From a30c790edea652494e7481f6798047a3bc1fd4ea Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: luxagraf Date: Fri, 28 Jul 2023 13:43:36 -0500 Subject: added a backup of old pages that are no longer live --- .../jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.html | 570 +++++++++++++++++++++ .../jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.txt | 48 ++ bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/index.html | 116 +++++ .../jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.html | 426 +++++++++++++++ bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.txt | 44 ++ .../jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.html | 404 +++++++++++++++ .../jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.txt | 43 ++ bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.html | 506 ++++++++++++++++++ bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.txt | 37 ++ .../jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.html | 537 +++++++++++++++++++ .../jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.txt | 49 ++ 11 files changed, 2780 insertions(+) create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.html create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.txt create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/index.html create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.html create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.txt create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.html create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.txt create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.html create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.txt create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.html create mode 100644 bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.txt (limited to 'bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07') diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..47397c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.html @@ -0,0 +1,570 @@ + + + + + Happy 5th Birthday - by Scott Gilbertson + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+ +

Home → + +
+ + jrnl + + +

+ + +

Happy 5th Birthday

+ +

Durango, Colorado, U.S.

+ – Map +

+ July 11, 2017 + +

This story is hard to tell because I am not going to tell all of it. The part you get to hear is that we took the girls for a ride on a narrow gauge steam train for their birthday. There’s some backstory as to why, which involves a very long and, while they don’t know it yet, probably never-ending, story about two girls not unlike them. But also not entirely like them. Suffice to say that the train fits into that story in ways that I will not go into here.

I suppose I could just be like most people, and just tell you we went on the narrow gauge railway from Durango to Silverton. It’s a common enough thing to do around these parts. It draws tourists from all over (one of whom I watched doing their YouTube review right after they got of the train which, while I know is a thing some travelers do, is still so weird to me that I can’t help staring — why are you talking to your phone?) and I still remember it from when I did it as a kid.

+ +

+ +

Steam train to Silverton photographed by luxagraf

+ +

Since we didn’t want them to spend their whole birthday stuck on a train, we rode it the day before. Their actual birthday they got up early and pretty much fell over each other in a rush to give each other the gifts they had picked out.

Their birthday was a little bittersweet because our friends whom the kids had been playing with pretty much every day for two weeks, had to leave. They stayed long enough to have birthday breakfast and then hit the road. I’m pretty sure our paths will probably cross again, that tends to happen when you travel, but in the mean time it was suddenly strangely quiet, and a little bit lonely, around camp.

+ +

+ +

Elliott was fine for 99 percent of the day, but when there were presents for his sisters and not for him, he lost it for a minute.

+ +

But a little while later they were sharing all their new things with him and everything was fine again.

+ +

Every since we invented chocolate waffle cake the girls have been asking for it for their birthday. The only problem was that we don’t have hookups here and we don’t have an inverter. About 99 percent of the time that doesn’t matter, but today it did. Fortunately the camp hosts, whom we’d made friends with, offered to let us make waffles at their RV. Thank you Tim and Zaida.

+ +

chocolate waffle cake photographed by luxagraf

+ +

And then, new friends gone, birthday over, it was back to what they do every day, running around, playing in the forest. It never ceases to amaze me how well all three of them get along. They have their moments of course, but by and large they play together all day every day.

+ +

+ +

1969 dodge travco photographed by luxagraf

+ +

+ + + +

+ + +

+ +

+ + + + + + +

4 Comments

+ + + + + + +

+ +

+ Arva C Weinstein + August 06, 2017 at 8:13 p.m. +

+ +

Love the look on Elliot’s face on the train, such a look of wonder. And the girls, hanging their heads out of the windows. I want MY next b’day celebration in the big blue bus!!! +Love and hugs, +Arva

+ +

+ Scott + August 06, 2017 at 9:13 p.m. +

+ +

@Arva-

Come meet us somewhere. Mexico.

+ +

+ Denise Meyers + August 07, 2017 at 6:18 a.m. +

+ +

I am so insanely proud of you for following your dream. The bus looks AMAZING. Every time I read about where you have been in that Dodge Travco, a piece of me is with you. What an outstanding gift to have given yourself, and your children. Thank you for being someone who does, not someone who talks about what they would do, if only. You are my hero…..

+ +

+ Scott + August 15, 2017 at 8:00 a.m. +

+ +

@Denise-

Wow, thank you, that’s a very nice thing to say.

(Just so everyone else knows, Denise was the previous owner of the big blue bus)

+ +

+ + +

+ +

Thoughts?

Please leave a reply:

+ +

All comments are moderated, so you won’t see it right away. And please remember Kurt Vonnegut's rule: “god damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” You can use Markdown or HTML to format your comments. The allowed tags are <b>, <i>, <em>, <strong>, <a>. To create a new paragraph hit return twice.

