The Coldest Campout in the World!

Would be the way I’d describe my latest four night trip to Canyonlands National Park. I’m aware my lead in for this blog might be a wee bit kosher Blarney (but just a bisel). 

The reason I know its Fake News is because I’ve read about the coldest, most miserable, hardcore campout in the world. Ever. The memoir was appropriately named “The Worst Journey in the World.” It was written in 1922 by Apsley Cherry-Garrard. (I wish I had a pen name like that.) His journey was a side note to Robert Falcon Scott’s ill-fated race to the South Pole. (BTW Scott and four others lost the race and their lives.)

 Mr. C-G’s adventure classic is his account of an Antarctic icy cross country trek to rip-off  Emperor Penguin eggs The omelette theft was all done in the name of science. I’m sure they didn’t call it stealing for that reason. Maybe you are thinking, well that’s not so bad. Tourists pay big bucks to see Emperor Penguins in the wild. Here’s the kicker. Apsley and company performed the frigid mosey during an Antarctic winter. Nothing but dark, Mach 3 winds and nearly absolute Kelvin cold. (-459 F). This strikes me as both suicidal and insane. They somehow survived. Barely. 

OK. So my recent attitude adjustment wasn’t that extreme, but it WAS cold in Canyonlands! The Arctic north winds hardly abated. On my hikes I wore fleece on top of fleece topped by down. Plus a wool beanie, leg warmers and gloves. My clothes alone doubled my body weight. I ran the furnace in Sanctuary Too all night long when I discovered it was 34 degrees inside the camper. Taking an outside Solar Shower? Fahgettaboudit! I settled for inside sponge baths with the furnace blasting away. 

I finally realized my 5800’ campsite was too high and exposed. I decided upon an altitude adjustment. I descended towards the Green River at 4100’. Ahh! That made all the difference, plus the sun coming out of hiding and the wind taking a TV timeout. On that lovely afternoon/evening, I read outside and partook of Happy Hour. Now that’s my kind of camping! 

Jeff. If it were that chilly, why didn’t you just drive the 3.5 hours back to your Durango townhouse with its fireplace and unlimited hot water? Why? Because I’d rather hang out in Canyonlands National Park with its dry mud-free trails, it’s multicolored rock formations and scenic vistas while awaiting vaccine number two. That’s why.

Besides, I’m into the exploring mode with my new Macho Truck for a Macho Guy like me, who happens to keep a clean house, cooks, smiles at babies and takes photos of pretty flowers. Yep! I’m macho, alright. Gggggrrrrr!

Canyonlands, the Grand Canyon, Great Sand Dunes, Death Valley, the Eastern Sierra and the San Juan Mountains are a few of my happy places. I’ll endure some hardships for experiencing  their beauty. Especially when I have access to a furnace, cold IPAs and books to read. 

I had it heaps easier than Apsley Cherry-Garrard did on his worst journey in the World.

Enjoy your journey no matter where it takes you. 

Gentle reminder. Please get your Covid vaccinations.

Cheers

Jeff

Last Photo. I was joking about cooking. That’s a kosher for Passover Asian Fusion

March Madness Malaise.

I love basketball, although I’m pathetic at playing it. I can’t shoot, dribble or jump. I’m short too. Not that’s there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve always joked I have the attitude of a power forward in a minute non-shooting guard’s body. That all being said, I’m a great spectator. For the majority of my life I’ve  joyfully anticipated the start of the NCAA’s March Madness Tournament.

When I was a firefighter, I organized and managed the Department’s betting pool. I guess you could say I was a “Bookie.” I kept out of trouble since many of the Chiefs bet too. It was a time when rank meant nothing. All were fair game for my jibes. “Hey Guys! Chief X chose Stanford to go all the way. Those Eggheads study at halftime!” Our fun times would spill out in the off-duty hours too. We’d meet in neighborhood bars and perform a non-violent take over. These affairs were open to all acquaintances. The noise level was intense between the TV commentary, the cheering, jeering and incoming and outgoing insults. No wonder I’m deaf. 

I wasn’t just a weekend warrior of college basketball. I began dialing in when there was more night than day and more frosts than thaws. I checked box office scores, the Top 25 Polls, watched games and read analysis on who’s hot or not-so-much. College Hoops was the distraction to get me to the other side of winter. This was my All-American ticket. In fact I was a season ticket holder for both University of Colorado and Colorado State basketball. The games got me out of my house and fire stations. They created an “event” for me to look forward to.

