motherlode Motel brought my brief visit to an end.  I did notice one last remnant of the Wild West.

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Old “Social Club”, Main Street, Pioche, NV

A quick drive up the hill was in order, before leaving town, for Cathedral  Gorge.

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Pioche Hills

The town, and its surrounding hills, were named for Francois Pioche, an immigrant from France, who became a mining entrepreneur.  He built the mining concerns here, in 1868-9.

My day was just starting, but it’s best to split the tale into three parts.  Next post will showcase Cathedral Gorge and Panaca, as the hills fade away into the Great Basin.

 

 

Highway 50: Loneliness Is All In The Mind

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, Travel

June 2, 2016, Ely-  Sitting in the spare, but comfortable Silver State Restaurant, in this little anchor-town of the White Pine country of eastern Nevada, I had a bit of time to reflect on “America’s loneliest highway”.
I got on U.S. Highway 50,  in the eastern edge of Carson City, around 10:30 this morning, saying goodbye to my Baha’i sister, and her new home across town.  Gradually, the wonders of the Silver State itself unfolded:  The exit to Virginia City, the Comstock Lode historic site of Dayton, and the small commercial hub of Fallon, which serves as the western anchor of the so-called Lonely Road.

Fallon was rather quiet, on this first of many hot days to come.  It did have its share of business, though, and some of that filtered in to Susie’s BBQ, where I stopped for lunch.

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Susie’s BBQ, Fallon, NV

I opted for brisket, as it was not really a sausage kind of day.  A Big Heat has taken the West under its wing, probably for the next seven or eight weeks, so we move, eat and adjust accordingly.

On my last ride across Highway 50, in 1980, my driver pointed out an expanse of salt flat, a remnant of ancient Lake Lahontan.  This was a massive body of water, stretching from the Sierra Navada to the Toiyabe Range.  Its remnants include the much smaller Lake Lahontan, east of Fallon, plus Lake Tahoe, Mono Lake and Pyramid Lake.  I did not, given the nature of my visit, go to any of the three western lakes, and there is intensive road work around the present Lake Lahontan.  Thus, here are some surrealist, filtered scenes of the Carson Lake Salt Flats.

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Notice there are some graffiti, inscribed by local lovebirds and various passers-by, who find romance in the desolation.

My next focus was on the Toiyabe Range, one of three mountain ranges that stretch north to south, in central Nevada.  The Toiyabe and White Pine mountains, like the Sierra Nevada, are still somewhat snow- packed on their summits and high ridges.

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Toiyabe Range, central Nevada

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Toiyabe Range, Central Nevada

Austin is one of those little towns that used to be a link on the Pony Express, as well as where silver, lead and zinc were mined.  Silver still can be found, here and there. Lead being largely out of favour these days, for health concerns, is cause for several closed and shuttered mines.  The few folks who live here tend to be flinty-eyed towards anyone wearing shorts and a camera, but I find places like Austin intriguing, nonetheless.

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Main Street, Austin, NV

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St. Augustine’s Church, Austin, NV

The back streets have their appeal, as well.  Virginia Street alludes to the Mother Lode.

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Lander County Courthouse, Austin, NV

Back on Main Street, the courthouse and visitor center(closed at the time) give Austin a bit of gravitas.

The walls in back of the main properties were built to last, with land slides always being in the back of people’s minds.

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Retaining wall, behind Courthouse, Austin, NV

The old city hall was taken over by the American Legion, as John F. Hiskey Post 45, in 1947.

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Old City Hall, Austin, NV

Crowning the heights above Austin is Stokes Castle.  Anson  Phelps Stokes, The Elder, was an industrialist and entrpreneur in the late-19th Century.  He built the edifice as a summer “tower”, but only actually used it for two months, in 1897.  After that, the Stokes family abandoned the place.  Austin’s citizens have fenced the structure off, and it is indeed unsafe to enter.  It remains, though, as a testament to the town’s glory days.

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Stokes Castle, Austin, NV

An hour or so east of Austin lies Eureka, where people smiled, flashed peace signs and seemed quite relaxed, as their work day was coming to an end.

