Connections

Curves Ahead!

Driving the Waterpocket Fold in Capitol Reef National Park.

I was looking over some of my favorite unshared photos during the year and thought I'd finish up 2004 by choosing a few at random.  This one was taken at the pass on the top of the Waterpocket Fold.  There are actually seven switchbacks--some are partially obscured in this photo.  This is one of my favorite views in my favorite National Park (of the ones I've seen) although Glacier National Park is a close second. Generally the youngest rocks are on the surface and the oldest far below.  Because of the waterpocket fold there is a 100-mile stretch where millions of years of geology is exposed side-by-side.  It is possible to drive--or walk if you have the time--from age to age.  For information on the waterpocket fold, click here. 

Chirimoyas

Chirimoyas in a market in Chillan, Chile

This morning as I was having orange juice my mind, as it often does these days, drifted back to Chile and I really wanted to have some Chirimoya Allegre.  Literally translated it means Happy Chirimoya and consists of pouring fresh-squeezed orange juice over the peeled & seeded fruit.  These bumpy green fruits taste like a cross between a pineapple and a banana and have a semi-sweet,  melt-in-your-mouth taste.  Many restaurants have Chirimoya Allegre on their dessert menu.  It is possible to get them in my grocery store but instead of the 3 for $1 price in Chile, they are $4 each and are usually too ripe.

Actually I loved all the food I tried in Chile.  The locals eat beef and pork a little often for my taste but it is wonderful beef and pork. My favorites were the many different varieties of seafood.  We also had lamb roasted over hot coals (cordero asado en palo) and I finally found a way to prepare lamb that I really liked.  Hmmm, since I'm salivating just thinking of all the wonderful food, I'll add a photo so you can see Jose roasting the lamb.

Cordero Asado en palo

Back on the farm!

Pope, a Chilean Criollo horse wearing a Huaso-style saddle..

I spent my first 14 years on a horse and cattle ranch in southeastern Colorado.  I rode western style on quarterhorses or thoroughbreds and actually participated in several round-ups and cattle drives.  Though I have not had access to horses since high-school, I have always had an interest in and affection for all things horsey.

A year ago our hosts purchased a small farm 350 kilometers south of Santiago.  One of the highlights of our trip was spending a full week on the farm with fields of recently planted crops and many animals including horses, chickens, cats and dogs. I rode for the first time in a Chilean style saddle perched on a registered Chilean Criollo horse.  The saddles were very comfortable and the horses were well trained. 

The father of our host had been a huaso, Chilean cowboy, in his younger years.  He talked to us about the Chilean rodeo which is very different from the ones in the U.S.  The huaso costume is also quite differen from the way U.S. cowboys dress..  You can see photos of both here. 

The photo below is of a tack-store in Parral Chile.

Neruda's Fish

Replica of fish mounted on top of Neruda's Isla Negra House.

This fish has become the symbol of Neruda, his de facto logo. The original sit atop the turret portion of his favorite of his three houses--all now open to the public as museums. The other two are in Valparaiso and Santiago. Isla Negra is neithr black nor an island though Neruda wrote of it as his refuge from the outside world so perhaps in figurative terms it was his island. Though Neruda willed his houses and all his collections to the Neruda Foundation to be operated as public museums and requested that he and his wife Mathilde be buried at Isla Negra, none of those requests were honored for almost 20 years.

Neruda died in 1973 just 12 days after Chile's Sept. 11 coup in which Allende's government was overthrown by Augusto Pinochet. After Neruda'a death all three homes were confiscated by the military and closed. Only Isla Negra escaped looting and vandalism. Mathilde fought to preserve the homes and was allowed access but could not enforce the Will. In 1992, two years after the restoration of democracy to Chile, the remains of Pablo Neruda and Mathilde urrutia were moved from the public cemetery to Isla Negra.

The house itself is an "add-a-room" house that grew as Neruda's many collections grew. His bedroom featured a breathtaking panoramic view of the boisterous Pacific as it pounded the black rocks covered in sun-sparkled clumps of conchallollu --heavy black seaweed. Monique Filsnoel has written a beautiful description of the house and its contents for Literary Traveler.

Neruda's house, grounds and foundation headquarters viewed from the beach.

Life's Incongruities...

