The Beatles and Me

John, Paul, George, and Ringo shook the world.

In my youth I was an adoring fan of the Beatles. I bought singles, trading cards and a couple vinyl LP albums. It shouldn't surprise me that young people today are discovering the talented Fab Four. After all, I have a stepson who is an Elvis impersonator. But I never liked the old Standards music of my parents and grandparents so it seems astonishing that 40 year old music should be a hit again. They have just released The Beatles: Rock Band game and the digitally remastered song catalog of 16 CD's of Beatles music. And it is selling well.

I think the Beatles came at such a historic time that it was inevitable that they would move with lightning speed from I Wanna Hold Your Hand to I Am the Walrus. The youth of the world suddenly had a voice and it was screaming. At times, quiet revolutionaries must step aside for their more vocal brothers.

Myself, I moved like a tie-dyed butterfly from one potential solution to another, in politics, in religion. Over the years I circled back to the faith and politics of my forefathers. But it is a transformed spirituality and a progressive bureaucracy, manned by many children of the Beatles era, and we work toward that iconic Vision. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

Dogs of August

In August 2009 I went on a trip to Oregon, Washington State, and Montana. I left behind my canine family members: Keesha, Buddy and Cricket; but I got to meet several new pooches.

In Oregon I met an Australian Cattle Dog named Levi. He was protective of his master and did try to nip me, but (fortunately) he has no teeth due to his age, so Levi grudgingly accepted me. Then there was Dolly, a Chihuahua. I like all dogs, but little, yappy lap dogs are not my favorites. The cream-colored Dolly though was an exceptional pup. She has had extensive obedience training and never once barked or did anything annoying. I was astonished.

In Washington State I met happy, goofy Levi (yes, another Levi, how amazing is that?). He was an 80 pound Chocolate Labrador who lived in an immaculate duplex home. Due to his size, Levi was hard to ignore, but very gregarious.

Finally there was Napolean, a good-sized Weimaraner. This big, grey boy had many toys and when his owner showed me his dog-house area, he immediately fetched me the guts of a recently killed rabbit. He was so proud! The owner was mortified. Then Napoleon proceeded to barf at my feet. I found it all hilarious and so typical doggie.

Dogs are a colorful part of life for many people, including myself. As I found out when I got home to find my Keesha had been sprayed by a skunk a few days earlier. God bless our dogs.

Cold Camping, 16 to 18 April 2009

With our dog Keesha, Fred and I left home at mile mark 114 (183 km mark) at 11 AM to drive up to our 40 acres in northern Arizona. We stopped in Clifton at the old Train Depot to look at the railroad stuff and then proceeded up hill to the Morenci copper mine. Stopped for a photo. The mine geography changes every time we visit, mounds of earth moved, relocated, new deep holes dug in this enormous open pit mine. Even the very road (US Highway 191) is moved over here or over there.

Finally we drove up into the evergreen trees of Apache National Forest (the White Mountains) and stopped at Cherry Lodge picnic site for lunch. The namesake Cherry trees were displaying their pink blooms. Little information is available to explain why there are these few domesticated fruit trees in this wilderness.

We continued driving up the very crooked Coronado Trail, scenic but one of the twistiest roads in the US. Over 400 switchbacks over the 123 mile (197 km.) route.

When we passed Rose Peak which is 8786 feet, (2678 meters), (and a peak we can see from our house), we began to note snow piles in the shady woods, remnants of winter. To our delight we stopped to watch a small herd of Mule Deer grazing near the road. After another 100+ curves in the road, we finally arrived above 9000 feet (2743 m.) at Blue Vista, a lookout point with nothing but wilderness to see. The road straightens a bit as it goes north in the high country of fir and Ponderosa Pine trees. Finally we traveled through the scenic mountain town of Alpine, then up across another mountain pass next to 10900 foot, 3322 m. Escudilla Mountain. Finally descending to grassland at Springerville and St. John’s. Near there we saw outcroppings along the road of the Chinle formation, which is the main soil type of the Painted Desert. It gives slim pickings for the cattle range that is the main use of the hundreds of square miles of this sparsely populated part of Eastern Arizona. Chinle has a remarkable variety of color, from grey, to blue, to red, and shades in between.

