When Aussies speak about...

 Tasmania at first they sigh. Then they weep a bit. When they regain their composure they’ll blurt, “ You must see Cradle Mountain!” 

So I did.

Let’s digress back to my time in Scottsdale, Arizona. 

While training for life in general and particularly the Cradle Mountain Track, I injured my knee. Eventually, I received a hit of cortisone to alleviate the signs and symptoms. It didn’t work. I’ll  just say, I began the 50 mile Cradle Mountain hike with a knee the size of the Hindenburg, before the fiery explosion. 

In essence, I’d be backpacking with half of my drive train out of service.

Did I mention, I’d be carrying the most burdensome pack I’ve donned in decades?  My personal metric to pounds conversion was way off. What I thought was two pounds of almonds and cashews turned out to be four. With a forecast of dodgy weather, I packed a down jacket, Windstopper, hat, gloves, fleece tops, tights and rain gear. More weight. No Bueno.

On a Tasmanian summer day, I set out from Ronny Creek with a distinguishable limp. The forecast was for biting blustery conditions with a chance of White Death. I wasn’t feeling keen about any of this. I knew right there and then, I’d be going into Sir Ernest Shackleton survival mode, minus the pack-ice sledging and the 800 mile open sea voyage. There would be no bonus miles on this track for me. This would be a hobble to the finish line.

The powers that be claimed the first day’s hike was the toughest. I concur. Leaden with a Volkswagen on my back, the ascent to Marion’s Overlook wasn’t the worse part. (Despite the spitting White Death and “rock me baby” winds.) it was the relatively flat section that came afterward. Rocks! Big ones, bowling bowl-sized ones and some in between, all at knee twisting awkward angles. It was a slow go. 

A side note about the trail conditions: Not all of the Overland Track is composed of boardwalk. All in all, the trail is in hardscrabble shape. As a fellow hiker described it. “I came on this walk thinking I’d be looking at the scenery and thinking about life. Bloody Hell! I had to concentrate on ever step!” 

When the clouds took a break, I saw Cradle Mountain. The Park’s namesake has the appearance of concave ridge line rather than an Alpine mountain. The upper reaches are composed of crumbly columns of dolerite rock. The prominence sits alone between valleys. This was a scene that repeated itself again and again along the Overland Track. Sometimes the ridge lines were lengthy, more often the mountains appeared as punctuation points in the sky. Like everything else about Australia (IE: egg laying mammals with duckbills like the platypus), it’s different. 

I was the first hiker at the Waterfall Valley hut. I hung up my wet gear, grabbed a snack 

and looked the cabin over. The information packet said the hut could accommodate 24 hikers. I saw a relatively small living area for heaps of humans. So much open space outside and so little open space inside. I grabbed my book, and took a seat at one of two tables.

My quiet time didn’t last long. BAM! The hut’s door flew open. A typhoon of surly aloof kids had made entry. They gave me a quick glance and decided to ignore me. A few minutes later the adults arrived. It was pretty obvious the parents were taking a holiday from child rearing on the Overland Track. The noise level and chaos increased. My personal space was being nuked. The coup de gras came when I noticed a barefoot youth carrying a unsheathed knife. 

To quote the Big Lebowski, “This aggression will not stand.” So I packed up my gear and left. Fortunately there was a tiny hut down valley. That night I had my own Bachelor Pad. 

The next morning, I decided to go deep to make my escape. I’d double down and skip a hut. I needed to put the feral mob behind me. A mellow five mile day was about to become a seven hour, fifteen mile ordeal. The weather wasn’t very nice either. Off I went supercharged on two hits of Starbucks instant. I stayed focused, and only took breaks to fuss. IE :Put on an extra layer, take off an extra layer. Once in awhile I ate. 

The Pelion Hut looks like a Ritz Carlton compared to Waterfall Valley. The weather was improving so I decided to set a tent in a soft meadow. I wasn’t the only one. Once established, I ventured inside to check out the opulence. I took a seat in a corner and read. This is what I heard. People speaking in hushed tones. Strangers making an effort to be  friendly , respectful, pleasant and courteous. That included the kids. I smiled to myself. I had found, “My People.” 