Safe cell in Santiago:  Stop vehicle before answering the phone.

Our second day in Chile we took a morning walk through the residential area where we were staying. Traffic had slowed some because it was past the rush hour but we were notiicing the different makes and models of cars that are not common in the U.S.--most of them much smaller. Also, it is not uncommon to see horse-drawn carts, like the one above, making their way through the streets. At first glance at the picture it is not apparent that he has a cell phone because he has it to his right ear, but it was there. We heard the ring and watched as he pulled it off his belt to answer it. I loved these carts. Most of them in the city are quite colorful. The ones on the farm are more utilitarian and rarely painted. I must admit I imposed too frequently on our hosts to stop the car so that I could photograph these carts.

Connecting...

Four "Estadounidenses" with our Chilean hosts

In South America people from the USA are referred to as, roughly translated, United Statesens because South Americans refer to themselves as Americans also.

On Halloween morning the four of us arrived for our Chilean adventure.  Each couple left the airport with their respective families, slept for a while then rejoined that evening for a barbecue at J & C's home where this photo was taken.  The two men were both guests in our home when their respective companies sent them to a language school near us for an intensive English course.  We have visited Chile twice before, J & C and one of their sons have visited in our home once and our oldest son and his wife have visited them. They have truly become our family.

Paula and I met in 1998 in an online list for journal keepers called ScribeTribe.  Three months later we met in person then added husbands to the mix and the four of us have been close friends since.  In 2000 Paula and I went to Barcelona together to write about and photograph Catalonia.  We wanted to introduce Paula and Dave to Chile and our friends there so we made plans for this trip about six months ago.

C's grandfather, father of O-mama in the photo, created and catalogued  the family trees of all the German families who colonized the Southern part of Chile in the 1920's.  What a wonderful collective of people and backgrounds we discovered just by being  a host family for international adults.  I treasure them all.

Leaving Autumn, Entering Spring!

Autumn ivy on our side fence

Today at noon we say goodbye to Autumn and in just 17 hours we will step off the plane in Chile to Spring and two and a half weeks of antipodal experiences. We are taking our dear friends Paula and Dave with us. Neither has been to South America. They are in for such a treat and we are eager to re-connect with our many friends there.

See you in three weeks.

Travel Can Heal!

Mapuche mask from Chile

This past weekend as we were driving to see my parents in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, we picked up a copy of USA Today which contained this article by Rick Steves.

I feel so strongly that all people, especially the young, should be encouraged to travel both within our own country and to other countries because according to Mark Twain, "Travel is fatal to bigotry, intolerance and narrow mindedness."

And so, to live what we advocate, we are going October 30 to Chile and taking some friends with us. We know some of what we will see but I always tell our foreign friends to tell us--or show us--what they would like us to know about their country and their people. We have never been disappointed and always see things that would not be on any tour.

The blog has been inconsistant lately but upon return I promise to write and photograph more often.

Huaso y Huasa

Chilean dolls made from horsetail hair

Summer is officially over and I've begun to face the fact that Winter is coming shortly with its unpredictable weather. Suddenly I am deep in the clutches of wanderlust. Today I began thinking about our upcoming trip to Chile and looked back at some photos from our last trip in November 2001 to spark memories.

On that trip we met J's father who is a bona fide old time huaso (horseman) and he showed us his Chilean riding clothes and his huaso-style saddle with the carved wooden stirups. At his farm we were served corderso asado en palo--young lamb roasted on a metal pole. On our way back to Santiago we stopped at a market in Chillan where I bought the Huaso and Huasa dolls in the photo above. I was told they would make good Christmas tree orniments but I've just kept them in my case of "favorite things" as memory pegs to hang my Chilean experiences on.

In just five weeks we'll be returning to Chile for the third time and this time we'll be taking some dear friends with us. Our friends in Chile have written that they're taking us to the volcanoes-and-lakes region as well as the area where C's grandfather was one of the original German colonists from the 1920's. I am anxious to see still more of this beautiful country and its friendly people.

Caught in the Act!