Elevation begins to rise as we continued north up on the Colorado Plateau. Junipers and cedar trees predominated. And at the 339 mile (545 km) mark on Highway 191 we reached the turn off to our wilderness retreat. It is a slow 5 miles (8 km.) of 4-wheel drive only to reach our acreage. But it is worth the trouble. A spectacular view to the north of ridge after ridge of treed wilderness, and nothing but wilderness in every other direction too. No houses, no roads, no man-made sounds. At night: no lights, just stars…

After driving up our “driveway” and I use that term very loosely, we set up camp where we always do, a level spot with a tremendous view. Quickly Fred got the fire going as the temperature was dropping precipitously. The forecast had warned it might dip below freezing and it sure felt like it. A hurried supper prepared on a gas stove that would not cooperate, and piling more wood on the fire as it got colder and colder, until finally I decided to go to bed to get cozy. I had no idea how cold it would get…

This was the dog’s first overnight camping experience and she tentatively crept into the tent. She started to make herself at home on Fred’s side of the sleeping bag so I had to teach her that she had to lay on the other side of me. Sadly she curled up outside the sleeping bag.

I slept right through, 8 hours and woke with the first light, before 6 AM. It felt cold, but I didn’t realize how cold until I got outside the tent. The tent fabric was iced, the car was coated in frost, the dog’s water dish was frozen solid. I checked the thermometer and it was 18° (-9°C) Whoooaaaaa cold! We quickly relit the campfire from the embers of the last night’s fire. Fred fixed the cranky camp stove and we had hot coffee and I had hot oatmeal as fast as possible. Fred put the dog’s plastic water bowl near the fire. I thought it was a bad idea, but it did start to thaw the water, and then the plastic began to melt… After that the dog had a sick looking bowl, but it still held water.

After breakfast the sky began to look threatening. Grey clouds were rolling in from the north. Then sure enough, it began to snow. Fortunately it was just a brief storm.

After the snowfall we decided to go on a hike. It is just over a mile (1.7 km) to a very old, but still working windmill that pumps water for the cattle and wildlife in the area. We walked due west according to our little Garmin GPS. The wind and cold continued so even walking didn’t warm us up too much. After photos and finding a pile of blue feathers, the remains of an unfortunate bird, we headed back and slogging through the sand made it feel like longer than that mile or so. Our warm sweet-smelling juniper wood campfire was a welcome sight.

The wind constantly blew at a strong rate. So I spent most of the day near the fire. In the afternoon I did some target shooting with our nice Italian-made Gamo .177 caliber air rifle. I’m a fair marksman if I do say so myself.

I spent the day collecting a few pottery shards from the prehistoric pueblo people that used to live in this area. Then I read a book about Søren Kierkegaard as I sat near the fire. And also did a few yoga poses on a blanket in the lee of the fire. Too cold to get far from the fire!

For supper I made hamburgers over the open fire. I timed the meal so it was finished before darkness fell because the previous night it was difficult to maneuver in the cold and by the light of the Coleman lantern.

We sat by the fire for a long time, as the wind had calmed and the stars were out, although it was still getting chilly. The dog had learned how to sit close to the warmth, overcoming her initial fearfulness of the flames.

After another long sleep I woke the next morning to a balmy 28° (-3°) The sun was bright and the temperature shot up fast so that by the time we left at 11 AM, it was shirt-sleeve weather.
After re-tracing our 5 mile (8 km.) route on the sand road, or road suggestion (!), we turned north on Highway 191 to Sanders, a small town of 500 in the southeast corner of the great Navajo Indian Reservation. Bought a tasty Navajo Taco at a lunch stand and then preceded west on Interstate 40. After 30 miles (42 km.) I exited the highway at the Painted Desert.

A semi-circular road takes one past the gift shop and one of two official visitor centers, then past eight overlooks. We stopped at Chinde Point for lunch on this beautiful afternoon. The colors of the chinle formations are so amazing. They change with the time of day and the cloud cover. I was most impressed by the variety of reds, a result of iron oxidation.