In the NCAA season of 2019-2020, I might have been at the top of my game. I was paying a lot of attention, going so far as to print out the weekly Top 25 Polls. I was determined to win the betting pool which I’ve been associated with for twenty years. The name of the pool is “Madness which occurs in March.” The manager lives in New Jersey, I can’t remember how I got involved in it. (I think my nephew Keith hooked me up). Anyway the payout is BIGLY. In the $$$$. That can buy a lot of IPAs. 

Alas, then came Covid. The 2020 tournament was cancelled. As if death, sickness, lockdowns, isolation, lay-offs, Trump etc weren’t enough to  bum people out.

In  2020-21 the NCAA powers to be decided, damn the pandemic! The show must go on! It was all about the $$$$. No games=no revenue. The result was a ridiculous duct taped together season. On occasion there were more postponements and cancellations than live action in front of cardboard cutout fans. None of this inspired me. I lacked the energy to get involved. Thus NCAA malaise. 

Then out of the Orange of Syracuse, NY, I received a message from my old college roommate Mike J. 

“Jeff! Syracuse is playing Virginia tough. They might be going to the Big Show. Are you watching?”

I called Mike a few days later after the Syracuse Orangemen lost to Virginia.

“Mike, have you really been paying attention this season? I just can’t get excited about it.”

“Yeah, I’ve been watching a lot of Syracuse and the ACC games. Hey, it’s college basketball. There’s not much else going on.”

Then it dawned on me, I’ll place my bets in the BIGLY pool after all. With Mike’s picks!

“Mike, send me your bracket for the tournament. I’ll fence the money and you’ll get half if we win.”

“OK. No guarantee though.”

“None expected.”

Mike’s bracket arrived via a text. I looked it over. Hmmm. I’m not sure about Gonzaga going all the way. The Zags give Confession and take Communion at halftime! Let me take a closer look at the bracket. Before I knew it, I was looking at schedules, analysis and commentaries. I slight grin evolved yielding to a smile. I placed Mike’s text to the side and started my own bracket. 

Traditions are hard to break, even with Covid. This was therapeutic and part of my transition to a post-Covid world. It’s a good thing. Like the below photo of me volunteering at the library.

BTW. The Fighting Illini will go all the way. Bet on it! Mike J will still receive half of the winnings cuz that’s how this basketball rolls.

Last photo: My first outside brewpub IPA since the fall of 2020. Baby steps towards a more normal 2021.

Cheers and get your vaccinations!

Jeff

I won’t say Happy

 Covid Anniversary.

It was on March 16th, 2020 when Colorado Governor Polis ordered the state to go into lockdown mode over Covid concerns. Of course I blogged about it. 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/03/we-are-in-history-making-moment-in-which.html

I began to think about Covid one month prior to that infamous date. In my quest for truthful information, I phoned the most brilliant virologist I know. (Dr. Sal is the only virologist I know!) However Dr Sal would be brilliant in whatever field he chose to study. He’s that smart.

Here’s a bit of background to this eminent scientist:

Sal received a degree in veterinary medicine from Ohio State University. He wasn’t done yet. Sal continued his education at Colorado State University where he completed a PhD in veterinary pathology. (I always wondered why he touched my nose to see if it was wet.) He caught the attention of the CDC in Atlanta which hired him to research and study HIV. He’s met and schmoozed with Doctor Fauci. (Dr. Sal referred to him as “the Pope.”) Scripps Research Institute  lured him away from the Government to help develop a vaccine to fight HIV. He now lives in San Diego with his wife Deborah. 

I met Sal on the Denver Post’s Ride the Rockies. We spent a lot of time together on our bicycles  and in the bars. He’s a class act in oh-so-many ways. I’m proud to know him.

After a bit of small talk, I got down to business. “Sal, how bad is this virus going to be?” 

Dr. Sal always speaks in a clipped, precise and straightforward manner. There’s little drama or embellishments. “Jeff, this will impact everyone. Covid will be a game changer.” 

Hmm? I misinterpreted this to mean. “I guess I’ll be washing my hands more. I better buy some sanitizer too. I’ll avoid touching my face.” I wasn’t picking up the nuances of what Sal meant.