+ + +

+ +

+ + + + +

+ + + + + + + diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcfe5be --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/happy-5th-birthday.txt @@ -0,0 +1,48 @@ +Happy 5th Birthday +================== + + by Scott Gilbertson + + Tuesday, 11 July 2017 + +This story is hard to tell because I am not going to tell all of it. The part you get to hear is that we took the girls for a ride on a narrow gauge steam train for their birthday. There's some backstory as to why, which involves a very long and, while they don't know it yet, probably never-ending, story about two girls not unlike them. But also not entirely like them. Suffice to say that the train fits into that story in ways that I will not go into here. + +I suppose I could just be like most people, and just tell you we went on the narrow gauge railway from Durango to Silverton. It's a common enough thing to do around these parts. It draws tourists from all over (one of whom I watched doing their YouTube review right after they got of the train which, while I know is a thing some travelers do, is still so weird to me that I can't help staring -- why are you talking to your phone?) and I still remember it from when I did it as a kid. + +

+ +Since we didn't want them to spend their whole birthday stuck on a train, we rode it the day before. Their actual birthday they got up early and pretty much fell over each other in a rush to give each other the gifts they had picked out. + +Their birthday was a little bittersweet because our friends whom the kids had been playing with pretty much every day for two weeks, had to leave. They stayed long enough to have birthday breakfast and then hit the road. I'm pretty sure our paths will probably cross again, that tends to happen when you travel, but in the mean time it was suddenly strangely quiet, and a little bit lonely, around camp. + +

+ +Elliott was fine for 99 percent of the day, but when there were presents for his sisters and not for him, he lost it for a minute. + +

+ +But a little while later they were sharing all their new things with him and everything was fine again. + +

+ +Every since we invented chocolate waffle cake the girls have been asking for it for their birthday. The only problem was that we don't have hookups here and we don't have an inverter. About 99 percent of the time that doesn't matter, but today it did. Fortunately the camp hosts, whom we'd made friends with, offered to let us make waffles at their RV. Thank you Tim and Zaida. + +

+ +And then, new friends gone, birthday over, it was back to what they do every day, running around, playing in the forest. It never ceases to amaze me how well all three of them get along. They have their moments of course, but by and large they play together all day every day. + +

diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5306f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,116 @@ + + + + + Luxagraf - Topografical Writings: Archive + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+ +

Home →
Journal →
2017 →
July

Archive: July 2017

Mancos Days + Jul 30, 2017 +
Time and Placement + Jul 24, 2017 +
Mancos and Mesa Verde + Jul 17, 2017 +
Happy 5th Birthday + Jul 11, 2017 +
Junction Creek + Jul 06, 2017 +

+ + + + +

+ + + + + + + + + diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd367ee --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.html @@ -0,0 +1,426 @@ + + + + + Junction Creek - by Scott Gilbertson + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+ +

Home → + +
+ + jrnl + + +

+ + +

Junction Creek

+ +

Durango, Colorado, U.S.

+ – Map +

+ July 6, 2017 + +

If you hang your head back over the edge of the chair you can stare straight up at the pine needles overhead, which form a great canopy of thin black fingers reaching into the soft glow of the new moon, which just rose up from behind the western ridge.

+ +

view from the pass photographed by luxagraf

+ +

That was what I was doing when Corrinne and I decided that Junction Creek would be a good place to pass the month of July. The campground was nice and spread out, with relatively secluded sites tucked in among a forest of towering Ponderosa pines with a few gambel oaks in the understory. across the dirt road from our site was an open field, something of the meadow that was home to endless flutter of flycatchers and vireos snatching up insects and retreating back to their trees.

Back down the road, which starts paved and ends up dirt here in the National Forest, is Durango. While tourist-filled and mountain-kitschy to some degree, it nevertheless has some cool stuff to do — a wonderful public library where the kids got to see the U.S. National Yoyo champion (yes, really), a really cool indoor water park masquerading as a rec center, complete with a three story water slide, a science museum, and a host of other fun stuff — as one of the camp hosts we befriended put it, in Durango they really know how to do it.

+ +

+ +

dodge van photographed by luxagraf — Some really nice people we met. Not a travco, but same engine and a surprisingly roomy interior.

+ +

We also needed to have a semi-plan for the near future because my parents were coming to visit us, somewhere in Colorado (thanks for being flexible), and to be honest we were all feeling like we’d been moving a bit faster than we like. It’s always enticing to see what’s around the next bend, as it were, but sometimes you want to stop somewhere and just sink into the soil a bit. Junction Creek seemed like a good place to do that.

+ +

wading in junction creek photographed by luxagraf — There’s spigots, but no other water at the campground. Bathing in the river was cold, but it got the dust off and left you refreshed at least.