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Eureka Opera House, Eureka, NV

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Eureka County Courthouse, Eureka, NV

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A westward look down Main Street, Eureka, NV

I had miles to go, before I slept, so on east it was, to Ely, NV, a more contemporarily- built, commercial hub, at the end of the “Loneliest Road”.  I had dinner at the aforementioned Silver State Restaurant, then gave my camera a rest- until I came to the White Pine Range.  These mountains are named for the light-coloured wood of the local evergreens.

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White Pine forest, south of Ely, NV

Wheeler Peak, not to be confused with the mountain of the same name that is New Mexico’s highest peak, is the crown of the White Pines, and second only to Boundary Peak, (in western Nevada), in terms of high points in the state.

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Wheeler Peak, White Pine Range, south of Ely, NV

Thus, as you can see, loneliness is a definite state of mind.

NEXT UP:  Pioche, Panaca and the amazement of Cathedral Gorge

 

 

 

 

 

 

There Is No Empty

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Posted by on in Family, Social, Travel

May 28, 2016, Carson City- The medical emergency which hospitalized an old friend, yesterday, has abated somewhat.  As is usually the case in a responsible medical institution, she has been kept overnight and will be able to leave hospital tomorrow, if her condition holds and tests turn up negative.

So, with my anxiety thus relieved, I headed north from Prescott, at a suitably early hour ( 8 A.M.), stopping for a late breakfast at Westside Lilo’s, my restaurant of choice in Seligman, a fun, touristy town, some 34 miles northwest of Prescott.  Lilo and her husband have had this German-Mexican fusion establishment since 1963.  It, along with several other places in town, do a land-office business, owing to the popularity of the area as a pit stop between Las Vegas and the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.   After a lovely chorizo scramble, and some banter with Lilo, I was off again, this time without the transmission issues that clouded last year’s Reno trip.

Being a holiday weekend, traffic through Kingman and Las Vegas was a fraction of what it normally is.  I made it through the metro area in rather short time, choosing to stop at Indian Springs, on the far north side of Clark County, for a refueling.

U.S. 95 was characteristically sparse with traffic, most of it being commercial on this serene Saturday, and much of that was comprised of fuel tankers, of all things.  A spot of rain in and around Tonopah, and again in the area east of Boundary Peak, gave a bit of a shake-up to the droning drive.  Another point of interest is the transition zone between the Mojave Desert and the Great Basin.  The Joshua Trees, and other plants native to the Mojave, fade out near Coaldale Junction, about an hour north of Tonopah.  The Basin is largely grassland, at least in this area.  Salt flats are a bit more common than I remember seeing, in previous visits.  Then again, I was pre-occupied with the car last year, and may not have noticed.

Speaking of which, my stop in Hawthorne, just south of Walker Lake, was brief and uneventful this time.  A tankful of gas was all that was needed.  Looking in the restroom mirror, though, I saw a scruffy face, with an uneven shave, looking back at me.  That may have explained the “30-45 minute wait” I was offered at Pizza Factory, near the Shell station.  I moved on, taking a quick look at the lake, before heading to Carson City in greater earnest.

Walker Lake, NV
Mt. Grant, near Hawthorne, NV

It is still cool here, in the eastern reaches of Sierra Nevada, and it will be a while before Mt. Grant (above, right) sheds its snow cover.

The old friend whom I am visiting these next few days  has,  this very day, moved from Reno to Carson City, closer to her younger daughter and youngest grandchild.  It is partly my purpose to help with the inevitable furniture moving and unpacking of boxes, as her settling in again continues.  After a lovely drive through the scenic Smith Valley, with its towns of Yerington, Wellington, Gardnerville and Minden, punctuated by the gorgeous West Fork of the Walker river, I found it prudent to get a hearty dinner at El Charro Avitia, on Carson City’s south end.  There, I enjoyed the delights of seafood enchilada and shared in the locals’ joy in their favoured Golden State Warriors’ come-from-behind victory.

It took a bit longer to locate my host’s new residence, but here I am, at the end of the day, and in the process helping her to note that her new apartment complex has two distinct sub-complexes.  Out of confusion comes learning.  I am fortunate to have several places where I feel like I’m with family.  Tomorrow, a little angel will explain to me the world of cartoon dragons.

