Saturday, January 09, 2010
Monday, April 06, 2009
Cedar Mesa Madness
Black Hawk Down/ Bad day to be a government vehicle
The ipod is random playing through the reggae songs as we travel down
C470 south. The northbound lanes are a gigantic parking lot as crews
clean up accidents left over from the blizzard the day before. As we
travel up 285, we see a tow truck towing a fire truck. "That's not
something you see every day." I say and Steve murmurs his assent. A
mile down the road and we see a cop car getting towed as well. It's
beat up pretty good, I'd hate to be the guy who caused that. As we
approach the top of Monarch pass, the cars are all stopped. "Must be
doing avalanche control or something." I said. A few minutes later a
great cloud of snow blows around farther up the road and a huge
Chinook helicopter lumbers over the valley flying east. "Well, I
didn't expect to see THAT!". We wait for another ten minutes or so
and a truck comes down the road slowly. People are asking him what's
up and we overhear that a Black Hawk helicopter has crashed farther up
the road. When they finally let the traffic through, I catch a
glimpse of a tail rotor sticking up between the trees as we drive by.
The Mesa
We spend the night at the Log Hill bed and breakfast, catching up with
friends and enjoying the traditional potion known as the One True
Margarita. Slightly hung over, we hit the road the next day and stock
up on beef jerky from Ray's (not bad actually). Fueled by jerky,
salty snack foods and high fructose corn syrup we make our way to
Cedar Mesa, stopping by the Kane Gulch ranger station to check
conditions. We camp that night down the Snow Flat road and in the
morning drive to the overlook for the Moon House ruin. It's cool, but
we didn't feel like hiking down to it and instead get our permits and
hit the trail head for the 3 night backpacking trip we planned. We
park at Bullet canyon, the plan is to go down Bullet and out Sheiks,
taking our time and poking around inside the canyons. We tried to do
this same loop 2 years ago but our camp stove broke and after a Gorp
dinner and a cold oatmeal breakfast we bailed and went to some hot
springs.
I Lost Steve
We camped Sunday night in Bullet, near Jailhouse ruin. It's a nice
day but as evening progresses , menacing looking clouds swirl around
above us. Steve had never really noticed what virga looks like when
it's right over your head before. That night it snows a couple of
inches and my twenty degree bag isn't quite up to the task of keeping
me warm. The morning is clear and nice though, and the snow melts
quickly. We pack up and head down canyon. The plan is to drop our
packs at the mouth of the canyon and head down Grand Gulch but we miss
the the actual mouth and head down a good half a mile with our packs
on before we break out the map and figure out our mistake. It's
getting a little late by this point and we decide to just head back up
canyon to the Green Mask spring, where there's good water and camping.
Steve takes off ahead of me, he's a very fast hiker and usually just
walks ahead of me and waits for me from time to time. As I get to the
turnoff we missed, I don't see Steve waiting for me. I yelled out a
couple of times for him but didn't get a reply so I start hiking
towards Green Mask. I still don't notice Steve and I was concerned
that he might have missed the turn off. I dropped my pack and hike up
a spit of land in between the two canyons where I can look down into
both, but I don't see him. I yell a couple more times but no reply. I
put my pack on and double time it to Sheik's, trying to catch up to
him. He isn't at Sheik's so I go a mile or so farther up, thinking he
might have overshot it. By this point the sun is sinking low and I'm
in the shadows as I walk back to where we were planning on camping.
Steve has not showed up there and I figure he must have hiked back up
Bullet. It's too late to go there so I just set up my tent and camp
there that night, sipping tequila to assuage my worry.
The next morning I pack my day pack and head down to where I last saw
Steve. I head back up Bullet to where we camped the night before,
then back to where I was camped. No Steve. I break camp and head up
Sheik's canyon to the mesa top and head across Sheik's flat when I see
Steve's 4runner driving towards me. We celebrate our reuniting with
cold beer and talk about what happened. Steve missed the turnoff to
Sheik's and went up Bullet all the way to where we camped the night
before, then the next morning took off up and out Bullet, went to the
ranger station and filed a missing persons report on me on me just in
case before going back to the trail head to wait for me. We head to
the Ranger station and let them know I'm ok before going into town for
beer and steaks.
Hands and Caves
Wednesday we take it easy, driving along the Butler Wash road and
hiking up into a couple of shallow caves on Comb Ridge. Fish Mouth
cave is interesting, a very large deep arch shaped cave but no ruins
in it, presumably they've been torn down from all the people that can
go there. There's tons of graffiti on the walls but a few genuine hand
prints and other rock art. The next one is better, Monarch cave has
some good ruins in it and it looks like not as many people go there.
There's also hand prints on the walls here. We camp that night at the
Recapture Lodge on account of the icky weather forecast.