At dinner time the hiss of Jetboil Stoves filled the air. I looked around and quickly figured out what I had suspected. I was the sole Yank and senior citizen in the group. The rest were Aussie families and couples. It didn’t take long for Bruce, Rachelle and their brood, Loren and Ryan to chat me up. In the next few nights they sort of adopted me as an honorary Grandpa. A trip highlight for sure. 

The next few days turned fine, blue and warm. It was a Dream Time of solitary hiking through the narcotic scent of eucalyptus forests. There were many options for side hikes up and down mountains and waterfalls. I didn’t dare. I was averaging a grimace/100 steps.The photo below is me pointing at Mount Ossa, the tallest in Tasmania. That’s as close as I’d get.

I double downed once again to stay at a remote campsite on the shores of Lake St Clair. There I accepted advice from Otis Redding and “sat on the dock of the bay, wasting time.” 

On my walk back to civilization, I got an early start to take advantage of the shade. By 10 I was out.

A few hours later after scraping a week’s worth of mud, dust, sweat, blood and human nastiness off this weary body, I was sipping a pint back in Launceston. With a beer buzz and a salmon dinner in front of me, I thought about my trips to Australia. 

What makes me endure the seventeen hours of air travel abuse? 

It’s never been about the scenery, although I’ve been to heaps of pretty places here. It’s always been about the people. In the past week, two people went out of their way to give me a lift, one nice man lent me his phone to make two business calls, and a stranger took time to help me don an unruly poncho. There were heaps of other random acts of kindness.  People are just nicer here. The Aussies are optimistic, easy going with a “she’ll be right” attitude. In others words, they are everything I’m not. 

BTW. Bruce and Rachelle invited me to stop in for a home cooked meal in Brisbane. I’m sure this honorary Grandpa will have a few new yarns by then.

G’Day!

From the one pub town of Saint Mary’s. I’m sleeping there too.

Another Virtual Toast to the Last...

two years of the New Dark Ages.

On the last day of 2016, post Black Tuesday (AKA Election Day), I penned my most politically charged blog.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/12/heres-virtual-toast.html

In it, I made straightedged predictions about the coming crisis awaiting America and the World. 

Recently I decided to revisit that post to check my Nostradamus score. 

From 12/31/16:

“This will not be the "Compassionate Conservatism" preached by President George W. Bush. Federally funded Social Welfare programs will be discarded like a half empty glass of Bud Lite with a cigarette butt floating inside. Ironically, many of President Game Show Host's supporters will find their economic life raft torpedoed beneath them. America will truly become a sink or swim society. 

More Americans will fall below the poverty line. There were 43.1 million unfortunates in 2015. This figure will go up. If you think there's a lot of homeless folks out there, wait until 2020. There will be heaps more. 

There will be an increase in Hate Crimes. No need to elaborate on this. It'll happen. Candidate Demagogue unleashed the hate mongers. (Hitler never directly murdered anyone, but his rants were responsible for 11 million victims perishing in Germany's concentration camps.) 

America's influence on the International scene will be marginalized. Our"unpredictable" foreign policy will alienate our present-day allies and create new adversaries. The US will be the schoolyard bully whom all the kids fear, but none want to play with. 

The new Administration will ignore the "Climate Change" issue, even though we rank second in the World for carbon footprint impact. 

There will be no new "reasonable" gun control legislation. The few constraints on procuring firearms will be shot down. Purchasing a weapon of mini-mass death and destruction will be as easy as "Coffee, Tea or Glock?" There will be an uptick in the number of mass murder incidents. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/07/freedom-is-not-free.html

This Administration will be one of the most corrupt and scandal ridden in our Nation's history. It'll be so impressive in this regard, Banana Republic dictators will stand up and take notice. 

There will zero to minimum net gain in acreage of Federal Wilderness Areas, National Parks or Monuments. A few western states will attempt a State Rights Land Grab to gather Federally owned property. Some states will be successful. Roadless area conservation will once again come under fire. The "Varoom! Varoom!" motor driven crowds will win new areas of public lands to trample. All in all, Federally owned land will be managed for the short term. I.E: "Drill, baby drill!" will be the new law of the land. 