On our delta trip, Muncie had been digging in the mud to show us the small crabs that lived there. As he was quite muddy he stepped into the shallow river to wash off and touched something with his foot. He took off his shirt and scooped it up to show us these two crabs mating. He said that in all his years on the river he had never seen crabs this color and didn't know if it was a different type of crab or if the coloration was part of the mating ritual. In either case, in a totally non-scientific, anthropomorphic observation, I find it interesting that the male appears jubilant with claws raised while the female covers her eyes!

Cruising down the delta

On this craft I spent nearly five hours winding through mangrove forests of the Parnaiba Delta.

The highlight, for me, of our recent trip to Brazil was being in the tropical forests on this small diesel-powered boat with 6 friends, throbbing to the put-put-put of the engine and thrilling to the spectacular jungle scenes which appeared around each bend in the river. We saw many birds and heard but never saw monkeys. We saw a cayman, herons and four-eyed fish. We passed two-man canoes and men digging for crabs in the slick mangue mud held fast by the claws of the mangrove roots in this rare estuarial eco-system where fresh river water intermingles with incoming tidewaters from the Atlantic Ocean.

Two young women in our group sunbathed on the roof while others rode on the bow in front of the driver's shelter. It was a slow but sturdy craft equipped with a clean and environmentally-correct bathroom and holding tank. After two hours we stopped to climb the dunes of the delta for a view of the Atlantic. We had to remove our shoes as the sandy bog would suck them down and hold them--my first understanding of what quicksand might be like.

The scheduled four-hour trip, which extended to almost 5 hours because Muncie--our driver--took extra time to point out wildlife along the way, cost 100 Reals for the 7 of us--about $6 US per adult. no charge for the child.

We docked and followed Muncie to his home where he had insisted we park our two cars for safe-keeping. Muncie had been referred to Gisela by a mutual friend, an Ecology professor at the University where she had studied, who owns a house on the river. Everyone we've met has been incredibly friendly and generous, doing everything possible to make our discovery of their country enjoyable.

Delta dunes deposited along the river by incoming ocean tides

Teresina Micarina

Chiclete con Banana block of Trio Electrico in Teresina
The following, along with the sketch in the photo above, is from my sketchbook journal for July 11, 2004:

Forty Years! I woke to a kiss from Bob and he presented me with a beautiful carved ivory-tusk pendant from a fossilized mammoth that had been buried under the ice in Alaska for 50,000 years and, finally released by melting, was carved by an Eskimo carver. It is set in gold filigree on a short gold chain. I am absolutely enchanted by it--and the man who has been my husband for 40 years. I’ve always said I didn’t want any ivory as I didn’t want to encourage or condone anyone killing animals to get it, but since the animal had been buried for 50,000 years, I shall wear it with a clear conscience. Bob, who usually doesn’t like to keep secrets--or plan so far ahead, ordered it three months ago from one of his Science Magazines.

For Sunday lunch, NeNe fixed Picanya—a roast beef dish, rice, vegetables, wild chicken, and a barbecue-flavored pot roast. After a rest we went to Tia Maria’s house for pao do quejo (Cheese bread) and bolo do goma (tapioca cake) and coffee. Our friend Paolo from Italy once told us, “When we have a guest, we feed it.” And so it is in Brazil.

G and W had participated in Micarina the night before we arrived and wanted us to experience it also but all other nights were sold out. Tia Maria’s son called today to say that he had found eight tickets that a friend wasn’t going to use since Monday was a work day, so we were able to go and sit in a box in the two-story grandstand to watch the trio electrico.

Three huge 18-wheeler trucks, mounted with mammoth speakers made their way slowly up a three-block area and back with dance bands playing on each one. Before and after each truck were approximately 500 revelers, called a block, who bought special t-shirts that served as their ticket/ID to get behind the ropes and accompany their chosen truck. Because the trucks could take as much as five hours to complete the route, there were also 18-wheeler bathroom and refreshment trucks within each “block.”

Because we were advised not to take cameras I have only a sketch from my journal in which I tried to capture from memory this incredible scene. Imagine 10 more people performing on top of the truck and 1000 more accompanying it down the street. What energy! I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. Maybe when I was younger I could have managed five hours of truck following but for the present it was enough to be in the box with 15 people dancing and bouncing the grandstand floor to the loudest, most rhythmic music I’ve ever heard.
To watch a video of Yvete Sangolo performing in a trio electrico in Salvador Bahia, click here.

Conserve and Educate!