+ + + + + + +

+ + + + + +

+ + + + + + +

+ + +

+ +

A good part of the reason it seemed that way was because we met some really great people camped next to us. You meet a lot of people traveling, especially if you have a vintage motorhome that draws people to your door on a daily basis (just last night we had dinner with a really great couple who first stopped to admire the bus). Every so often though you run across fellow travelers whom you immediately click with and we were fortunate enough to have that happened at Junction Creek.

What I enjoy about these friendships is that long term travel¹ acts as a kind of crucible in which the mundane is quickly melted away, you can skip past that and get straight to the really fun part where you’re all sharing a room with a bathroom that has no door and everyone has dysentery. Wait, no. That’s not it. Or it is, but not this time. That was last time.

I can say though that if Kate and Josh and their family and ours ever find ourselves in say, El Salvador, and we all have some sort of intestinal parasite it will just make for a lot of laughter. Because that’s how it goes when you’re traveling. Travelers above all seem to just not care about the proprieties of life and get straight to what Thoreau, dramatic man that we was, called the marrow. Still, it’s an apt metaphor though. It helps that our kids were fast friends almost instantly. Kids know what’s what.

my crayons photographed by luxagraf — “My crayons”

+ +

There’s something more grounded in the here and now about these friendships born of the road. We’re all a little more like children perhaps, exploring the world and knowing a little bit more what’s what. It’s rare to have a conversation like you have when you meet strangers in your home town. There’s very little of the “what do you do?” sort of thing because out here no one cares what you do. We tend to talk about that things around us right now. The forest, for instance. The dead pine full of fledgling pygmy chickadees. Our plans for the next few weeks, what we’re doing for dinner, should we hike to the swimming hole, should we check out the rec center, could we live here, for a year, for two, forever, not at all.

I have a few of these friendships nurtured over the years and I feel lucky to have them, I want more, but these things, you cannot seek them. Maybe they come, maybe they do not. It is not for us to say. But when you find them, stop what you’re doing, even if you’re in Vang Vieng, and enjoy them.

So we did, for two weeks, which is the longest you can stay in any one campsite in America’s national forests (or anywhere really). We went to the rec center, we rode the water slide, we drove up and down the mountain, we watched birds, we swam in the ice cold creek for a bath and we had a blast, doing nothing and everything.

+
To me long term travel is really more a mindset of “I don’t know when I’m going ‘home’” than any length of time. ↩
+

+ + + +

+ + +

+ +

+ + + + + + +

+ +

Thoughts?

Please leave a reply:

+ +

+ + +

+ +

+ + + + +

+ + + + + + + diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e117a72 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/junction-creek.txt @@ -0,0 +1,44 @@ +Junction Creek +============== + + by Scott Gilbertson + + Thursday, 06 July 2017 + +If you hang your head back over the edge of the chair you can stare straight up at the pine needles overhead, which form a great canopy of thin black fingers reaching into the soft glow of the new moon, which just rose up from behind the western ridge. + +

+ +That was what I was doing when Corrinne and I decided that Junction Creek would be a good place to pass the month of July. The campground was nice and spread out, with relatively secluded sites tucked in among a forest of towering Ponderosa pines with a few gambel oaks in the understory. across the dirt road from our site was an open field, something of the meadow that was home to endless flutter of flycatchers and vireos snatching up insects and retreating back to their trees. + +Back down the road, which starts paved and ends up dirt here in the National Forest, is Durango. While tourist-filled and mountain-kitschy to some degree, it nevertheless has some cool stuff to do -- a wonderful public library where the kids got to see the U.S. National Yoyo champion (yes, really), a really cool indoor water park masquerading as a rec center, complete with a three story water slide, a science museum, and a host of other fun stuff -- as one of the camp hosts we befriended put it, in Durango they really know how to do it. + +

+ +We also needed to have a semi-plan for the near future because my parents were coming to visit us, somewhere in Colorado (thanks for being flexible), and to be honest we were all feeling like we'd been moving a bit faster than we like. It's always enticing to see what's around the next bend, as it were, but sometimes you want to stop somewhere and just sink into the soil a bit. Junction Creek seemed like a good place to do that. + +

