Thursday, January 31, 2013
This post come to you from an internet vacuum... a desert wasteland deserted of cellular bars and bandwidth, and herbage, too, excepting Creosote Bush. How Creosote manages to grow in the lava rock and sand out here I'll never know, but it proves there is a place in this world for everything and everyone. You just gotta keep look'in till ya find it. I might as well get use to the shit-teh cell and wi fi service given the backwater places we end up in.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
A la Joni Mitchell, "They paved paradise to put up a parking lot." But they didn't stop there. No, they had to build an eyebrow raising 240 million dollar four lane bridge... and connect it to a new freeway. Now, endless droves of Meg-aaahhh-po-less seniors and senior-itas from Sun City, Phoenicia, can hop a Greyhound and spend days upon daze inserting Social Security nickels into a one-armed bandit in good ole Lost Wages, Nevada. It would be sad if it wasn't so pitiful; that if you build a gaudy, "fixed" Wishing Well, and the poorest among us will come, proceed to throw their last spare change and dollar bills into it and call it "fun." God help us.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Like young love, those darn seams are driving me crazy. They're as hard to figure out as women. I just can't get a handle on them. Seams are not what they seem. It seams like I'm dreaming; seams like old times; seams like only yesterday—all my troubles were so far away. It seams like I'll never figure Geology out. Ok, it's early. You we're expecting Thoreau at this hour? Click the "Read More" button to see what I mean and help me (if you can) figure out the "seams" in Valley of Fire.
Friday, January 25, 2013
We had been to Valley of Fire at least three previous times since '99, which was the first year of our—on-again off-again, can't-make-up-our-minds, come-and-go-from-sticks and bricks, semi-persuaded, back-to-work-cause-we've-run-out-of-money-again—RV lifestyle. But this time felt different. It must have been me, because I'm pretty sure the rocks haven't moved or changed all that much in 14 years.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
A song on Goldie's radio triggered memories of a troubled time. The year was 1966, and a wet-behind-the-ears kid watched Vietnam play out on the news every night... wondering if the "Death Machine" of our Industrial Military Complex would still be consuming high school graduates when he became "eligible" in a couple of years. Indeed, "Flower Power" was no match for the "Machine." An unlucky draft lottery number put life and plans on hold, and brought the age of innocence to a screeching halt. Man-child had to become a man, practically overnight. It's hard to make a Life-plan when an "Invitation to War" stares you in the face from your dresser top.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Impatient at being forced to postpone our departure from The Frozen Tundra of Le Crevice, I resorted to pacing in front of the Imax... cursing softly through clenched teeth and a forced grin. No need to drag Bobbie along on another one of my "Dark Side of The Moon" excursions. The rendezvous with Goldie in Saint George, Utah, was on hold until the southwest thawed out from near record cold. Wednesday noon we hugged Marathon Man Leonard goodbye... yes, he was wearing shorts... determined to put Los Frios and winter the rearview mirror.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
It's a winter thing, a vague oppressed feeling that's difficult to explain. Impatience, maybe, a longing for longer days and shorter nights. Winter sedates the clock, if not the calendar. From this wretched annual tomb springs a longing to shed my skin... cage, decorum... clothes... and throw caution to the minus 20 wind-chill. Memories of youth float to the surface like oil on water, teasing... taunting. I hear Janis, her ashes and spirit reach out from the cold, blue Pacific. She bawls, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose," and "I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday... Lordy Lordy Lordy Lordy..."
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Sunday, 10:04 AM: I'm supposed to be at the Ouray Ice Park right now... suiting up for a first-climb with Marathon Man Leonard and Rebecca. But it's breezy... cloudy, spitting snow... and the temperature hovers just above zero degrees. I question the fun... sanity... of fulfilling a promise made to "show up" in weather colder than my Haagen Dazs. Wouldn't you agree, the Ice Fest should be held during summer when it's warmer.
Friday, January 11, 2013
I see no purpose in wind. Rain, snow; I "get" that, we need water. I even get cold; it hardens The Crevice against the evils of summer bugs and rattlesnakes, not to mention it makes you appreciate, make that, worship, Summer like the goddess she is.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
On a Red Mountain Town Chamber of Commerce day, Aspen, the wonder snow-dog, Bobbie, Aspen's "mom," Tamara, and Your's Truly, snowshoed through what's left of Red Mountain Town and its tumbled down mine-shacks. Most of the buildings are losing the battle to remain upright to Father Time and the burdens of Old Man Winter, as they slowly take them to their grave board by board.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Let me guess; you are growing tired of all this snow. But the BCB is a non-excluding, come-and-go kind of blog; an admitted radical departure from RV bloggers on a quest for weather to suit their Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops. But I have a revelation that may surprise some of you... I know this because it surprises me. Here's how the story goes:
Friday, January 4, 2013
At 11,018 feet above sea level, Red Mountain Pass is a magnet... no matter the season. During wintertime, the scene pops... pure white linen sheets against a bedspread of cobalt skies. It's where Bobbie and I forsake Sue Bee in order to continue on foot, and rise above the congestion of timber "subways."
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
If you're like me and Wandrin Lloyd, you're over making New Year's resolutions. They only serve to take us out of the "now," the place we'd rather be, but keep overshooting due to the momentum of Tasks (resolution based goals). Lately, the looser the "plan," the better I feel... the faster the world goes, the more I want to slow it down.