Cathead Figurehead

Eggbert returned from the shop feeling better than James Brown. In celebration I affixed this mini-sculpture to his prow.

Port side....

We are Churmin if you pleez. We are Churmin if you DON't pleeze.

Stahrb'rd view...

The juandiced wink...or wince

See THIS blogpost for more info on Mabel's (the cathead) origin's.

Ritzler's Pecans & The Nutcracker

Trundling northward just before Thanksgiving I passed through Arrey and Derry, New Mexico; both hamlets with chili and pecan orchards. Visioning a pecan pie, I pulled into a small orchard that appeared to be a family affair. 

Sharon & Ray Ritzler were beginning to harvest their crop of pecans. Below is Ray's 1974 shaker...completely rebuilt except for the paint.

The tree goes between the tines and is delicately shaken. 

The nuts fall to the ground where they are swept out of the way of the shaker's wheels by "whiskers." 

A harvester that is basically a large vacuum cleaner, picks up the nuts and deposits them into a trailer. 

After completing my purchase, I was sent to the Nutcracker to get my nuts cleaned. While there are a lot of jokes around nut cleaning, the operation is, in fact, a hand job.

The nuts are broken and shelled by machine, but the final cleaning is done by hand. Although the women refused to let their faces be photographed, it was evident from the camaraderie that this was a sophisticated operation.

Rashaad Newsome

When in town I surf the web for all the things I've read about. It was on Guernica.com that I found an interview with Mr. Newsome. His website includes a variety of images of his art including stills from two performances of Shades Compositions.

Here's an excerpt on Youtube from FIVE and from a performance of Shades Compositions in Russia.

An hour of dance videos.

You might also enjoy the work of Mike Cloud. This link is to some images of his work.

Kofa Wildlife Refuge

Over 660,000 acres of which more than 550k is wilderness offers a plethora of exploration opportunities.

There are the remains of a CCC built campground, Crystal Hill (such original naming!) where quartz crystals still abide and decent expanses of untrammeled desert. The biggest drawback is the frequent buzz of jets, helicopters and small planes which, out here, elevates their obscenity to physical violation. And they call this wilderness. 

But this is my kind of campground: so overgrown it's only recognizable when seen from above. The individual campsite trailer-dumps have been diaphrammed with steel plate, the barbeque posts have been torched off at ground-level and the pink agglomerate, CCC-crafted pylons that protected the margins of each site are obscured by new growth. And not a picnic table or another person in sight.

With Eggbert's new offroad tires giving him an increased level of confidence, we took the 4-wheel road toward Scott's Well and Juniper Spring. He leaped the arroyos with ease and clambered over the steep spots with aplomb. But as I sat enjoying the Five-o'clock-martini, I smelt the odour of gasoline and the next morning discovered a leak. We hastened into town for repairs and are enjoying a Thanksgiving layover that will include the Recycle Santa Fe Art Show December 5-7.

Sunset's tender light on the Livingston Hills. 

Sweet Pie a.k.a. Paul Winer

Thanks to the internet, Paul Winer is once again famous.

In the video below he recounts how he broke up a fight between two motorcycle gangs (3:52). 

His story is succinctly told on the blog A Year On The Road.

Mr. Winer is also a talented artist. 

But he's best known for originating the aphorism: Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke. It's the chorus of his greatest hit. My favorites are My Nothing and a song written for his daughter who died when she was 8 1/2. "In an effort to live with what you never lose...your blues, you have to lift up." 

(Article abt annual fundraiser for Celia's Rainbow Gardens and other social services.)

He's on the left, formally attired (in a jacket) for our interview.
Nov 17 was a bit cool.

Above is the REAL star....Felicia.

Yarnell, Arizona

Yarnell was in the news last year when 19 firefighters died. Suzan and I stopped for coffee after the Shooting Place (see 11/26/14) on our Mooseway to Quartzsite.

The Espresso place is two doors west of the grocery, which is closed. Owned by Jeff and his wife, the ambiance is intimate, welcoming and includes wifi. They also have a small store and she has a well-appointed and beautifully decorated salon for cutting hair. 

Delbert, an alcoholic musician, was volunteering in the Espresso bar. He'd been dry for four months and was putting together a January fundraiser for a widow whose husband was killed in the fire.

Next door is the Painted Lizard, 

a nice antique/gifts/art emporium where Suzan found an incense burner at a very affordable price. There was also an interesting painting of Koshares by Al Bahe for $4,999.00.


The Cornerstone Bakery 

is on the south (left going toward Quartzsite) side of the highway at the west end of town. It came highly recommended, but it was past time to make camp as we trundled out of town so it was "saved" for next time.

The Shooting Place

It was getting late on Nov 15 as we pulled out of Prescott. The road wound through the mountains, campspots tucked into steep-sided valleys. They'd be inviting if you've no 'clinations tuh claustrophobia AND aren't driving anything bigger than a pickup.

It was near dark as we made camp on Forest Rd 71 a few miles above Wilhoit. (Google maps shows 72 but not 71. We camped at what I surmise was Wilhoit Spring but Maps shows the spring on FR 72. The one we were on was clearly signed as FR 71. It's abt a mile N of FR 72.)

Wilhoit Spring (dry) is 50 feet to the left

The tender light of morning (above) brought a train of trucks, all driven by middle-aged white guys. Along about the fifth one my curiosity inspired me to ask if there was a party. "Ain't no party," he said, "It's a practical pistol shooting competition. There'll be over 200 guys here in a little while." 

A crack shot with a .357, I allowed as how I could take his nose off at 20 feet and inquired if it was open to the public. He grinned and invited me to come on down.

Several more went by for a total of maybe 20. One or two had someone riding shotgun but most were by themselves; hardly 200. 

We stopped at the overlook to observe the smog that blankets the area for miles around Phoenix. Do you suppose word has gotten around and that's why folks from around the world no longer come here?

For documentation purposes...