Much later on after a month of solitary confinement lockdown, I phoned Dr. Sal again. 

“Sal! Is this what you meant when you said Covid would impact everyone? The lockdowns, the closures, cancellations, the medical misery of those afflicted and lack of toilet paper?”

“Yes Sambini. This is what I meant.”

“This sucks!”

“Indeed. It does.”

To say it’s been a difficult year would be a severe understatement. Our lives have been disrupted and shaken. My I Phone mocked me each morning by reminding me, “No Events Today.” Ouch! 

BUT! I’m seeing the dim light at the end of the tunnel grow brighter. In fourteen days and a handful of hours, (but who’s counting?) I’ll be receiving my second Moderna vaccine. In April I scored fifteen days worth of campsites in nearby National Parks. (Remember, the Parks were shuttered last spring). I also picked up a few volunteer gigs selling books for the Durango Friends of the Library. In May, I’ll be backpacking in the Grand Canyon once again. Later on, a visit to the photogenic Great Sand Dunes National Park. Then a visit to the Front Range complete with a “live” Rockies baseball game! Play Ball! 

WOW! My wall calendar has actual scribbles on it. Who knows maybe there will be brew festivals and outdoor concerts this summer too? Yes, you can say I’m making up for a lost year of activity and socializing. 

Recently, I called the esteemed Dr. Sal. He gently reminded me, we aren’t out of the Covid cave yet. More Americans will need to be vaccinated to achieve Herd Immunity. We’re not quite done with social distancing or masking up yet. But he too believed we are turning a corner.

Let’s make this happen. I miss hugs and Happy Hours.

Once again, stay safe, sane and healthy,

Jeff

Being Homeless by Choice..

then it looks.

In March 2018, I found myself in Death Valley National Park. The weather was anything but cooperative. I was stumbling through the days trying to stay warm, dry and motivated. The 66 square feet of Barley the Van’s living space was seemingly shrinking. I was weary of being stigmatized as the Single White Guy living in a White Van.  I felt isolated and very lonely. My nemesis depression was taking over the driver’s seat. A definite No Bueno moment. That was my epiphany.  Something had to change. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2017/04/the-stigma-of-single-man.html

It was then I knew it was time to come in out of the cold, settle down and rejoin society. I needed a place to call home and hearing aids too. I figured if I was going to be around people, I might as well hear what they were saying. 

Fortunately, I chose well. Both the town and the hearing aids that is. Durango has been a surprise in a good way. First off, I live in the prettiest part of Colorado. We have real mountains nearby and desert too. The Mighty Animas River runs through town with a bike trail adjacent to it. There’s 29 miles of hiking trails a long javelin fling from my home. Wayward deer wander the streets. It’s BIGLY outdoorsy. 

However, I desired more than a place to gawk at and hike in.. After running solo for most of those 6.5 Homeless by Choice years, I wanted to be a part of a community. I sought a place where I could voice my strong opinions without the need to duck a punch. The little city of Durango is an island of Blue in a Sea of Red. It’s pretty liberal and conservation minded. The citizens have a profound love of Public Lands. 

I had found my people! 

Me being me, I jumped in with both flip-flopped feet. I joined organizations and began volunteering. I attended classes, festivals and concerts.  I was making acquaintances and recognizing faces. A few bartenders had an IPA poured when they saw me saunter in. Fortunately, I hadn’t lost all of my social skills in those living in a Van down by the River years. I felt confident about finding a niche and fitting in. 

Then along came Covid, in which the virologists strongly recommended that we minimize exposure to others, keep our distances and lock ourselves down. In essence those well meaning Doctors were telling me to return to the lifestyle, I was Jonesing to escape from. This sucked. 

It’s been nearly a year since Colorado locked down on March 16th, 2020. In that circle around the sun, I’ve experienced loneliness, isolation and yes, at times depression. Then again, I’m sure I had plenty of company. Of course they were socially distanced though. 

A few days ago, I received my first shot of Moderna. I felt relief knowing I stand a better chance of not contracting or transmitting the virus. I’m a Team Player who wants this scourge to end. I’m angered by the anti-Vaxxers who refuse to get inoculated, especially the ones who espouse “my rights and liberties.” Well, I have news for you. This virus doesn’t give a hummingbird’s poop about your rights and liberties. It’s an equal opportunity pathogen. Isn’t one year of not socializing enough? Does anyone really want a repeat performance of this pandemic?