Spring-fed pool in Agua Mineral National Park in Brasilia
On our last morning in Brasilia, Rosana took us to this national park just off the North Wing. We walked for two hours taking two different trails and perusing the exhibits in the park's visitor center. The highlights of the park, and the reason it is protected, are the natural springs which surface and feed the several ponds and a huge mineral water swimming pool. Many people visit the park only to spend the day swimming and picnicking. Others go to run the shaded trails. Still others just go to appreciate the vegetation and the animals for whom it provides habitat.

As we walked the trails we passed a woman who recognized us as Americans and ran after us on the trail to tell us of something we might like to see. We followed her to a hole a few feet off the trail where small tufts of dirt were being tossed out. Soon a young Tatu (armadillo) emerged. I'd seen them from a distance but never so close--and, of course I took its picture. Everywhere we've been people have gone out of their way to introduce us to aspects of their country not found on any tour. I love to travel!

I am so thankful that there are people and governments all around the world who value conservation of natural habitats and education on how we all depend on the total ecosystem for continuation of the wild places we know and want our children and grandchildren to be able to enjoy.

As we were leaving we saw the large metal structure in the photo below. After a little translation we learned that these cages had been full of protected bird species being smuggled out of Brazil. Park personnel created a labyrinth whose path led one person at a time to the center which similates a larger cage imprisoning the person as the birds had been. It is a graphic symbol to help people understand the importance of curbing poaching and protecting endangered species of animals and birds. Those of you who've read my blog before know that I am a card-carrying tree hugger and animal lover, so I gladly say, "Way to go, Brazil!"

Labyrinth made from cages confiscated from poachers carrying endangered birds.

A plane-shaped city!

Relief map of Plano Piloto in The Lucio Costa Memorial
Brasilia is one of several planned capitals located around the world, Canberra Australia and Asad in Nigeria being two others that I know of. It is notable because of the plan created by urban planner Lucio Costa and designed by architect Oscar Niemeyer which was accepted by governmental committees in 1957 and construction completed in 1960.

"In deference to the theory of modernism in architecture, the plot plan of the city was of a bird in flight, or an airplane. Government and administrative buildings form the body of the plane, while residential and shopping areas extend out the wings. The city was planned with space set aside in every residential block for apartments, restaurants, shops and services. The theory that each apartment block, quadra, would create its own egalitarian neighborhood. Planning down to the smallest detail, including the color and make of taxi cabs and bus drivers uniforms, the urban planners allowed for a maximum of 500,000 residents. Instead, with the thousands of workers that came to build the city, and stayed, the population growth spurred a number of "satellite" cities surrounding the capital."

The complete article from which the above quote was taken can be found here.
and beautiful photos of this most unusually designed city can be found here.
One of our hostess' daughters, who is a third-year architectural student, took us on an architectural tour of Brasilia. We visited the memorial to Lucio Costa at which the photo above was taken. The city's design has as many critics as champions because of its block-style residential buildings. The housing structures are all similar and very much "function before form." The design functions extremely well, including the highway designs built without intersections--or traffic lights--except in the individual strip malls accompanying each "Super Block." Each superblock is designed to be self-sustaining: Ideally one need not go beyond one's immediate neighborhood for gas, food and basic necessities. The buildings are neither externally artistic nor particularly interesting but the inside of the apartment where we stayed was quite charming.

Following our tour we joined the other two sisters and invited them to dinner at a restaurant of their choice which featured food we might not find on our own. They chose a restaurant called the Magic Miner which served food from the neighboring state of Minas Gerais. The food was "stick to your ribs" farm food featuring chicken, pork, fish, beef, rice, beans, garden vegetables--all prepared by frying, stewing, boiling or braising and accompanied by desserts and sauces from dairy products. The photo below shows the buffet selections from which we could choose.

Food in the Minas Gerais Style

Beer and Beach Day!

Ipanema Beach in the Rain
Journal entry from Rio
Today M showed us several small, sparsely populated beaches then drove us to the Copacabana area where we parked in a space at L's condo. From there we walked first along Historic Copacabana Beach then onto the newer and smaller Ipanema Beach. On the latter we took climbing trails up to the top of some rocks that offered great views of surfers, runners and futbol players. As skies were overcast--and it actually did rain for about half an hour--few sunbathers were on the beach. Many people, however, walked the promenade or ate and drank in the beachside cafes or pub-bars along Copacabana Beach.