+ +

+ +A good part of the reason it seemed that way was because we met some really great people camped next to us. You meet a lot of people traveling, especially if you have a vintage motorhome that draws people to your door on a daily basis (just last night we had dinner with a really great couple who first stopped to admire the bus). Every so often though you run across fellow travelers whom you immediately click with and we were fortunate enough to have that happened at Junction Creek. + +What I enjoy about these friendships is that long term travel[^1] acts as a kind of crucible in which the mundane is quickly melted away, you can skip past that and get straight to the really fun part where you're all sharing a room with a bathroom that has no door and everyone has dysentery. Wait, no. That's not it. Or it is, but not this time. That was last time. + +I can say though that if Kate and Josh and their family and ours ever find ourselves in say, El Salvador, and we all have some sort of intestinal parasite it will just make for a lot of laughter. Because that's how it goes when you're traveling. Travelers above all seem to just not care about the proprieties of life and get straight to what Thoreau, dramatic man that we was, called the marrow. Still, it's an apt metaphor though. It helps that our kids were fast friends almost instantly. Kids know what's what. + +

+ +There's something more grounded in the here and now about these friendships born of the road. We're all a little more like children perhaps, exploring the world and knowing a little bit more what's what. It's rare to have a conversation like you have when you meet strangers in your home town. There's very little of the "what do you do?" sort of thing because out here no one cares what you do. We tend to talk about that things around us right now. The forest, for instance. The dead pine full of fledgling pygmy chickadees. Our plans for the next few weeks, what we're doing for dinner, should we hike to the swimming hole, should we check out the rec center, could we live here, for a year, for two, forever, not at all. + +I have a few of these friendships nurtured over the years and I feel lucky to have them, I want more, but these things, you cannot seek them. Maybe they come, maybe they do not. It is not for us to say. But when you find them, stop what you're doing, even if you're in Vang Vieng, and enjoy them. + +So we did, for two weeks, which is the longest you can stay in any one campsite in America's national forests (or anywhere really). We went to the rec center, we rode the water slide, we drove up and down the mountain, we watched birds, we swam in the ice cold creek for a bath and we had a blast, doing nothing and everything. + +[^1]: To me long term travel is really more a mindset of "I don't know when I'm going 'home'" than any length of time. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..909f5c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.html @@ -0,0 +1,404 @@ + + + + + Mancos And Mesa Verde - by Scott Gilbertson + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+ +

Home → + +
+ + jrnl + + +

+ + +

Mancos and Mesa Verde

+ +

Mancos Camp, Colorado, U.S.

+ – Map +

+ July 17, 2017 + +

Stay anywhere to long and things start to settle in too much. The bus was made to move, its fluids pool, metal rusts, wood decays, the windows smear with dirt and rain, as Chinua Achebe put it, things fall apart. Everything. All the time. Stay too long and the world will settle down on you. The tires will lose air, the chipmunks will come for the avocados. I’m from California, messing with my avocados is messing with my emotions, I don’t care if you’re cute and striped.

So we shook off the cobwebs, pulled out of Junction Creek for a few days, and headed up over the pass to the west, to Mancos and points beyond.

mancos valley photographed by luxagraf — View from the top, looking out over the Mancos river valley.

+ +

We found a nice enough campground, nearly deserted. The only downside was a little road noise — it was up on a hill above the highway and the sound of truck engine brakes was at times annoying. Aside from that though it was much better than Junction Creek. Fewer people and Mancos was much more my speed than Durango.

Mancos consists of one stop light and two paved roads. Or partly paved roads. The rest is dirt and hardly even a stop sign to be found. Still, there’s a decent grocery store, a pretty good sandwich shop and a coffee roaster with the best double espresso I’ve had since we left Athens. There’s also a library with passable internet speeds that I could work at.

Mancos is also only about 20 minutes from the entrance to Mesa Verde National Park.

I knew that after Chaco Canyon Mesa Verde was going to be a let down. You just can’t have crowds and retain the stillness and mystery that Chaco has. I feel strange criticizing a place for it’s crowds because on the one hand if no one is going to our National Parks no one is going to fight for them to continue existing. Still, I did not enjoy Mesa Verde. I am glad that it draws crowds, glad that people are out there visiting natinal parks and I’m glad they aren’t going to Chaco.

+ +

+ +

If you know me you know I’d sooner chew my leg off than go on a guided tour. And Mesa Verde is all guided tours, you don’t go into the big ruins by yourself anymore. You get a nanny. That’s not for us really so we skipped that part and went to the one smaller ruin you can still explore (somewhat) on your own.

+ +

+ +

It was a nice stroll. It was funny to hear the rangers questioning whether our kids could do it, it was less than a mile and only 300 feet elevation change. The trail was paved. It’s sad that we’ve created a world where it’s considered amazing for five year olds to walk a mile on asphalt.

We left after lunch.

Just hanging around camp was more to our liking. The kids built obstacle courses, made bees out of pine cones and looked up whenever the thunder rumbled up above, somewhere high in the San Juans because after a month here they’ve learned that the storms come out of the high country.

+ +

+ +

fortress of magnatiles photographed by luxagraf

+ +

bedtime photographed by luxagraf — Bedtime

+ +

In the evenings we sat around the fire and listened to the nighthawks darting after food between the pines overhead. This is the Western slope of the Rockies, less water, fewer pines, more oaks, more stars to backlight the silhouettes of Ponderosa needles scratching at the wind.