On down the road we went, driving over Interstate 40 again, then across a great grassland where we stopped to observe a herd of 11 pronghorn antelope. Animals are protected within the boundaries of a National Park, so these were lucky antelope indeed.

We drove over the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railway line and then passed into the petrified logs section of the Petrified Forest National Park. We stopped at Newspaper Rock which gave an overview of several cliffside rocks containing 650 petroglyphs. There are eight places to stop and explore various fossils, an archeological site and many types of petrified logs. We didn’t tarry long as time was slipping away. But did stop to take each other’s picture next to a couple huge fossil logs.

When we entered the Park, a ranger bagged and tied a chunk of petrified wood that I had picked up on our land. Cars are subject to search if there is suspicion that a visitor is stealing pieces of petrified wood or other antiquities from the Park. With a million visitors to the Petrified Forest every year - if everyone just took one piece… it wouldn’t take long before there was no “Forest” left to see.

After buying a boatload of postcards and a couple books in the Petrified Forest Visitor Center, we left the Park and headed south. In St. John’s we called Fred’s son to go and feed our animals since we were still so far from home and it was 4 PM. While driving back up into the White Mountains we saw a small herd of Elk. Then we stopped in Alpine to eat supper at the Bear Wallow Café. From there I chose to drive the straighter route south through New Mexico, more miles, but easier, no hairpin bends. Just before full dark, we passed a handful of Javelina (or Collard Peccary) on the side of the road. And it was 10 PM when we finally turned into our driveway.

We had seen so many wild animals, beautiful vistas, petrified wood, mountains and grasslands, snow and sun. Once home, it was just nice to get a shower and clean off that smoky campfire smell. And find a jammed mailbox of letters and postcards for me!

Outback Adventure In My Backyard

We had the whole day on April 6 to leisurely drive the 85 miles (136 km) or so around our 10,800 foot (3300 meter) “sky island” - so called because it is such a tall peak, set amid the usual Sonoran desert landscape. The experts say that traveling up to the top of Mt Graham is like moving from Mexico to Canada in biological life zones. But this day we intended to spend in the grassland zone at the highland base.

After picking up a couple Subway sandwiches and filling up with gas, the husband, the dog and I left town in our Toyota RAV4 for a day in very remote parts of Graham county. We turned south on unpaved Klondyke Road at Eden, Arizona and about 10 miles (16 km) out came to the site of the 1889 Wham paymaster robbery that netted thieves a half million in gold and silver coin. It was intended to be paid out at nearby Fort Thomas and at Fort Apache on the White River in the White Mountains. Three good Army mules died in the attack, but fortunately for the 12 Buffalo soldiers guarding the wagon train only 8 men sustained non-fatal wounds. Sadly Major Wham’s Army career suffered badly from this incident although it was hardly his fault. The road passed through a defile, or narrow rocky passage that was perfect for an ambush. The bandits had the advantage of higher ground, defensive works, repeating rifles, secrecy and surprise. However 7 “cowboys” were arrested and tried for the crime but all were found innocent by the jury. It was a great sensational trial and the embarrassment of the authorities at being unable to have safe passage in Graham County led to less than favorable opinions when it came to admitting Arizona to the Union as a state. Statehood was delayed for years as a direct result of this lawless incident, the ambush at Bloody Run.

We proceeded down Klondyke Road and explored up Cedar Springs Road. Ate lunch up in a jumble of giant Granite boulders that look as if a giant child was playing with rocks and got tired or bored and left everything a hodgepodge. Small caves and narrow passages create a marvelous place to play hide and seek.

Next we drove down into Aravaipa Canyon, causing a deer to stop and give us a look, which we repaid. But mostly we saw cattle. Brown cattle, red cattle, and lots of black cattle. Calves, cows, and several bulls - a couple who reluctantly moved off the road for us.

We explored up Forest Road 672 which would have been the route of the Army wagons took after leaving Fort Grant that May 11th 1889, nearly 120 years ago. Discovered a nicely built animal water tank with a constant flow of clean, clear mountain water. Snow is melting off Mt Graham so despite the drought in the lower elevations, plenty of refreshment can be channeled into catchments for cattle and wildlife. I went to wash my hands from eating an orange when my dog decided to honor her herding heritage and she went after a couple mama cows and calves. It is beyond me why a 500 pound (226 kg) cow runs for her life when pursued by a 50 pound (22 kg) dog.