After our walk we returned to the home of L who was now back from her English lessons. She joined us in walking back to the beach for a Choppe (a draft beer pronounced shope)—actually she had 7, one after the other, stating frankly that she loves to drink beer and has a rule to never eat anything until she has finished three Choppes. She even takes a pre-emptive pill to prevent tomorrow’s hangover. She’s an amazing 68-year-old woman who has lived in and traveled to many of the world’s most famous cities. In the early years of her marriage she followed her naval officer husband from city to city as women weren’t allowed on the ship overnight but were given flights from port to port-- to meet their husbands when they were docked-- and guest quarters to stay in while the husbands were at sea. What a great opportunity to learn of the world when young and without children. After their children began to arrive, she worked as an elementary school teacher until she retired three years ago. Since the death of her husband she busies herself taking English and French lessons and a course on information processing for the computer. She qualifies as the first “character” of this trip. And-- she walked home with hardly a wobble though, after seven beers in about an hour, she no longer even tried to speak English.

Every Wednesday there is a vegetable, flower and fish market in the parking lot by G and M's apartment. I absolutely love the availability of tropical fruits and fresh vegetables here. The photo below is of one vender's display.
Wednesday vegetable market

Sugar Loaf, up close and personal

Walking trail on Rio's Sugar Loaf Mountain

We had taken the cable car to the top of Sugar Loaf on a previous trip. From that distance we had a wonderful view, but we were still spectators. I had no idea that it was possible to walk beside the Atlantic on the edge of a tropical forest on this often photographed mountain protruding from the bay at Red Beach. Marla took us there on our first morning in Rio.

Below is one of hundreds of marmosets who live in this forest. Brazilian locals call them micos. They were amazingly tame, even allowing the brave--or maybe the foolhardy--to touch their tails. I love watching them up close but I've had enough experience with the unpredictable behavior of wild animals that I would never touch one. They may be accustomed to people invading their habitat, but they are not pets.

One of many marmosets that approached us on the trail.

It's good to be home but I am still a bit sleep deprived and disoriented. Before I can begin to blog in earnest I have some necessary mundanities to handle. The kitchen floor is a mess and my favorite mop bucket, with a convenient wringer attached, has sprung a leak so I have to search for a new one. Also I came home to find that the clothes rod in my closet chose this two-week period to decide that it could no longer hold my clothing. The rod and all my hanging clothes were on the closet floor--with the hangers still in place on the rod. Tomorrow I must drive twenty miles to the place that sells this particular replacement holder for the rod. Not really how I wanted to spend the day!

One of the joys of visiting former houseguests in their countries is that we are treated to wonderful experiences not on any tourist map. I'll try to share a few in coming days.

Off to Brazil

Lake Tahoe sunset with geese

With Lake Tahoe--above--still on my mind and in my dreams, with two weeks time out for my son's wedding, tomorrow we leave for two weeks in Brazil. We will make short stops in Rio and Brasilia en route to our final destination of Teresina for the Brasilian wedding celebration. I'm almost on sensory overload but there is no way I would miss this opportunity. We will participate in a 4-day carnival being held there July 8-11, spend some time in the countryside then return to Teresina for the big party July 17. While there my husband and I will celebrate our 40th anniversary. What a month of celebrations!

The blog will be active again around July 21 if I'm not jet-lagged or sleep deficient when we return. See you then.

Poetry as a marketing tool.

Watershed in Lamoille Canyon, Nevada

When we first began to drive through Nevada's Basin-and-Range country, I didn't know enough about it to appreciate it. On subsequent trips we veered off the highway and visited some of the small towns like Ely, Eureka and Austin. I've come to love and appreciate this interesting and colorful state. During this trip we stopped at the Eureka town museum where I picked up this free promotional book published by the Nevada Commission on tourism. It is called THE DIRT. YOUR NITTY-GRITTY, DOWN-AND-DIRTY GUIDE TO NEVADA, THE WILDEST ADVENTURE STATE IN THE LOWER 48

It is a small book whose chapter-heading pages feature magnificent scenery with prose poetry superimposed over the photos. I've copied the poetry below. The bold words or phrases are the chapter headings.