+ + + +

+ + +

+ +

+ + + + + + +

+ +

Thoughts?

Please leave a reply:

+ +

+ + +

+ +

+ + + + +

+ + + + + + + diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3fc8b33 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-and-mesa-verde.txt @@ -0,0 +1,43 @@ +Mancos and Mesa Verde +===================== + + by Scott Gilbertson + + Monday, 17 July 2017 + +Stay anywhere to long and things start to settle in too much. The bus was made to move, its fluids pool, metal rusts, wood decays, the windows smear with dirt and rain, as Chinua Achebe put it, things fall apart. Everything. All the time. Stay too long and the world will settle down on you. The tires will lose air, the chipmunks will come for the avocados. I'm from California, messing with my avocados is messing with my emotions, I don't care if you're cute and striped. + +So we shook off the cobwebs, pulled out of Junction Creek for a few days, and headed up over the pass to the west, to Mancos and points beyond. + +

+ +We found a nice enough campground, nearly deserted. The only downside was a little road noise -- it was up on a hill above the highway and the sound of truck engine brakes was at times annoying. Aside from that though it was much better than Junction Creek. Fewer people and Mancos was much more my speed than Durango. + +Mancos consists of one stop light and two paved roads. Or partly paved roads. The rest is dirt and hardly even a stop sign to be found. Still, there's a decent grocery store, a pretty good sandwich shop and a coffee roaster with the best double espresso I've had since we left Athens. There's also a library with passable internet speeds that I could work at. + +Mancos is also only about 20 minutes from the entrance to Mesa Verde National Park. + +I knew that after Chaco Canyon Mesa Verde was going to be a let down. You just can't have crowds and retain the stillness and mystery that Chaco has. I feel strange criticizing a place for it's crowds because on the one hand if no one is going to our National Parks no one is going to fight for them to continue existing. Still, I did not enjoy Mesa Verde. I am glad that it draws crowds, glad that people are out there visiting natinal parks and I'm glad they aren't going to Chaco. + +

+ + +If you know me you know I'd sooner chew my leg off than go on a guided tour. And Mesa Verde is all guided tours, you don't go into the big ruins by yourself anymore. You get a nanny. That's not for us really so we skipped that part and went to the one smaller ruin you can still explore (somewhat) on your own. + +

+ +It was a nice stroll. It was funny to hear the rangers questioning whether our kids could do it, it was less than a mile and only 300 feet elevation change. The trail was paved. It's sad that we've created a world where it's considered amazing for five year olds to walk a mile on asphalt. + +We left after lunch. + +Just hanging around camp was more to our liking. The kids built obstacle courses, made bees out of pine cones and looked up whenever the thunder rumbled up above, somewhere high in the San Juans because after a month here they've learned that the storms come out of the high country. + +

+ + + +In the evenings we sat around the fire and listened to the nighthawks darting after food between the pines overhead. This is the Western slope of the Rockies, less water, fewer pines, more oaks, more stars to backlight the silhouettes of Ponderosa needles scratching at the wind. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a823a2b --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.html @@ -0,0 +1,506 @@ + + + + + Mancos Days - by Scott Gilbertson + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

+ +

Home → + +
+ + jrnl + + +

+ + +

Mancos Days

+ +

Mancos Camp, Colorado, U.S.

+ – Map +

+ July 30, 2017 + +

After my parents headed back home we said goodbye to Durango — for good this time — and headed back over the pass to Mancos.

Our plan was to spend the weekend there and then head on, but one day I drove down to the coffee shop and instead of the quiet little town I’d been expecting, streets were shut down and there were cars and people everywhere. It turned out to be something called Mancos Days. Naturally we couldn’t miss that, so we ended up staying a week longer than we intended and we got to see the Mancos Days parade.

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Mancos days fire dept photographed by luxagraf

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mancos days grand marshall photographed by luxagraf

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Hydrolics photographed by luxagraf — Part of the parade was a classic car show, this hydrolic setup was by far the best thing.

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One day I trekked up past Mancos to Cortez to do some laundry and discovered a really good Thai restuarant. The next day we all went for Thai food and on the way back we noticed that the Montezuma County Fair started that weekend. This is how we end up spending weeks in the same place, things slowly unfold and there’s always more to see and do.

You can’t miss the fair. I love the fair, especially fairs that aren’t all rides and entertainment, which this one was definitely not. Most of it was devoted to the display and sale of livestock.

goat photographed by luxagraf — The kids never believe me when I tell them that goats will eat anything. This is the prize winning market goat trying to eat the bars of its cage.

