Homeless on Kanab Creek

Six days ago,  while boondocked near Kodachrome Basin State Park, Phoebe let out a loud CRASH as she rolled backward off the block I'd set up to adjust her clutch. It wasn't long to realize the clutch was no more.

I got her going using the starter (HURRAY for standard shift!!)  and drove to Kanab where Tricky Ricky Rocks (see blogpost) had vetted Little's Diesel Service.

In the course of things I consulted (this is for all you other Tracker enthusiasts out there) with Fritz Gafford, owner  of Tracker Ranch in Livingston, Texas. Another Tracker driver met somewhere had described him as an aficionado.  Over the course of our 20-minute conversation I came to appreciate his opinion.

Over the last six days I've gained a feel for the vast gap 'tween Overlanding/RV living and homelessness. I was lucky to find a nice campspot within walking distance of town. Less than a stone's throw from Kanab Creek. Aside from the highway noise and a few ATVers, it was idyllic. But thinking about it as a way of life brought into contrast the difference between the motorized mobile life and a shopping cart.

In my teens I hitchhiked the U.S. with a Camp Trails "Freighter." Camptrails' largest backback, I never could get it, during the four years I lived out of it, below 60 pounds. I traveled sans tent; when it rained I hunkered under my poncho. I had an army-surplus sleeping bag someone had added a pound of goose down to that enabled me to sleep comfortably in sub-freezing temperatures.  A breakdown fishing rod and a few hooks helped tease the trout out of the Idaho streams. I kept a journal, carried some brown rice and soy sauce, an extra pair of jeans, three shirts and several changes of underwear. It couldn't understand WHY it weighed so much.

Now, with three boxes, several backpacks, although none designed for living out of, my sleeping bag -- a car-camper special -- weighs twice as much as the one in my youth and isn't as warm.

The last hitchhiker I picked up, several years ago, said it'd taken him two weeks to get from Nashville to Albuquerque; a distance I'd covered in the '60s in three days, at the most.

They just called and said Phoebe's ready. They found several other things wrong and aware she's my home, they made the repairs to last. Billy hadn't added it up yet, but I'm suspecting it'll take me a couple of years to pay it off. But if you're ever near Kanab, Utah and need help, Little's Diesel is the place. Mike Little does the diesel and Billy does the automotive.

It's great to have my home back!!


$900.00 for a clutch and some custom work on the pedal linkage.

Smith, the Cat, Jumps Ship

In Cedar City, Utah I spent a couple of hours enjoying the BFA exhibit at the Art Museum. Then another hour attending a performance of Red, a play about Rothko. Then a stop at Safeway to restock the larder. Thus, it was way past dark when we pulled into a large turnout at the beginning of highway 14, a two-lane road that leads to some of Utah's most spectacular scenery.

Smith, inside all day, had had enough, but I was reluctant to let her out. The highway was barely 200 feet away and there were other folks using the rest area. Finally, at 2:00 a.m. after pleading with her all evening, I strapped her into her walking jacket tightening it as much as I could, clipped it to the roof rack and lay down, finally, to sleep.

In the morning it lay at the end of the 15-foot lead, empty. She hadn't eaten since her after-dinner snack at 8:00 p.m. so I figured she'd be hungry by noon.

The spot was next to Coal Creek, a good-sized river, and had all the things she loved: steep, rock-laden banks to clamber upon and lots of boulders with hidey-holes to explore. Half a mile downstream were nice-looking homes, each with goodly amounts of land around them.

On the other side of the highway was a spectacular canyon, no doubt FULL of mice, voles, reboks and all other manner of prey.

Emulating Bobtail, Great Hunter of Cochise Stronghold

(we watched it on the laptop)

She'd reached that age where children are fed up with their parents. She enjoyed being outside so much she wanted it full time...like me. Sitting in a car, waiting, was no longer acceptable.

It's been a relief. I still worry about what became of her, but know she's resourceful. She'd survived in the Redwoods for god knows how long before I found her. I'm confident she found a place where she can get her meals and be outside all the time too.

But I still get a hollow feeling in my stomach when I think about her. But next time a kitten shows up it'll be straight to the shelter; I learned my lesson. And yet, I miss her.

Hatchet or Hitachi

Her screams have yet to attain the resonance that accompanies the release of deeper tensions, but they're piercing enough to inspire concern. We've been fortunate to not have had any neighbors and as she's grown more comfortable mit Das Hinterlands, we've ventured farther and farther into the wilds....both literally and metaphorically.

The delights of discovery seem boundless; one of the perqs of a new relationship.