Thursday is a gorgeous bluebird Utah day. We drive up the Snow Flat
road from the east, this is not for a low clearance vehicle. We park
and hike down into Moon House ruin and spend the afternoon poking
around and taking pictures. That night we camp near a drill site and
enjoy a juniper fire beneath the clear starry night.
San Juan Blow
Friday morning the sky is hazy with dust and the wind is kicking up
again. We go to the Ranger station, let them know I'm still alive,
and check the forecast. Not good. We do a car day, drive to Natural
Bridges monument (Steve had never been there) and drive from spot to
spot, doing a little hiking but not much. Afterwords we drive to the
Edge of the Cedars museum and check that out. I get a new book: River
Flowing from the Sun, an Environmental History of the Lower San Juan.
We camp that night at the Recapture Lodge in Bluff and enjoy dinner
across the street at the San Juan River Kitchen, a new place that has
some tasty grub. Saturday morning looks nice and we head out, driving
along the John's canyon road looking for rock art. We see some nice
anthromorphs with duck heads (cool) and as we head back four fighter
jets buzz just off the top of the river gorge past us. I flipped them
off for harshing my mellow.
Moab Mike's Bed and Breakfast
We drove up to Muley point and noticed a wall of weather coming
towards us. I checked my voice mail and Mike says it's snowing in
Moab, he needs to rescue a friend on Deadhorse point and won't make
it. I'm glad because I really wasn't wanting to camp in those
conditions. We decide to to head to Moab instead of camping on Muley.
As we drive north on Cedar Mesa, the snow is thick and visibility
poor. All the way to Moab it's snowing. As we get into town I see a
guy in a Jeep, all bundled up and driving down the road. They're
right, I don't get that Jeep thing. Maybe some antibiotics will clear
that Jeep thing up? I hope so.
We spend the night at Moab Mike's Bed and Breakfast after dinner at
the Moab brewery. We tell stories and drink, until late in the night.
The next morning Mike made the breakfast he was planning on serving
up on Muley. It was an uneventful trip home, we got stuck in the ski
traffic on the eastbound I-70 but still managed to keep the whole trip
to about a 7 hour drive from Moab to Fort Collins. It was a good week
other than the weather and a great trip, we just scratched the surface
of Cedar Mesa, there's so much more to see there and I plan on
returning. Check pictures at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/timloco/tags/409cedarmesatrip/
The ipod is random playing through the reggae songs as we travel down
C470 south. The northbound lanes are a gigantic parking lot as crews
clean up accidents left over from the blizzard the day before. As we
travel up 285, we see a tow truck towing a fire truck. "That's not
something you see every day." I say and Steve murmurs his assent. A
mile down the road and we see a cop car getting towed as well. It's
beat up pretty good, I'd hate to be the guy who caused that. As we
approach the top of Monarch pass, the cars are all stopped. "Must be
doing avalanche control or something." I said. A few minutes later a
great cloud of snow blows around farther up the road and a huge
Chinook helicopter lumbers over the valley flying east. "Well, I
didn't expect to see THAT!". We wait for another ten minutes or so
and a truck comes down the road slowly. People are asking him what's
up and we overhear that a Black Hawk helicopter has crashed farther up
the road. When they finally let the traffic through, I catch a
glimpse of a tail rotor sticking up between the trees as we drive by.
The Mesa
We spend the night at the Log Hill bed and breakfast, catching up with
friends and enjoying the traditional potion known as the One True
Margarita. Slightly hung over, we hit the road the next day and stock
up on beef jerky from Ray's (not bad actually). Fueled by jerky,
salty snack foods and high fructose corn syrup we make our way to
Cedar Mesa, stopping by the Kane Gulch ranger station to check
conditions. We camp that night down the Snow Flat road and in the
morning drive to the overlook for the Moon House ruin. It's cool, but
we didn't feel like hiking down to it and instead get our permits and
hit the trail head for the 3 night backpacking trip we planned. We
park at Bullet canyon, the plan is to go down Bullet and out Sheiks,
taking our time and poking around inside the canyons. We tried to do
this same loop 2 years ago but our camp stove broke and after a Gorp
dinner and a cold oatmeal breakfast we bailed and went to some hot
springs.
I Lost Steve
We camped Sunday night in Bullet, near Jailhouse ruin. It's a nice
day but as evening progresses , menacing looking clouds swirl around
above us. Steve had never really noticed what virga looks like when
it's right over your head before. That night it snows a couple of
inches and my twenty degree bag isn't quite up to the task of keeping
me warm. The morning is clear and nice though, and the snow melts
quickly. We pack up and head down canyon. The plan is to drop our
packs at the mouth of the canyon and head down Grand Gulch but we miss
the the actual mouth and head down a good half a mile with our packs
on before we break out the map and figure out our mistake. It's
getting a little late by this point and we decide to just head back up
canyon to the Green Mask spring, where there's good water and camping.