Introduction:

In these days of information bombast and ever-shrinking horizons,
There is, it seems, a need, an unspoken yearning to tap into something more meaningful
More primal, more real.

It’s the need for adventure,
Of chasing down moments that challenge us, change us
And engage us wholly in the wonder of now.

With more vast and curious public land
Than any other state in the lower 48,

Nevada welcomes all nomadic souls like you,
Those seeking asylum from the artificial
Aspirations that complicate our time.
We’re a state of epic adrenaline poetry,
Rugged run-on sentences of pure,
Unyielding beauty,
A big-scale improvisation on the theme of being alive.
Now alpine-awed, now manic-moonscaped,
Nevada is self-empowerment by drastic means.

An original place, a mysterious place,
A richly rewarding place.
But be forewarned, there is nothing easy about it,
Except the decision to come.

Let this guidebook inform you, let it inspire you,
Let it take you to whatever extreme you need to go.
And as you do, remember to go safely
With respect for the land,
And to savor your journey for all it holds.

Walk in the wild

Have you gone too far?
You heard the last horn honk at mile three.
The air lost weight at the timberline.
The path’s no longer beaten.
Prior footfalls have grown faint.
And you’re only…

Where are you?

Chasing It!

You came with the intent of defining your limits.
Have you done it already?
No?

There's rumble left in that engine,
Power in those legs,
And leaving this savagely seductive landscape
Would be criminal.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Keep Going.

Your Rock

Its climb mimics life’s blueprint,
A cosmic fusion of holds,
Contortions and abrupt encounters with greatness.
A primordial puzzle begging for your solution.
Use its features.
Reach.
Enjoy what happens next.

The backcountry

By foot,
By horseback,
Through peaks,
Valleys
Climates cold and warm.

The search takes many forms.
And with every change
Comes a change in you.

A different wave

Don’t try to explain it.
Let these siren-song dunes
Fuel your mission.
Conquer these wind-weary ravines
That could only be the paths
Of a giant’s dragging knuckles.
Ride.

Where Pavement ends

Thriving beyond the horizon
Traveling by singular means,
More emphasis on method
Than result.
Yes.
There’s always something left
In the tank.

Current affairs

And still,
There are the age-old sources
Of adventure and inspiration,
Consistent with their beginnings,
Ends
And middles,
Their remarkable stories
Are perpetual works in progress
Hinged on the arc of their latest hero.

Rare air everywhere

Awed by the exploits
Of the new-and-improved you,
You must go on.
Maybe
There are no limits.
Maybe you’ve just now arrived at the beginning.
Maybe you’ve only caught a glimpse
Of all that you’re capable of.
Maybe.

Coming together
Gatherings.
Mettle-affirming encounters
Not only with those of a comparable ilk,
But with yourself,
In arenas that embrace you.
Welcome common impulses
And celebrate.

If you wish to know more about Nevada or order a copy of this delightful book, go here.

Ruby Grandeur!

Not yet "ruby" mountain at mid-afternoon

Six years ago we began taking our yearly trip to Lake Tahoe in our motorhome. The first year we discovered the Ruby Mountains that are located 28 miles west of Elko Nevada in Lamoille canyon. Since that time we have stayed five times in the Thomas canyon campground in the Humboldt National Forest. Depending on the amount of cloud cover, the temperature, the humidity etc., the colors that climb up the mountain as the sun sets vary from a pinkish-gold to an orangish-red to a deep ruby-burgundy. Always it is an experience worth waiting for.

Our present routine is to go west on highway 50 and return east by way of I-80 and highway 40. On every trip we encounter something unexpected but a highlight of our trip is always our stay at Ruby Mountains.

Ruby mountain in the afterglow of sunset

Murals as town history

The charcoal ovens mural in Ely Nevada, painted 2003

Each year we travel from Capitol Reef NP to Tahoe California by way of Highway 50, called the loneliest highway in the U.S. Along this road are some quaint old towns, still vital, boasting some of the most colorful history of the gold and copper mining days. One such town is Ely, Nevada. Not too long ago, Ely looked just like most of the other small towns along highway 50 until the Ely artists came up with an idea to give color--and highlight Ely's history-- by asking for sponsors to commission art to cover the dull gray cinderblock walls on the parking-lot side of most town businesses. The idea took hold and now it is common to see travelers parked on the main street of Ely walking around the town taking photos of the town murals--and staying for lunch or coffee. During the summer tourist season, walking tours of the murals are given several times a day.
I took photos of about 15. The town's website features some of the older ones. Take a look!

