Tinnelli's House of Wonder

We arrived Moneta, WY, to realize we were short on fuel and with no choice but to continue the 22 miles to Shoshoni. There, in search of beer, we parked in front of an imposing building. Built in the '20s by President Ford's grandfather, an industrial baron, Ryan Tinnelli bought it from the Masons (the cult) over 15 years ago. It includes five theaters which visitors are encouraged to find by means of investigative discovery.

In homage to a former life.

The Front Room

This Way...

One of Five

Near the Ensconce-etorium

where one ensconces...on the throne.

A.k.a. The Ceramic Defecatorium

By Ryan Tinnelli

Two of Five

Affixed to a Bench

Now With Six Locations

Real action begins at 1:25

For more information or to schedule a tour, contact Mr. Tinnelli at 307 251 7956.

Golden Spliffoes Fill Your Eyes

Early in our courtship, testing my worthiness, Ms. Cook suggested in her inimitably sweet way, that I  create a new cat-part word. Over the preceding months I'd learned how she and her brother had developed an extensive nomenclature of/for cat-parts, so this was no small matter.

We were southbound on interstate 25 about to enter what's known as THE BIG I -- the interchange for Interstate 40 and Interstate 25, the place where ALL the Mexican ground-based drug traffic gets routed to the rest of the country. It's interesting.

In those days, 28 years ago, it was an aerial maze laden with skid marks and deep scars in the concrete barrier that (sometimes) kept vehicles from plunging the 200 feet to the ground.

As I began the approach to the I-40 westbound onramp, it came to me....SPLIFFOES!! The poochy part of a cat's face where their whiskers come out. She was impressed. The rest is history.

Nightmare of the Casper 5th Wheel

Continuing our northward trend, we left Laramie for Casper. But unfamiliar with Casper's camping options and facing a full day of "chores," we again opted for an AirBnb (up 'til now we've had good luck). At $69.00 a night it seemed a bit pricey, but sounded convenient.

The unit was pictured by itself without the surrounding buildings and though the neighborhood was described as urban we were completely unprepared for what we found....urban WASTELAND!!!

Still, neither of us having ever been in a 5th wheel, we approached with curiosity. Someday, when I'm totally bored, I'll look into where "Fun Finder" is positioned in the market. We found it hard to believe anyone would buy ANYTHING this chintzy....except maybe as a hovel for your immigrant slaves that you condescended to let have some pseudo plumbing (it stank!) and a noisy refrigerator.


We left the next morning earlier than I've broken camp from anywhere except the time I inadvertently camped at the wrong end of a shooting range.

UW Art Museum - Part II

In the lobby is an installation by

Nxt 2 photos by: Who's that Gurl?

Clock at lower right for orientation.

One can only speculate as to what helped Mr. Predock transition.

In the building's center

Who dat?!!

Among the collections are 50 from Dorothy & Herbert Vogel's nation-wide distribution.

Dorothy & Herbert in 1992

My fav from the 50 for 50.....

University of WY Art Museum - Laramie

The Museum's website.



Perhaps he's still there, but in the mid-'90s when I held a regional exhibit of art by architects, Antoine Predock had his offices in Albuquerque. His buildings at that time were easily ignorable; they looked like bunkers. Below is his United Blood Services building.

Knowing he was probably too busy to bother with the application process, but with a gnawing suspicion he might enjoy being included, I went to his office to invite him to participate. As we stood discussing the project, he pulled a sheet of paper from a nearby printer and, using a felt-tip pen, drew an image similar to the one below (see more here). It sold, for $300.00, before the show even opened, to a University of New Mexico student of architecture.

You can imagine my astonishment at discovering the University of Wyoming Art Museum was designed by the same man.



Photo by: Who's That Gurl?

My Pic of: Who's That Gurl?

Laramie....Wyoming

The latch that keeps the door of her camper from swinging in the wind broke; my rear door latch needs a new pull chain; there's laundry; the weather was gorgeous yesterday but then went back to monsoons. We found a cute AirBnb for $75.00 a night. (BEWARE the cleaning fee, taxes and other add-ons.)


