INYENYERI - Helping to Keep The Home-Fires Burning

I do everything on a propane-fired two-burner with a refillable one gallon tank. This is good since I frequently camp in the desert where wood is a major player in the multi-millenium soil-development process. But I've met folks who have issues with propane. So, when I ran across these two stoves I decided it was time to break the vow-of-silence and.....

Eric Reynolds, one of the founders of Marmot Mountain LLC (backpacking gear) is the founder and Executive Director of INYENYERI. Mr. Reynold's thinks things would be better in Rwanda if there were more trees. Trees are the main source of cooking fuel and indoor pollution (wood smoke).

INYENYERI is Eric's "wild, big dream" to help create a more efficient, healthful means of preparing meals. INYENYERI encourages people to exchange dry bio-mass (such as chaff from winnowing and plant stalks) for burnable pellets. INYENYERI takes the dri-mass, converts it to pellets which it sells to city folk who otherwise would buy charcoal (made from trees) to cook with. The pellets are cheaper so INYENYERI's market share is expanding. Here's an interview with Mr. Reynolds about how it all got started.

This link is to the INYENYERI site's videos.

Here's a Youtube vid of the Philips stove...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBrgUQBSFAw

Gerrmann Biker club

A female "elder" bin tinkin' 'bout joinin' zee local bikers' club.

Vun day she pluckt her chutzpah und knockt at zee clubhouse.

A beeg, hairy biker mit tatoos und ha'dvare answer.

She shout: "Ich vant to join zee club!!"

Zee biker ist amused und  'splains zat she must meet der criterionz.

Zee biker begins zee interrogayshunn "Habben Sie eine motorbike?"

Die Frau sagte dann (replies), "Yah!! Meine byke ist Parked ober Zer," (she points to a new sport-byke in zee drive.)

Zee biker zen asks, "Youse drink?"

"Yah, sez she, Ich trinkin' lak ah fish!! Gut, dark beer mostly, schnapps ven I shootin' zee pool. I trink effryvun in yer club unner der table!"

The biker, rising to the occasion, asks, "You schmoke?"





"Yah, schmoke lak uh chimbly," she sez. "Two dozen ganjah uh day....Kronik vin ich drinkin' der schnapps und shootin' zee pool."

By now der byker ist tinking 'bout der poten'shul und sez, "Last qvestshoon, "Hast Sie ebber bin pickt up by Der Fuzz?"

Der Vommin paused fur eine Sekondt, grinz und sez, "Nein!! Abbe ich bin svung round by mein nipplz now und den!!"

From The New Yorker magazine, p.47, July 20, 1998

Yah!!! Zo, Vat are Sie vaiting for?!!!! Plucken up Sie Fuzz und get knocken on zee door(s).

Amerind Museum & Soap Fetish - Dragoon, Arizona

Serendipity...you jus' never know. The mountains to the south looked inviting. I exited at Dragoon to see what kind of supplies were available in case I come back to explore.

The entrance to the Amerind Museum is about a mile from the freeway. The sign on the gate designates the place as an anthropological and archaeological research center. Soon after the gate is a cemetery...a rather unique (to my mind) amenity few facilities flaunt. The drive, reminiscent of a European country lane, winds between buildings that emanate subtle hints of opulence. It's sixty-eight point three miles east of Tuscon and so self-effacing that if you blink you may miss the single, small highway sign that mentions the museum..

Most of the gallery (below) is given over to the Fulton's collection, a hodge-podge of late 19th century impressionism and early 20th century western. But at the top of the stairs there's a room especially for contemporary Native American art. The art in that room, by its self, made the visit worthwhile. And they change the exhibit every few months.

The Museum Foundation (as of 1/29/2014) has an opening for an Executive Director. The position includes a residence and staff car.

All the rattlers I've met were quite beneficent. Least ways, didn't none uv 'em ever bite me. I guess some people need prompting.

Signs in front of employee quarters
directing "others" to picnic area.

This specialty shop is the hub of Dragoon. A soap for EVERY proclivity. Unique items from Africa too. (Just FYI...fetish is usually spelled with one T.)

Email:  mfhalb@gmail.com

There'll Always Be a Next Time...to buy a car

The new cars weren't in (see prev post) so I went to Anza-Borrego State Park. I recommend it.