Steve takes off ahead of me, he's a very fast hiker and usually just
walks ahead of me and waits for me from time to time. As I get to the
turnoff we missed, I don't see Steve waiting for me. I yelled out a
couple of times for him but didn't get a reply so I start hiking
towards Green Mask. I still don't notice Steve and I was concerned
that he might have missed the turn off. I dropped my pack and hike up
a spit of land in between the two canyons where I can look down into
both, but I don't see him. I yell a couple more times but no reply. I
put my pack on and double time it to Sheik's, trying to catch up to
him. He isn't at Sheik's so I go a mile or so farther up, thinking he
might have overshot it. By this point the sun is sinking low and I'm
in the shadows as I walk back to where we were planning on camping.
Steve has not showed up there and I figure he must have hiked back up
Bullet. It's too late to go there so I just set up my tent and camp
there that night, sipping tequila to assuage my worry.
The next morning I pack my day pack and head down to where I last saw
Steve. I head back up Bullet to where we camped the night before,
then back to where I was camped. No Steve. I break camp and head up
Sheik's canyon to the mesa top and head across Sheik's flat when I see
Steve's 4runner driving towards me. We celebrate our reuniting with
cold beer and talk about what happened. Steve missed the turnoff to
Sheik's and went up Bullet all the way to where we camped the night
before, then the next morning took off up and out Bullet, went to the
ranger station and filed a missing persons report on me on me just in
case before going back to the trail head to wait for me. We head to
the Ranger station and let them know I'm ok before going into town for
beer and steaks.
Hands and Caves
Wednesday we take it easy, driving along the Butler Wash road and
hiking up into a couple of shallow caves on Comb Ridge. Fish Mouth
cave is interesting, a very large deep arch shaped cave but no ruins
in it, presumably they've been torn down from all the people that can
go there. There's tons of graffiti on the walls but a few genuine hand
prints and other rock art. The next one is better, Monarch cave has
some good ruins in it and it looks like not as many people go there.
There's also hand prints on the walls here. We camp that night at the
Recapture Lodge on account of the icky weather forecast.
Thursday is a gorgeous bluebird Utah day. We drive up the Snow Flat
road from the east, this is not for a low clearance vehicle. We park
and hike down into Moon House ruin and spend the afternoon poking
around and taking pictures. That night we camp near a drill site and
enjoy a juniper fire beneath the clear starry night.
San Juan Blow
Friday morning the sky is hazy with dust and the wind is kicking up
again. We go to the Ranger station, let them know I'm still alive,
and check the forecast. Not good. We do a car day, drive to Natural
Bridges monument (Steve had never been there) and drive from spot to
spot, doing a little hiking but not much. Afterwords we drive to the
Edge of the Cedars museum and check that out. I get a new book: River
Flowing from the Sun, an Environmental History of the Lower San Juan.
We camp that night at the Recapture Lodge in Bluff and enjoy dinner
across the street at the San Juan River Kitchen, a new place that has
some tasty grub. Saturday morning looks nice and we head out, driving
along the John's canyon road looking for rock art. We see some nice
anthromorphs with duck heads (cool) and as we head back four fighter
jets buzz just off the top of the river gorge past us. I flipped them
off for harshing my mellow.
Moab Mike's Bed and Breakfast
We drove up to Muley point and noticed a wall of weather coming
towards us. I checked my voice mail and Mike says it's snowing in
Moab, he needs to rescue a friend on Deadhorse point and won't make
it. I'm glad because I really wasn't wanting to camp in those
conditions. We decide to to head to Moab instead of camping on Muley.
As we drive north on Cedar Mesa, the snow is thick and visibility
poor. All the way to Moab it's snowing. As we get into town I see a
guy in a Jeep, all bundled up and driving down the road. They're
right, I don't get that Jeep thing. Maybe some antibiotics will clear
that Jeep thing up? I hope so.
We spend the night at Moab Mike's Bed and Breakfast after dinner at
the Moab brewery. We tell stories and drink, until late in the night.
The next morning Mike made the breakfast he was planning on serving
up on Muley. It was an uneventful trip home, we got stuck in the ski
traffic on the eastbound I-70 but still managed to keep the whole trip
to about a 7 hour drive from Moab to Fort Collins. It was a good week
other than the weather and a great trip, we just scratched the surface
of Cedar Mesa, there's so much more to see there and I plan on
returning. Check pictures at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/timloco/tags/409cedarmesatrip/
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Soup Report: Short Ribs and Celery
I run into a recipe I like now and then and feel compelled to share it
with my friends.
I love this soup recipe, it uses weird produce and and a cheap cut of
beef and tastes awesome. I got this recipe from random web surfing
back in '99 - the article from the Arizona Daily Star entitled "Celery
root not pretty, but makes up for that in flavor", printed it out and
only a couple of months ago tried it out, slightly modified for a
pressure cooker rather than a dutch oven, saving about 3 hours of
cooking. I tried it again tonight and, damn - try this out.