 

Rice Canyon

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Posted by on in Family, Hiking and Nature, Travel

March 7, 2016, Prescott-  This past weekend featured my shortest visit to southern California, since July 3, 2013.  It was truncated by the intense storms hitting the region- with rare  Winter electrical elements, and hail, in the mix.

My visit with my son, Aram, was the main reason for the journey.  It is indicative of how much of me he has absorbed, that he asked whether I was just “swinging by” on the way to see friends.  It is true that, in the past, I have combined a visit with him and those with friends in Orange County and Los Angeles.  That was not the case this time, as both weather and fiscal prudence put the latter two segments on hold, until early June.

One of the things I enjoy doing is connecting people with places in the area where I happen to be, that they enjoy or find useful.  I do this here in Home Base, and I was able to do so with Aram, in Chula Vista.  I introduced him to a small Thai restaurant, near his home, on Saturday night.  Yesterday afternoon, we discovered Rice Canyon, a lovely trail just ten minutes’ walk from his apartment.  This trail system, a feature of the City of Chula Vista, gives area residents a lovely venue for hiking, biking and jogging.

Here are some scenes of this floral, riparian preserve.

Palms, Rice Canyon, Chula Vista
Copse, Rice Canyon, Chula Vista
North Trailhead, Rice Canyon, Chula Vista

There is a pleasant mix of desert and subtropical flora here, as elsewhere in the San Diego area.  Palm trees abound, though they are in a state of drought-induced duress right now.

Here is a steep side trail, leading to a housing area just west of Rice Canyon.
Lemonade Berry shrub “forest”, Rice Canyon, Chula Vista
Hidden creek, Rice Canyon, Chula Vista

Erosion, mostly man-made, is a concern for the friends of Rice Canyon.  Aram was underwhelmed at the notion of “side trails”, in the preserve.  Lemonade berry shrubs(above/upper right) provided the Kumayaay people with a sour beverage.   A small creek, (above, lower right) peeked out at the discerning walker.  Myrtillocacti (below) are also common in the South Bay of San Diego and the Tijuana Estuary.

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Myrtillocacti, Rice Canyon, Chula Vista

We had a fine introduction to the canyon, during a seven-hour respite from the rain that graced southern California with its presence.  This morning, no sooner had I left the city, than the rain resumed, with a vengeance.

 

 

My Life Thus Far: The Eighties

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Posted by on in Family, Personal Values, Service Activities, Spiritual, Travel

February 20, 2016, Prescott- Today was spent in spiritual study, and an hour or so will be so used, tomorrow afternoon.  All of this was initiated by my beloved, and because of her, the decade of my thirties brought a whole new outlook on life.  The 1980’s were one of the two best decades of this life, up to now.

1980-High Point:  Meeting Penny (December 6)

Low Point:  Scrambling to find housing in Flagstaff (September)

People in the heart:  Penny Fellman, my future wife; my Flagstaff housemates, Mohammed Saeedi, Chris Lugenbuhl and Carol Vireday; the anonymous guys who gave me rides, to/from Oregon; my Mesa friends, the Lunts.

Places in the heart: Flagstaff;  Durango; Zuni; San Diego; Laguna Beach; Redwood National Park; Hebo, OR; Portland; Eugene; Crater Lake; San  Luis Obispo; Santa Barbara.

1981- High Point:  My entry into the Baha’i Faith.

Low Point:  Our temporary break-up.

People in the heart:  Penny; the Cordova family; the Beausoleils; the Travises; Mishabae Mahoney; Hilde Mc Cormick; John Carrillo (my office mate and sounding board); my first nephew and niece, Chris and Marcy.

Places in the heart:  Flagstaff; Tuba City; Dinnebito, AZ; Capitol Reef National Park; Natural Bridges National Monument; San Diego; Julian.

1982- High Points:  Our wedding (June 6); our Baha’i Pilgrimage (June 16- 30).

Low Point: Getting organized into a household.

People in the heart:  My wife; both Moms and Dads; the San Diego Baha’i Community; the Tong family; the staff of the Baha’i World Centre; the Baha’is of London; my mentor at Northland Pioneer College.

Places in the heart:  Tuba City; San Diego; Julian; Dinnebito; Bedminster, NJ; Jerusalem; Haifa; Akko; Bethlehem; London; Canterbury;  Saugus; Bedminster; Standoff, AB; Yellowstone National Park; Bozeman, MT.