We drove through the tiny old ranching settlement of Bonita, Arizona and then headed up on a paved road through Stockton Pass on the south side of Mt Graham. At a level area the Forest Service maintains a pleasant picnic and campsite at the 5700 foot (1740 meter) level where we stopped for a snack of strawberries and bananas. It’s grassy with mature Juniper and Oak trees and so scenic because it’s up close to the steep mountain flank that rises to 9,000 feet (2740 meters) right above you.

From there it is a downhill road back to our little rancho on the east side of Mt Graham. Back to civilization.

Quicksand

The following account is a short fiction:

Quicksand

His words came back to me now, "Watch out for quicksand." I felt the tightening grip on my feet, my legs. So far from the trail I trotted off, to answer the call of nature. How ironic. Was this now nature's last word?

Vaguely I recalled I was supposed to swim, but with only my legs, well, now my knees?

I hoped this wasn't very deep as I struggled. I tried to recall which side of a creek was the deepest. Can't recall. Outside of the bend? Inside? I'm probably in the deepest part. It's my luck, or destiny.

Now at my waist, I can see the world rising higher above me. At a child's height this wilderness looks more ominous. The leaves whisper as I struggle. Can anything be more foreboding than the level reaching my chest?

Nobody around to witness me. I went hiking alone in this lovely lush Utah riparian area. And it is a deep creek bed, crowded with vegetation. All factors that absorb sound. Absorb breath. I yell anyway. It sounds...useless.

I live 50 years and this is it? No fanfare except the fanning of my arms as it reaches my neck.

Oh God, it's a vulture overhead! The sun is right in my eyes now as I look downstream. Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be hikers. Crazy thoughts like this race through my head. When was the last time someone died by quicksand in the US?

It feels like I've been stuck in this gooey, sticky mud for hours. I'm cold, cold and really, really stuck. Darkness is coming; I'm exhausted. They'll find me tomorrow. Just follow the vultures. I'll probably make the National news.

Is that the sky starting to lighten? Am I dead or alive? Strong hands have a hold of body parts I am not even sure are mine anymore. It was a trial of endurance. So thankful they found me.

Later I died of pneumonia, but much, much later. It had that same suffocating feeling. But without the vultures.

Blacksmith Competition

Less than an hour away, in Willcox, Arizona, I went for 2 days to see the World Championship Blacksmith’s in action. They had about 40 iron hammering men from all over the USA competing at horseshoe making, and horse-shoeing. They had 10 semi-portable coal (or coke) burning forges running hot and the guys got the iron cherry red and hammered and hammered. Powerful biceps muscles were the norm. Are you listening single ladies?

I might add, my husband is a Blacksmith hobbyist. I bought him 2 bags of coke ( a processed coal product, not cocaine) - how romantic, huh?

One thing about handmade iron products. They don’t break, rip, tear, spoil, or rot. If kept in damp conditions they might rust away in couple or ten generations. Who cares by then?

The champion blacksmiths were judged by a panel of 4 or 5 men, one from Europe. I watched the British blacksmith demonstrating some forging techniques. But it was a man born in Alaska and now living in California who impressed me. He had iron bent into horse heads, birds, and flowers, as well as fine utility hammers and many other ornamental and useful items. What a master craftsman!

In the end, I think it was another California guy won the competition.

Strike while the iron is hot, has a solid foundational meaning.

Rain, Yoga, Oranges, and Fiction

A light rain is falling this morning. It's so welcome because it has been achingly dry for weeks. In fact I was in Tucson yesterday and the high temperature was 80° (26°C) and even after the sun went down it stayed very nice. This was a record breaking heat. (It is January after all, mid-winter!)

This is my trip to Tucson--

At a craft store I bought paper items for the homemade Valentine's cards I am making for friends. At a discount store I got a second pair of yoga pants for my new avocation. On sale $13. I paid twice that for my first pair. But when I went to pay for it, the cashier rang it up for $15. I told her it was on sale and there was a big delay, much fumbling around, button pushing, cancelling, refunding, on and on. I apologized to the person behind me in line. Finally I was charged $13. Finally. It took them a while to get on "Target".

