Panguitch, Utah

No photos for this entry as I forgot to bring the connector for my camera. (New position of prayer: Hands together holding a digital camera or i-phone in front of your face. "Please Lord let this be a better picture than the last 2000 I've taken"). The photos that won't be in this entry are all spectacular.

So far the "Great Hike Across the Grand Canyon" trip is going well. The only glitch was running out of hot water in a Twin Falls motel (a first for us). I got to rinse in cold water -- fortunately the air conditioning wasn't working so a short jog around the room got me warmed up. 

Our first stop was Capitol Reef NP (Fruita campground) which is doubtless one of the best NP campgrounds anywhere -- beautiful setting and thick with cottonwoods, apple, cherry and chestnut trees (all can be picked in season). We selected the only camp site that is in the sun all day. It wasn't the best possible choice, particularly since a few others were available and a couple from the Netherlands wanted our site because they had been cold the previous night. Oh, well.

We hiked Spring Canyon, a 9 mile hike we did 19 years ago. (We were pleased that we could still do it.) The hike follows a dry stream bed past amazing cliffs, cream and dark red to black -- consistently beautiful. Rated strenuous, the hike starts by climbing 350 feet, descending nearly the same, and then a very gentle down hill for the next 8 miles. (Depending on which reference book, map, or sign post you believe, the hike is 8.5, 9, 9.7, or 10 miles long. We estimated -- based on our time -- that the correct distance is 14 miles.)  While flat, there's a lot of soft sand, river rock (golf ball to soft ball size) to walk in. The footing, along with several spots of scrambling over large rocks (the canyon isn't a place you'd want to be in an earthquake) make the hike difficult. Even so the Spring Canyon is one of the best walks I've ever done -- I'd give it a five star rating.

After another (short) hike in Capitol Reef, we moved on the Panguitch and Bryce Canyon. We did one 5 mile hike below the rim and another (shorter one) along the rim. Bryce is as amazing as all the commercial photos would make you believe.

One of our goals is to aclimatize to the elevation and heat. Capitol Reef -- 5000 feet -- Bryce 8000 feet -- the Grand Canyon (on the last, most difficult day) will be nearly 9000 feet. And it's been hot (90+) in the bottom of the canyon. We have several more days of hiking at elevation before we start the canyon. DJA

Starting Again

   This is merely a test to see if this program is working. I got a new web site awhile ago, but I haven't been able to get it started. I got it mostly designed but have ran into a glitch and I don't have the time (or patience) to put it online right now. Instead I'll be using this program for our upcoming trip (hiking across the Grand Canyon).
   This particular entry is a test to see if this program is working well enough for me to use.

   I referred to the photo some time ago. It's the interior of Halibuts on Alberta street. They play blues (live on the weekends) and have some of the best fish & chips in Portland. I wrote of them before but couldn't get the picture to load.

 

These things are nearly life size, and oddly, I saw them when they were for sale -- before they made it into Halibuts. I dearly wanted to buy them but I couldn't think of any place to put them  -- except in the middle of the living room, or grouped around our dining room table. The same store (now closed) that carried these things also had a life sized statue of John Wayne (as a cowboy), a couple of Roman soldiers, a Nubian serving wench, and a bunch of other amazing crap. It was difficult to avoid spending my fortune in the place.

 

 (sidebar: since all restaurants and bars in Portland are non-smoking, none of the three are holding cigarettes -- notice Frank's left hand -- you can get beer at Halibut's so I don't know why the three jerks aren't holding drinks -- Frank's right hand)        

 

 Since this program is working well enough to tolerate, I'll be using it for a few posts. 