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The fair also had a corn shucking contest which I really think we should have entered. Next time.

waiting on the corn shucking contest photographed by luxagraf — Waiting on the corn shucking contest.

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corn shucking contest photographed by luxagraf

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antique trackers photographed by luxagraf

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The girls were really excited about something that I admit did sound fun: the chicken chase. After about 10 seconds in a ring with a bunch of chickens though it was painfully obvious that our kids had no idea what to do with a chicken when the chicken chase turned to the chicken caught.

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Just to make sure they girls weren’t the only ones with a moment of awkwardness at the fair, I got picked to join in the Ute tribe’s Bear Dance. I thought I held it together okay, but when I was done Corrinne was shaking her head. “You look nothing like a bear,” she said.

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Ute tribe bear dance photographed by luxagraf

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4 Comments

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+ Susan + August 15, 2017 at 10:43 p.m. +

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I wish there were videos of the chicken chase and the bear dance! I am really enjoying reading about your adventures!

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+ Jane Sanders + August 16, 2017 at 8:54 a.m. +

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Would have loved to see chicken and bear dance events! True memories to keep!

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+ Scott + August 17, 2017 at 7:03 p.m. +

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I wish I had some video, but I don’t. Never occurs to be to shoot video. I need to work on that. I don’t know though, I see people holding out cameras and talking to them and it just seems so weird to me.

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+ Drew Eldridge + September 01, 2017 at 12:56 p.m. +

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That green car looks like it belongs in “Friday” with Big Perm driving more than in that town.

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Thoughts?

Please leave a reply:

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+ + + + + + + diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4c3347 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/mancos-days.txt @@ -0,0 +1,37 @@ +Mancos Days +=========== + + by Scott Gilbertson + + Sunday, 30 July 2017 + +After my parents headed back home we said goodbye to Durango -- for good this time -- and headed back over the pass to Mancos. + +Our plan was to spend the weekend there and then head on, but one day I drove down to the coffee shop and instead of the quiet little town I'd been expecting, streets were shut down and there were cars and people everywhere. It turned out to be something called Mancos Days. Naturally we couldn't miss that, so we ended up staying a week longer than we intended and we got to see the Mancos Days parade. + +

+ +One day I trekked up past Mancos to Cortez to do some laundry and discovered a really good Thai restuarant. The next day we all went for Thai food and on the way back we noticed that the Montezuma County Fair started that weekend. This is how we end up spending weeks in the same place, things slowly unfold and there's always more to see and do. + +You can't miss the fair. I love the fair, especially fairs that aren't all rides and entertainment, which this one was definitely not. Most of it was devoted to the display and sale of livestock. + +

+ + +The fair also had a corn shucking contest which I really think we should have entered. Next time. + +

+ +The girls were really excited about something that I admit did sound fun: the chicken chase. After about 10 seconds in a ring with a bunch of chickens though it was painfully obvious that our kids had no idea what to do with a chicken when the chicken chase turned to the chicken caught. + +

+ +Just to make sure they girls weren't the only ones with a moment of awkwardness at the fair, I got picked to join in the Ute tribe's Bear Dance. I thought I held it together okay, but when I was done Corrinne was shaking her head. "You look nothing like a bear," she said. + +

diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f84bef1 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.html @@ -0,0 +1,537 @@ + + + + + Time And Placement - by Scott Gilbertson + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

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Home → + +
+ + jrnl + + +

+ + +

Time and Placement

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Durango, Colorado, U.S.

+ – Map +

+ July 24, 2017 + +

Every evening around 5 the thunder starts in. You could set your watch by it. Except that there’s no need for a watch up here.

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forest, junction creek, co photographed by luxagraf

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The way it cracks high and seems to cascade down the mountains reminds me of Greek or Norse stories, the sound feels thrown by some unseen thing. This evening those thunder gods, whomever they may be, have conspired to produce something a little extra. Thor is pounding a little harder, Zeus throwing a little more than usual. A flash and then seconds later a rolling peel of sound the echoes off to the east, down the mountain side.

Around here they call this the start of the monsoon season¹. The rain comes soft and steady, the kind that leaves no puddles here in the forest, much to my children’s disappointment. Here all the water is captured by something, held in a bed of rotting needles, leaves, and the roots of rice grass, false oats and mountain parsley. What little makes it lower ends up in the roots of gambel oak and snow willows, and finally somewhere deeper still, up to 12 meters down, the ponderosa pine roots and their attendant webs of fungi get what’s left.

Nothing remains on the surface of things.

It is easy here to sink into the soil and disappear for a while, everything here is doing it, you are too.

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The valley wall opposite our camp has disappeared in a rainy mist of blue gray nothingness. The light is fading prematurely, leaving a shadowless forest where darkness fades in rather than falling as it does when the sun ducks behind the ridge.

