A Season to Savor.

“Come on Summer!” was my fire department mantra. This simple exclamation got me through all those extra winter shifts I worked in order to “go missing” from June to September. That’s how much I love the summer season.

Now decades later, nothing has changed except I have a greater appreciation of “Summertime and the living is easy.” Maybe it’s because I have more summers behind me than in front of me. I’m well aware that time isn’t on my side. Therefore, I’m on an obsessed mission not to squander an hour/day of this (for me) primo period of the calendar year. 

“So Jeffie! What’s so special about summer?” Well, I’m glad you asked inquiring reader. 

Summer is about abundant daylight, sunshine, wildflowers, waterfalls, snow-free high country trails, camping (lots of that), baseball, outdoor concerts, patio Happy Hours, the Carbondale Mountain Fair, pika sightings, photogenic pregnant puffy cumulus clouds, Trail Angeling on the Colorado Trail, fresh peaches and barbecue.

It’s the season of shorts, flip-flops and gaudy tank-tops. (Yet, still being prepared for inclement weather at 10,000 plus feet. Remember Hypothermia never has an off-season.) 

But more than anything, summer is about my personal well-being. I’m at the top of my game both mentally and physically. I possess hummingbird energy (until 8:30 pm). I wake looking forward to the day. (Unlike winter when I feel as if an obese Mississippian Walmart shopper sits perched upon my shoulders.)

Best of all are my above tree line rambles. For lunch, I alight on a soft rock with a long view. Preferably within sight of a potential pika colony. While nibbling on a PB&Boysenberry sandwich, I take in the Rhode Island sized scene before me. Then I begin my Durango as a basecamp mantra. “This is so amazing. I live in a beautiful place.” 

In that moment, I’m at peace.

I’m happy.

Photos that require an explanation:

I took a midsummer break to rest my arthritic knees at the Carbondale Mountain Fair.. It was two days of food, IPAs and a few gummies of overindulgence. That’s me volunteering on the Peace Patrol. (Yes, I was sober!) Apparently the riff-raff  knew their was a new Sheriff in town. All was quiet on the Carbondale front.  

Just doing my job.

Special Kudos to Jim Jim and Martha for allowing me to camp at the JJMart RV Park in Carbondale. It’s the best in the West. 

Photos from my final resting place:

A summer ritual of mine is a jaunt up Handies Peak. It’s here where my estimated 6.5 pounds of ash and bone fragments will be left by Keith Sambur and Justin Sambur. (AKA the best nephews in the world.) In this photo, I’m clutching a two gallon Ziplock bag. I’ll  probably fit into that with room to spare. Why waste money on an urn?

To paraphrase one of the Passover Four Questions: “Jeffie! Why was this year’s hike up Handies different than other years?”

This year for the first time, there were two pikas greeting me at the top. The word must be getting out along the Pika Pipeline. This Wondering Wandering Jew is on our side. Jeff is all about Pika Power and keeping the fuzz balls around for future generations to enjoy. My favorite season wouldn’t be the same without pikas.

In case you missed this last post:

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2022/07/as-i-ponder-paucity.html

Come on Summer!

Jeff

As I Ponder the Paucity

of Pikas.

As I Ponder a Paucity of…

Pikas.

I shift Sanctuary Too (my truck and camper) into 4X4 Low and  thump and bump along  into thinner air, cooler temperatures and above tree-line views and hikes. In this rarefied atmosphere (where Texans are visitors who do not remain. YAY!) are the homelands of the American Pika. In these highly exposed rumbly rocky regions is where I’ll see and hear pikas. Those minute hair bags are one of the reasons I’ll sleep on high passes where most oxygen craving folks won’t.

Who needs oxygen when you can hang with pikas?

A few weeks ago, I camped and hiked in Prime Pika Park Avenue Real Estate. Sure, I was there for the views and the solitude, but I wanted to reconnect with the little fuzz balls. The day was cool and overcast, (pika weather) as I negotiated an out and back nine-mile over 12,000 feet ridge line trail, I saw no pikas. Zero, zilch, zip, nada, nil and a total absence of 

Ochotona princeps.

This upset me, but before I pulled a Chicken Soup Little and declared ”the sky is falling! The sky is falling!” I decided to sleep even higher in order to gather more statistics. So that’s what I did. On another chilly cloudy with a threat of rain day, I hiked up to 13,000 feet from the low point of 12,600 feet. I saw a paltry amount of pikas. Three.

Before I go any further, let it be known of my few talents besides making Sambini’s World’s Famous Kosher Green Chili, I’m a Pika Whisperer. If you recall from my last Pika related post I scored an exclusive interview with Shlomo the Yiddish speaking Pika. Please read to reacquaint yourself:

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2021/10/acuweather-fahgettaboudit.html

Back to the story…

I returned to the original site and hiked the same nine-mile out and back ridge line. All in all I spotted only three Pikas, but one of them was Shlomo.

“Shlomo! How’s ba’ you? Where is everybody?”

“OY! Jeffie my landsman! So good to see you again. I’m not doing so well. My friends and family have succumbed to the warmer conditions. We are heat weenies! My fellow members of the tribe can’t handle temperatures over 78 degrees! You’ll never see a Pika at Miami Beach. We’re running out of higher altitudes. Sniff! I’m very verklempt over this.”

“Shlomo! That’s awful. I knew something was up. I’ll usually spot 20-40 of you along this stretch. Marmots and chipmunks have moved into your old turf. I miss you guys!”

