Tryin' The Ozark Trail (stove)

UPDATE 4/11/13 - The regulator on the Ozark gave out a couple of weeks ago (after less than three months use) rendering the stove inoperable. I looked online for a replacement but couldn't find one. I DID find lots of reviews -- many of which had similar experiences. I bought another Coleman Flame-thrower. You can't simmer anything, but at least it works. (see post: 11/16/12 Coleman Jus' Ain't Makin' Em like they Yoost Tuh) Anyone have a Cook-Partner for sale?




ORIGINAL POST:

How's that aphorism go...if at first you don't cum, scream, scream, some more?

Even I know it's inappropriate to cum in Walmrtz. But there I was, once AGAIN perusing the stoves. When I 'splained about "Touchie" the Coleman, the guy at the sporting Goods counter whupped out his carpet knife and, within seconds, had thet Coleman mohunker settin' thar jus' as purty as you pleez. I showed him how the knobs boomerang about an eighth of an inch when you release 'em. He encouraged me to return mine.

As you know, there are only three camping supply houses left: WalChina; Oh, dahling, you-look-Devine REI; & Sprotzminz Wayrhouzer. When buying adult toys and stoves I prefer to be able to fondle the moi-chin-dize. I mean, I want to check these things out, dontchya KNOW? So that rules out online.

I went through some serious moments at Sportminz where the helpful young lad informed me "they" discourage floor-walkers from opening boxes. I explained as how, unfortunately, I just COULDN't bring myself to part with $89.00 plus tax, without SEEING it. He said he'd take the heat and we proceeded.

I strolled out with my new purchase tucked under my arm. At the car I placed it on the roof while I got the door open. As luck would have it -- I am Lucky Herrmann, after all -- there, peeking out through the opened end, was a dent!! A DENT by god!! Corrr!! In a boxed unit with a 30-day-return policy!! If it warn't fer the beneficence of the Cosmic Furball (a cat, of course) I'da been STUCK. I mean, they'll take it back if yuh have the receipt and yer times not up, but what if THEY had noticed a DENT? As Grandfather said to Peter, "What would you do THEN?! (From Peter & The Wolf by Sergei Prokofiev) So I took it back and counted my lucky stars I escaped from a retailer that sells damaged goods.

Devine was brief. They only had a couple of Primus Desktops and they were both around the price of a vintage Lamborghini.


I trudged bak to Wal-world where I

Inside, out of the wind

 took the Ozark up to the counter (a different store) and explained about Sprotzminz discouragements. A clone of the other guy, he too whuppt out a blade,  and slit the hymens (tape). He listened while I 'splained about "Touchie" and watched with interest as I tested the Ozark's knobs. (Not dissimilar to feeling a vibe, lube or other adult toy, but wayyyy less evocative.) They stayed put; it looked promising. I paid and made my way back into the open air.

To go on a bit....the knobs are sensibly positioned under the burners (What's WITH putting them next to each other at the FAR right, Coleman?) and, as aforementioned, they don't spring back a quarter inch -- or was it an eighth? -- when you turn them. The Ozark lacks a carrying case though, which means doing without a built-in bear/raccoon/javalina alarm.

The regulator/connector fits snugly in a clip underneath. The wire rack over the burners is held in place by a wingnut at each end underneath. Removal for cleaning is a bit tedious, but looking on the bright side, it works great as a handle. (AFTER it's cooled, fool!)

Since it doesn't have windscreens, a bottom (the underside is open) or lid, it's ALOT lighter. But being lid-less (in Gaza?) means the splattered oil, spilled coffee and food particles (javalina/bear/raccoon enticements) are always lying about ready to get on whatever comes in range. So I keep it in a pillow case. Cotton (Not eL Bean certified tho), as you know, is one of the finest dust screens. (Ferrari's have 100% cotton air cleaners.) Still, without a protective case it's "at risk" so I watch where I put it. You should too....watch where you put it that is. And always, ALWAYS practice safe sex. (Have you heard about the new, impervious, strain of gonorrhea?)

Anyway, hopefully this'll all help keep you from getting hauled away for screaming (it's inappropriate, dontchya know?) in Walmertz. Whatever.

Coleman Jus' Ain't Makin' 'em Lak Day Yoostuh

I bought this after my Canadian Coleman suffered a devastating loss of a control rod.

It's A Stove

Modified Control Knob

I wanted one that would light with a steel & flint rather than a battery-operated, peizo-'lectric unit. I also appreciated that this one was ready-to-connect-to-a-five-gallon propane tank like the one used with most back-yard grills.

But watch out!! The controls on this unit are SSSSSSSOOOOOOOOO touchie I've had to resort to modifying them in order to simmer stuff (see image). Yessir, this he'ar unit mustah bin designed by the fellar that invented the flame-thrower. The burners adjust in increments of 1/32nd. And with a knob the size of a fifty cent piece, that means the slightest twitch takes you from "AwwWWWwww MaaaaaAAAAn, it went out AGAIN!"   to FULL BLAST.

I took the knob off to see if the nut behind it was loose; it was tight as a lemon-induced pucker.