The promises of manufacturing jobs materializing out of Mount Everest thin air isn't a reality. Automation and robotics have replaced the need for flesh and blood in many workplaces. Without a revival of "Luddites," those jobs aren't coming back. Big Business doesn't give a poop about creating jobs.It's all about the Bottom Line. 

Economically, look forward to a return of stagflation. 

From Investopedia: "A condition of slow economic growth and relatively high unemployment – economic stagnation – accompanied by rising prices, or inflation, or inflation and a decline in Gross Domestic Product (GDP). " 

This last prediction came from a "Reliable Source."

For the Commoners, taxes will stay about the same. Health insurance premiums will continue to spiral, with a reduction in benefits. In other words=no change. 

Under President Bravado, the World will be closer to a nuclear holocaust. An impulsive, "my way or the highway" macho man will have his finger on the trigger of the ultimate Pop Gun. 

Lastly, President Scumbag will sashay out of the Oval Office the richest "Bad Hombre" in the World.” 

That’s it! Those were my predictions.

I might not be batting 1000 but I’d say I’m way above .500. 

After I posted this, the incoming rounds from readers was fast and sometimes furious. 

Many wrote, “Come on! It’s not going to be that bad. It’s just a political pendulum swing!” 

To them I replied, “No! No! No! Jeb Bush, Rubio or (spit) Ted Cruz would have been a pendulum swing. You haven’t been paying attention. You haven’t noticed who his Base is. You haven’t heard his obvious message of White Supremacy and Nationalism. This is a Win at All Costs Candidate who is now the leader of our country. He doesn’t give a combover about collateral damage. His low bar is in the Mariana Trench. Human shields are fair game too! This will be Government run by a lowlife who hates Government. I’m warning you, “Something wicked this way comes.”” 

All in all, I’d say these past two years have been worse than I anticipated. My predictions were naively optimistic. Former Polly-Anna’s who said it wouldn’t be bad are now admitting I might have been onto something. 

I wish it weren’t so.

Prior to Black Tuesday, I was bantering back and forth with a former friend. He claimed to be a Libertarian. ( In my opinion, it’s a lyrical way of saying Anarchist. ) During one of our toxic discussions I blurted out, “ Come on! The Man is an Idiot! He’s not only stupid, he’s mean, evil and nasty.” To this he answered. “You are right, Jeff. But right now he’s our best option.”

If the bloated orange turd was their best option, I cringe at the thought of their worst. Possibly bringing Hitler back from the Dead? 

Here’s my predictions for the last two years of the New Dark Ages:

If you think 2017-2018 were depressingly awful, you’ve ain’t seen nothing yet. The Kremlin Con Man hasn’t hit his nadir of incompetency and cluelessness. He can and will go lower.

Now as his Inner Circle goose steps off to Federal Prisons, Putin’s Primary Pal will become the wounded predator. He will begin to feel trapped. His actions will be even more unpredictable and dangerous. Yes, things will get weirder.

All this being said, I believe we are stuck with Moscow’s Man-Child until Inauguration Day 2021. He will continue to sleaze by despite all the incriminating evidence gathering at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. He will continue to ignore the Rule of Law and the Constitution. 

Unless! There is Divine Intervention. Here’s my scenario: 

President Putin-Wannabe is spewing the usual hateful spiel and finger pointing at one of his “Loser in 2020!” Rallies. Of course there will be many mentions of “Those People”, the Great Wall of Racism and the media “the Enemies of the People” (A Vladimir Lenin line). A lightning bolt erupts from a DayGlo blue sky and smites the Billionaire BS Artist. From the Heavens, a Godly Voice will be heard. “Basta ya! No puedo aguantar más.” 

(Spanish to English translation. “Enough already. I can’t take it anymore.” ) 

Please send your sincere Thoughts and Prayers for this Divine Intervention.

