Jackson, Wy -- A Short Trip With A Fun Event

   Last week dw and I drove to Jackson, Wyoming to watch her brother Steve and Steve's SO Kay, run a marathon.   Actually we only watched the finish -- we were awake, but we didn't get up to watch the 7:30 start, and we didn't find a spot to watch any part of the middle of the run -- so by "watching a marathon" I mean we waited at the finish for fifteen minutes and actually watched the last fifty yards of the 26+ mile run.   But our thoughts were positive and we offered strong moral support.  As we drove to our spot at the finish we passed both Steve and Kay as they ran on a road-side path.   We honked  waved and yelled in a strongly supportive fashion. 
   Our stay in Jackson was only two days so we didn't do any hiking -- it was mostly a social event.  We  (dw and I) did visit the National Museum of Wildlife Art, located just north of Jackson.  The 1994 building is reminiscent of Anasazi ruins, and the collection is, as advertised, wildlife art --  Mostly but not exclusively American artists and North American wildlife -- nearly all of the art is realistic.  The subjects and style of art isn't particularly to our taste, but we were glad we went and it's a very nice museum / collection.
   Eating in Jackson was a disappointment (for me).  First we went to the Snake River Brewery (good beer, as it happens).  I ordered a BBQ pulled-pork sandwich.  The bun was stale, the pork was too sweet without much flavor and was nearly cold.  The fries were cold.  And it wasn't cheap.  In my opinion, go there for the beer and pass on the food.  We also ate at Thai Me Up.  I ordered drunken noodles (no alcohol involved) with chicken.  It tasted good but the chicken seemed to be the same sort of faux glop that McDonalds uses to make it's McNuggets.  For the price I expected better than that.  But as I said, it tasted good (true, it's hard to mess up Thai).
  
   Small events along the road:
    Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayer was in Teton Village (where the marathon finished) -- We didn't see her but there were a bunch of Secret Service guys lurking around with their ear buds and dark glasses.  One was wearing a magenta colored shirt and tie! -- I didn't think that would be allowed. 
   We went to the Jackson Farmers Market where I found a selection of Stetson hats for only 40 dollars.  I felt the craving for another hat but they only offered XXL or XXS.  I tried the XXL and my head felt like the clapper in Big Ben.  The XXS would only fit a toddler or a pinhead -- made me feel like I really am a fathead. 
   Road sign outside of Idaho Falls:  "Warning to tourists:  Don't laugh at the natives"  --  I didn't see anyone there who was risible but I didn't really look. 
   Sign at Rupert, Idaho:  Corn Dogs -- at Mr. Gas -- a service station.
   Downtown Rupert is a town square surrounded by 1910-20 buildings, mostly unaltered.  It's an attractive little town which seems to be kept alive by Hispanic people.  We ate at a bodega / carniceria / cafe.  (Three tacos and a burrito).  The place had the feel of Baja California except for the unexpected zydeco music. 
   A feedlot west of Massacre Rock State Park has a large manure holding pond sited beside the freeway.  It had a pontoon boat floating in it.  I guess some people take their recreation wherever they can. 
   We ate at the Rainbow Cafe in Pendleton.  Two older women were sitting on a bench outside the cafe having a smoke.  They strongly recommended the place, and on the basis of one of their recommendations I had the chili-burger -- it was good.   The cafe (according to a photograph) looks much like it did when it opened in 1940.  It has a bunch of neon lights and signs which they never turn off because they aren't sure the neon would fire up again if they were turned off. 
   We had breakfast at Frosty's Cafe & Lounge in Rufus Oregon, where the waitress shooed us away from the "fly table".  It was a table in front of a window which apparently was very popular with the local flies. 

And the Fun Event:  On our return drive we stopped at Horseshoe Bend (north of Boise Idaho) where we did a zip-line ride.  It was great!  The first picture was just before we started on the paired line (the other lines were single).  This line ended at the light spot above the greenery nearly centered between our helmets.  The second picture I took while we were sliding down the cable.  --  Because I weigh a bit more than dw shortly after I took the picture I passed her.  Again:  the end of these cables is the light tan spot  just right of the left-hand cable.  The tour had six different cables, four short and two long.  If we ever do it again we'll want more long cables but this was an excellent first time out.   And so it goes.  DA 

Smith Rocks Yet Again

   Bob D. and I returned (for the final time this year?) to Smith Rocks, intending to do a five pitch climb.
    (The climb was close to, but not connected to, Monkey Face -- either the back side or the front side.   Some years ago I climbed a route on the front side.  The only way we could ever get up the back side would be with a rocket engine up our bum. -- The pictures of Monkey Face are irrelevant to this blog, but I think it's an interesting formation.)
   The approach hike to the climb really took a toll on us.  It was down into the gorge of Crooked River, up the aptly named Misery Ridge.  Down the backside of Misery Ridge, up the climb.  Back down to the base of the climb to get our stuff.  By that time we weren't interested in re-ascending Misery Ridge (front side or back) so we descended clear down to the river and did the three or four mile hike along the river to get back to the car -- not forgetting the climb to reverse the original descent to the river.  I'd say it knocked the stuffing out of me, but part of the problem is the too much stuffing still in me. 
   Anyway, Bob led off the first pitch which to our mind was notably harder than advertised.  I did the second which was supposed to be the hardest pitch and which was, again, notably harder than advertised -- it was as much as I was ready to deal with.  Bob started the third (a traverse) and after a lot of difficulty communicating (out of sight, a traverse, and wind) reached a point where he didn't want to continue.  He reversed the pitch (I had largely lost my "eye of the tiger" and didn't want to try it myself) and we then exited the climb via a short easy pitch.
   It was a longish hike with a hard middle section and a bit of climbing thrown in. 