1983- High Points:  The Wildfire Conference, at De Pauw University; Baha’i teaching in southern New Mexico and Metro El Paso; my brother, Glenn’s wedding.

Low Point:  My Nana died.

People in the heart:  Penny ( and this goes without saying, until the day she passed); the Baha’is of Tuba City, Dinnebito, Jemez, Phoenix, Las Cruces, El Paso and Chicago; the Biernackes, of El Paso; my second niece, Melanie; my second nephew, Jeff.

Places in the heart:  Tuba City; Dinnebito; Blue Canyon, AZ; Jemez Springs; Durango, CO; Silverton; Ouray; Great Sand Dunes National Park; Chama; Santa Fe; Albuquerque; Chicago; Baha’i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL; Greencastle, IN; Las Cruces; Berino, NM; El Paso; Fabens, TX; Andover, MA.

1984- High Points:  Baha’i teaching in Guyana, Pine Ridge, SD and Macy, NE.

Low Point: The passing of Gordon Tong, our Baha’i friend and mentor.

People in the heart:  Our Guyanese  hosts; the people of Pine Ridge and of the Omaha Nation; our friends and our co-workers on the Navajo Nation; Elizabeth Dahe and her family; our  hosts in Houston and Oklahoma; my third nephew, Nick.

Places in the heart:  Tuba City; Burntwater, AZ; Houston; Ada, OK; Georgetown, Bath, Whim and Meten meer zorg, GY; New York; Macy, NE; Wanblee, Pine Ridge, and Martin, SD; Fort Collins, CO.

1985- High Point:  Both sets of parents visiting.

Low Points:  The deaths of three Navajo boys, in two separate accidents; our separation, while Penny was in Graduate School ( a month is a long time).

People in the heart:  Our parents; Jeff and Helen Kiely; the Baha’is of Dinnebito and Ganado, AZ; my third niece, Kim; my fourth nephew, Matt.

Places in the heart:  Tuba City; Flagstaff; Dinnebito; Polacca, AZ; Red Rock State Park, OK; Effingham, IL; Columbus, OH; Michigan City, IN; Wilmette and Evanston, IL; Grand Canyon; Lake Powell; Prescott; Montezuma’s Castle National Monument; Sedona; Phoenix.

1986- High Point: Our move to Jeju, South Korea, for Penny’s work, as Visiting Professor.

Low Point:  My father’s passing.

People in the heart:  Our parents; my siblings, our extended family; my fifth nephew, Curtis; our friends and co-workers in Arizona and in South Korea.

Places in the heart:  Tuba City; Los Angeles; Seoul, Songtan and Jeju, South Korea; Saugus.

1987- High Point:  My hiring as Visiting Professor, in Jeju.

Low Point:  Having to leave Penny behind for a month, to get a work visa.

People in the heart:  Our Korean colleagues, students and friends; three surviving parents;  our siblings; our friends in Flagstaff.

Places in the heart:  Jeju, Muan, Pusan and Seoul, South Korea; Los Angeles; Portland; Seattle; Butte; Madison, WS; Chicago; Wilmette, IL; Saugus; Bedminster; Greenville and Simpsonville, SC; New Orleans; Phoenix; Honolulu; Tokyo.

1988-High Point: The birth of our son, Aram (July 7).

Low Point:  None, actually.

People in the heart:  Aram (from this point on); the Baha’is of Jeju;  Dr. Kim Chung Hak; our students;  our hosts and friends in Taiwan; Penny’s parents (who flew to Korea for Aram’s birth).

Places in the heart:  Jeju; Pusan; Tsaot’un, Chungli, Taich’ung and T’aipei, Taiwan;

1989- High Point:  Bringing Aram to the United States, to meet our family.

Low Point:  Feeling threatened, while visiting Maine.

People in the heart:  Our extended family; our students; the Baha’is of Jeju and Seoul.

            Places in the heart:  Jeju; Anchorage; New York, Bedminster; Saugus; Lynn, MA; Eliot, ME.

