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. 

Going Feral Again.

 When folks ask me what it was like to be Homeless by Choice for 6.5 years, I’ll respond “at times it was a feral lifestyle.” If the questionnaire desires more information,  I’’ll give them the down and dirty. 

Going feral is when a shovel creates an instant outhouse. It’s when a gallon of tepid water gurgling from a Solar Shower provides personal hygiene. It’s when the definition of clean clothes are the garments with the least stench. Food options can be Macs and Cheese, or a can of soup or a refried bean burrito. It’s far from glamping or being a Foodie. 

Going feral means being outside the mainstream. Your contact with other Homo Sapiens is at below sea level standards. It’s a lifestyle not for the gregarious or the squeamish. It’s ultimate social distancing. Its my way of dealing with a deadly pathogen. 

To be honest, (remember this is the most honest blog in the world) going feral is not too challenging  for me. When the weather is gentle and cooperates it’s no problemo. I like being “out there.” 

In this winter of Covid discontent, I had two options. 

A) Safely sequester myself in my cozy Durango townhome where I could anxiously wait for my vaccine lottery ticket to be drawn. 

OR

B) Road trip with Sanctuary II (my new truck and camper) to Death Valley National Park. Patience is not a virtue of mine. But then again citizens wouldn’t want a patient firefighter either. “Don’t worry folks, we’ll extinguish your house fire once “Jeopardy” is over.” 

There really weren’t  any options.

I provisioned up with the idea of playing “Keep Away” from winter and Covid for a month. I stocked my camper with two Jeffy requirements. Coffee and IPAs. Oh yeah, food too. Eventually I’d run out of fresh fruits and vegetables. When that time came, I’d double down on my vitamins to stave off scurvy. It’s all fun and games until your teeth fall out. 

Death Valley NP is far, far away from real towns. The closest being PaTrump (SPIT!)  NV. This high desert city’s motto says it all. “More Gun Shops, than Grocery Stores!” It’s a place best to avoid. BUT if you do have to get stuff, run in, run out at the crack of opening times. On those days, I’d drink an extra cup of coffee to ramp up my shopping to “Warp Drive.” If you’d blink you’d miss me, which Is fine by me in PaTrump. That means no one has time to take aim at me.

Postscript: I managed to avoid a trip to the sh-thole of PaTrump (Spit!) NV. I scavenged off the land. Hostess Wheat Bread, eggs and raspberry preserves from the “Family Dollar” Store in Beatty, NV and overpriced tomatoes, apples, oranges, potatoes, onions and salsa from the Furnace Creek General Store. 

My dinners were reminiscent of the Old Time miners except I discarded the cans in an appropriate manner. I never came close to running out of IPAs and coffee. My priorities are spot on.

From the land of rock, gravel and sand all blended into one beautiful National Park. (A perfect place for a minimalist like me.)

Stay safe, sane and healthy,

Jeff

Postscript II: En route back to Durango. Old Buddy Paul L did what I couldn’t do from DVNP. He went online and scored two Covid shots for me. I shoot up on Tuesday! I sound like a junkie but I don’t care. Be part of the solution instead of the problem. Get your vaccines ASAP. Please. 

Remember no one will ever say, “That Pandemic, now those were the days!”

What would Buddha do?

In May 2019, I strolled around the community of townhomes I would soon be residing in. I was on a mission to pick up the vibe of Parkview Terrace. 

You can tell a lot about a neighborhood by its vehicle’s bumper stickers. In the parking lots, I noticed “Bernie 2016”, “San Juan Mountain Association”, “May the Forest Be With You”, “I’d Rather be Hiking” and “Ska Brewery” rear end adornments. There wasn’t one “NRA” sticker.

Nice! 

Since all the townhomes look nearly identical, the ability to decorate is limited by the occupant’s imagination. What I saw was promising though: Tibetan Prayer Flags, heavy metal sculptures, strings of colorful lights and Happy Hour lounge chairs. But what really caught my attention was a pair of Buddhas. The Enlightened Ones were hanging out on pedestals on opposite sides of a garage door. They were sporting just had a Double IPA grins. 

Well, if a neighborhood is cool with Buddhas surely it would be OK for a Liberal minded former Wandering Wondering Jew to move in. My intuition turned out to be correct. I chose well. My neighbors are kind people.

Recently I escaped Durango’s season of cold and snow. I was in Snobsdale, AZ, when a string of text messages lit up my phone. They were from my neighborhood’s message board. The catalyst was from Marcia. It read, “Hey guys, someone took an Amazon package from my door last night AND one of my Buddhas. That's just bad karma for whoever did that. Any one else have something taken?” 

The text chain came fast and sometimes furious. An “All Points Buddhas Bulletin” went out. Neighbors began searching in snowbanks and the surrounding neighborhood for the missing Siddhartha. I suggested putting the local hounds on the scent of Buddha. But the pooches (a Chihuahua , a Corgi, a friendly Mutt and an Australian Shepherd) weren’t up to the task. Buddha had been fleeced for good. All my neighbors (and me) were virtually bummed. 

Later that day while I was on my daily Snobsdale hike, I thought about what transpired 430 miles away. The little I knew about Buddhism was based upon Tibet and the Dalia Lama. A few months ago I read “Eat the Buddha” which was a sad account of China’s tyrannical abuse of the Tibetan Buddhists. The 14th Dalia Lama is their spiritual leader.  I’ve seen him on TV.  He giggles a lot! When  Mr. DL wasn’t chuckling he seemed to be a Human who preached peace and good will toward all. I liked that.

So with this in mind, I pondered. What would Buddha do? Why he’d click on Amazon and purchase a replacement of himself to gift to Marcia. THAT’S what Buddha would do. Well, he’s long gone, so I was his stand in. After the deed was done, I texted this to the neighbors and mutual friends.

Hi neighbors,

From Snobsdale, I read about Marcia’s purloined Buddha. I went online and bought her this replacement. If you care to toss in a few bucks, that would be nice if not you are still invited to sign the card. As we all know Covid sucks. I thought a bit of neighborly goodness would be appreciated by Marcia.

Thx in advance,

Jeff the Cold Weenie

The response was extremely generous. Not only did we cover the price of Buddha, there was enough left over for a healthy donation to the Durango Food Bank. A win-win situation for all. 

I’m no expert, but I’d say that’s Good Karma.

Last photo: Here’s Marcia’s Facebook post upon receiving Buddha. After reading this, I too was sporting a Double IPA grin. It’s fun making mitzvahs. 

Cheers,

Jeff