I am constantly amazed at the determination exhibited by the pioneers and miners who forged West and created a life in these sometimes forbidding conditions.

Miners bathing area!

Road Trip

Front and rear views of our Sea Breeze motorhome

We have owned our present house for 31 years and last night, after only two weeks away, it felt somehow unaccomodating. For 14 days we stayed in magnificent canyons, in high mountain forests and on the shores of lakes. Between stays in National Parks, National Forests and State Parks in four states we rolled along in our motor home on what once were called Blue Highways because they were marked on maps in blue. Now they are marked in red so we've begun to call them Red Roads. We do not use the built-in TV, preferring CD's especially chosen for the trip. We "dry" camped except for the four days in Tahoe when we camped in a forest campground-gone-commercial that provided water, electricity, hot showers, laundry,phone hook-ups for computers and a holding-tank dump.

Over the years I have become an avid devotee of road trips. Sights, sounds, seasonal changes and rhythms become available as we roll and stop through the countryside. We also meet like-minded others who are road tripping. We met a man who had just graduated from a Masters Program and was treating himself to a 4,000 mile bike ride across the country. We met a couple from Nuremburg Germany who bought a used motorhome four years ago, which they store at a friend's house in Wisconsin, and come each year to travel the U.S. for six to eight weeks. We met our first "character" of the trip--a 52-year-old theater major at a California university, taking 7 hours per quarter, who trailer-traveled with his mother until she died and now uses her money to tour the country. On a cold Nevada night in Bob Scott National Forest Campground the three of us huddled around a campfire and listened to his adventures for over two hours.

The photo below shows the view behind the visitor's center of Capitol Reef National Park.

The last photo shows our first campsite where we stayed for three nights. This campsite is located in a fruit orchard originally planted by the Mormon pioneers who first settled in this challenging topography.

For the next few days this blog will most likely become a travel blog. Be forewarned!

Tahoe bound!

After having missed a number of posts this week, I am now leaving town for two weeks. I will be able to check in mid-trip and send some stories and photos. We plan to stay three days in Capitol Reef National Park with two more stops in state parks on our way to Tahoe.

My husband will run in the Decille Memorial Relays for his 26th conscecutive year. All seven of the team members are former Western Air Lines pilots who became Delta pilots after the merger. The current "Old Birds" running team began running together in their mid-thirties and now are all over 63 years of age with the oldest being 65. It has become a reunion of sorts as the seven runners and their wives rent a condo on the lake shore and gather for a pre-race party and lots of catching up with each other.

Some of the team members can no longer run but the race managers have given them the honorary unofficial number 00 so they can "mess with the rules" all they want as long as they continue coming back each year. When they were younger they finished the 73-mile course by 3:30 p.m and were in the hot tub with a beer by 4:00. Two years ago, the last year they actually ran consecutive legs, they broke 12 hours, finishing a few minutes after 7:00 p.m. The past two years they have dropped off runners at each change-over point and let each one complete his leg running, walking or--in one case--biking without waiting for the preceding runner to tag him. All seven have completed their assigned 10+ miles and finished around 1:00 p.m. the last two years. They still have to train for the race and they get to enjoy the race energy all around them while making it something they can all still participate in. The race coordinators have given them awards as the team that has made the most consecutive appearances at the annual event. My honey begins training in January, slowly building up to where he can run for two hours straight. He's ready for the race and I'm ready for the trip. Lake Tahoe just happens to be one of my favorite places. We now take our motorhome and stay in South Lake Tahoe for four or five days to enjoy the beautiful setting.

I will check in--and if I can upload some photos to my laptop--I will post from Tahoe around June 10.