So, while visiting Durango, in November, 1980, I had this inkling that I was ready to meet someone special.  It didn’t happen that weekend, nor on my 30th birthday trip to San Diego.  It was on an Anthropology class trip to Zuni, where Penny and I first connected.  Turns out, she also had had a vision, while meditating on a mesa above her residence in Keams Canyon, AZ, where she was teaching at the time.  The message said that she, too, would meet someone.

Our on again, off again, 18-month friendship became a marriage that lasted, physically, for 29 years.  I believe in the eternity of marriage, and though she’s gone from Earth, we still connect, daily.  We had our ups and downs, especially in the early years, but never went to bed angry with one another.

My entry into the Baha’i Faith helped me cast out the demon of alcohol dependency, and put me on a path to dealing with my larger demon, of self-doubt.  Baha’u’llah has opened up many powerful channels within me- at least I feel them.

Aram’s arrival made me be responsible for someone other than the two of us.  Raising him to adulthood was the only big task that God has ever given me.  While I wasn’t the greatest father to have been given the bounty, I gave it a good, solid effort and he is an amazing young man.

We traveled a lot, the two of us, then the three of us, mostly in service to our Faith and to visit family. The Eighties were a decade of primarily air travel, though crowding into a Peugeot, and then a lorry (truck), in Guyana, was quite an adventure.  Our Toyota Tercel got quite a workout, those four years we lived in Tuba City.  It became a young lady’s first car, when we moved to Korea.

Pilgrimage to the Baha’i Holy Sites, in Haifa and Akko, Israel was the seminal defining point of the decade.  Our marriage, and the birth of our son, six years later, were entirely safeguarded by our having begun life together, in this manner.

The Nineties would be a second amazing decade.

 

 

One Wednesday’s Window

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Fiction, Inspiration, Travel

February 17, 2016, Prescott- I sense a false Spring, which nonetheless has given me good vibrations, and a fair amount of fresh energy.

#23.  tea, tiger, night, train, television, tie

It was on the night train to Amsterdam, that Jean Corneille tucked a napkin into his brocade shirt, and looked out the window of his closed compartment. He enjoyed a light repast, followed by a cup of tea.  Monsieur Corneille, descended from French literary royalty, had no interest in the writer’s craft.  He was a television director, true, but his interest was in the action on the set.  Scripts bored him.

As he watched the passing night scenes of various villages in Picardy and Flandres, Jean began to concoct his own scenarios.  He viewed a series of railroad ties, dimly lit by the overhead lights, outside Lille. His mind wandered back to the ridiculous American melodramas of the 1920’s, in which snickering, one-dimensional villains, with curled mustaches and a banker’s business dress of the time, would tie up similarly one-dimensional young women on railroad tracks.  The ladies would ever be rescued, just ahead of the thundering train, by a one-dimensional, muscle-bound hero.  The villain invariably muttered, “Curses, foiled again!”

Nothing M. Corneille put forth on TeleParis was one dimensional.  He was determined his program’s viewers would have to think about what they were watching. His mind focused on making a three-dimensional, thought-provoking update of the Hero-Damsel-Villain triangle.

As the train left Tournai, and headed into Belgium, he spotted a cage being loaded onto one of the freight cars.  He heard a faint, but distinct, purring.  Jean figured it was another of those contraband pets, rescued from some drug lord or money launderer, headed to a major zoo:  Brussels, perhaps; Amsterdam, or Berlin.  His mind went back to the melodrama.

The train had proceeded uneventfully through Belgium, and had just crossed into the Netherlands, when Jean, who had nodded off, was awakened by a series of shouts, coming from the third class car, behind his.  “Mon Dieu”, he sniffed, “what on Earth are those peasants mewling about, this time?”

His upturned nose was brought a bit lower, when the conductor ran into the first class car, followed by ten frantic, screaming passengers- and the tiger, who had escaped from his cage and managed to leave the freight car, as well.

Jean, seeing a true opportunity for a ratings smash, raised himself up into the top berth of his compartment, edged over to the door, and opened it- drawing the tiger’s attention.  The big cat abandoned his chase and warily entered the compartment.  After initially trying to stand on hind legs and sniff at the well-concealed Jean Corneille, the beast lied down on the floor and rested.