 

Before we leave on our trip, I'll try to write a catch-up post, but this will do for now.       DJA

St. George And The Fish

St. George (the town, and perhaps the Dragon Slayer -- history makes no comment either way) has a fish whisperer. Most of us, I think, will require a few moments to digest that fact. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Enough time. But I feel I must repeat: St. George has a fish whisperer who serves not only St. George but all of Southern Utah, curiously he doesn't seem to swim into Nevada or Arizona. Since I don't wish to appear judgemental if any readers of this entry need a fish whisperer to annoy their fish feel free to call, he's listed in the St. George Yellow Pages. I won't know and if I find you've called I won't tell ---------- not at once, anyway. I have so many questions: Does he stick his head into the fish bowl? Conversing with the fish: BLUB, BLUD, BLOOP -- but he's a fish whisperer so I imagine its: blub, blub, bloop. Does he only whisper to fish who have a bowl big enough that he can get his fat head into it? Is he a she? Does she have a buzz cut or does her hair clog the filter? Does the fish reply? When the fish replies does it swim up to the whisperer's ear to whisper and if it swims too close for an intimate whisper, does it ever get stuck? When the whisperer gets a fish stuck in his ear, does he rear back, shaking his head like a wet poodle? And when she shakes her head, does the fish fly across the room? And when the flying fish lands in a hot frying pan does the fish whisperer enjoy a fried fish meal? So many questions, so few answers. But so it goes. DJA P.S. Sorry, now Google isn't honoring my paragraph breaks.

Dateline: Kanab, Utah

This is in the nature of an interum blog about the Grand Canyon/canyonland trip dw and I are presently taking.
I'm writing in Kanab, but this is just a short note regarding the Flying J service station/rest stop/petting zoo in Scipio, Utah.
The petting zoo was of mild interest with (among other things) an emu, a goat, a zebra, a zebu calf, a donkey and lama. Prominently posted was a disclaimer sign noting that any or all of the animals might bite, spit, or stomp and the petting zoo accepted no responsibility should you be dumb enough to pay $5 (?) to let your five year old be bitten, spit on, or stomped on.
All common stuff, but worth a stop should anyone be in the area.Displayed near the cash register: "Grandma's Nasal Brush". Something I've never seen before, from Grandma or anyone else. You might think it's a brush for a remarkably hirsuit guy. Or perhaps an old geezer who has let his nose hair run amok. It's nothing of the sort. The instructions directed the purchaser shove it up his or her nose and twirl. -- rinse and re-use as needed. Good for colds, allergies, pollen, dandruff and scrofula -- or some such. If any readers need a nasal brush let me know and I'll try to buy you a set (Grandma's Nasal Brush comes three to a package). And so it goes. DJA
Note: gmail blog program presently makes it nearly impossible to fix typos or mis-spellingsto delete or insert words or phrases. Or to add photos. I believe it's their problem and not mine. If it continues I'll start a new blog with a different host. dw tried to make a correction to this blog and said: "This is unacceptable." DJA

A Road Trip Of Modest Proportions

   But first, a moment of silence for the effective passing of Perry Mason, who for nearly fifty years(as all Portlanders know) was firmly settled into noon re-runs. Alas, the station featuring Perry moved him to the Siberia of 8 A.M. on some -- Hah! you think you're a real TV station -- channel. Admittedly it has been some years since dw and I watched him, but it was always a comfort to know he was there. 
   The regulars knew which episodes to watch and which to turn off and perhaps do something vaguely constructive. The ones to definitely skip would involve a little blond curly-haired girl insipid, with a sappy little voice just begging to have a sock stuffed in it. A little less skippable would feature an artist, a hippy, a musician or a beatnik, always languid -- overwhelmed with ennui -- sometimes good for a laugh, particularly the inevitable beatnik coffee house. Nearly as entertaining as when Paul Drake would haul out a cement block sized portable phone. 
   Alas, it's nearly unreachable now. A moment of silence. .........................................................

   To the current point: dw and I have started a modest road trip. We're driving to the Grand Canyon North Rim where we'll meet Steve and Kay (bro and SO) We'll hang out a bit, do a few small (anything dw and I do will be small) hikes, and then Steve and Kay will run their second marathon in a week and dw and I will look for some doable slot canyon hikes.

   The drive to Twin Falls, ID was uneventful. Just the usual assortment of other drivers who bust their asses to pass, pull in front, and then slow down. Or the other ones who park in the left lane (By God! I'm almost driving the speed limit and that's good enough for everyone else.).  I regularly tell myself: "Patience is a virtue." ------ After some thought I need to admit -- I've never claimed to be virtuous.  But so it goes. DJA      

Not Quite A Milestone

   dw and I quietly celebrated my birthday a few days ago. A quiet day because I have one more year before I will admit to being old, in body at least. We went out to dinner and and three days later, due to unforeseen circumstances, I bought myself an expensive present.

