BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE MARKET

  I am emerging from either the afterglow of an adventure or its aftermath. A three week adventure to the mountains, parks & basins of Colorado has winnowed down to dirty laundry in the chute and a lawn begging to be mowed. Adventure is, by my definition, any action where the outcome hangs in a balance. It can end with a boom or a bust and you stand to either gain or suffer as a result. It ain’t over ‘till it’s over and what you get is what you get. In that context, almost anything can be experienced as an adventure. Certainly, sh*t happens but then so does the excitement of a happy surprise. Likewise, some uninvited sh*t may be a blessing in disguise. The rule of unintended consequence is always at work and the Colorado adventure featured both afterglow and aftermath.
Waking up in the same place every day and reinventing the wheel makes it hard to escape the mundane: and even though we need the mundane to have balance in this life I find myself looking for ways to escape its sameness. Still, here we are. Times like now I reflect on (explore) ideas and perceptions that for one reason or another have had to wait for my undivided attention. Reflection is generally considered to be a good thing. It requires deep, patient, open ended thinking that may or may not have a clear purpose. One might think of it as mental gymnastics that keep the mind flexible and fit. The opposite of Reflective is Superficial which would be neither deep, open ended nor patient. Most of us like to think they are reflective in our thinking but if one is closed to possibility and impatient with the process then it’s just memory reinforcing what it has already concluded. 
What has me thinking today is the widening breech between the virtues of my long held heroes and a surge of narcissistic indifference that typifies today’s self obsessed leaders. Kahlil Gibran is a legitimate hero. He lived and died  before I was born yet still a moral presence. A Lebanese Christian, Gibran’s art, writing and reputation as a philosopher stem from a multicultural identity, both Lebanese and American. I was introduced to him in the 1980’s through his best known work, The Prophet. 
In The Prophet he speaks to aspects of living in community and to personal relationships. I particularly identified with his thoughts on Love, Marriage and Children. But the rest of the book is equally profound with a humble yet demanding expectation. The section, On Buying & Selling is short but leaves no doubt as to what the issue is and where responsibility falls. His use of poetic language may pose a distraction but his intent is clear. It is a short piece, you should read it. Gibran pleads the case for writers and performers to be rewarded fairly, that every talent has value. Then to the point, “Before you leave the market, see that no one has gone his way with empty hands. For the master spirit of this earth shall not sleep peacefully upon the wind till the needs of the least of you are satisfied.”  
I cannot get my head around the moral disparity between Gibran and 21st century, wannabe Winners. In my lifetime the righteous rule has been revised from: We’re all in this together, to, Win! at any cost, at all cost, by any means necessary. Neither can I frame language (God helps those who help themselves) to suggest God’s approval for corrupt business and abuse of power. Unfortunately, corrupt business and abuse of power are inseparable, Siamese twins. Gibran has a biblical, christian style and his message rings of the Beatitudes. Yet today’s aspiring moguls would tell us: Blessed are the Winners because they kick ass. By inference the weak and the defenseless should be kicked to the curb because they are losers and deserve what they get. Despots and demagogues have been digging in that hole forever but now they have an equally selfish, unscrupled army of followers. 
It makes me want to pack up my little teardrop camper and melt away into a canyon somewhere or up to a high mountain meadow. I can take comfort there with food and drink, in my work and with my loved ones. Life is short and you can't take your trophies with you. So don’t squander it pissing in the wind. King Solomon shared that insight nearly three thousand years ago.  But dead now, he is just another loser. 


 