------------------------------------------------------
Short ribs and celery root soup
1 tablespoon olive oil
1.5 lbs short ribs (4 or 5)
1 celery root, peeled, cut in julienne, and covered with acidulated water
1 carrot, thinly sliced
1 red bell pepper bought from the back of some dude's truck at the
farmer's market, seeded and cut into 2 inch long strips
1 medium onion from Monroe Organic farms in Kersey, CO
1 clove garlic from Goat Hill farms in Masonville, CO. The Polish
White is exquisite :-)
4 cups Fort Collins, CO tap water
1 teaspoon salt
dash of white pepper
1 bay leaf
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
1 organic heirloom tomato, finely chopped
1/4 cup diced parsley
Plain yogurt or lemon wedges (Optional - I didn't have them either
time I made this)
Heat the oil in a pressure cooker and brown all sides of the ribs.
Pour off drippings. Add celery root, carrots, red pepper, onions,
garlic, water, salt, pepper, bay leaf and thyme. Put the lid on and
cook at pressure for 45 minutes. Remove short ribs with slotted spoon.
When ribs are cool enough to handle, remove meat from bones and
return it to soup in chunks, discarding bones and all visible fat. If
possible (ha!) chill soup for several hours or overnight to allow fat
to congeal, discard congealed fat.
Reheat soup to serving temperature. Salt to taste. Stir in tomato and
parsley. Serve with yogurt or lemon wedges, if used.
------------------------------------------------------
with my friends.
I love this soup recipe, it uses weird produce and and a cheap cut of
beef and tastes awesome. I got this recipe from random web surfing
back in '99 - the article from the Arizona Daily Star entitled "Celery
root not pretty, but makes up for that in flavor", printed it out and
only a couple of months ago tried it out, slightly modified for a
pressure cooker rather than a dutch oven, saving about 3 hours of
cooking. I tried it again tonight and, damn - try this out.
------------------------------------------------------
Short ribs and celery root soup
1 tablespoon olive oil
1.5 lbs short ribs (4 or 5)
1 celery root, peeled, cut in julienne, and covered with acidulated water
1 carrot, thinly sliced
1 red bell pepper bought from the back of some dude's truck at the
farmer's market, seeded and cut into 2 inch long strips
1 medium onion from Monroe Organic farms in Kersey, CO
1 clove garlic from Goat Hill farms in Masonville, CO. The Polish
White is exquisite :-)
4 cups Fort Collins, CO tap water
1 teaspoon salt
dash of white pepper
1 bay leaf
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
1 organic heirloom tomato, finely chopped
1/4 cup diced parsley
Plain yogurt or lemon wedges (Optional - I didn't have them either
time I made this)
Heat the oil in a pressure cooker and brown all sides of the ribs.
Pour off drippings. Add celery root, carrots, red pepper, onions,
garlic, water, salt, pepper, bay leaf and thyme. Put the lid on and
cook at pressure for 45 minutes. Remove short ribs with slotted spoon.
When ribs are cool enough to handle, remove meat from bones and
return it to soup in chunks, discarding bones and all visible fat. If
possible (ha!) chill soup for several hours or overnight to allow fat
to congeal, discard congealed fat.
Reheat soup to serving temperature. Salt to taste. Stir in tomato and
parsley. Serve with yogurt or lemon wedges, if used.
------------------------------------------------------
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Walking in Beauty
I burned up twenty bucks worth of gas today and re-visited Wild Basin, I had not been there since 95 or so and that's entirely too long. This is in the southern part of Rocky Mountain National park, a pretty wild basin with lots of water and waterfalls. Small burbling brooks cross the trail between nice rock work, the trail is like some carefully manicured garden path the first couple of miles. This place is like Rivendell from the Tolkien world - waterfalls all over, I half expected to see elven folk walking about but it was mostly tourists instead. Some of them looked slightly elvish though.
As I was walking along the trail I was thinking back to a translation of a Navajo blessing I read once, I couldn't remember it all so I had to look it up when I came back:
In beauty may I walk
All day long may I walk
Through the returning seasons may I walk
Beautifully I will possess again
Beautifully birds
Beautifully joyful birds
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk
With dew about my feet may I walk
With beauty may I walk
With beauty before me may I walk
With beauty behind me may I walk
With beauty above me may I walk
With beauty all around me may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, lively, may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, living again, may I walk
It is finished in beauty
It is finished in beauty
I'm really glad that I can do this, walking in beauty. It's what sustains me, connects me to my Self. Here's some eye candy from the hike:
http://flickr.com/photos/timloco/tags/72008waterfallinspection/
As I was walking along the trail I was thinking back to a translation of a Navajo blessing I read once, I couldn't remember it all so I had to look it up when I came back:
In beauty may I walk
All day long may I walk
Through the returning seasons may I walk
Beautifully I will possess again
Beautifully birds
Beautifully joyful birds
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk
With dew about my feet may I walk
With beauty may I walk
With beauty before me may I walk
With beauty behind me may I walk
With beauty above me may I walk
With beauty all around me may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, lively, may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, living again, may I walk
It is finished in beauty
It is finished in beauty
I'm really glad that I can do this, walking in beauty. It's what sustains me, connects me to my Self. Here's some eye candy from the hike:
http://flickr.com/photos/timloco/tags/72008waterfallinspection/
Sunday, June 15, 2008
This One Time, at Jam Camp...