I discovered a new-to-me grocery (Sunflower) that carries organic food, bulk items, and wonderful fresh produce. The apples and oranges are things of beauty. Oranges are in season in Arizona but possibly these come from the Imperial Valley of California, which is only 5 hours away. The Imperial Valley is probably the most intensely farmed region in the US, especially in winter.

Since I have become interested in a lap top and an iPod (or an MP3/4 player), I window-shopped for them, checked out what is on sale. It is tough to decide what I will like, never having had these items. So I am soliciting opinions from friends.

My reckless, spur of the moment purchase is a book written by a Norwegian, Per Petterson. Out Stealing Horses was on my "wish list" for a year and when I saw it at a special price, I could not resist. I need another book like another hole in my head. But for a European author of this generation, who has horses in his novel, well, I have a soft spot.

So this is the humdrum day in my life. Rain, yoga, oranges and fiction.

Yoga

I started my spring semester class in Hatha Yoga. Now I wonder why I waited so long to do it. First class was mainly about breathing and what yoga is/isn't. I have my own yoga mat and I bought a pair of stretchy pants so I was prepared. My class is a mix of ages, experience and even has one man in it. He rides mules so I will have to engage him in equine conversation sometime.

My goal is to learn to listen better to my body and become more flexible and fluid. I am not really interested in being able to twist myself into a pretzel. But it would be very cool if I could one day do a full lotus.

For years I have tried to learn yoga from books and magazines. Today people think the Internet has all the answers. But there is something to be said for a pair of real eyes to guide one in a new direction. Similar to horseback riding, where one can learn to ride by themselves, but an observer can correct sloppy form by telling you that your stirrups are too short or your reins are too tight or you are leaning. Bad riding form does not always lead to falling off but it can give the horse a pain in the back! As for yoga, bad form is still yoga, but one will get more satisfaction and results if a knowledgeable observer can sharpen your movement.

I think I will go practice savasana.

For Baby-Boomers

When the moon is in the seventh house
And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
And Love will steer the stars

How simple life was when we were living in the age of Aquarius. But what the Water-Bearer brought was more of the same. From peasant blouses and flowers in our hair, to a ponzi scheme that financially wiped out millions of people. The full moon shines down tonight. We are all equally guilty as we were all so equally naive. The moon is not the source of light, it merely reflects the sun. We have landed several probes on Mars. After the flower, child, comes the cold hard winter. It is best that we come together; for surely we will die apart.

3 Months, Briefly

It has been awhile since I posted. Nothing much has happened. Except:

My husband had to be hospitalized for his heart.

Went on a 9 day vacation to southern Colorado, camped in 3 National Parks, took 200 photos, bought pumpkins from a Navajo guy.

My best horse died suddenly. **cry**

Changed medicines.

Rode motorcycles.

My back "went out" on me for over a week.

My neck was a pain, in the neck (oddly enough), for 4 days.

Started the Christmas madness, including walking on the house roof. Certainly is helpful that I am not afraid of heights or get vertigo.

Other than that, not much in my life.

Personal

I'm going to get personal now. Previously I have been very careful to not reveal the real Occam. After all, the Internet is full of weirdos, right? I have come to realize that I flatter myself that any weirdo would chose to harass me. So, here is the truth: I'm really a 5 year old beauty queen from Wasilla, Alaska. No? Okay, I'm really a retired sports hero in drag. No? If you really must know, I am a high school drop-out who won a lottery and my blog is ghost written.

I confess. Still not ready for those hordes of perverts I am sure will descend on my remote ranch, should my real identity be known. Actually it is for their own protection. My sweet, darling German Shepherd dog becomes curled lips, shiny teeth and low growls if anyone even thinks of coming down our driveway.

This will be a slight problem if I should have to be out of town for an emergency. Anyone engaged to come and feed the animals would have to stand 2 meters away from said darling, sweet fanged terror and throw food at her. I got her as an adult so I don't know what her previous owners did or didn't do to socialize her. But she's a pretty good guard dog, that's for sure.