TWO CATEGORIES

  Eighteen days and 2,000 miles might not sound spectacular but it kept me busy and I am still getting over the wear & tear. It averages about 110 miles per day but some days the wheels never moved and others they didn’t stop.  Our longest layover was four days & nights in Gunnison, Colorado. The longest drive, just shy of 650 miles was the last day. It came with with a late start, me alone on a hot 100+ day, crossing from where the mountains level out in a sea of sagebrush all the way to Missouri. My traveling companion took a (Southwest Airline) flight back to Louisiana. I think she got the better with that, a day ahead of me on the reboot. 
I’ve been home two days with 100+ temps setting records but beginning to feel like being up and around.  All of my blog writing over those two & a half weeks was about the road trip. Sitting at my kitchen table watching the grass turn brown I have settled into my place in time on the calendar. The world (civilization) is no better off than when we left it behind. I managed to avoid radio & TV news all those days and nights and I didn’t miss a thing. I don’t want to go off on a rant but as I acclimate to the scheme I left on July 2, I get that same old feeling. If God really did create mankind, men in particular, his head (God) was so far up his ass he had to look out through his ears to see what he had done. 
I think old people like me fall into one of two categories. Some are angry that progressing old age is robbing them of not only their relevance but their authority as well and someone younger or different must be to blame. So killing your enemies and punishing their children is reason enough to keep on breathing. Long life has taught me that nobody deserves anything.  We get what life deals us and we play those cards. If you want someone to blame for all that’s wrong, pick anyone you don’t like. Blame seems to me a two headed serpent that bites both coming and going. Play that game and die young, full of fang holes.  We’re all in this together; we need each other. Make love, not war; where did I hear that? Most of the tie/die hippies went on to manage hedge funds or sit on boardroom committees but they had a good idea to begin with. It says something about the power of power and the lust for more. I overshot the hippie generation but not the futility of malice and greed.
Here I am babbling old-man excuses for failing to Make America Great Again.  The author of Great Again had his head up his ass too. No, I never want to wallow in popular, ideological quagmires so I’ll not go there.  You get days and years to learn that this is all there is. Live now, grow, learn. Don’t forget to love someone who makes you feel important. Love is underrated.  Take all you’ve got and give it away. My road trip didn’t do anything to change my mind on why we are here. It just refreshed my understanding and appreciation of geology, gravity, photosynthesis, humming birds, and that all of us, we are just star dust with nothing better to do. 

SUM-SUM-SUMMER TIME

  The campout got off to a shaky start and tonight it is all history but the shaky didn’t last and I don’t know how much more of the mountains I could survive. Our schedule was blown up on the 2nd day and the last day was chiseled in stone. Sharon’s plane would leave Denver International on July 20 (noonish) with or without her so we had to be creative as that deadline approached. Our friends from the Narrow Gauge adventure told us in parting, “If you come out on Interstate 70 and have some time to hang out, we don’t have any plans.” To me, that’s an invitation and it worked to perfection. So we stayed with Martin & Joan Strand in Evergreen, rested, ate very well and tightened up a long standing friendship. 
Packed, cleaned up, well fed, hugged and bid bon voyage we were on the downhill chute into Denver. I dropped (didn’t really drop anything), stacked suit cases to roll through the terminal before 9:00. Her plane took off on time about the time I rolled through Limon, Colorado. I remember in 1973 when we moved from Western Colorado to SW Michigan. I watched in my side mirrors as the mountains disappeared into a sinking horizon thinking, I will never get over the mountains, and I never did. I came to love Michigan and the big lake but you don’t have to stop loving either one just because it is far away.
Cool mornings at 8.000 feet are easy to take. The sun shines and the world is right even if I have to make believe. Fifteen hours across the plaines on a 100+ day is a grim reminder that my job changes to meet the need. Retirement leaves me a lot of wiggle room but sooner or later I pay the piper.  But I’ve slept late and taken naps enough to face all the chores that require my attention. I hear the heat wave is largely due to an ongoing El Niño in the Pacific. Regardless, it takes longer for me to bounce back after long days behind the wheel. Tomorrow will be a new day. My alarm is set for 6:15 and I may hit the snooze but if I want to get stuff done with tomorrow’s (103 forecast) it will need to be early. 
I’m thinking about Arizona in January. Thinking about Canada’s maritime provinces next summer. That’s how it gets started. If you want the wheels to go ‘round you need to get started. 

MY YOUTH OR CHILDHOOD

I forget how many theme parks I have been to but I remember the rides. It could have been King’s Island in Cincinnati or Sandusky’s Cedar Point, maybe the big one just over the line in Wisconsin from Chicago. Whichever one it was they claimed the world’s largest, fastest coster with steel wheels on steel tracks. We took two turns on it. The vibration and shaking were so violent I felt my teeth trying to come out of their sockets. The noise was deafening and hanging on to the lap restraint was not a rule to enforce, rather an exercise of self preservation. Then the rattle and clatter started to even out. The steep ups and downs gave way to long, rolling sections where the steel-on-steel roar slowed down to discernible clackety clacks and you realized the ride was about to end. For me, an old adrenaline junking, I had had enough. But later in the day my kids talked me into another bone rattling go ‘round. What I remember about the second time was anticipating the clackety clack of the slowdown and silence when the safety bar came up. I still love the speed and G-forces but I only ride the nylon wheel & tubular track models now. 

So maybe it’s not so strange I associate these last days of our Colorado excursion with that roller coaster sensation. Near the end, only two days away and it’s the clackety clack of Murphy’s law telling me that no true fun comes without bumps and bruises. For every unblemished delight there will be unanticipated consequences that either hurt or cost too much. To amend a long lived axiom I might say, "sh*t still happens but so does love, fun, laughter, coffee and cherry limeade."