I just spent the last week at a 4 day "Jam Camp" followed by a 3 day Bluegrass and Roots music festival in Hotchkiss, Colorado. It was exactly what I needed right now in my musical education, a solid immersion in Bluegrass jamming, the etiquette of the jam, leading a jam in a song, taking a "break" or lead and a ton of other things. I learned so much that I'm not really sure how much I learned, I expect I'll be having "aha!" moments for months down the line. It was a fire hose of musical goodness.
The bluegrass jam is the People's orchestra. It's the most democratic of all group art forms that I can think of. If you've got the chops and you know the songs any jam circle will welcome you in and the music that comes out of the instruments (guitar, mandolin, fiddle, banjo and bass) can match the most beautiful classical string quartets. This is musical art as it has been for hundreds of years.
The camp was hosted by a band called Chele's Kitchen out of Bainbridge Island, Washington. They are a nice mellow patient group of pickers who hosted slow jams, helped run the camp and instruct. Another band, the Hickory Project, provided the instrument and other instruction. There were 25 students and 9 instructors so there was plenty of one on one time and good hands on education.
The first two days were mainly instrument classes, and some group jamming. The second two days they split us up into bands and had each band pick a couple of songs out and learn them with the help of instructors. We named our band "Hotchgrass" and in it was a fiddle player, a mando/fiddle player, two guitars and a banjo. The first song we learned together was an old classic, Tom Dooley. The second one was the Swallowtail Jig, a traditional Irish tune. On the last day there was a concert held for the local Hotchkiss folks ahead of the music festival and each band got on stage and performed their numbers as a warm up for the "real" bands that came on later. I took a small solo and nailed it which was good 'cause I was kinda nervous.
After the Jam camp the music festival started and campers filled up the campground, jam circles formed and much fun was experienced. I made my way back to my tent Friday after jamming in a slow beginner's circle somewhere around 3 am, and as I dozed off the most beautiful fiddle music was softly being played just 30 feet away or so and as I laid there I thought that I couldn't remember the last time I fell asleep this happy.
The venue for the festival is small and intimate, and not crowded at all. You could go right up to the stage and sit down front row. It was the same with the camping, not too crowded. It was also a pretty family friendly environment, with little kids running around having a blast.
Saturday night I jammed for a bit but my fingers were pretty sore and we ended up just listening to some world class musicians that had set up where the fiddle players were the night before. It was a tight jam, as good as anything I've heard. These folks all played really really well together and they sounded great. I passed out in my tent somewhere around 3 again and they were still playing. I don't think I got more than 12 hours of sleep total the last several days, I'm pretty tired.
I got totally turned on to a new artist for me, Diana Jones. She's just this awesome singer/songwriter and her performances were incredible. One of her songs, "Pony", brought a tear to my eye when I was listening and I ended up buying all three of her CDs she was selling. The headliners for Friday night was the Hickory Project, and Saturday night it was the Krueger brothers - and awesome 3 person band out of Switzerland. Uwe Krueger ran the guitar workshop Saturday morning and I was impressed by his practical advice and down to earth style. I went to a song writing workshop on Sunday before driving home and got my creative juices flowing. I'm looking forward to writing some songs in the future.
I look back and this last week and it was one of the best weeks that I can remember. About the only thing I can think of was my 35th birthday floating down the San Juan a few years ago but I think this one was better if that's even possible. Life is damn good. I took tons of pictures and I'll be trickling them out onto my flickr page over the next week or so.
The bluegrass jam is the People's orchestra. It's the most democratic of all group art forms that I can think of. If you've got the chops and you know the songs any jam circle will welcome you in and the music that comes out of the instruments (guitar, mandolin, fiddle, banjo and bass) can match the most beautiful classical string quartets. This is musical art as it has been for hundreds of years.
The camp was hosted by a band called Chele's Kitchen out of Bainbridge Island, Washington. They are a nice mellow patient group of pickers who hosted slow jams, helped run the camp and instruct. Another band, the Hickory Project, provided the instrument and other instruction. There were 25 students and 9 instructors so there was plenty of one on one time and good hands on education.