Cute, as any gigolo will tell you, only goes so far. A former boarding house, the heat is controlled from downstairs (inaccessible) and the wiring hasn't been upgraded. So, while there are numerous strategically-located power strips, there're no space heaters and it'd probably be unsafe to plug one into a power strip even if there were.

But it's cute...

The baaaaath (said with Eloise's affected accent)....

We hope to visit the Ivinson Mansion and the Art Museum before trundling on....but it's rigorous out here.

 The nearest Public Lands camping we could find is 41.2 miles to the west at Arlington. It was raining when we arrived and required 4 whl drive to keep from tearing it up.

Piddling In Place

This IS a color photo

Having had our way with Laramie, we went north to Arlington where a wet, gouged out, two-track led steeply up. Even in 4 whl we were at risk for slipping into the trough between the tracks...a situation that would likely disable her refrigerator. (Oh, the travails of accoutre-ized rigs!). That plus the fact we didn't want to damage the road by driving on it when wet prompted us to take the first spot available. We stepped out to a magnificent view that included a flat-topped hill be-furred with the oscillating fans of a windfarm.



Only about a mile above the freeway and its endless stream of trucks, we were fortunate that the wind was in the right direction and it was quiet. And the hills are (well, they were yesterday afternoon) ALIVE with color from myriad wildflowers.

The Beaufort Scale lists 37 knots (42.5788 mph) as the low end of Gale. I think it qualified. And somehow the exhaust fan cover developed a crack. Not a major issue with snow, but likely to cause annoyance with rain. But she had an idea. I'm too fat to go aclambering. But SHE is an animal! (It was June 23rd, not 24.)

Spring thaw courtesy of her iPhone 8....

The next morning....

Muddy Creek Snowstorm

The snowstorm at Muddy Creek Pass obscured the signs and I missed the turn to Walden.

Speed Limit 65

At the accident we had to wait about twenty minutes while they hauled off the wounded. I surmised the snow was too deep to see or find -- to remove it -- the debris. It occurred about ten to fifteen seconds ahead of me, about the amount of time I'd taken to pull over a mile earlier to let the hurriers go by.

The Accident Scene

It wasn't until I saw the sign welcoming me to Steamboat Springs that it dawned on me about the turn to Walden.

When I got back the jack-knifed truck was still there as was the blue Honda FIT that'd gone off in a turn. The police guy officiating at the Honda's rescue looked colder while a helpful citizen with a truck and tow-strap was attempting to assist. They'd been on their own, shoveling, when I went by the first time. I figured s/he/it (the helpful citizen) was interfering with Darwin's Rule of Pruning.

It'll be a while 'til I forget seeing the Grand Cherokee in front of me cross the highway to -- so it appeared -- make a left turn. But as I went past I saw there was no road. The car was off the shoulder, tilted slightly and at an odd angle to the highway, facing, more than less, the way it'd come. The driver had a look of startled bewilderment. I slowed from 12 mph to seven.

Lone Pine Art - Kremmling, Colorado

It had been a loooong 37 miles from camp to Kremmling (at the junction of 40 & 9). I NEEDED an espresso and an art fix. There, at the north end, the sign stood, hailing.

But the "Gallery" was closed.

Miffed at being sucked in by the huge sign, I went around to the side, peering into windows and trying the back door. Then, chancing to glance left, I noticed the OPEN sign in a window of one of the motel rooms. Next to the door the words "Lone Pine Art" are spelled out with one-by-two sticks painted in British racing-green.

Bill Janson greeted me at the door and we commenced on a fine conversation about process; it seems it's the same...regardless of style.

An outdoor enthusiast, he'd owned the liquor, grocery and sporting goods stores until he retired. His eye for detail and ability to convey them onto canvas mean you need to stop.

His prices are very affordable too.

Dirty Filthy Commie Taxes

After dinner, Ms. Cook's grandparents engaged in The Nightly Roardown. An (apparently) unconscious but much-relished source of entertainment for the elders, it was, for her and her brother, during their formative years (ages 5 - 10), frightening.

Now, as an adult, when occasion warrants (like when I'm pontificating as below) she lets forth with a vituperative mainstay from The Roardowns: "Dirty, filthy commie taxes!!"