I can feel the wheels easing down to the last ‘clack’ and a long, hopefully uneventful ride across Kansas. I don’t mind the driving but I’ve never been one to feel great about coming home after an adventure. It takes a few days to decompress but it won't be long before I start studying maps again. Marcia Ball’s song, Saint Gabriel is a lament about a woman wrongfully imprisoned. One line goes; “all the sad songs about leaving, not about coming home.” I always thought the sad part was coming home. it should have been, “all the glad songs about leaving". But then my ‘Leaving’ home has never involved incarceration.  

No complaints here. We will hang out with our friends from Evergreen, CO. Then I drop off Sharon at Denver International and she flies back to Louisiana. When I get back to Missouri I’ll learn how my tomatoes have survived the heat and how big the brown spots on my lawn have grown. I have plenty to keep me busy. Decompressing isn’t really decompressing, just a few days of clackety clack and a new idea will hatch. In the August heat I can always go make sawdust in the cool of my basement wood shop. 

Georgetown, CO; you have to look up at a 45 degree angle to see the horizon which puts the sun down behind the peaks early and the temperature goes down with it. The summer 'Cool' that comes with altitude is something I will miss. Squeezing the sweet out of something good is a talent I have preserved, even enhanced. Another song comes to mind, Julie Andrews from The Sound of Music,  “Nothing comes from nothing, nothing ever could. So somewhere in my youth or childhood I must have done something good.”

FAIR IS FAIR

  By definition, ‘Vacation’ means an extended period of rest & relaxation. When I look up ‘Roadtrip’ there is no mention of either rest or relaxation. The thought of rest and relax never came up in the planning stage of this roadtrip. But after a week with unexpected breakdown and being on the wrong end of the leash, I’ve taken to naps and sleepy before normal bedtime. 
We (Sharon Flanagan) and I haven’t been on one of these trips in four years and those years have come and gone at a cost. We made up most of our time only to lose a day in Ouray, Colorado. I took a chance there might still be someone alive at San Juan Scenic Jeep Tours that I might recognize. I drove open top jeeps full of tourists in the early 1970’s there. San Juan is still in business. A kid who worked in the shop is running it now and did recognize me. His morning trip had empty seas; he invited us to go along and we stole the show. 
He asked what my favorite half day trip was and that is where he took us, to Yankeeboy and Governor Basins. Good photos, lots of ‘remember when . . .’ and Sharon kept scooting to the high side. We couldn’t afford that ride. In ’73 the ride cost $15 and the driver got the first fifteen. Two half-day trips was a $30 day. With nine passengers (full) tips could push that up to $45 or $50 for a day’s work.

    We were a day late in Gunnison that night but spent four days basically with rest and recovery. Cool nights and dry air; sleeping late in the tear-drop camper came easy. Gunnison is nearly 8,000 ft. elevation you discover ‘chill’ sometime in the night and make a cocoon of covers you had push down to the foot on going to sleep. We met nice people, the restrooms were good but a long walk in the wee hours. Still, I understand that all trailer hitches were designed to shed pee in the dark of the night. Murphy’s law; on the last day you discover the great coffee shop (with toasted bagels and raspberry muffins).
We are trying to stay up until it gets dark tonight. In Fairplay, (South Park) Colorado they are having their County Fair. We went late this morning as the girls were qualifying with their barrel racers. Little girls (maybe 3) were making the circuit with a parent or older sibling trotting along side to steady them in the saddle. Again, after two days we get the word on the good coffee shop. That will be out (get out of town) duty as we are headed for Georgetown, CO, on Interstate 70, below Loveland Basin Ski area. 
We are treating ourselves to a motel in Georgetown, then spending two days with our friends (my former classmate Martin Strand) & his wife Joan. We all did the narrow gage train from Durango to Silverton last week and they asked us to stay with them before I put Sharon on the jet liner back to New Orleans. What I’ll do on my own after that is hard to say. I have bills to pay and ripe tomatoes waiting but that ‘Chill & Cocoon’ thing is hard to resist and I can pay bills over the phone. If the birds and squirrels should leave me a few tomatoes then I guess fair is fair. 