Dutch authorities tranquilized the tiger, at Rotterdam Central Station, and took him off, back into a cage.  Five months later, Jean Corneille won several awards for his televised account of the Wednesday Night Ride.  He has visited his co-star, twice, at the small zoo of Utrecht.

 

My Life Thus Far: The Seventies

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Posted by on in Family, Inner Struggles, Social, Striving, Travel

February 11, 2016, Prescott-  Today was brutal, for many people about whom I care.  It wasn’t so bad for me, personally, because I stayed put-mostly out of financial prudence.  Things will be better that way, tomorrow.

So, I will continue recounting what has been good, and not so good, with the years gone by.  A lot of you, my faithful WP readers, despised my account of the Sixties.  Brace yourselves:  Things went a tad south for me, as twentysomething, but I lay the blame at my own two feet.  Therefore, if you were rankled by me as a teen, skip this post.

1970-High Point:  Being in Fort Myer for the entire year.

Low Point:  Stan E. getting killed in combat.

People in the heart:  Cathy P., my best long-distance phone friend; my three faithful roommates in the TriService barracks; Don and Charley,my co-workers; Stan E., who died for his country.

Places in the heart:  Georgetown, DC; the C & P Canal Towpath; Lynn Beach, when I was on leave.

1971-High Point:  Being stationed in the Cholon section of Saigon.

Low Point:  Wretched, crowded, chaotic Long Binh Army Base.

People in the heart:  Jim T., who stood up for his girls; Tay Lanh, who honoured my dignity; Bill B., Arnie P. and Roger D., my buddies in Cholon; the Henderson family, who overlooked my surly temperament, while I was in Sydney; Tommy W., who didn’t deserve to have been left alone, while injured.

Places in the heart:  Cholon; Vung Tau; Tauranga Park; Woollahra.

1972- High Point:  My hitchhiking trip across North America.

Low Point:  Ignoring what I had been told about spiritual truth.

People in the heart:  Dave G., who gave me my first post-Army job; my workmates, Jimmy, Jan, Donna and Franny; Jim F., my long-suffering boss; Lillies S., the college office manager, who told me to always set my sights high; my hometown buddies, who welcomed me back from ‘Nam; the Gordon family, of Toronto, who camped with me, along Lake Superior; Kathy B., with whom I almost fell madly in love; the Bullocks, who hosted me in Baltimore, for a week; the anonymous truck driver in King of Prussia, who introduced me to the Baha’i Faith; Sandy and Al, my housemates; Donna G., who tried to be a good friend.

Places in the heart:  North Shore Community College; Montreal; Lake Superior; Edmonton; Jasper; Lake Louise; Babb, MT; Morgantown, WV; Baltimore; Ocean City; Bethlehem, PA; my little room in Beverly, MA.

1973- High Point: Visiting Prince Edward Island.

Low Point:  The Chelsea Fire.

People in the heart:  Geary C., Alan A., Sandy G. and Angie D., my friends at NSCC; just about everyone I met on PEI; the hipster who filled my tank with gas, for giving him a ride from Ellsworth to Boothbay.

Places in the heart:  Beverly,MA; Salem; Boston Public Library; Prince Edward Island; New Glasgow, NS; Boothbay Harbor, ME.

1974- High Point: Working at Quisisana Resort, ME.

Low Point:  The botched attempt to serve as editor of “Sage Revisited”.

People in the heart: All my NSCC and Beverly friends; Kathy H., Annette K, Tom & Fricky J., Sandy M., the Grices and Dave B., who were my friends and co-workers at “Quisi”; Dr. and Mrs. Ziv, my “Jewish grandparents” from lower Manhattan; Jimmy S. and Mr. McGregor, who offered me work close to home; my dorm mates in Orchard Hill, at UMass-Amherst.

Places in the heart: Quisisana Resort, Lovell, ME; Bar Harbor; North Conway; Amherst; Fisher Island, NY.

1975- High Point:  Hiking the Presidential Range, in New Hampshire’s White Mountains.

Low Point: Getting fired from a part-time job, on my 25th birthday.

People in the heart:  My campus buddies at UMass; Mrs. Braman, the housemother in my rooming house, in Northampton; Steve R., Paul W. and Ken C., my brainy, irreverent and totally sloppy first housemates in South Deerfield; the Rivard family, who moved in, after the guys were evicted; Allan D., my internship co-op teacher; Lloyd Z. and Linda D., who imparted good pedagogy; every child who put up with me in that little U.S. History class; the Zivs.