This morning I ran across a bill introduced to the 2015 (link is to pdf) Senate: To eliminate certain subsidies for fossil-fuel production.


The bill included some interesting tidbits (facts?)...

....the Environmental Law Institute found that from 2002 through 2008, Federal fossil-fuel subsidies (our taxes) in the United States totaled over $72,000,000,000, while Federal renewable-energy investments totaled $12,200,000,000; (A disparity that says A LOT about our commitment to renewable energy resources.)

....according to Taxpayers for Common Sense, the 5 largest oil corporations have made more than $1,000,000,000,000 (just fyi: that's a trillion) in profits during the past decade;

....according to the Center for American Progress, the 5 largest oil corporations posted more than $89,700,000,000 in profits in 2014 alone; (That's $89.7 B.)


And the reason for the bill: To wean the corporations from government subsidies (welfare).




And in another line....

According to the Center for Responsive Politics, the oil and gas, coal, utility, and other natural resource extraction industries spent more than $1,800,000,000 on lobbying during the period of  2010 to 2014, which was an effective investment in protecting their extraordinary tax loopholes and subsidies;


A "fact" sheet about the bill -- some redundancy but with more detail: link


Of course, these kinds of issues are best left unreported. The media knows we're impotent and subject to depression when prompted to THINK (about these things). Besides, they, the masses, LIKE driving big trucks that only get 12 miles to the gallon.
 
Here's hoping you're getting YOUR share of "likes."


P.S. I contacted the office of Bernie Sanders (I-Vermont) (the Senator who introduced the bill) and asked what became of it. The guy said they only take calls from Vermonters. I scathingly scoffed with: "In this global economy?" He hadn't a clue what happened and after some further haranguing said he'd refer my call to some staffer who worked with enviro or taxo issues. I ain't holdin' muh breadth....or my breath neither. And we PAY these people to run our country?

WAKE UP YOU FUKERZ

At 37:14 Marty Balin screams the blog title. (And, of course, as you know, they never did.)

Prompted by Jean Luc Goddard to play atop a hotel in New York, the Jefferson Airplane let fly.

Suffering a relapse after too much fun at FIBark, I'm languishing, by mySELF no less (so she won't get sick), but taking FULL advantage of her BOSE SoundLink Mini.

Skip to 47:13 when they lift off.

WOW! Colors, maaaaaaaaaaan.


And at 55:17 "The insights that we gained, not just from LSD...."


And have you heard? In May, by ballot, Denver, the Colorado municipality, voted to decriminalize psilocybin. The decision officially places it at the bottom of the list of drug-related crimes and possessors will, supposedly, not be prosecuted. This is in recognition not only of its lack of deleterious effects, but in acknowledgement of its potential for relieving/alleviating symptoms of depression, PTSD and other emotional and mental problems.

FIBark - Salida, Colorado

One of the greatest whitewater festivals in America.

Who's That Girl?

New Hat

Leaving Chokecherry

As with most of the places I go, I picked Chokecherry Canyon off the map for no reason other than it was convenient. On Thursday there were a few others along the road, but Friday evening the traffic was almost continuous until 10:30 p.m. In the morning we were surrounded. Many soon left, but others came. The road was REALLY rough and I wondered if there was a black hole at the top of the hill that was absorbing and regurgitating them all.

Yesterday, Saturday, I was able to pack (finally getting over the cold) and we found our way to within 15 miles south of Salida. Exhausted, we're hoping to make it into town before the afternoon thunderstorms arise.

I looked back over my shoulder from the middle of the San Luis Valley and could only see the outline of the mountains; they were veiled by the dark clouds that were letting loose a torrent of Cats und Dogs.

Put On Yer Headphones

When yer stuck in bed, by yerse'f; done watched the porn and taken care of bidness, it's time to enjoy a bit of moozak. I don't usually listen to olde stuff, I heerd it enuf when I was young....but I stumbled upon the two below.

In the first, Phil Graham's comments about "what draws" resonated; it was true of the art business. But I refused to sell "what sold"... except for a few prints by the child wonder: Alexandra Nechita (wiki article).   (Ms. Nechita's website)





Anyway....