“Jeffie! It’s not easy being a climate change indicator species. We are feeling the effects front and center. What will it take for you humans to stop being such shlemiels and take climate change seriously. It’s not a Chinese Hoax!”

“I dunno Shlomo. The world is a mess. I think Yankee stadium, Candlestick Park and Camden Yards will be underwater before Americans start to act. There’s too much greed and bad politics going around.”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

With that, I handed Shlomo my signature PB&Boysenberry sandwich and a Cutie orange. It couldn’t hurt and made me feel less guilty.

Let me say this. A without Pikas would be a less joyful one. 

Please vote correctly to make a change on climate change.

It’s happening now. Just ask Shlomo.

Last photos: 

I’m a conversational whisperer with wild burros, ptarmigans domestic sheep and desert bighorn sheep too.

In search of Happy Places…

When this old world starts getting me down

and people are just to much for me to face

I climb way up to the top of (Sanctuary Too. My truck and camper)

and all my cares just drift into space.

Up on the Roof

Sung by the Drifters

Lyrics by Carole King and Gerry Goffin

Face it, we’re not living in the “Leave it to Beaver” or “Ozzie and Harriet” or even the law and order sitcom “The Andy Griffith Show” days anymore. We have more concerns than worrying about Opie Taylor getting caught in a lie. 

Going about ones business has gotten more complicated. Life is as not simple as it once seems to be. To quote George Clooney from “O’Brother Where Art Though” 

“Damn! We’re in a tight spot!”

On the international scale there’s:

A daily climate change calamity. Flash floods, wildfires and dust storms. OY VEY!

The never-ending Covid Pandemic. 

A rise in chest thumping Nationalism leading to a Russian invasion of Ukraine. Thus triggering all sorts of shortages and further disruption of international trade. Plus the human  misery toll of needless death and destruction. All of this to fulfill another tyrant’s ambitions. (There sure seems to be a lot more tyrants these days too.)

On the National scene:

Speaking of tyrants. 

Trump the Loser who won’t admit as much, orchestrating the demise of democracy. Facts be damned. I want it my way. Sadly enough, a majority of Republicans kiss his ring and go along with this wayward unreality TV show. I can’t wait to see the new Treasury Bills. “In Trump We Trust.”

And furthermore:

The overturning of Roe vs. Wade. Gun owners now have more rights than women.

Hyper inflation.

The now hairline fracture between separation of church and state.

And the Merican Way of Gun Violence.

 And now on the personal front:

Back in August 2019, I gave up the Homeless by Choice lifestyle because…well, i was getting lonely out there. Upon setting up a basecamp in Durango, CO I sought guidance from that NY Times bestseller, “A How To Guide for a Wandering Wondering Jew to Meet Fellow Humans.” 

Chapter One: Immerse yourself in local events.

So I did and still do with a Covid timeout in between. 

I’ve attended: an Earth Day Celebration, the Dandelion Festival, Animas River Days, A Taste of Durango, San Juan Brew Festival (twice), Multitudes of Green Drinks, Durango Film Festival (twice), Bike Durango film and silent auction, a Celtic Festival, iAM Music concerts in Buckley Park, a Durango Trails 2000 Fundraiser ETC, ETC. 

I people watch , smile at the many strangers and generally enjoy myself. Yet, I’m not making any newbie connections. 

Chapter Two: Become a volunteer for non-profit organizations.

I do and did that too.

Book schlepper for the Friends of the Library book sales. When I’m on the job,  I’ll exchange stories/quips with the other hard working volunteers. When the gig is over, I limp away with a sore back and still feeling socially unfulfilled. 

Tree Planter and Fen Restoration Helper for the Mountain Studies Institute. (See above for results, plus multiple bloody lacerations.)

Forest Ambassador for the San Juan Mountain Association. I like this gig. I get to schmooze with mostly Pilgrim Hikers about Leave No Trace ethics. When I notice their lack of water, food and warm, dry clothes. I  break open my BIGLY day backpack. I’ll display to the neophytes what I’m carrying if Mother Nature throws me a four-seam high-heat fastball. 

To spot a Pilgrim, check the socks. Cotton=Rookie.

La Plata County Democrats Fundraiser. I was the guest bartender. Between giving ample pours, many smiles and pounds of Cutie oranges (there’s a lot of scurvy going around) I spoke to my fellow liberals. Social Result? Same as the above.

I commiserated with a Buddy of mine, he said, “Jeff! Don’t take it personally. It’s a sign of our times.” 

Another friend said it all so succinctly when describing a couple we mutually know. “They’re in their own there.” Meaning? In their own world. No need for outside intrusions. 

But I do take it personally. 

Fortunately, the other reason I moved to Durango was for its Four Corner, Colorado Plateau epicenter location to Jeffie’s Happy Places. No matter which direction I point Sanctuary Too, there’s a Jeffie Happy Place: Mountains, canyons, wilderness areas, National Parks and Monuments. It’s all within a half day’s drive of my Durango basecamp. Perfect. 

I don’t feel so alone when my needs are met. Solitude, Silence, Scenery=Serenity.

BUT! I’m pleased to report, I introduced Kwanhanumas to Durango. It was a rousing success. We even had Belly Dancers. 

Baby steps. Baby steps. Maybe one day, folks will ask me to join them for Happy Hour.

Until then, when I’m in a tight spot, I’ll go camping.

All the above photos were taken from Jeffie’s Happy Places.