  --- I just told dw that I recently read a list of texting shortcuts (such as lolz) one of which was "dw" which stands for "darling wife" and which I've been using for some time (dw is also dw's initials). We both agree that that's just precious ---

   In any case, dw asked me where I wanted to go to eat and I said I didn't know but I didn't want Tex-Mex or Italian and was indifferent to Thai or any other Asian cuisine --- so dw asked: "What about fish & chips?" and that was exactly what I wanted so off we went to Halibut's, a restaurant / blues bar on tres chic Alberta Street where once a month the young now-wow-and-today artistes and wannabes walk around looking at street art & crafts, eat street food and drink too much and pee on neighborhood lawns and complain about the man bringing me down dude.

   But Halibut's serves really good fish&chips along with live jazz and blues on weekends -- the rest of the time the music is canned and bands are represented with life size plastic statues of Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis and Dean Martin -- it's kind of creepy.

 

(N.B. -- For some reason, I'm not able to transfer photos into this page. Until I figure it out this blog will be photo less. At the moment, whatever is going on is beyond my skill level to solve. --) *

 

  For part of the dinner time, dw patiently listened to me bitching about my bicycle, which had suddenly become unrideable: it wouldn't stay in gear, wouldn't shift and the chain kept jumping from one sprocket to another. I had taken it in to the Bike Gallery and got a free adjustment which had made it worse -- I had a lot of bicycle bitching material.

   The next day I  tried to fix it myself and found that everything worked when it was on a stand but it acted up when I tried to ride it.

   So I stopped cursing the Bike Gallery mechanic, took the bike back for a more thorough tune-up, and the second time being a charm, the mechanic found the down tube (the front part of the frame's triangle) was broken in half. I'm really glad the break happened when I was standing on the pedals to accelerate and not when I was going down-hill at 25 or 30 mph (the bike is 20+ years old -- but the frame still shouldn't have snapped)

   But now I have a shiny new Trek -- my present to myself. This time I got a touring bike rather than a road/racing bike. It's heavier but is a better fit for the way I ride: I'm not going to enter a race anytime soon and the new bike will handle rough roads or packed gravel better than my old bike. Plus it's nearly as fast and agile as a road bike.

   Thursday, Bob D., Leslie B. and I went to Smith Rocks for a climbing outing. It was successful in a modest way -- four climbs and I led two 7's and a 9 -- As I said, modest. We got an early start -- 6A.M.-- but it became too hot for me and Bob (Leslie seemed less troubled) sooner than we thought it would so we quit early in the afternoon
   (Leslie, an attractive young woman, told one of her friends about the planned climbing trip -- including who she was going with and when we would be starting. On hearing the leaving time the friend said:  "Why so early? Do they drive that slow?" --  Leslie told the story with a quiet glee.  You gotta love a snarky youth.)
   The bit of a hike bothered me more than I thought it would. Once again I was reminded that my knee surgeon said complete recovery will take a year or more. 
 
   WORDS: -- dree one's weird -- which means to pursue or submit to one's destiny or fate. (Scottish or northern England) -- I first came across this in Enderby by Anthony Burgess -- a very funny book -- which wasn't a real surprise since Burgess tosses around ten dollar words as if they are five for a dollar. I had to look it up, of course. Since then I found that James Joyce has used the phrase.  Again, not a surprise although with Joyce I would suspect he just made it up. And Kenneth Graham (Wind In The Willows) has used it. Perhaps in some circles it's a common saying. Perhaps it's common currency among those who swim around looking for the Loch Ness Monster or trek around, nose to the ground, looking for the foul smelling Sasquatch.