ANY TRAVEL MAGAZINE

  I haven’t been able to write lately. No WIFI up on Mesa Verde at the camp site. No signal at the registration/gift shop/restaurant/laundry/showers either. So we settled for a 20 amp electric hookup. Moved on: the drive from Dolores, Colorado to the Telluride turn off was awesome. We went around Red Mountain; been there, done that, took what I hope turn out to be good (better) photographs. I’ll do some editing tomorrow.
Rain in Ouray was uncomfortable but dry by 9:00 a.m. In 1972 & 73 I drove tour jeeps full of tourists for San Juan Scenic Jeep Tours in Ouray. I stopped there this morning just to see if anybody was still alive. The old, old ones either died or dropped out. The guy in charge remembered me and treated me like a VIP. He offered; we’ve got space on the morning ride up to Yankee Boy & Governor Basins, do you want to come along. I twisted Sharon’s arm and we went. Great ride. It never occurred to me that I would make that ride again. Took photos of Columbines & Indian Paintbrush. The big, panoramic landscapes never capture the feel so I look for smaller stuff just on a grander stage. I can find a photo of a 14,000 ft mountain in any travel magazine. I want things that only I can get and I have to be there to begin with. 
We fell behind schedule and arrived late in Gunnison, Colorado in time to devour a sandwich and set up camp. She turned in at 7:30. I did that too in Ouray last night and woke up at midnight; went to the clubhouse and did some rewriting. I’ll stay up tonight. Getting up to pee is one thing, getting up because you went down too early is another. Getting up and out of the teardrop in the middle of the dark is a struggle even when it goes smooth. We are packed in pretty tight at the Tall Texan Campground and even if everybody else is sawing logs, you imagine they are watching you half naked, waddling to the bath house. Then getting back in and under the covers is an even bigger mess. Sleeping space is 42 in. x 6 ft 2 with no wiggle room. Two of us leave none of that precious commodity. 
We will be here for 4 days so nothing pressing tomorrow. I have lots of photos to edit and that takes time. Sharon finished her book so no telling how she will busy herself. It is late enough now, after 9:00 and it will take me 15-20 min to potty and try to get under covers without spoiling Sharon’s night.

ANIMAS RIVER GORGE

  It has been a full day. Up early at the motel in Durango, CO, catch the 8:30 a.m. train (Narrow Gage Steam Excursion) to Silverton, CO, up the Animas River gorge. Traveling with Martin & Joan Strand. Martin and I had lockers next to or nearly next to each other all four years of high school. He is retired from his career in emergency medicine (MD) and we are having a good time. I retired from hanging out with teenagers so long ago I can’t really remember how I did my job. The ride up the gorge; everywhere you point the camera there is a photo crying to be taken and sooner than later I hope, I realize I can’t take all the pictures that demand my attention. 
In Silverton we checked into the Avon Hotel, no way to describe it other than the 120 year old. Its 3-story red brick building has more features and old stuff than one could imagine and I am loving staying up late just discovering things. I thought it was time for me to have a Pagan communion, time to renew the spirit and my companions went along with it. I picked up a baa of milk chocolate Kisses and a couple of sample bottles of brandy. I read some Carl Sagan quotes, rolled chocolate around on the tongue and sipped brandy. It has never had a bad effect. 
I am still up, doing what I do. Sharon thinks I’m overdoing and should be resting for tomorrow but I’m still processing today. The hotel is full of young people (30’s) talking like I did in the 70’s and building up a sleep deficit. They (my companions) went to bed agreeing to sleep in rather than set an alarm but I will set one for 6:45 anyway. Too much computer work to do. But I am ready for a shower and such. Tomorrow promises as much or more stuff to see and do. Pooh (that’s me) is a happy camper tonight.  

OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD

  No fireworks, no marching bands, noting to suggest it was anything other than a calm precursor to a hot, windy day on the prairie. July 5, still marooned, in a state of flux with the broke-down truck in the shop but no news yet if they can fix it today. The problem had been diagnosed to the starter motor. As I recall, they don’t fix starter motors, they replace them. But the news was good. They had it finished by 10:00 a.m. and the price was less painful than expected.
On the road again by 10:40. One wrong turn getting through/around Colorado Springs turned out to be a half hour with Garmin GPS taking us through neighborhoods and roundabouts. Arrived in South Fork, Colorado with time enough to split an order of enchiladas, rice & beans before checking in at the campground. I forget how fast those complimentary chips & dip go down. I know I pay for them in the end but not on the bill and they don’t ask if you want them. It was raining, really coming down for us. Not much to set up with ‘Yoder’ the camper. The rain lasted well into the night, we got freshened up at the Club House and we rediscovered the condition; Age Related Pretzel Syndrome crawling into the hatch size door. 
I had to get up for a necessary protocol at 3:45 and the rain was gone, nothing but clear sky and the starry night. I had forgotten how the night sky is supposed to look. Stars looked close enough to reach out and touch. Today (July 6) is a short one. Just a couple of hours to Durango where we will take the coward’s way out; opt for people side room and private bathroom. Tomorrow we take the Durango - Silverton Rail Road up to Silverton; off to see the wizard. We meet my old (we’re all old) long time high school classmate & his wife tonight and spend two days trying to stay awake. Martin made a career in the hospital Emergency Rooms from California to Colorado as an ER surgeon and still works a few shifts a month. I haven’t seen them since 2015 on my way back from Alaska. I stayed with them for a long weekend with a couple of day trips. Sharon has never met them but she takes well to my friends, always has.