By 2020, I believe the Tired of the Daily Drama Americans will come out in record numbers and vote against the “Dark Side.” We will take back our country and reestablish a Nation with a more hopeful and less hateful future. Not an America centered around Fox Fear Network. 

Which brings me to my final point. I am still in the running for the 2020 Presidential Gig. My platform is sound, civil and thought provoking. It’s not nasty whatsoever. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2018/06/a-presidential-platform-worth.html 

BTW Elect me and Kwanhanumas will become a National holiday. Who would not vote for another three day weekend?

PS. Joseph Kennedy Junior will be the Democratic Candidate in 2020. I’ll step aside for the sake of my Country.

Make America Civil Again,

Jeff

Gun Shops vs. Yoga Studios

Gadsden Flags (Don’t Thread on Me) vs. Tibetan Prayer Flags

Bud Light Pubs vs Brewpubs

ATV’s vs. Mountain Bikes

Fast Foods vs. Whole Foods

Resource Extraction vs. Preservation 

I’ve been traveling a majority of my life west of Interstate 25. I’ve become a subject matter expert on getting a feel of a town or city on a quick walk or drive through. The above are just a few examples of the quiet battles raging between Old West vs. New West values. 

I’m an aging Hippy. My comfort zone is more aligned with the New West. 

Don’t get me wrong. I admire those Old Westerners who eked out a living space. They had to combat the elements and the Wildness. The pioneers had to fight the Native Americans who held claim to the same chunk of space. There were a lot of atrocities and gun slinging done on both sides of the cultural chasm. White Folks eventually prevailed. 

In 1890, the US Census Bureau declared America’s frontier line was no more. The reason? There were more than two people living per square mile of land. Pioneers had done their job of “taming” the Old West. 

However, it came at a price.

Native Americans were moved off their ancestral territories and confined to reservations.

Lands where once the deer, antelope and buffalo played, are now fenced in with cattle and sheep. 

Rivers no longer flowed free to the seas. They were corralled by dams. 

Short grass prairies were dug up and planted over with wheat, maize, soybeans and cotton. Poor soil conservation practices led to the Dust Bowl years of the 1930’s. 

Wolves, grizzlies, coyotes and other competitors were either made extinct or had their numbers greatly reduced. Ecosystems became discombobulated. 

Ancient old growth forests were whittled down in a geological nano-second. 

Unregulated mining operations led to tainted waterways. The ecological messes that were left behind became EPA Superfund sites. IE: Summitville, Colorado, Uravan, Colorado and the UMTRA project near Moab, Utah. 

 

All in all, Mother Nature was looked upon as something to be exploited or feared and loathed. There’s a reason so many western place names start with Hell, Desolation, Devil’s and Death. Those Old West folks wanted Nature to bend to their will. Many still do.

Which brings me to a point. The Old West ideas of Nature aren’t sustainable. What’s worse is the strange bedfellows Old West is now attracting: the Sagebrush Rebellion folks, the Tea Party, the NRA supporters and anti-Federalists. To me it’s a free-for-all way of thinking with a slice of anarchy. It’s intimidating.

All this being said, the New West ideas aren’t sustainable either. Only for different reasons. New Westerners are loving the Wild West to death. 

I left the Bronx in 1978 for all the possibilities and potential the West had to offer. I came for the BIGLY views. I came for all those mountains, canyons, plateaus and places devoid of people. I came for all those luscious acres of National Parks, Monuments, Forests and Wilderness Areas. 

I came for all that Public Land that belonged to “We the People.” Others followed for the same reasons. A lot of others. (IE: Colorado’s population has more than doubled in 40 years). 

In our New West Lovefest, we are now trampling the very places we came here to ogle. 

It’s all very sad, but I’d  still rather see a gang of nature lovers than an open pit mine, a herd of cattle, a Jeep rally, a gun show, a forest clear cut or a dammed river. 

For living examples of what Old West and New West looks like. I suggest a visit to Pahrump, NV and Ashland, OR. 

Which place would you’d rather live in? 

From Scottsdale, AZ which claims to be “The West’s Most Western Town,”

I don’t think so...