You Meet the Nicest People V...

at the Durango Diner.

Meet Dean, he was the other Assistant Boatman on our June, 2014 Grand Canyon raft trip.

Unlike me, Dean knew what he was doing. He was able to discern the bow from the stern. He knew what an Eddy is. I kept thinking it was a guest I haven't met yet. He was a pleasure to be around and fit in perfectly in the overall scene. He's a new buddy of mine.

Here's my pre-blog post I wrote about my experience. It was a tough voyage for this old guy.

Assistant Boatman II

In 2011, I acted (right word) as an assistant boatman. The experience was positive enough that I decided to give it a go again.

Lynn (boatman extraordinaire) invited me along for Round Two.

Sadly, the times they are a-changing on the Colorado River. The new generation boatmen are half my age, nimble, experienced and crazy fast in getting chores done.

The next generation also views the Grand Canyon as one vast sleep-away camp featuring swims through rapids, cliff jumping, tug-of-wars and other X Games diversions. All this complete with a "last one in, is a rotten egg" attitude.

Silly me, I thought National Parks were a place to seek solitude, beauty and serenity.

For the first time I my life, I felt like a doddering old man. (I was the oldest crew member among seven). I was humbled and intimidated at the same time.

So... I'm announcing my second retirement. I'll go back to doing what I'm good at. Being a gainfully unemployed retiree.

See, I even have a stone La-Z Boy throne for my non-work space.

BTW. The Grand Canyon is still one of the best places on the planet. In my future, I'll see it at my own pace and schedule. It'll be quieter too. 

And I did go back, just last month. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/04/why-do-you-think-it-named.html

The Idea of Home...

Is a funny concept. 

When I moved my few belongings to Tucson, Arizona  in December 2009, it didn't take me long to shake my head and think, "this ain't home." My interior attitude became "I left the Renaissance of Colorado to return to the Dark Ages of Arizona!" That state never felt right to me. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.ae/2015/04/so-long-tucson.html

In the four years I overwintered in the Grand Canyon state, whenever anyone asked, "where do you live?"

My quick answer was, "Colorado!" 

The Centennial State is where I spent the majority of my 60 years on Earth. Colorado is where I have the most friends, former lovers and now a few family members. (I'm hoping to have more Sambur's here soon!) I've climbed 50 of its 54 over-14,000 foot mountains. (I have the four human sacrifice ones left.) I've backpacked in its many Wilderness areas. The towns and roads are familiar to me. 

If you named a mountain destination, I could inform you on where to go for a beer, a hotel and a breakfast burrito.

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.ae/2014/08/there-will-never-be.html

Colorado is my turf. This state feels as comforting to me as a summer's evening drinking an IPA on a brewpub's patio. Now that's comfort! 

I rue the day that Sid (my Dad) passed along his cold weenie gene to his youngest son. I wish it weren't so. Searching and wandering for eternal summer is hard work! 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/03/two-years-of-being-homeless.html

But then again, this blog wouldn't exist without the wandering and wondering. Until I figure out a full time home, I'll just keep saying Colorado is home. BTW: Barley the Van has a green and white license plate to prove it. 

This spring, summer and fall, Colorado will be my residence once again. I am looking forward to it. 

Who wants to play with me here?

Cheers from Durango

Jeff

Photo explanations:

I looked into buying this fix-er-upper at Hovenweep National Monument, but the NPS wasn't selling.

Sometimes the road to forever leads to a windmill and water tank!

Final photo: That's my parting shot after my 28 year career as a Fort Collin's firefighter. 

Utahhh...

I've been beyond the Zion Curtain now for over two weeks. The natural wonders of the Beehive State are simply mind-boggling. There's five National Parks, seven National Monuments and two National Recreation Areas. A whopping 56% of Utah is public domain. I'm not leaving because of lack of sights to see. There's another unstable weather system bearing down around these parts. I'll head east to brewpub/sports bar friendlier Colorado. Visitors do not come to Utah for the staid night life. I've caught up on my sleep for awhile. 

The state of Utah knows it has a good thing going. Tourism is a blockbuster money maker here. They advertise their product on a worldwide scale. Hanging around at scenic overlooks can be like listening to a modern day "Tower of Babel." Without the influx of outside dollars, many communities would revert back to the good old days. In other words, the predominantly Mormon communities of Springdale, Escalante and Torrey would be be all about farming, ranching and procreating. I think there's still plenty of the latter going on. 

So why would Utah's state representatives want the Federal Government to hand back 20 million acres to the state? Could they do a better job of managing with a more limited budget? I think not. Besides, it makes no sense to buy the cow when the milk is free. Federal land ownership is not perfect, but better than the alternative. 

That's my Bud Light's beer worth of politics for the evening. 

Scary Gulches etc...

That come with appropriately fearful names. They are Peek-a-boo and Spooky. Two short slot canyons that took me by surprise. I've heard about these Bad Boys but I knew next to nothing about them. I wasn't even sure where they were along the Hole-in-the-Rock road. I sort of fell into them. 

I've been in tight canyons before like Little Wild Horse north of here. That canyon was Alaskan sized compared to these two. I slithered through sideways praying there would be no obese people literally stuck in front of me. I regretted eating the ice cream bar the night before. I called ahead to make sure no one was coming my way. There wasn't enough room to turn around in. The sandstone walls were intimately close. So intimate, I thought I would light up a cigarette when the wrestling match was over. It was wild and not for the claustrophobic. 