The first two days were mainly instrument classes, and some group jamming. The second two days they split us up into bands and had each band pick a couple of songs out and learn them with the help of instructors. We named our band "Hotchgrass" and in it was a fiddle player, a mando/fiddle player, two guitars and a banjo. The first song we learned together was an old classic, Tom Dooley. The second one was the Swallowtail Jig, a traditional Irish tune. On the last day there was a concert held for the local Hotchkiss folks ahead of the music festival and each band got on stage and performed their numbers as a warm up for the "real" bands that came on later. I took a small solo and nailed it which was good 'cause I was kinda nervous.
After the Jam camp the music festival started and campers filled up the campground, jam circles formed and much fun was experienced. I made my way back to my tent Friday after jamming in a slow beginner's circle somewhere around 3 am, and as I dozed off the most beautiful fiddle music was softly being played just 30 feet away or so and as I laid there I thought that I couldn't remember the last time I fell asleep this happy.
The venue for the festival is small and intimate, and not crowded at all. You could go right up to the stage and sit down front row. It was the same with the camping, not too crowded. It was also a pretty family friendly environment, with little kids running around having a blast.
Saturday night I jammed for a bit but my fingers were pretty sore and we ended up just listening to some world class musicians that had set up where the fiddle players were the night before. It was a tight jam, as good as anything I've heard. These folks all played really really well together and they sounded great. I passed out in my tent somewhere around 3 again and they were still playing. I don't think I got more than 12 hours of sleep total the last several days, I'm pretty tired.
I got totally turned on to a new artist for me, Diana Jones. She's just this awesome singer/songwriter and her performances were incredible. One of her songs, "Pony", brought a tear to my eye when I was listening and I ended up buying all three of her CDs she was selling. The headliners for Friday night was the Hickory Project, and Saturday night it was the Krueger brothers - and awesome 3 person band out of Switzerland. Uwe Krueger ran the guitar workshop Saturday morning and I was impressed by his practical advice and down to earth style. I went to a song writing workshop on Sunday before driving home and got my creative juices flowing. I'm looking forward to writing some songs in the future.
I look back and this last week and it was one of the best weeks that I can remember. About the only thing I can think of was my 35th birthday floating down the San Juan a few years ago but I think this one was better if that's even possible. Life is damn good. I took tons of pictures and I'll be trickling them out onto my flickr page over the next week or so.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
San Juan River Rambling
"I'm feeling a little uncomfortable." Caylon says, and for good reason.
campfire a few feet away, hooting and grunting, alternating between
pointing to the sky and to the ground, gesturing, trying to
communicate something that is being lost amid histerical giggles. I'm
laughing so hard the muscles in my stomach are getting a little sore.
His body is covered in charcoal and he has a headdress made out of
grass. His johnson peeks out between the sticks. I glance at the
nice Mormon couple sitting next me and bet they've never seen anything
like this before.
I think back to the start of the trip where Teresa says it's tradition
for the new people on the river to come up with a song or skit or poem
or something by the last night and perform it for the rest of group.
Wow, he ran with that idea and put my San Juan rookie song to shame.
The witchdoctor walks away from the fire, gesturing to follow him.
Other people get out of their chairs and follow. "What the hell, I
gotta see how this ends." I say as I heave my margarita soaked self
out of my chair and stumble off into the darkness. By the time I get
to where everyone else is I find out he has disapeared into the brush
and we all wander back to the campfire.
Not too long later he comes back to the campfire, dressed normally.
We applaud and he says "What's going on? I was back there sitting on
the can." He sits in his chair as if nothing happened. I think to
myself, that's the best river performance art I have ever seen. The
costume, the sheer ballsy (he he) performance, everything. Just wow.
I'm sure I wasn't the only one who at one point wondered if he had
crossed the line between creativity and just plain insanity, but
that's what the river will do to you and it all turned out fine and we
have a great story to take away from it.
That day on the river had been a cold float, the river was running at
4,000 CFS - a great flow, really ripping which was good because of all
the wind. We floated 17 miles or so from River House to Ledge Rapid,
stopping a couple of times to warm up and shuffle people between
boats. At one point Kristin, the cute red headed dreadlocked hippy
chick's lips were turning blue and she was shivering so I talked her
into tying up her IK to my boat and floating a few miles without
sitting in the water. It was the right thing to do as I watched her
struggle on the ragged edge of stage 1 hypothermia. The next stop we
got her in the dory after making Kristin sammiches with various group
members, trying to warm her up.
We had originally planned on camping at Chinle Wash the second night
because we had the permits to camp and hike on Navajo lands, but the
first camp was so nice and sheltered in the Russian Olives that we did
a layover. It was windy and a little cold, and Chinle was a pretty
exposed. I took that afternoon and went hiking back upstream to the
Butler panel, looking at the rock art along the wall on the way. I
scared up a red tailed hawk from the cottonwoods I was walking near
and watched it fly upriver. On the way back, I got back up onto the
bench above the River House ruin and poked around the various alcoves.