Places in the heart:  Amherst; Northampton; South Deerfield; the White Mountains; lower Manhattan.

1976- High Point:  Graduating from UMass.

Low Point:  Almost losing a sibling, in an accident.

People in the heart:  Dave C. and Janet C., my Quisisana friends and a most unlikely couple; Fred L., aka “Doctor Dirt”; Clay R., my younger doppelganger; the Smalls, who lodged me in Bangor; the Bryants, who fed me, whenever I tutored their son; Mr. Bluestein, who stressed the value of a dollar; Peter W., who hired me as a Teacher Aide; Cheryl Q., who mentored me.

Places in the heart:  Bangor, Brewer and Etna,ME;

1977- High Point:  My brother, David’s, wedding.

Low Point:  Being evicted, on false pretenses, in the middle of February.

People in the heart:  Cheryl Q., Peter W., Greg F., Susan C., Grace P. and Evelyn L., who tried their best to be mentors and friends; Lucy and Ronnie R., who took me in from the dead of winter; John and Mary M., my cousin and his wife, who were always there for me; my eight unsettled, troubled and always worthwhile students, in the Behaviorally-Challenged class; my first and fourth-graders, that second year, who re-assured me that I could serve as a teacher.

Places in the heart:  Brewer, Etna, Vinalhaven and Fort Kent, ME; Fredericton and Edmundston, NB; Riviere Bleu and Lac Megantic, QB.

1978- High Point:  My sister, Cheryl’s, wedding.

Low Point:  Losing my temper on a school field trip to a museum.

People in the heart:  My friends and well-wishers at Etna-Dixmont School; my new supervisors at Villa School, Toltec, AZ; many of my students, at both schools; Mrs. Knox, my landlady, over the summer.

Places in the heart:  Bangor, Etna, Dexter and Kingfield, ME.; Mactaquac Park and Saint John, NB; Toltec, Casa Grande, Phoenix, Tucson and Grand Canyon, AZ; Amarillo; Chicago; Toledo.

1979- High Point:  My first solo visit to Mexico.

Low Point:  Encountering a dangerous sex offender, in the New Mexico desert.

People in the heart:  Lynda E., Patrick G., Bill K.,  John G.- my co-workers at Villa; the vast majority of my students; the two sisters who drove me from Little Rock to Albuquerque, without regard for my disheveled state; the majority of my fellow travelers, between Phoenix and Boston, and back; the young lady who gave me a ride from Grand Canyon to Las Vegas, in an empty tour bus, just for the sake of having company.

Places in the heart:   Casa Grande;Grand Canyon; Tucson; Puerto Penasco; Hermosillo; Ensenada; Woodfords and Bishop, CA;  Hodgenville and Mammoth Cave, KY.

This decade brought a lot of painful personal growth to my doorstep. There are many people from those days who, if they were never to see me again, it would be too soon.  There are others whom I miss, sorely.  The big lessons are that alcohol and autism are a  wicked combination.  Lack of even rudimentary social skills surfaced, at the worst possible times, though thankfully, it was all pretty much done by the time I moved to Arizona.  When a rough-edged former co-worker tried to nail me with  the label of “loser”, towards the end of 1979, his words fell on deaf ears.

The Eighties would be, by and large, awesome.

 

The Antlers On The Shed Door

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Fiction, Travel

February 6, 2016, Prescott- I have “a day off”, today- no commitments, until 7 PM, and except for getting a much-needed haircut, no real accomplishments.  Nonetheless, time has been put to good use.

Let us return to the Winter Scavenger Hunt

18. garden shed, moon, antlers,

Damian was an iconoclast.  His family was made up, almost entirely of PETA activists.  Everyone was for animal rights, except him.  Damian didn’t despise fauna.  He just thought it was their lot in life to serve the needs of people.

In that vein, he was opposed to poaching, and to the excessive slaughter of any given species.  It was, Damian would tell anyone who listened, a matter of balance.  “Kill off a species, and it’s like pulling a linchpin out of a Janga tower.”, he once told a Chinese traditional healer, who’d come to Damian’s part of Alberta, to kill off and transport as many Grizzly bears as he could manage.