MORE PRAIRIE

  Our first wakeup in Limon, Colorado was good. Anytime I wake up I be thankful. Last night we didn’t know if or when the truck would get fixed. The truck is safe in the mechanic’s parking lot and we are winding down our holiday at the LaQuinta Inn nearby. The motel is new, everything works but I was anxious about whether the breakfast will be a carbohydrate binge. It was a pleasant surprise with sausage, hard boiled eggs, fresh fruit and the universal waffle machine, real orange juice and fresh apples & bananas. I’m a believer.
I called the emergency number on the shop door (Interstate Diesel Mechanics); got a message to leave a message and another number which I took as a back door to the real person. He answered, listened to my story and said it would be the first job on his list in the morning (July 5). He thought it would be done in the morning and we should be on our way before noon. Our drive tomorrow is almost 5 hours but that is doable and hope to be camping again in South Fork Colorado tomorrow night. 
Killing a day in Limon can be comfortable inside the motel with AC and television or go for a walk. It hit 96 and the wind cranked up again. I went out for a walk but didn’t stay at it long. I had to use the chin strap on my floppy hat. The exercise felt good but I forgot to apply sun screen. We did some laundry in the LaQuinta laundromat and I went out for another walk; not exciting stuff but getting through the day without any damage is a win - win.  
If something (anything) spoils the day tomorrow I have a backup plan. I can rent a car here, drive to Durango, do the Narrow Gage Train ride up to Silverton, spend the night at the Avon Hotel as planned and train back down to Durango on the 8th. That would give us a slam-bam drive back here to Limon to get the truck & camper. There would still be two weeks of itinerary in place before we have to come back (down) to lower elevation and the mundane life of midwesterners. 

NOTHING BUT PRAIRIE

  A good imagination goes a long way on a good blog post but nothing gives it legs like a good story. This one began on a 1990 family ski trip. Winter blizzard on Interstate 70 slowed us down to a crawl and our 2nd car got rear-ended in the snow & blow. But we kept moving until they closed the highway around midnight in Limon, Colorado. We hated being marooned but relieved as the going was nearly at a crawl and the closing was in everybody's best interests. We got lucky with the last motel room available in town; everyone in one room. The next day we ate a late breakfast and went on to ski. 
I never liked Limon much to begin with. Truck stops and discount outlet shopping malls, nothing but prairie halfway between Denver and the Kansas line, the middle of nowhere. Five years and three ski trips later, troubles that laid us over or spoiled something became synonymous with Limon, CO. 
So Covid-19 put old folks like me on a leash for two  years and I am just starting to do camping road trips again. Yesterday we headed west on I 70; spent the first night in Russell, Kansas. The plan today was to reach Walsenburg, CO. With a fuel stop in Burlington, CO the truck refused to start. All of the electrical accessories worked fine but turn the key to start and nothing; no clicks or dim-outs. Checkin everything I know to check, the only/best guess was something with the starter. 
This is on Sunday, July 3, day before Independence Day. I called AAA and they sent roadside help but local tow service was not answering their phone. I’ll give AAA credit, they really work to save your bacon, even on Sunday before a Monday holiday. They found a tow service from farther away; you’ll never guess where. The tow truck driver confirmed my suspicions about the starter and asked where I wanted it towed. He recommended a mechanic shop near his shop in Limon, 80 miles away. What can I say! 
So we are stuck here at La Quinta Inn in Limon but the repair shop won’t open until Tuesday, day after tomorrow. I thought about sleeping in the camper, in the parking lot at Interstate Diesel where the truck and camper are parked. My traveling companion nixed the idea. We can see the truck & camper from our room and there is an IHOP restaurant at the truck stop across the street. 
Add bad news to the scenario. We have reservations to ride the Narrow Gage train from Durango to Silverton, CO. Thursday and no way of knowing when Interstate can get the parts and do the work; won’t know until they open on Tuesday. From Limon to Durango is a long, full day of driving. That makes tomorrow a long, full day of making contingency plans and IHOP pancakes. I texted my daughter a photo from here and she fell off the porch. O..M.G. what is it about Limon? I do't know but nothing will surprise me. The story has just begun and will be unfolding for the next three weeks.