I considered other models but this one retains the hinged-to-the-lid style windflaps. The latest fad of having the breeze-breakers fold over onto the grill when closed means that -- when deployed -- they impede the use of large pans. Coleman's are adjustable and can be folded into the lid out of the way when not needed.

I considered getting a unit without a lid or wind-flaps, but the lid acts as an early-warning device for raccoons and grizzlies. And sometimes the breeze-deflectors DO seem helpful. In other words, it'd be a decent stove if it weren't for the dangerous controls.

Quebradas Backcountry Byway - New Mexico

Desert Solitude At Its Finest

To the West - The (snowcapped) Magdalena Mountains

It's a little-known area about an hour and a half south of Albuquerque. Solitude and slightly warmer temperatures make the 24-mile-long Quebradas Backcountry Byway a great Fall and Winter destination. Getting on the Byway is a bit tricky; it's worth a look at Google Maps.

A link to a free pdf with geologic information and directions...

http://geoinfo.nmt.edu/publications/fieldguides/quebradas/


DIRECTIONS

The 24-mile-long dirt road can be accessed from the north via I-25 or from the south via Highway 380. It is most often accessed from the north end, via Exit 152 (the Escondida exit) off I-25, just a couple of miles north of Socorro. After exiting the freeway, turn right (east) about 1,000 feet to the "T." Turn left (north) toward Escondida Lake. In just over a mile, turn right (East) again at the Escondida Lake sign. Continue East past Escondida Lake (anywhere else on the planet this would be called a puddle) across the Rio Grande. At the village of Pueblito (a T-intersection with no stop sign) turn right (south) and proceed about a mile to the junction of the Bosquecito Road with the Back Country Byway (A-152). This is mile 0.0. Follow the road to the left at this junction.

From the south: The turnoff from 380 is 11 miles east of the village of San Antonio (380 is accessible from Exit 139 off I-25). Turn north onto A-129 and drive 3 miles to the junction with A-152. Turn left here; Stop 10, the last "information stop" in A Geologic Guide to the Quebradas Back Country Bywayat the southern end, is just west of this junction. You may notice the cautionary bit in the Geologic Guide about the need for four-wheel-drive and/or high clearance. The image below shows what it's like. I doubt if yer cadillac will even wince.

Former winter R.V. -- when a mudroom was a desirable amenity

Peteetneet Academy - Payson, Utah

The Statue Doesn't  Have a Happy Face

Dave Nielson, the owner of Wasatch Pallet (see: You Never Know....), said if I liked architecture I should check out the Peteetneet Academy in Payson.

Back

I arrived at 4:30 p.m. and the school, which bills itself as an art center, was closed.

As in Springville and Canyon Road, I sought shelter in the cleft (it's a Freudian proclivity) in the mountains. It was serious dark by the time the sign for Maple Bench Campground beckoned.



Campgrounds mean noisy children, barking dogs and slamming vehicle doors. I avoid them, but every now and then....

A bit of hope blossomed when I read the sign at the bottom of the hill: Vehicles with trailers not recommended beyond this point. Encouraged, I drove up the steep, winding road to find a small, sparsely populated camp. James Taylor, the host, came over and our conversation ended up lasting nearly an hour. When he left it was with strong threats to return in the morning when we could more easily peruse a map.

True to his word, next morn' he and his daughter gave me a lengthy list of places to visit. After she left the conversation segued into metaphysics. James told about being in Viet Nam and how the tank he was to go out in got hit and everyone died. There was also a 120 mm shell that went off less than 40 feet away without harming him. He said he came back angry and it took him a long time to work his way back to nice. This year of hosting had been the best of his life; he'd met so many interesting people. We exchanged addresses and I, having made a friend, headed into Payson.

There's a bronze blurb outside the rear doors that intimates at the school being  built in 1913 to convert the heathens. The indirect reference seemed like a thinly veiled attempt to downplay the Mormon conquest. Judging by the look on the guy out front (see face on statue above), the "heathens" weren't overly thrilled.

Art center is a complete misnomer. One large classroom on the main floor is almost completely filled with glass cases displaying family memorabilia related to the Mormon incursion. In a corner there's a poster of one of the school's teachers who died on the Titanic. There are some late 19th-century domestic kitchen tools, a cobbler's form for making lasts and a few similar things. The "art" is a three-month-long display (also in glass cases) of ceramic birds, the kind of figurines you get at Fambly Dolla or Walmartz.

In the office were two crude paintings....one of a former chief of a local tribe; the other, of his wife, was crassly titled: "His old lady." The quote marks made you wonder.

This time it was still daylight when I headed for the hills. The early-Autumn light put a glow on everything and I was all set to enjoy it when I remembered it was Memorial weekend. As I toodled along I noticed folks already settled into the available spots. The area is popular and side roads are few. People camp on the edges of meadows near the highway. If it weren't for the trees you'd be hard-pressed to tell it from a suburb.

Uinta Cul-de-Sac - CLICk on image to Largen

The sun was setting as Lucky Herrmann pulled over to decide if the wide space on the side of the road was gonna be "it." While taking the measure of my new domain, I chanced upon a spot about 300 feet up the highway. It was in a small hollow complete with fire ring...and right next to the highway too! I hurried to stake my claim.