One of them had a nice deep pool of water, surrounded by ferns and in
these thickets of ferns wild orchids were growing.
All in all it was a fine trip despite the wind and cold temperatures.
I've seen the worst wind that canyon can dish up and as I was
struggling against it on the river I'd shout out "Is that all you got?
Bring it on motherfucker!" This made other people nervous, me
taunting the wind like that. I'm not very superstitious though and it
felt good to shout back at the elements like that. When we took out
on the fourth day I wistfully stared downstream and wished I could
keep going. Right now I'd be camping at Grand Gulch or Oljito wash if
I had. Maybe next year.
pointing to the sky and to the ground, gesturing, trying to
communicate something that is being lost amid histerical giggles. I'm
laughing so hard the muscles in my stomach are getting a little sore.
His body is covered in charcoal and he has a headdress made out of
grass. His johnson peeks out between the sticks. I glance at the
nice Mormon couple sitting next me and bet they've never seen anything
like this before.
I think back to the start of the trip where Teresa says it's tradition
for the new people on the river to come up with a song or skit or poem
or something by the last night and perform it for the rest of group.
Wow, he ran with that idea and put my San Juan rookie song to shame.
The witchdoctor walks away from the fire, gesturing to follow him.
Other people get out of their chairs and follow. "What the hell, I
gotta see how this ends." I say as I heave my margarita soaked self
out of my chair and stumble off into the darkness. By the time I get
to where everyone else is I find out he has disapeared into the brush
and we all wander back to the campfire.
Not too long later he comes back to the campfire, dressed normally.
We applaud and he says "What's going on? I was back there sitting on
the can." He sits in his chair as if nothing happened. I think to
myself, that's the best river performance art I have ever seen. The
costume, the sheer ballsy (he he) performance, everything. Just wow.
I'm sure I wasn't the only one who at one point wondered if he had
crossed the line between creativity and just plain insanity, but
that's what the river will do to you and it all turned out fine and we
have a great story to take away from it.
That day on the river had been a cold float, the river was running at
4,000 CFS - a great flow, really ripping which was good because of all
the wind. We floated 17 miles or so from River House to Ledge Rapid,
stopping a couple of times to warm up and shuffle people between
boats. At one point Kristin, the cute red headed dreadlocked hippy
chick's lips were turning blue and she was shivering so I talked her
into tying up her IK to my boat and floating a few miles without
sitting in the water. It was the right thing to do as I watched her
struggle on the ragged edge of stage 1 hypothermia. The next stop we
got her in the dory after making Kristin sammiches with various group
members, trying to warm her up.
We had originally planned on camping at Chinle Wash the second night
because we had the permits to camp and hike on Navajo lands, but the
first camp was so nice and sheltered in the Russian Olives that we did
a layover. It was windy and a little cold, and Chinle was a pretty
exposed. I took that afternoon and went hiking back upstream to the
Butler panel, looking at the rock art along the wall on the way. I
scared up a red tailed hawk from the cottonwoods I was walking near
and watched it fly upriver. On the way back, I got back up onto the
bench above the River House ruin and poked around the various alcoves.
One of them had a nice deep pool of water, surrounded by ferns and in
these thickets of ferns wild orchids were growing.
All in all it was a fine trip despite the wind and cold temperatures.
I've seen the worst wind that canyon can dish up and as I was
struggling against it on the river I'd shout out "Is that all you got?
Bring it on motherfucker!" This made other people nervous, me
taunting the wind like that. I'm not very superstitious though and it
felt good to shout back at the elements like that. When we took out
on the fourth day I wistfully stared downstream and wished I could
keep going. Right now I'd be camping at Grand Gulch or Oljito wash if
I had. Maybe next year.
Monday, April 07, 2008
First Backpack Trip of 08
My buddy John and I packed up the packs with camping gear and a lots
of tequila and hiked up into the mountains Saturday afternoon. The
last time we hit this trailhead was for a 20 mile through hike, this
one was just a few miles up to a nice aspen grove. It was a gorgeous
sunny afternoon but there was still a lot of snow on the ground,
especially in the shade. This area is in the Comanche Peak
wilderness right next to Rocky Mountain National Park. It's such a
nice place, you can get far enough away from civilization to not see
anyone for what's a very short drive. It's like nobody knows about
it, or nobody is crazy enough to go up there this early in the season.
The trail was just starting to get muddy but for the most part it was
hard packed snow that was starting to get a bit soft. The trail
follows the North Fork of the Big Thompson river which is mostly
under snow and ice still. There were few open spots where you could
see the river. I almost took my fly rod but when we got to the
parking lot it had been so windy I just left it, which saved me a few
pounds of gear because I wouldn't have been able to use it. We got up
to the area where the good camp sites are a couple of hours after we
left the car and set up camp overlooking a nice meadow on the south
slopes of the Bulwark Ridge. The snow had mostly melted off except
areas in the shade. After setting up tents and the kitchen we started
doing shots of tequila and enjoying the view. The mountains to the
west were enveloped in clouds, some kind of storm was hitting them but
it seemed to be sticking to the high peaks and not traveling our way.
