Accidental Tourists, Wandering Around in Edward Abbey's Former Backyard

There are some good things to be said about walking. Not many, but some. Walking takes longer, for example, than any other known form of locomotion except crawling. Thus it stretches time and prolongs life. Life is already too short to waste on speed. I have a friend who's always in a hurry; he never gets anywhere. Walking makes the world much bigger and thus more interesting. You have time to observe the details. The utopian technologists foresee a future for us in which distance is annihilated. … To be everywhere at once is to be nowhere forever, if you ask me. Edward Abbey

Jeepers Creepers, The Jerk Finds Redemption

Ok, here's an IQ test, grab a pencil: First, you must pretend you're a diehard Motor-head. Now, how much would you pay for a well used 4WD "rockhopper" like the one pictured above? 10 grand? 20? 30???

Fat Boy and Slim Bike Loop the Sovereign Trail

It took a while to warm up yesterday, enough for a bike ride, anyway. But it was time; what's it been, three days? So I jump now to near present time, skipping over several foot adventures near camp, not to mention a daunting trip into town during Jeep Safari Week. Moab has become the proverbial "phone booth," or "Volkswagen," take your pick, into which the "Chamber of Commercers" has decided to see how many tourists can be wedged inside without killing an innocent child or maiming a senescent geezer.

Looking for Alice in a Wonderland

My Bobbie App rolled into camp just before noon on Sunday. Oh how absence grows fonder hearts. She'd been gone only a week, but we embraced as if it had been a year.

On the True Cost of Obsolescence, as Measured in Dollars and Common Sense... Part II

May your trails be crooked, winding, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds" (Edward Abbey)

I am bathed in warmth, besieged with beauty, camped where my old friend, tranquility, has come to knock on the door. 

On the True Cost of Obsolescence, as Measured in Dollars and Common Sense

Forgive me Lord for I have sinned... twice in as many days, three times if you count coveting my neighbor's bike.

Fear and Loathing in Tonopah

It's a "forced camp," scarcely 75 feet off Highway 6... twenty Godforsaken miles east of Tonopah, Nevada. Bobbie's one week and change into the Wally Virus, praying every morning that this will be the day she turns the proverbial "corner" back to wellness. This, from a woman who scoffs at colds and illness in general and gets at least 5 miles in. 

How "A-Fellow" Gets His Groove Back

This Mountain Biking Love-post comes to you in Real Time. My hair is still wet from the shower. Gone to the Grey-water tank is the grit, dust, and body stench that came as a result of this morning's glorious four hour tour to, through, and back from Klondike Bluffs. What a kaleidoscope of color and clouds and rocks, my friends. Oh, and I am "solo." My Bobbie App flew the coup to Lovely Ouray in order to find a little "Common Ground" and shed the last vestiges of the dreaded Wally Virus. Fear not, she will be back. At least that's what she said, driving off into the sunrise.

Absent No More…

The "Alabama Hills" camp was a sight for sore eyes, especially after the glaring sun, angularity, and austerity of Anza Borrego, Mohave Preserve, and, to some extent, Death Valley, back to back to back. Connecting those "dots" had taken weeks, and presented unexpected challenges in the form of soaring temperatures and loss of contact with the world. But now, Goldie is ensconced amid a maze of softly curved boulders with a snowcapped Sierra backdrop. Relief is at hand. The "internet," however, not so much.