I'm now making my way east through Canyon Country. Tonight I'm rough camping with Barley the Van along Deer Creek on the Burr Trail Road. The stream should be called Mosquito Creek. It's not even dark and the loathsome insects chased me inside. I'll leave early tomorrow before they get caffeinated and hungry. I've donated enough blood already. 

From the bony photo, you can see it didn't take long for me to start living off the land. Those "Slow Elk" are so easy to hunt. Jerry from Kanab taught me well.

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.ae/2015/04/being-polite-and-smile.html

Final photo: Spring is in the air! I'm sure I heard the male frog ask the she frog, "Where have you been all my life?" It was an Animal Planet moment. 

Enjoy! (That goes for you hackers in the Ukraine, China and the UAR too!)

Why Box-Death Hollow?

For the name of a Wilderness Area? Well fans, (all twenty of you including hackers) I'm glad you asked. 

Death Hollow scored the scary moniker for all the livestock who plunged to their untimely demises while attempting to cross this sharply angled canyon. In other words, it's crazy steep. There's no mention of any salvage operations for the pulverized burgers or mutton. I guess the fresh protein was a treat for the local cougar. 

I chose the much mellower Box Canyon for today's wanderings. This big view canyon was formed by Pine Creek's constant liquid flow. I even saw fish in the waterway.  In fact, the only other creatures I sighted in 4.5 hours was a few frisky squirrels, some flittering birds and a scattering of lizards. There were no other humans around in this part of Utah. Now, that's a wilderness experience!

I'm kind of falling in love with the Grand Staircase - Escalante National Monument. Isn't there anyone out there who might be interested in a fall backpack trip here? You hackers are invited too! The autumn colors would be beyond awesome. Probably bordering on tubular, Dude. 

The slot canyons are calling...

While growing up...

In the Bronx, our early American history lessons were geographically eastern based. It was all about the Original Thirteen Colonies strung out along the Atlantic Ocean side. 

It wasn't until I made the great leap west in 1978, did I begin to realize there was heaps of White Folk history on the other side of this continent. The only difference was the White Folk spoke Spanish instead of English. 

In 1776, (isn't that year significant in U.S. History?) Fathers Dominguez and Escalante left Santa Fe, New Mexico in an attempt to find a route to the Catholic missions in Monterey, California. They endured hunger, cold, thirst and other hardships while traversing a harsh landscape. They were the first Non-Natives to see a significant part of the Colorado Plateau country. They left behind a few names of the rivers they crossed: the Dolores, the San Miguel and the Mancos. Their brave efforts failed to gain them the prize they sought. They returned to Santa Fe to a less than warm welcome. They were looked upon as losers.

So, it's a little ironic that the one River they didn't ford or even see is named after Father Escalante. Kudos to Almon Thompson who mapped and named the river in 1872. This humble river (only 90 miles long) was the last waterway of its size to be discovered in the Lower 48. Thanks Almon for not being a suck-up and naming the river after your boss - John Wesley Powell. 

I forded the Escalante River today over and over. I have photos to prove it too. Please don't look at me as a failure for not making it to Monterey. 

There is so much to see in the 1.9 million acre Grand Staircase - Escalante National Monument. I'll be doing some exploring in the days to come. Anyone interested in backpacking here this fall?

In the final photo, a few knockoffs of Casey Nocket left their sign in a beautiful alcove. Shame on them. http://jeffsambur.blogspot.ae/2014/11/the-case-against-casey-nocket.html

Be nice out there. 

Jeff

BTW. The W,W Jew blog just scored its 15,000th page view. So what, if many of those hits came from Eastern European hackers! Maybe they read my stuff in between sniffing around for my password. 

Why can't we all just get along? 

"So, Mama don't take my Kodachrome away..."

Kodachrome by Paul Simon.

It was a chilly, blustery day at Kodachrome Basin State Park. I donned tights, lots of layers and a Windstopper jacket to brave the elements for my ramble. I miss my shorts and tank tops! 

So Jeffy, how did this park get named for a now extinct Kodak color film? I'm glad you asked because I'm in Cannonville, Utah (Yawn!) and I have plenty of time to expound.

Back in 1948, a squad of National Geographic Society photographers descended upon the area. One Jack Breed piped up, "It was a beautiful and fantastic country...we renamed it "Kodachrome Flat" because of the astonishing variety of contrasting colors in the formations."

Personally, I think "Mostly Mud-Colored Rock Flat" would be more accurate, but Jack was here first. 

At that time, Kodachrome film was fairly new on the scene. (Maybe NGS was scoring some payola from Kodak!). In 1962, the land was deeded to the Beehive State for use as a park. A little later, Utah was granted the OK by Kodak to use Kodachrome as the name. Why not? Free advertising! 

In 2009, Kodak discontinued production of Kodachrome. Digital cameras made film obsolete. Future generations will one day say, "Daddy/Mommy! What's Kodachrome?"

You're a Baby Boomer if you know what a Brownie camera is!

The wind can stop anytime now...

From downtown Cannonville, Utah, yawn...