Highway of Legends

Just East of La Veta Pass on the Highway of Legends leading into the small town of La Veta, Colorado, I stopped to take this photo. We ate lunch in La Veta and talked with many residents on this Saturday morning. We saw a crowd at the high school (that we discovered had 75 students this year) so we investigated. A boy of about 8 or 9 came bouncing toward us, one hand holding his father's hand and the other clasping a shiny medal on a red ribbon. When we asked what was the occasion, the father said, "Little kids' wrestling." The competition had just finished. When we returned to our car we noticed a trailhead about a block from the school with a sign that read, La Veta High School Interpretative Trail. Each year the graduating class completes a "Class Project" for the community. The trail was made by one such class whose members still contribute time and money for its maintenance.

The scenery is breath-taking and you can bet that the next time we're out this way we'll complete our tour on the Highway of Legends.

Road Trips and Yard Art

I love road trips. Several times a year we make the 12 hour drive to visit my aging parents. We try to vary the scenery by veering onto "Blue Highways" wherever possible. The term blue highways got its name from older maps which marked the less-traveled paved two-lane highways in blue--and was later immortalized in William Least Heat-Moon's book Blue Highways.

We try to walk the streets of several different small towns on each trip. During last week's 4-day swing through rural Colorado and New Mexico we stopped in Truth or Consequences and Española New Mexico, Monte Vista and La Veta Colorado. T. or C. was the largest with a population of 7,300 (2100 over the age of 65). La Veta's population is small enough that it is not individually listed but is grouped with three other small towns into a total population for Huerfano County at just slightly above 7000.

T. or C. is located in a high desert area. Water is at such a premium that most yard areas are landscaped with colored rock, various cactus plants or yard art. Yard Art is an ambiguous term which can include ornamentation ranging from elegant sculptures to plastic kitsch, but even the smallest yard has something. My parents' yard is ornamented with maroon pebbles dotted with large quartz rocks and shells collected from their travels. I took the photo above while walking in the neighborhood. Personally, I prefer grass and flowers but I don't know in which direction I'd venture if forced into no-water landscaping. My first choice would be Xeriscaping, but failing that, who knows? I can only promise one thing: NO PLASTIC FLOWERS!

Warning--political note:

My BushGreenWatch email newletter came today and Once again I am appalled at this administration's cavalier attitude toward the Environment and any laws which protect it.

Frost, Fog and Festival

Saturday morning, 5:30 a.m.--without coffee. Standing in the fog beside frosted cattails and spiderwebs. Listening to cranes chortling and hoping the rising sun will burn off the fog. It didn't. The geese, more rested and flight ready, flew. The cranes did not. After two hours and no crane take-offs, we took off. By 8:00 a.m. we were sitting in the Sky-High Recreation Center in downtown Monte Vista savoring the local Kiwanis Club's All-You-Can-Eat Pancakes-and-Ham breakfast.

In small town America it takes no time at all to fall into conversation. This morning's talk is of last night's heartbreaking loss by the Monte Vista class double-A basketball team at the State Championships. Our table companion asks, "where ya from?" I tell her, " Denver, but we're just returning from T. or C. New Mexico where we visited my parents." "Oh," she said, "my sister lives there. She and my brother-in-law were at the ballgame last night to watch their grandson play. " "They wouldn't by any chance be named DePriest?" I ask. They are. They are also my parents' closest friends in New Mexico and we had missed seeing them because they had come to see the game. Small town. Small world.

After breakfast we toured the craft fair. We paid $5 for 6 raffle tickets to win a handmade quilt featuring fabric-printed photos of various species of owls and hawks. The money raised will go to Hawks Aloft, a rescue and rehabilitation organization for injured birds.

Local artists stood by booths selling bonnets and tortilla warmers or carved and painted wild birds made in his spare time by a Highway Department ditch inspector. Another exhibitor shows off his special bird feeders made from China cups and saucers purchased from ARC and Goodwill, a hobby he began when he retired after his 30-year job as a cross-country trucker. Yet another booth features barn-wood birdhouses and hand-carved walking sticks. Along with the crafted products, each booth-sitter has a story and it spills out to anyone who will listen.

I love small towns. Both my husband and I grew up in small farming towns--2000 miles apart. I love to visit them and reconnect with my roots--and all the good qualities such towns offer. But with the passage of time, 40 years of urban living and the certain knowledge of just how hard small-town life can be sometimes, I could no longer live there full-time.

Home-sewn bonnets and tortilla warmers.