Personally I’m ready to one day give and receive hugs again without fear or a mask. Together we can make this happen. Please don’t  be an anti-vaxxhole.

Last photo: In preparation for my future reentry to society, I practiced speaking to John, Sue and Bernie on my recent trip to Death Valley National Park. I had my hearing aids in too. 

Cheers from Solitary Confinement,

Jeff

A Thinking Person’s National Park.

It was pre-Covid years ago when I was nursing an IPA at the Badwater Saloon at Stovepipe Wells situated at sea level in Death Valley National Park. I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I twirled around and looked up at a halfback-sized dapperly dressed Black man with an enormous Star of David circling below his massive neck. At his side was a petite, attractive Asian woman. 

“Mind if we join you at the bar?” he politely asked.

“Please! I’d be delighted to have company.” 

Names were exchanged and a bit of banter too. I asked him if he really was a “Member of the Tribe.” 

He replied, “No, but I have a lot of respect for Jews.”

“Thank You! Well tonight, I deem you a  “Member of the Tribe.”. Your girlfriend too.”

With that out of the way, he got down to basics. “We can see from that crazy tan of yours, you spend a lot of time here. What’s with Death Valley? It just seems like a lot of rock, sand and gravel. What are we missing?”

I smiled grandly, “It’s cerebral.” I took a long pull on my Stone IPA before I launched.

“Our feeble minds don’t take in the reality of what we are seeing. To the east are the Amargosa  Mountains. They reside well over a mile above the valley. To the west are the Panamints. Rising over two miles is 11000’ Telescope Peak. The high point of the Park is about sixteen miles away from Badwater the low point. That’s  lots of looking up. Does it register? No.” 

I took another sip. I was on a roll. “Ahh! Then there’s the sunrises and sunsets. Drinking a coffee as the Panamints light up or watching the alpenglow of the Amargosas while drinking an IPA. It’s a pallet of colors and shadows either way. At night the Milky Way will startle your senses too. Then once in awhile if you’re lucky. SCORE! A Super Bloom!”

My audience of two still looked interested. I kept going. “Right now we’re in the most populated state in the US. Trust me, there’s places you can go without seeing anyone. Maybe even for days. Death Valley is the largest park in the Lower 48. Most of it is considered wilderness. (93%). It’s a great place to wander BUT as the saying goes, Mother Nature is beautiful until she tries to kill you. The desert treats fools and the cocky equally. It’s not a place to get hurt or sick. Cell phone coverage is almost non-existent. In other words the cavalry ain’t coming to save you. It’s no place to pull an Aron Ralston or an Everett Ruess.”

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2018/03/i-think-about-everett-ruess.html

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/08/at-least-i-didnt-have-to-cut-off.html

“Then there’s the human history of mining. For about 140 years  Diggers were looking for that elusive pot of gold. For every Keane Wonder Mine there were multiple not so lucky Chloride City Mining Districts. Most of the prospectors hard efforts went bust. It wasn’t just gold they sought, there’s copper, talc, borax, antimony and silver in those mountains, valleys and canyons. Its estimated the Park has 17000 mining remnants within its vast boundary. Many of my hikes take me along those routes and trails the old miners made. You never know what you might find here. BUT! Don’t venture into abandoned mines. They aren’t safe AND remember California is famous for earthquakes too. Who would want to write a sequel to “The 33: Deep Down Dark.”? 

I took another sip. They weren’t yawning yet. “I’ve been coming to DVNP for decades. It’s one of my Happy Places.  On a sunny windless day in February or March, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I’m in a state of smiles on those days.” I drained the last of my IPA. Then I quoted the philosopher Forrest Gump,  “And that’s all I’m going to say about that.” 

Good news. My company was smiling too. “We can see you are passionate about Death Valley. When we drive around tomorrow, we’ll look at the scenery through your eyes and ideas. Can we buy you a beer for the cerebral lesson?”

How could I say “No”?

Hoping you find your Happy Place in our time of Covid.

Cheers, 

Jeff

Extra reading: On March 2nd I had my first Moderna Vaccine shot. I’m happy to say, all my parts and appendages are still attached and working. Other than some joint soreness, I’m fine and looking forward to the second vaccine. Get your vaccines ASAP. Please. It’s time to place this virus into Solitary Confinement.