Highway Noise & Reek of Cow Pies are Major Distractions

Friday night was uneventful but Saturday was worrisome. People slowed and some nearly stopped as they (I surmised) debated over whether to crowd in with me. Forced to think, I got the (brilliant!) idea to scatter around old plastic bottles, beer cans (found in the bushes behind the fence) and my own styrofoam plate from the pork steaks. A prominently positioned Lord Calvert whiskey bottle completed the installation. People still slowed, but, or so it seemed, they now resumed speed much more quickly. Sunday evening, chuckling with self-satisfaction, I picked it all up.

Crean Und Shynee (shiny)...Yah!!!

Barely Been Touched!!!

VIRGIN!!!!!

Number 8

A month ago I was late getting out of town so booked a spot (don't tell anyone) in a campground. Maple Bench still had yet to celebrate its first birthday and I picked the site the locals avoid. The host said he couldn't figure what the deal was. I think it's evidence of my psychic awareness, but god nose what of!

The images are for those who've dreamed. Enjoy!!

A Rose is A Rose is a.....lathe!

It's been over two months since I was in Joseph, Oregon, but the memory of Stewart Jones and his Rose Engine linger.

The Fishtrap Writers' Workshop was held at the South end of Lake Wallowa and the only way there is through Joseph.

Even "passing through" you can't help but notice the sculpture. So it's no surprise to learn that Joseph's raison d'etre is closely tied to the myriad foundries. Another reason is the breath-taking scenery.

Between conference presentations and hiking I found myself skulking the galleries. Unfortunately, nearly all the work is representational. The craftsmanship is admirable, but the "art" was uninspiring. Glenna Goodacre would have thrilled. But when I stumbled into Stewart Jones Designs I knew I'd found it.

Also known as the Indigo Gallery, it's on the corner at the North end of the block a block downhill from The Valley Bronze Gallery.

I'd never seen anything like his Rose Engine creations and was soon to find out why.

Mr. Jones is one of a select few in the world who owns a Swiss-made Rose Engine lathe. The device originated among the aristocracy of the 1670s as a hobby tool that enabled royalty to create one-of-a-kind gifts for friends, relatives and visiting dignitaries. Its fame was further established through its use to embellish Faberge eggs. Mr. Jones purchased his, made in the late 1800s, several years ago and uses it to produce exotic patterns on silver, platinum and gold.

And the gemstones Mr. Jones uses in his pieces will dazzle. The elegance of all attest to his sophisticated aesthetic. These are mixed-media fine art. Reasonable prices complete an experience (unlike Clines Corners) worth waiting for.

Below is a video about the Indigo Gallery, Mr. Jones and his lathe.

You Never Know What You Don't Know....Until You Find Out

Note Swing Set & Lawn

Ready For Delivery

I like to cruise towns to see what there is to see. Springville, Utah had proven to be more than I could imagine, but I'd had my fill and was ready to amble on.

Enroute to the highway (sort of) I came around a turn and saw a huge building. The sign caught my eye and by the time I passed the gate I was down to walking speed. That's another nice thing about being off the main roads...not as much potential for rear-endings.

The Manufacturing Center

I made a u-ee, did a quick "visual" as I drove through the gate and pulled up in front of what I hoped was the office. Inside, I asked the man at the desk if they gave tours. He smiled, but the look in his eyes gave me the feeling he wasn't sure whether to humor me or throw me out. I launched into my schpeel: The building was obviously a major place in its day and I could see from the road that the pallet business was a going concern. I explained that my insatiable curtiosity (ala Rudyard Kipling's elephant) about things I know nothing about compels me...I just can't help it. I went on about how I'm traveling and this looked like it'd make a good blog article. He stood up and said, "Okay." We sallied forth.

I introduced myself to Mr. Dave Nielson who acknowledged ownership and said he'd bought the business twelve years ago. In that time he'd trebled the amount of pallets they sold. We entered a large metal building where they recycle old pallets, cut up wood for new ones and assemble large bundles for delivery to clients. 90% of their business is new pallets. The other 10% is in competition with people who specialize in reselling used. We soon touched on the subject of undocumented workers. Mr. Nielson requires a Social Security Card and/or a green card. Every now and then one slips through, but he said they eventually get caught and are terminated. "The cheaters know it's just a matter of time," he said, "so there's no resentment. It's just a fact of life."

The REAL grinder

Unusable pallets go through several steps on their way to becoming mulch. All nails are removed by hand. The wood is then processed by a grinder three times to prepare it for the REAL grinder. After the REAL grinder gets them, the resulting four colors of mulch add aesthetics to minimalist gardens, are great for keeping weeds down, and since they're  organic they add no harmful chemicals to the environment.


Originally a sugar beet factory, around the 1920s it was converted to coke processing to support a nearby steel mill. Coke is made by grinding coal to powder, heating the powder in a controlled-air environment and after a while it comes out as coke. Coke burns hotter than coal and was thus useful in making steel.

The building has deteriorated and it's too expensive to restore so will eventually be torn down.




In the meantime, it's sitting there.