It is silence save the soft pelting of rain and the call and response of two hardy wood peewees, seemingly unfazed by the storm. And then some storm god throws another bolt and the silence is blasted apart.

I am sitting here listening to the rain, feeling the pace of my chair sinking into the soil. It is a slow but steady rain, a slow but steady sinking.

I am listening to the rain because that is what you do when it rains.

In every place the rain sounds different.

Here the rain has a soft and spread out sound. The rain that reaches down here does not do so directly, not much of it anyway. Most of it has hit at least one, probably hundreds, of pine needles on its way to the earth. These drops are small and soft because they have been broken up on their way down. By the time they hit the ground they are more alike than different, every drop having been similarly, but differently bounced through the pine canopy. The result is a steady even sound, occassionally broken up by the rougher splatter of rain coming through a gap in the canopy to land on oak leaves, or the split wood of the picnic table, or the roof of the bus.

Somewhere out there is a forest. It’s too dark now to see more than a few feet in front of me. There are two trees at the edge of what faint light the rising moon offers tonight, locked away as it is, somewhere behind a veil of cloud. There’s just enough glow that I can still make out the roughness of the tree bark. The curve of their trunks hint at the vastness of space behind them. Despite the rain it is dry here next to the trunks of the pines, whatever water has made it through the canopy is already down below the surface of the needles I’m lying on, staring up, trying to see the branches coming together above me.

One of the more remarkable things about lying on your back in the forest is that you can stare up at the trees running together up into the vastness of space and you can feel the planet spinning through the heavens, but at the same time you can smell the warm fecundity of the soil, all the billions of microbes you’re lying on churning their way through the seemingly endless supply of organic material of the forest, one day you. You can feel for fleeting moments the vastness of existence and the minute intimacy of existence at the same time. You find yourself in a web of life and energy that is flowing all around and through you.

It is impossible to tease apart all the links between everything micro and macro, do not even try. In one way you are you, the you you experience, in another you are the joining together of cells of that found it advantageous to become parts of a whole rather than go it alone — which one is you? That’s the wrong question. Know that all of this is you. All those solitary cells within you are now too specialized to survive without the rest of you, they gave up their individuality to all you to exist. As has already been pointed out, hundreds if not thousands of years before we had the language of microbes and devil of the details by the tail, the wiser among realized that the biggest thing is in the smallest thing.

John Muir, who spent his fair share of time lying on his back in pine forests, captures this feeling better than I can when he wrote, “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.”

I think this is one of the principle realizations travel unpacks for you — that there is no other. You are a part of a whole, interconnected system and joined far more intimately to everything around you than you could ever hope to understand, though attempting to understand it is worth the effort, even if it’s impossible. Travel doesn’t make it any easier to understand it, but sometimes when you travel you can feel it all around you, moving and flowing through you like an invisible wind.

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campground, junction creek, co photographed by luxagraf

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1969 dodge travco, junction creek, co photographed by luxagraf

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I can only assume no one around here has ever been in a real monsoon, because while it does rain a little more, it’s hardly what most of the world would call a monsoon. ↩
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6 Comments

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+ classical_liberal + August 13, 2017 at 2:42 p.m. +

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Just commenting to let you know I’m still following your adventures every week. Your writing continues to impress. Thanks for taking the effort.

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+ Scott + August 15, 2017 at 7:58 a.m. +

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@classical_liberal-

Glad you’re enjoying it. I think I might actually get caught up one of these days.

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+ Drew Eldridge + August 15, 2017 at 2:36 p.m. +

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We were just discussing this on our way to Pink Floyd concert this weekend……

Is this reincarnation?

“microbes you’re lying on churning their way through the seemingly endless supply of organic material of the forest, one day you.”

If so, I guess I believe in it.

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+ Scott + August 17, 2017 at 7:09 p.m. +

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@Drew- You guys were discussing luxagraf on your way to the Floyd show? I should probably just drop the mic and walk away. ;-)

I do have some thoughts on reincarnation that I consider publishing from time to time, but that was really more just thinking about the lifecycle of all things, and that the boundary between life and what we call death seems maybe not as hard and fast as we (in the west) have been trained to think.

I’ve been reading several ecology books lately, which have influenced my thinking considerably. I almost added a note to this post crediting David George Haskell’s The Songs of Trees (library link) for some of the ideas. So I’ll add it here, if you like this post or are intruiged by the ideas, I highly recommend his book. It’s a great, very lyrical, not at all technical or dry intro to ecology.

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+ Drew Eldridge + August 18, 2017 at 9:55 p.m. +

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Im too lazy to read- I bought it on audible and will listen to it with Sam on the way to school. Lets see how fast I can make him fall asleep at 630AM… Right now we are listening to Tommy Caldwells “The Push” which is fantastic!