As we were eating dinner, a huge flock of robins flew through our part
of the valley, there were probably a hundred at least flying through
in groups of 5-10 birds making all kinds of robin racket. I've seen lots
of cool wildlife in this area. One spring I was here a saw a grouse
and her baby chicks walk right through our campsite on the way to the
water. Another time we were throwing a wilderness bachelor party for
a friend (somebody brought porno mags in lieu of a stripper) a
deer walked just ten feet away from us, everyone totally still and
silent until someone coughed and scared it away.
After dinner, the ominous clouds started moving our way and we could
see snow falling just thousand feet up from us. That line of snow
moved farther and farther down until it was snowing in camp and I
bailed to my tent. I was geared up more for late spring than early
spring and didn't want to get too wet. My tent was starting to sag a
little from the weight of the snow when I dozed off. I woke up a
bunch of times during the night, it was so windy I thought my tent was
going to blow down or one of the dead snags around camp would fall
over. Not a very restful sleep, and it got a little cold - around 20
degrees or so. It didn't end up snowing very much though so that was
a bonus. When I woke up for the 20th time or so, it was starting to
get light. It was still very windy, and even when the sun finally hit
my tent it didn't get much warmer.
We had a leisurely breakfast and broke camp and headed on down the
mountain, stopping to peel layers as it got warmer. By the time I got
to the car I just had my long sleeve shirt on, it was so warm. All in
all a good first backpack and it can only get warmer up there - I'm
looking forward to it! I brought my little digicam, not the good
camera and I didn't take too many pictures but there's a few to get a
taste of what this area was like:
http://flickr.com/photos/timloco/tags/firstbackpacktripof08/
(I'm the only one on flickr who has used that tag)
of tequila and hiked up into the mountains Saturday afternoon. The
last time we hit this trailhead was for a 20 mile through hike, this
one was just a few miles up to a nice aspen grove. It was a gorgeous
sunny afternoon but there was still a lot of snow on the ground,
especially in the shade. This area is in the Comanche Peak
wilderness right next to Rocky Mountain National Park. It's such a
nice place, you can get far enough away from civilization to not see
anyone for what's a very short drive. It's like nobody knows about
it, or nobody is crazy enough to go up there this early in the season.
The trail was just starting to get muddy but for the most part it was
hard packed snow that was starting to get a bit soft. The trail
follows the North Fork of the Big Thompson river which is mostly
under snow and ice still. There were few open spots where you could
see the river. I almost took my fly rod but when we got to the
parking lot it had been so windy I just left it, which saved me a few
pounds of gear because I wouldn't have been able to use it. We got up
to the area where the good camp sites are a couple of hours after we
left the car and set up camp overlooking a nice meadow on the south
slopes of the Bulwark Ridge. The snow had mostly melted off except
areas in the shade. After setting up tents and the kitchen we started
doing shots of tequila and enjoying the view. The mountains to the
west were enveloped in clouds, some kind of storm was hitting them but
it seemed to be sticking to the high peaks and not traveling our way.
As we were eating dinner, a huge flock of robins flew through our part
of the valley, there were probably a hundred at least flying through
in groups of 5-10 birds making all kinds of robin racket. I've seen lots
of cool wildlife in this area. One spring I was here a saw a grouse
and her baby chicks walk right through our campsite on the way to the
water. Another time we were throwing a wilderness bachelor party for
a friend (somebody brought porno mags in lieu of a stripper) a
deer walked just ten feet away from us, everyone totally still and
silent until someone coughed and scared it away.
After dinner, the ominous clouds started moving our way and we could
see snow falling just thousand feet up from us. That line of snow
moved farther and farther down until it was snowing in camp and I
bailed to my tent. I was geared up more for late spring than early
spring and didn't want to get too wet. My tent was starting to sag a
little from the weight of the snow when I dozed off. I woke up a
bunch of times during the night, it was so windy I thought my tent was
going to blow down or one of the dead snags around camp would fall
over. Not a very restful sleep, and it got a little cold - around 20
degrees or so. It didn't end up snowing very much though so that was
a bonus. When I woke up for the 20th time or so, it was starting to
get light. It was still very windy, and even when the sun finally hit
my tent it didn't get much warmer.
We had a leisurely breakfast and broke camp and headed on down the
mountain, stopping to peel layers as it got warmer. By the time I got
to the car I just had my long sleeve shirt on, it was so warm. All in
all a good first backpack and it can only get warmer up there - I'm
looking forward to it! I brought my little digicam, not the good
camera and I didn't take too many pictures but there's a few to get a
taste of what this area was like:
http://flickr.com/photos
(I'm the only one on flickr who has used that tag)
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