Personally, I really love animals. I should have tried harder to go to Vet school. I like everything about them: when they are charming, when I have to clean up after them, when I have to groom them, administer shots, etc.

Possibly the only thing I dislike is when they die. I really hate that. That is something I am going to gripe to God about when I meet the Big Guy in the Sky. Why do pets have to die so young? Kids -and adults - have such a hard time with their passing, especially if violent. Maybe I should get one of those large birds; they have a long life span.

I will not accept the explanation that dealing with the death of animals prepares one for the death of people. I am really selfish. I want all my friends and family to live forever so I won't have to mourn them. I decided when I was age 11 that I was going to die young, so I wouldn't have to lose my parents. Well, that didn't work out. I had to bury them in 1993 and 2002. It's hard. No, no list of dead pet animals can prepare one for losing your dear parents. I am not even going to discuss losing a child. That is so contrary to the normal.

I guess I did get a little personal. Life and death is rather heavy though. No cute one liner to end this time.

Columbine

Columbine, or Aquilegia, is a native wildflower in the rarefied air in the high elevations of the Mountain. This showy, spurred yellow-flowered variety is a treat to find along streams or in damp places. It grows up to 4 feet tall, with it's lacy leaves looking fragile but somehow this tough, hardy perennial has survived fire, drought, logging, etc. and continues to delight explorers of the Arizona high country.

Moon As My Witness

The waning full moon is playing peek-a-boo with me in the scattered clouds tonight. The air is as still as glass. Moist, vegetal scents lay heavy in the warm atmosphere. I walk my dog and all is right with the world.

I was walking my dog in a deep dark night in early June when I twisted my knee so badly that I tore various elements inside my knee. Even though it was 2 AM and I couldn't walk, I knew I'd make it back to the house eventually.

Now I am 2 weeks post-op. That is, I had my knee surgery and I've been healing quickly over the past 14 days. You would have to closely observe me to detect any kind of favoring of my right knee. I've concentrated on walking as normally as possible. The doctor is rather astounded at my quick recovery. Even though at 253 years old, I am older than the Olympic US swimmer Dara Torres, her medal winning performance- in her early 40's - has inspired older women everywhere to believe that age really is just a number.

From the start I believed that I would recover completely and with minimal fuss. As the news got worse and worse: first just a little tear, then a large tear, then two tears, then there was severe arthritis - I steadfastly believed that I would not be overcome. I can do that with physical pain. I don't know how. It may be a gift. I don't think anyone would purposely want to be super-sensitive to pain but I know many people suffer immensely. I am fortunate.

I see the moon come out from behind the clouds. Coyotes howl and yip in the distance. A night hawk swoops by with it's crooked wings. I stand on 2 good legs. And smile.

Chew On Culture Snack, Then Digest

I was going to post this HAIKU poem on a friend's Facebook page but the application was down. Facebook's loss is your gain. It is just for fun and somewhat homophonic. And that has nothing to do with sexual orientation- you will understand homophonic after you have read the poem.

Summer, cicadas

Sunning in a Sassafras

Soon succumbing: Ciao!

I don't know if everyone knows a Sassafras is a tree with a noticeable fragrance; or if everyone knows that Ciao (Chow) is Italian for Good-bye. But a poet always takes a chance that the readers are going to have a blank stare after consuming poetry. Sometimes it needs to be digested.

What 30000 US Dollars Buys

Shortly after the last post I sustained an injury to my knee and was in a leg brace for a week. Then shortly after that, my better half climbed a tree up on the mountain and couldn't wait to come down the conventional way. The fall didn't hurt him; it was the sudden stop. He broke his hip. This necessitated the calling out of the Search & Rescue squad because he was in the forest, high up on a steep bank. They needed to use ropes to lower him down in a basket to get him to the road and the waiting ambulance. Then it took time to just drive down the mountain as this all occured at 8000 feet elevation. I met the ambulance and followed them into town to the hospital. He left leaves, needles, forest dirt everywhere he went. The trauma room looked like a campsite by the time he was taken to a regular patient room. They had to cut his good jeans off him and he was sad.