Damian had a thing about elk jerky.  He killed his quota of buck elk and shared the meat with his kindred spirits, saving a fair portion of it, to cure for his own snacking, over the winter.  There were several racks of antlers hanging throughout his property, always discomfiting his mother and siblings, on the infrequent occasions that they came by to visit.

The one that bothered them the most was the rack that hung above the entrance to Damian’s garden shed.  He had a full, varied garden plot- growing everything from sunflowers to soybeans, and all free of both Genetic Modification and chemicals.  Damian also believed in letting different parts of his field lie fallow, each year, so as to allow for  soil recovery.

None of this prepared him for the night of the Full Moon, in late January.  Around 11 PM, Damian was awakened from an early slumber, by the bright light of the orb that shone through his bedroom window.  It was not the moon. That shone on the other side of the house.  This orb was a vehicle of some kind.  It landed, carefully, in a fallow section of field.

Damian watched in awe, as a door opened, a ramp lowered to the ground, and three figures walked slowly out, their hooves-yes, hooves, clanking on the metal surface.  These elk walked upright, on two legs.  Even more astonishing, they were blue.

A short time later, there was a sharp rapping on Damian’s door.  The shaken, but still curious, man opened the door.  The lead cervine figure spoke, though in a language not heard on this Earth.  Yet, psychically, he made his wishes known to the Earth-bound human.

“We are from a planet under the sway of the star Sirius.  We have observed how homo sapiens sapiens treats its fellows, and its planet-mates. We have adopted the form of the elk, so as to impart a message:  ‘Let your animal friends be.  They are part of a Universal schema.  They must be allowed to live out their lives,in balance.’  Furthermore, you, Damian Elkins, must give us all of your antler collection, that we might create new creatures for our own planet.  We can do this, through use of the Deoxyribonucleic Acid in these antlers.  Elsewise, we must take you, yourself, to our planet, and create a species, that we will exploit and hunt, for sport.!”

Damian delivered up all of his antlers.  The visitors left.  Two days later, Damian joined PETA.

The Road in Winter: Part I

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Posted by on in Family, Social, Travel

 

This is the first of three posts I will make tonight.  Please read at your leisure.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Prescott, on the First of February, 2016

When the Essential Oils Winter Summit concluded, on Saturday evening, I made the choice to drive twenty miles northward, to visit my 90-year-old paternal uncle.  As Nature would have it, snow began falling as soon as I drove north, out of Longmont, where he lived until the middle of last year.

I found  the vicinity of his new residence, in the pleasantly-named city of Loveland, and gave ring.  His response was predictable:  “Gary, I appreciate your coming up here, but it’s dark and snowy, and it’s hard enough to find my building during the day.  Come back in summer, and please head as far south as you can, out of this snow.”

I listened to my father more often than either he or Mom ever thought I did, and now Uncle George is the closest I have to a father, so I was on my way south along I-25, in short order.

When we in the Mountain West are faced with dark, snowy roads, we stick together.  My fellow travelers and I made it out of the whiteness around the middle of Denver.  I didn’t stop for a bite to eat until I had reached the north side of Castle Rock, midway between the Mile-High City and Colorado Springs.  A meatball sub at Mama Lisa’s got me back on an even keel, and I enjoyed the banter between the four or five workers and a Douglas County Sheriff’s Deputy, who is apparently one of the regulars.

Three hours later, I called it a night, in Trinidad, near the New Mexico state line.  The Tower Motel is unique, and has large, affordable rooms.  That last part is getting repetitive, which is exquisitely comforting.  The road in winter does not lend itself to comfortable camping, after all.  I enjoyed four nights of such accommodations, and would go back to any one of these establishments again.

Tower uses a “European” system of card entry.  As in France and Belgium, I placed the card against a magnetic pad on the door, and was buzzed in. It was nearly midnight, so before long, I was fast asleep.

Morning came quickly, with gray sky overhead, but no snow.  I got packed on the double, and was down the mountain, and in metro Albuquerque, in three hours’ time.  The day in Duke City was gorgeous.  It was time for a respite at one of my favourite spots there.

Next up:  Rio Grande Nature Center, and how I dodged the storm.