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+ Scott + August 21, 2017 at 12:55 p.m. +

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@Drew-

Nice. I’m the opposite, I can’t handle audiobooks.

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Thoughts?

Please leave a reply:

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+ + + + + + + diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2bd4f13 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2017/07/time-and-placement.txt @@ -0,0 +1,49 @@ +Time and Placement +================== + + by Scott Gilbertson + + Monday, 24 July 2017 + +Every evening around 5 the thunder starts in. You could set your watch by it. Except that there's no need for a watch up here. + +

+ +The way it cracks high and seems to cascade down the mountains reminds me of Greek or Norse stories, the sound feels thrown by some unseen thing. This evening those thunder gods, whomever they may be, have conspired to produce something a little extra. Thor is pounding a little harder, Zeus throwing a little more than usual. A flash and then seconds later a rolling peel of sound the echoes off to the east, down the mountain side. + +Around here they call this the start of the monsoon season[^1]. The rain comes soft and steady, the kind that leaves no puddles here in the forest, much to my children's disappointment. Here all the water is captured by something, held in a bed of rotting needles, leaves, and the roots of rice grass, false oats and mountain parsley. What little makes it lower ends up in the roots of gambel oak and snow willows, and finally somewhere deeper still, up to 12 meters down, the ponderosa pine roots and their attendant webs of fungi get what's left. + +Nothing remains on the surface of things. + +It is easy here to sink into the soil and disappear for a while, everything here is doing it, you are too. + +

+ +The valley wall opposite our camp has disappeared in a rainy mist of blue gray nothingness. The light is fading prematurely, leaving a shadowless forest where darkness fades in rather than falling as it does when the sun ducks behind the ridge. + +It is silence save the soft pelting of rain and the call and response of two hardy wood peewees, seemingly unfazed by the storm. And then some storm god throws another bolt and the silence is blasted apart. + +I am sitting here listening to the rain, feeling the pace of my chair sinking into the soil. It is a slow but steady rain, a slow but steady sinking. + +I am listening to the rain because that is what you do when it rains. + +In every place the rain sounds different. + +Here the rain has a soft and spread out sound. The rain that reaches down here does not do so directly, not much of it anyway. Most of it has hit at least one, probably hundreds, of pine needles on its way to the earth. These drops are small and soft because they have been broken up on their way down. By the time they hit the ground they are more alike than different, every drop having been similarly, but differently bounced through the pine canopy. The result is a steady even sound, occassionally broken up by the rougher splatter of rain coming through a gap in the canopy to land on oak leaves, or the split wood of the picnic table, or the roof of the bus. + +Somewhere out there is a forest. It's too dark now to see more than a few feet in front of me. There are two trees at the edge of what faint light the rising moon offers tonight, locked away as it is, somewhere behind a veil of cloud. There's just enough glow that I can still make out the roughness of the tree bark. The curve of their trunks hint at the vastness of space behind them. Despite the rain it is dry here next to the trunks of the pines, whatever water has made it through the canopy is already down below the surface of the needles I'm lying on, staring up, trying to see the branches coming together above me. + +One of the more remarkable things about lying on your back in the forest is that you can stare up at the trees running together up into the vastness of space and you can feel the planet spinning through the heavens, but at the same time you can smell the warm fecundity of the soil, all the billions of microbes you're lying on churning their way through the seemingly endless supply of organic material of the forest, one day you. You can feel for fleeting moments the vastness of existence and the minute intimacy of existence at the same time. You find yourself in a web of life and energy that is flowing all around and through you. + +It is impossible to tease apart all the links between everything micro and macro, do not even try. In one way you are you, the you you experience, in another you are the joining together of cells of that found it advantageous to become parts of a whole rather than go it alone -- which one is you? That's the wrong question. Know that all of this is you. All those solitary cells within you are now too specialized to survive without the rest of you, they gave up their individuality to all you to exist. As has already been pointed out, hundreds if not thousands of years before we had the language of microbes and devil of the details by the tail, the wiser among realized that the biggest thing is in the smallest thing. + +John Muir, who spent his fair share of time lying on his back in pine forests, captures this feeling better than I can when he wrote, "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe." + +I think this is one of the principle realizations travel unpacks for you -- that there is no other. You are a part of a whole, interconnected system and joined far more intimately to everything around you than you could ever hope to understand, though attempting to understand it is worth the effort, even if it's impossible. Travel doesn't make it any easier to understand it, but sometimes when you travel you can *feel* it all around you, moving and flowing through you like an invisible wind. + +

+ +[^1]: I can only assume no one around here has ever been in a real monsoon, because while it does rain a little more, it's hardly what most of the world would call a monsoon. -- cgit v1.2.3-70-g09d2