   During the hike I noticed that many of the young people we met addressed me as "sir",  which was nice and certainly polite.  Much more polite than what they really meant:  "OMG.  Look at that geezer on crutches."  (I have a bad knee and use crutches when walking any distance)*
   On the drive back to Portland I commented on the "sirs" to Bob.
    Bob:  "Well, if you'd shave that stupid beard and dye your hair, you'd look ten years younger."
   "Maybe so, but this way it looks like I have a child bride."
   "Yeah, and poor (dw) is married to an old geezer."
   Later in the drive I commented on how tired I was and said I was glad I wouldn't be doing much of the driving on our trip -- (dw and I --leaving tomorrow) -- to the Tetons.  Bob:  "So you're going to let The Deerslayer drive?" -- referring to an earlier trip that started out with dw smooshing Bambi's Brother.

* --- I use elbow, or Canadian crutches.  Invented in Canada I guess.  In any case small recompense for all the honking, befowling (sic) geese they keep sending south. 
  

Exploding Eyeballs And Other Fearful Things

   I'm happy to announce two milestones in the Great Painting The House Project.  First, I'm finished painting around the power line.  I've messed around the line on several occasions, and have developed a system that insulates me from the electricity (more than just the usual insulation on the wires) but it still is an uncomfortable place to be.  With 220 volts and 100 amps the lines carry enough juice to make your eyeballs shoot from your head and splatter against the house -- damaging what is quite a nice paint job.  (And what is it with vitreous humor? It's not so funny if it's your eyeballs that are splattering all over the wall.)   And the second milestone is the end of standing 25 feet up on a ladder -- holding on with one hand and painting with the other.  A great sigh of relief.  The weather has moderated, nearly 20 degrees cooler, and I've been able to paint as much in the last couple of days as I did in a week of high temperatures.
    I was on the ladder because I thought the grandchildren were a bit too cavalier about the height, and son Sean operates with only one and a half hands (on a good day).  So I was on the top of the ladder, making mini-movements, carefully keeping in balance and slowly getting the paint on.  All of the rest is close to the ground -- easy-peasy. 

   For the last two days we had house guests:  One of dw's cousins -- Cindy Z, and her SO Ken G.  They were easy guests, largely entertaining themselves.  We had some pleasant conversation, and Saturday night dw's local family branch (brother John and Jan W.,  Aunt Dee and cousin Craig)  came over for dinner and wine.  We had a very nice time.  A lot of laughing and light on the politics -- which can be contentious.

   Books: "Unnatural Selection"  (Aaron Elkins) A murder mystery that's an easy and entertaining read.  Although I was troubled to read that Elkins transferred Land's End and the Isles of Scilly from the SW of Cornwall to the SE of England.  To me that was a bit of reckless adventuring with geography.  I perused "The 20TH Century Art Book"  -- a compendium of artists A to Z with about one page each -- a color plate and short blurb apiece.  A bunch of the artists I've never heard of, which says more about me than the artists.  And I'm nearly finished with "Pulse" (Julian Barnes)  -- it's a collection of short stories.  I haven't enjoyed it as much as I did "Nothing To Be Frightened Of".  The short stories strike me as being dry and uninvolving.  He's certainly a skilled writer but this collection hasn't grabbed me. 

   P.S.  dw and I don't watch much television, and what we do watch is largely on Public Broadcasting (in no small part because of our aversion to commercials).  This week has been PBS fund drive with all of the dismal programs they insist on showing.  It seems to me that if the station is attracting viewers with Nature or other similar programs, they shouldn't expect to get donations by showing Celtic Thunder -- Which makes me think of a bunch of Irishmen who drank too much Guiness and are now really gassy.  A Celtic mass chorus of "Le Petomane".  And I must say I don't care for Celtic music either.  It's all jigga-jigga, tootle-toot / jigga-jigga, tootle-toot quick time,  and then jigga-jigga, tootle-toot / jigga-jigga, tootle-toot even faster.  And every tune is exactly the same.  They need to give it a rest. 
P.P.S. -- I contribute to PBS, and I haven't visited Ireland or Scotland but I hope to sometime.  DA

An Intriguing Offer

  Several days ago I received an email informing me that I have been selected for the Registry Of Distinguished Women.   I immediately abandoned the game of solitaire I was playing, even though I nearly had a win, and rushed into the living room to tell dw of the new honor.  dw and I rarely practice one-up-manship, but I did (modestly) point out that she hadn't been selected, and since I had been selected, some kind of special recognition would be appropriate.  dw turned a page in the book she was reading and said  "That's nice, dear.  It's really special."
   I recognize being placed in the company of Distinguished Women carries a heavy responsibility along with the great honor so after some deep thoughts I have concluded that I need to continue my life as I have been living it.  My life has been notable enough for the selection so ipso facto my present manner is good (and distinguished) enough for the honor. 
   In full disclosure:  dw and I share the same email address, so the offer might have been meant for her.  Also, though it was meant for me, it might be contingent on a sex change operation (to fix the world-wide imbalance caused by Chas Bono's switch to the other side).  If that's the case the Registry of Distinguished Women is just SOL.  I'm entirely happy with the hardware I've got.  The knees need a tune-up but otherwise everything is fine the way it is. 
   Books:  "The Thief At The End Of The World"  (Joe Jackson)  How Henry Wickham smuggled rubber tree seeds away from the Amazon into England -- ending Brazil's monopoly on rubber.  An interesting read.  It worked well for Great Britain -- Wickham went from one failure to another.  And  "Group Theory In The Bedroom and Other Mathematical Diversions"  (Brian Hayes)   A series of essays concerning math curiosities and conundrums.  Interesting with some occasional heavy sledding.  And so it goes.  DA