After seeing Mr. Graham, you may wanna skip to 6:35, when Eight Miles High starts.

The Byrds *Eight Miles High* at Fillmore East 1970

 (preceded by *Jesus is Just Alright)

In *Whiter Shade of Pale* (below) with the Danish National Concert Orchestra, I was instantly smitten with the choral singer at 4:46.

We head to Salida today for the FIBark (First in Boating on the Arkansas River) Festival. We're eager to see the SUP boxing. (link is to video from 2018.)

Down With A Cold

Well, we've all heard about people who can find something to be happy about. But I'm a cat-man and that means it can ALWAYS be better.

So, while having a cold isn't nearly as bad as throat cancer -- like Rolling Steel Tent (Al needs help paying the medical bills. Please make a donation via the Paypal button in the upper right on his blog.)

or being dead, like Malia Lane (a full-timer who went to Oregon to take advantage of their Medical Aid In Dying law), it suuuuucks! (Of course, we all KNOW death is a big party; it's the getting there that can be problematic.)

She's in there, working on entries for her new blog -- once we get it up. In the meantime, I'm lying here, unable to even TOUCH her lest she come down with it too.

Aw, mmmmAAAAAAANNNNNN!!!!

Abiding By the Law

Having my 2nd pot interrupted by the authorities didn't help. They came, like LDS door-knockers, to educate me that "You're not allowed to camp between highway 160 and Big Meadows Reservoir." It's to preserve the river's sanctity. (The South Fork of the Rio Grand flows out of the reservoir.)

I'm all for the sanctity of rivers, but the stance they both struck was straight out of central casting. Hers was wide, wider even that John Wayne's. He, along with width, hooked his thumbs in his pants above his belt, close to where the holster might've hung had he had one. I almost laughed aloud; wondering if they're taught "intimidating" poses as part of their training.

I need to drop another pant size before I can -- once again -- fit my lederhosen (mine come to just above the knee). But you can see I'm ready with my visage.

"I haff cum to inform yew zat your nayberz haff complaint!! Yer grass ist vun quarter inch too long! By sundown....or ELSE!" der Burgermeister sed. Und he huffed off to haf anudder schtein uf beer. Ya!

Eli Ridgecock - Dog Musher

You just never know who yer gonna meet!

Discouraged at the number of folks camped along the La Plata River (Due north of Hesperus, Cah-low-ray-doe), I shifted into 4 whl lo and sidled up FR 792. There, as I was settling in, I was startled by someone running by!

On his way down I learned it was non other than Eli Ridgecock, renowned dog-musher. Formerly of Fairbanks, Alaska, he's now with Durango Dog Ranch, a dog-sledding adventure company.

Those white patches in the background are snow

After 'splainin' their provenance, Eli agreed to take the 9mm bullets I'd found out near Gallup the other day (any weight, besides my own, is too much). There were 60 regular and one hollow point and two and a half boxes of 22 long rifle. All worth about $35.00 including tax. That's them he's holding.

I couldn't bring myself to leave them or throw them away. The magic marker reads: "From California Can't Take Home"

Such a purty box! And along with the bullets there were several half-liter water bottles and a beer can or two (all perforated).

Philip Connors on Norman Maclean

From this essay by Connors:


As he says in the opening pages of “A River Runs Through It,” “all good things–trout as well as eternal salvation–come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy.” 




Many of you have likely read A River Runs Through It. But it wasn't until just the other day that --  spending time with The Good Luck Duck -- I learned of Philip Connors.

Connors wrote Fire Season (in which he eloquently details the depredations of western livestock grazing) and a couple of other books. He's also an essayist and choosing from this list, I learned more about Maclean.

You might also enjoy The Good Luck Duck.

Animal Communicator - Anna Breytenbach

I began my wanderings in the (Salmon River) wilderness at the age of 16. Over the decades I've encountered a few rattlesnakes, usually a bit indignant at being disturbed, an occasional scorpion and numerous spiders. I've been in some remote places and, on occasion, used a soft cough to alert "someone" I could not see but "felt" was nearby.