Two....glowing

Betty Dodson popularized the Hitachi Magic Wand in her workshops for women on how to masturbate. Recent experience with the Panasonic's Panabrator EV22 indicates The Wand may have some competition.

Wildlife!!

I was crouched down trying to get a closeup of a flower when I heard that distinctive buzz. I looked over to see Smith backing away as a good-sized rattlesnake flowed forth from it's lair.

It was ready for battle and quickly assumed the position. I, in my most authoritative outdoor voice, told Smith, "NO!" She, of course, ignored me.

Apparently she got the gist of its intent and began walking away. As she stepped on a curved stick it twanged up. With lightening speed she gave it a good whack...just in case someone was watching and thought she was intimidated. This coulda been you buster!!

It's been over 35 years since I encountered a rattler. We've been a bit more cautious since; almost a Zen-like influence, but it was encouraging...where there're snakes, there are mice, raptors, foxes, and other animals, many of which have disappeared in the name of range management. This gave me a bit of hope....they haven't ALL been killed off.

Manzanar on Interstate 40

They say, "Don't get mad, get even." and this is a wonderful example.

Wandering in the blazing sun, still suffering guilt for the blankets with smallpox, I kept wondering, "Where's that pointy obelisk that symbolizes how we put it to them?"

Sky City is the nickname for Acoma Pueblo where the Spaniards, led by Don Onate, in 1599, cut off the right foot of 24 men, a hand from each of two men and enslaved hundreds of women and children for twenty years. (Wiki: Acoma Massacre) In 1998, during the 400th anniversary of the founding of the Spanish colony of New Mexico, the right foot of a statue of Onate in Alcalde, a community a few miles north of Espanola, was removed. Like the Holocaust and 2001, folks remember.

There IS a fine view of Mt. Taylor and a water spigot on the other side of Phoebe with a big sign: WINTER WATER SUPPLY.

West bound to Utah. Exploration ho!!!

Trini Saavedra - Custom Crafter, Superb Mechanic

It was the day before that Dorothy, the owner of Koenig's Metalmorphosis in Albuquerque, had decided to just do art. I had to PLEAD to get her to accept the job of crafting Phoebe's roof rack. Once completed, she referred me to Trini Saavedra to attach it. He did a superb job.

Last weekend he built a frame for a cargo net. It'll give me a place for lightweight stuff such as my Arctic-Duty-Station blow-up doll, poncho, catfood, snacks, and before retiring for the night, my clothes. It has multiple attachment points and will also suspend the Wave 3 heater.

Trini used to build and race mud-boggers. He gave the winnings to a charity for children with terminal cancer. He still builds custom motorcycles, mainly Harleys, and is a master body and paint man. I recommend him for all your repair and custom-crafted needs.

I damn near shouted out loud it looked so real!!!

Note webb below seat. Fender is rebar. Someone else did the upholstery.

Bonanza Flats

Highway 128 parallels the Colorado River between Cisco and Moab. It's so magnificent it can easily take a full day to move from one spot to the next.

In the course of exploring and scouting for a camp I got caught out too far from BLM lands. Looking for a hidey-hole, I chanced upon the "campground" at Castle Towers Climbing Area. The two-acre site is there thanks to it being purchased for $600,000.00 by Utah Open Lands, a non-profit organization.

There is a donation "chamber" similar to those at National Forest C.G.s where I left a $20.00 bill....a large amount for me. 

There are only two level spots where one can pitch a tent. During the night a young couple came in, set up camp and, before dawn, quietly departed. Otherwise it was quiet.  The "parking lot," such as it is, slants so steeply on both sides a trailer tongue would likely get stuck. It's a great spot and if it weren't for Utah Open Lands it likely wouldn't exist. 

FYI: There's a rumor that author Terry Tempest Williams (Finding Meaning in A Broken World and Red), one of my favs, lives in the nearby community of Castle Valley.

Park City Announces Bonanza Challenge Grant Mayor & the five members of Park City Council make saving Bonanza personal, pledging $25,000 out of their own pockets Help Utah Open Lands & the 11 member non profit coalition meet this challenge grant. Beginning today, donations to any of the non profits will be matched dollar for dollar until the challenge grant is met. "The Park City Council is excited to make our personal contribution towards the purchase of Bonanza Flat," says councilman Andy Beerman. Utah Open Lands sees this as an opportunity to grow support from community leaders across the Wasatch front and Wasatch back. Help us meet the match! Visit www.SaveBonanzaFlats.org or www.UtahOpenLands.org to donate.