His hip was pinned back together in surgery a couple days later. Then he had a coronary event and scared everybody pretty badly. This resulted in a 24 hour stay in the Intensive Care Unit and delayed his recovery a bit. So when he was sent home from the hospital, he was quite helpless. People think I'm pretty helpless too, but I managed.

Now a little over a month since it happened, life is starting to resemble his Pre-flight. He is using crutches to go out to the garden to water his melons, etc. Yesterday we went swimming together. Tonight he put together a homemade spaghetti sauce. Oh I forgot to mention, he was so long without a smoke in the hospital, and he had so much trouble breathing, that he has quit smoking cigarettes. Yay!

Soon I plan to drive him back up the mountain so I can see the scene of the crime. What was he doing high up in a big old Pine tree? It is too complicated to explain. Doing a good deed. That will suffice. So much for good deeds. $30,000 USD later in medical expenses --

The Time Is Ripe

I watched a short video today. Two men were driving a lunch truck out in a deserted landscape. The driver looked confident but the passenger was doubtful. He turned on a dirt road and came to a large barren flat, stopped and opened up his kitchen area. The passenger gazed into the emptiness and sat resigned to his fate with this idiot who is parked far, far from any potential customers. Suddenly a meteor steaks passed and impacts nearby. Next scene is of the two men beseiged by hungry people who have converged on the site.

Funny. We can all put ourselves in the place of the passenger. We go along for the ride. It seems pointless. We lack vision. Of course knowing the place a meteor will impact is beyond most of us. But if we spent more time with our mouths shut, and listened with openness and expectation, things greater than selling hot dogs at a meteor crater will come our way. So shut off the TV. Get outside in a garden or a park or other natural spot. Observe. Listen. Shut off your preconceived notions. Where are you now? State facts, not emotion-ladened laments such as "in a mess", "not in as good a place as my family expects," etc. Stay only briefly on this. Then look ahead at where you want to go. Others have been there. It is not impossible. Are you willing to be a person who can sacrifice for a better tomorrow? If not, go back and sit down in front of the TV. Your time is not yet ripe.

Occam Trolls the Web

A while ago I added Carole's MS blog to my links. She's a Canadian woman dealing with a neurological pathology. Her writing makes you feel like you've been listening to your dear sister. And we become better, more compassionate people for it.

Another new blog is by Jiwan about his country Nepal. Jaw dropping photos and particulars right from the source can be seen on Nepal--Shangri-La.

I often troll about the web, looking for those individuals with unique things to teach us. So pop in to see my new friends. But please come back to the Double Barrel Ranch. You never know what I have up my sleeve for the next post.

Mother Nature Ends Fire

The fire wrapped itself up on May 23 because of the wet weather. A rare cold, wet system moved across Arizona dropping temperatures to near historic lows. Snow fell in the mountains, including Mt Graham. Snow fell just above the fire line, and over an inch of rain fell on the fire area itself. Occam has lived here 20 years and she has never seen snow in May, especially late May. She quipped to someone: Global Warming? But she read in the paper this morning that lately temperatures are actually running cooler than normal all across the country. Maybe the world. Does this mean that we are warming in reverse? What? Today the visible snow melted off the peak in the warming breezes. The dirt road portion of Swift Trail, as the mountain road is called, was never reopened after the fire because of the snow. Perhaps it will open tomorrow, now that the Holiday Weekend is finished. Our thanks go to the firefighters who did the best they could in the very difficult terrain of the Frye Mesa fire. Officially they are calling it 3100 acres burned. I'm sure they are at another fire somewhere now, maybe California. Our disaster has been averted, other areas are less fortunate.

Frye Mesa Wildfire, Day Three

Benefiting the fighting of the Frye Mesa Wildfire, the weather has turned remarkably cold and wet, and winds have decreased. This is a huge relief for the 321 personnel on site here in Graham County to aid in containing this combustion and a relief for anyone else who loves our Mountain. Evacuation of all the private cabins, public campgrounds and picnic areas was completed today. This situation has likely spoiled many a plan for the approaching big holiday weekend. Although they predict full containment by Sunday the 25th of May, it hard to say when recreation will be permitted to resume on Mt. Graham.