I've occasionally felt I was being watched, but I've never had a close encounter except with butterflies...which often appear when my mind wanders toward a dark side. I've sometimes wondered if the animals have let me be...knowing I was there to enjoy it just as they do.

Anna Breytenbach obviously has an amazing gift. The story about cats, the last in the video, begins at 37:40.  Then, at the end, at 49:42, she talks about how each of us, using our senses, can connect with nature.

Pausing To Rest - West of Flagstaff

She's been known to make the run from Los Angeles to Albuquerque without stopping. With my nagging she MIGHT have stopped somewhere along the way, but by meeting her a few miles west of Flagstaff and guiding her to "my" spot in the dispersed camping area, I was assured she'd get some rest.

As it was, she drove white-knuckled for an hour and a half to reach escape velocity from L.A. and then another ??? hours to our rendezvous. There was only time for a brief massage and five minutes of cuddling (count 'em!) before sending her off to dreamland.

She woke at five (a.m.) had tea and went back to sleep until about 8:00 (a.m.). After a quick breakfast, she lugged her portable loo off to the hole like the veteran she is; I even forewent the quip about whether everything "came out alright."

By then she was looking a tad pale so she "did" an ativan and went back to sleep whilst I piddled around online.

After she woke, we again had coffee, then packed up and parted. We'll meet sometime in the next week or so in Alamosa, Colorado. There's a major whitewater fest, FIBark, next weekend in Salida and an art fest on the 28th. She doesn't have an end-date for this "celebration" of her upcoming 70th birthday, but she's mentioned several places in Wyoming and Montana.

Stay tuned.

(She came and went so quickly I didn't EVEN get a photo.)

Letter to Monticello BLM Field Office

Latest Version (yet to mail)....


Mr. Jeremy Martin
Supervisory Park Ranger, Monticello Field Office
Bueau of Land Management
POB 7
365 N. Main St.
Monticello, Utah 84535

                               Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Dear Mr. Martin:

This hyarz a vituperative rant so needz tuh be red with 'n' ear cocked for the nuances of inflection.

My wyf an' I spint the past sevrl weeks hikin' an' campin' upwards from Bluff, Utah to a few mylz south uv Jacob's Chair.

We'd took note of the fact -- in a 1998 issue of Archeology Southwest Magazine -- that cattle'd bin banned from much uv the Cedar Mesa beginnin' in the 1940s. Thus, we wuz EXTREMELY upset tuh see the profUSION of cow shit and depreedations occurring in Butler Wash, Comb Wash (Snow Flat Rd), Johns Canyon an' in the Kane Gulch area.

Whenz this gonna stop?!

Seein' this, it's damned hard tuh take seriously any of ya'll's exhortations an' admoenishunz tuh Leave No Trace, hopscotch, stay on trailz tuh prezrve cryptobiotic soils.

WHEN ar our public lands gonna be returnt tuh providin'  habitat for the indigenous species? A frequent question from people we meet is: "Haz u seed enny wyldlife?" In over 50 yarz uv travel we ain't NEVER had no-one 'citedly ast: "Didjoo see thet thar cow?!"

The time has LONG past tuh keep BSin' folks 'bout sustainin' the myths o' duh West.

PLEASE do all you kin tuh reemove lifestock fum our public lands.

Thank you.

Sincerely,


MFH

Whaddya tink?

Popular opinion about ranching in the West has shifted over the past couple of decades. There's increasing pressure to retire grazing allotments on public lands, especially in places such as Cedar Mesa and Bears Ears Natl Monument. Overgrazing has so devastated the West scientists predict the ecology will EVOLVE rather than recover. I first wrote this in a standard, straightforward manner, but it just seemed too boring. Ms. Cook thot I'd get a better response by leaving out the crudities (since expunged) and returning to standard english. Y Usted?

180 North of Flagstaff

She arrives tomorrow. In the meantime I'm exploring highway 180, the lesser-used route to Grand Canyon.

This is the view from the highway. The backside of the San Francisco conglomerate.

A little closer in.

Tomorrow, in anticipation of closeness, it's bath time...whether I need it or not.