The weather was getting cool November 20th, but still warm enough at mid-day to get by with just a shirt.

Despite the chill in the air, the rocks were quite impressive.

Email:  mfhalb@gmail.com

You Are What You Drive

I ask you, is there ANYTHING more compelling than helping a friend pick out a new car? I mean, this is the MOST IMPORTANT thing there IS in this part of the world -- where you are what you drive.

Early November found me coming over the hill on highway 78 through Julian, California, to settle gently upon the thin strip of land betwixt highway S21 and the Pacific Ocean. Interstate 5 is less than half a mile east. Known as South Carlsbad State Beach, it provides a convenient staging site for the leap into L.A.

The park is one long road with sites on either side. West-side sites overlooking the water are $35.00. $25.00 puts you about 60 feet east right next to the light-rail and the highway. The bluff-side site opposite mine stayed vacant so I had an unobstructed view.

There's a military base just up the street. I know I shoulda been proud....it's not everyone gets their sunsets embellished with helicopters, eh? If I had a nationalistic bone in my body (as seems requisite these days), I'd have likely gotten a boner.

Painted Rock Petroglyph Site, Arizona

Westbound on interstate 8 halfway between Tuscon and Yuma....the lingering light of dusk all but gone.

Night's descent while on a freeway is a REAL medium (source) of annoyance; campsites, difficult enough to spot while navigating a two-lane become totally chimeric on four-with-median.

SUDDENLY!!! Eggbert's headlights ricocheted off a sign: Painted Rock Petroglyph Site...twelve miles. Twelve miles would, I figured, be far enough from DER FREEWAY to provide some quiet. Hah!...you  seein' flyin' pigs agin, bro?

10:00 p.m. ---  the last of the OHVs trundle in.

For those that enjoy white noise there's a hum. It waxes and wanes - think inorganic beach waves.....all night long and still strong when I left the next morn at 11:59.

Around 6:00 a.m. the whitenoise was joined by the moanings of a large piece of equipment, perhaps an earthmover. This was so invasive the grizzly herd that had gathered to enjoy the odoriferous delights of my breakfast bacon fled.

After completing my ablutions I trod the trail. The diminutive hill is heavily signed with admonishments to: STAY ON THE TRAIL!!! 

Someone had thrown a bag of hamburger buns into the NO WALK zone. I watched in unfettered awe as a privatized (it's the latest fad, dontchya know?) skyhook lowered a mountaineer who, without touching the ground, neatly plucked and dropped it into the industrial size, overflowing with McDonald's wrappers, waste bin.

Ah, the amenities of a campground! Small satisfaction comes in knowing the NSA probly got the perps throwing the buns on vid and has them doin' 10 years tuh life fellating cattle.

It's an amazing site!!

Speaking of campgrounds, they charge (money) to camp in the squalid BLM area that encompasses the site ($10.00? - I forget). Placed among widely spaced creosote bushes are picnic-tables-with-fire-ring. In the distance two, count 'em, separate installations of pit toilets grace the skyline.

There is a small area of non-billable BLM land on the left just before the campground (watch for the electrical relay station), but the rest of the surrounding property is Tohono O'Odham reservation.

But hey!! Tha's wha' happenz when yer out on the freeway at dark.

On a historic note the campground signs say the Gila River used to flow nearby. In them daiz thar wuz hundreds, maybe thousands of people and birds, beavers, deer and elk, foxes, otters (excerpted from the sign...not made up) grizzlies and goddess only knows what else roamed the land. Ah bet thar wuz probly even Pass'ng'r Pijjins an' Dodos. Well now, rest reassured you'll have my sympathy as you try to ignore the noise and reek of fertilizer. Ah, the fruits of Manifest Destiny.

Mebbe, like for me, the rock art'll save yuh from suiciding.

Seafaring Gypsy - Theliveaboard

La Bonita - in the center with her blue sail-cover..somewhere in California

I saw mention of Theliveaboard a.k.a. Cynthia Shelton, in Lattitude 38, a free magazine the Bodega Bay harbor-master gave me. I enjoyed her video -- Landlubber to Liveaboard -- about how she got where she is and tho't you might too. Once downloaded, I used Quicktime to run it.


Here's a link to Dock Dorks, her comic book.


And her main website
http://www.cynxing.com/
where you can hire her to talk about her process.