According to the Incident website, the fire sits at 3500 acres tonight. It is directly 5 miles west of me as the raven flies. There are no visible flames at this time. I'm unsure how much rain has fallen over there but we only got a wee bit. The temperatures have plummeted though. It is 49°F (9°C) at 11:30 PM. Incredibly chilly for late May. After all, it was 106° (41°C) just 2 days ago.

"Anonymous" has commented yesterday that the Frye Mesa Dam is "just fine". That is a relief. By analyzing the map, it looks as if the fire did burn mostly to the east, from Frye Canyon to Deadman Canyon. Both areas were burned in the 2004 Nuttal Fire also. Possibly the lack of taller, "higher story" fuels was an aid to holding this fire to the lower elevations. The higher story fuels being previously consumed by the 2004 conflagration.

According to the official sources, the fire began as a spot fire at 1:00 PM, that took off so fast in the high winds that by 1:15 PM they declared it out-of-control. Think of that the next time you are in a wildland setting and are a little careless with your campfire or smoking materials. Those prescribed burn folks were the "experts" and they could not control a spark, you'd have a much smaller chance and could possibly trap yourself or your loved ones. Nobody is beyond learning from this event, professional or casual tourist in the natural world. Fire is friend or foe. Do all you can to ensure it remains our servant.

Photos by David Peters, Bureau of Land Management.

Frye Mesa Wildfire, Day Two

Frye Mesa Wildfire. I stand corrected. It was human caused like 88% of all "forest" fires. (The May 2000 Cerro Grande fire, New Mexico, also started as a prescribed burn. It damaged the Los Alamos National Laboratories.) So sadly, the rumor has been confirmed: a prescribed burn got away from the Forest Service.

You know it is fire season in Arizona if the first thing one hears early in the morning is the sound of helicopters taking fire retardant to a wildfire. At 10:30 AM today it was listed at 1000 acres burned.

Due to the sustained winds, it has vigorously burned in an easterly direction all day. Helicopters and air tankers have been grounded since mid-morning due to the winds. Gusts of 55 MPH have been recorded here today. The incident supervisors are securing local equipment and supplies for a prolonged battle. The fire laid low this morning but after the wind came, smoke rose high all day. Tonight the smell of wood burning, so welcome under the happy occasion of a campfire, is a constant reminder of the loss and devastation just a few miles to the west of me.

The ultimate culprit of the fire is a noxious weed called Sweet Resinbush that infects Frye Mesa. Various herbicides were tried to eradicate it. Most failed to work optimally due to the weather being dry, or they caused damage to such native species as Barrel Cactus or Prickly Pear Cactus. It was introduced as an erosion control plant some years ago. Instead, it became a monoculture, crowding out the natives and ironically leaving the land even more susceptible to erosion. "The best laid plans of men." In addition, cattle and wildlife would not eat it. How could this error be rectified? Burn it. Unfortunately, somebody authorized the burn on a day that a Red Flag Warning was issued. The Red Flag indicates critical fire weather conditons exist because of high wind, low humidity and warm temperatures. Danger indeed.

Mt. Graham has a 7000 foot drop in 7 miles, a dramatic change that paints a clear picture of the steep terrain. The fire is burning up and down various canyons now, perpendicular to the slope up toward the crown jewel, the lovely highest elevations so carefully tended by man. That is the good news for now but the progress depends so much on the weather, and the skill of the fire fighters.

I keep wondering what has happened to the Frye Mesa Dam. A 107 foot concrete arch dam built 79 years ago, the small reservoir is stocked with trout in the winter months for anglers. At 4639 feet (1413 m.) in elevation, the sparkling waters are likely spoiled for many years, perhaps permanently. Run off after a burn is boosted for 3 to 5 years. Blackened soil, rocks, wood debris all flow freely from steep burned slopes. The spillway is sure to be under tremendous pressure. I imagine the whole existence of the reservoir and dam is threatened.

I'm trying to not imagine the horror in those canyons and ridges. Animals fleeing. Scenic glades ravaged. The orange glow and sparks are clearly seen from here. It is altogether unhappy. Rain, come soon.