   BOOKS: Death In The Afternoon (Hemingway) -- A great title, but disgusting on nearly every level. Good old Ernie starts by detailing the use of horses to stick the bulls with the vara (the things they stab into the bull's neck -- which weakens the bull, makes it harder for it to lift it's head and makes it  less dangerous --  The horses are purposely allowed to be gored and they then run around the ring, stiff legged, trailing their entrails -- A comic interlude for Ernie. The rest of the book discussed the details of bull fighting and various fighters. I admit the book is interesting, in a fashion, but even more than before -- even if he was a good writer -- I despise Hemingway and his smug, juvenile "I can buy a big gun and kill things", macho persona.
   The Peloponnesian War (Donald Kagan) Sparta and Athens go at it. Interesting and well written, but to be honest, at 500 pages, it told me more about the war than I really needed to know. And so it goes DJA

*since I can't seem to get photos into this page, I'll put some on my Facebook page.
  

 

  

  

 

Oconomowoc Anew

   dw and I just returned from another trip to Wisconsin. We went back to celebrate dw's Aunt Barbara's 80th birthday. It was very low-key as Barbara wasn't interested in a party or anything else even semi-elaborate -- Steve (dw's brother), Kay (Steve's SO), dw and I treated Barbara to a lunch and a cake -- quiet but pleasant. Otherwise, in the evening we sat outside and talked; we did a modest amount of yard-work; we went with Barbara to her favorite bar/restaurant -- Pauline's -- and went to the Oconomowoc Fire Station to see the hose cart:

The hose cart is an early 20th century piece of fire equipment. It carried 800 feet of 3 inch fire hose, and the hose plus cart weighed over 1000 pounds. The firemen towed it to the fire by hand (A manly bunch, it seems). dw's grandfather and great-grandfather were volunteer firemen and the older one built the cart (at his own expense) for the department to use. At some point he got PO'd and took his cart and went home. It stayed in the attic of his garage (the family home -- still occupied by his descendant) for the next 90 years until this year when Barbara donated it to the fire department which restored it to it's present splendor. A deputy chief (Glenn Leidel) gave us a talk on how the cart was used and then gave a tour of the station -- It was great. Thoroughly interesting and entertaining. And he let dw try on his fire-fighting outfit:

   I can see a new fashion trend starting.

   We also revisited the Kohler Art Museum in Sheboygan. Again I must say it's one of my favorite museums anywhere. The Kohler collects vernacular or outsider art works and installations -- they'll buy whole buildings or rooms (most of their collection is stored someplace -- they only display a few items at a time) A good article:  www.nytimes.com/2009/07/12/arts/design/12 

 And the Kohler is famous for it's bathrooms:

This is one of six -- three men's and three women's.

Some notes from the road: Except for two delays (one meant we returned home a day later than planned), the flights, going and coming, were uneventful and we even scored some good seats.

   At the Minneapolis airport we saw an iPhone cover -- a piece of plastic, a 5cent item -- for $35 dollars. We didn't believe it and dw asked the clerk about it. The clerk scanned it, confirmed the price, and said: "No wonder we haven't sold any."  I guess even Apple fanboyz have their limits.

We walked around the grounds of a small monastery across the street from Steve's house. At a small shrine to the Virgin Mary dw asked me why Mary was stepping on a snake. I explained that Mary is sort of a reincarnation of Eve, only this time she doesn't succumb to the snakely wiles of Satan -- But that particular story has never rung true to me. Would any woman take an apple from a snake? It was a snake for god's sake. In my opinion any woman, past or present, would say: "You're a snake. At least make it a piece of pie and we might talk."

Books: The Worst Hard Time (Timothy Egan) About the monumental dust storms that occurred during the Great Depression. -- The same area and time that Steinbeck wrote of in The Grapes of Wrath (one of America's great novels) -- Egan interviewed survivors who stayed in the area -- It's an amazing, fascinating book. Of interest to me: The whole area was unquestionably saved from complete depopulation and destruction by the efforts of Franklin Roosevelt's administration -- and I don't believe the region has ever voted for a Democrat  -- Oh well.

   Word for the week: Isn't actually a word, it's a name or a phrase. Osedas Mucofloris or in English: Bone Eating Snot Worm. Since I read about the bone eating snot worm, I sometimes lie awake at night -- worried about what might be under the bed. If such a thing must exist it should be named a Bone-Eating Gertrude and just forget about mentioning the mucus coating. But so it goes DJA

P.S.  For some reason the Times link isn't working. If you're interested Google: NYT Kohler Art Museum. -- The article is one of the first links that will come up.  DJA