Rides, ramblings and rants on a motorcycle.
- We are scientists, too!
1.12.2015,7:56 PM
Fort Craig, New Mexico
Last weekend was cultural history time for me.
Visited Fort Craig for a day. A more thorough post will be uploaded later in the week. For now....
Visited Fort Craig for a day. A more thorough post will be uploaded later in the week. For now....
Labels: Adventures, history, New Mexico, photography
1.04.2015,11:24 AM
Retirement Career
My life has taken on a new meaning since volunteering at the national wildlife refuges. A new mission that is more productive, rewarding and self-satisfying. I'm broke, homeless, and I love it.
For the past six years, our current global trends have depressed me. The rapid loss of natural diversity and the spiraling decline in connections between humans and their environment, the lack of compassion between people themselves and with other creatures, a prevailing disconnect and abuse of power by public officials and policies. The growing corporatization of higher education and science while sacrificing quality teaching and research was the final clincher.
I fled from the Empire. I left academia to fight at the grassroots level.To lend a voice to those creatures whose plights are disregarded by humans. And to help people become aware and more appreciative of the intrinsic and moral values in their environments. My mission is to help people better understand their environment and to establish meaningful connections with nature.
My life is very now different from the last several decades. In some sense, it is reminiscent of my years in Maine when connections with the land and wildlife were the strongest. Shedding most of the personal burdens that anchored me like a chain the past ten years has simplified and lightened my life. The sacrifice of personal possessions and commitments for a nomadic and simpler lifestyle suits me well. Indeed, I haven't been this happy in almost 10 years.
Now I travel around the country to live and work at the national and state refuges. I share my interests and knowledge of natural and cultural history with visitors. I also help the ecologists and biologists with my varied skills in the life sciences. My reward is spending time with the wildlife and visiting natural areas, and sharing many wonders of natural science with visitors.
Traveling offers opportunities to experience not only a large diversity of wildlife, but also meet a wide diverse sampling of our own species. What amazes me is the people that come to the refuges from all over the world. I've met people from Canada, Argentina, Switzerland, Netherlands, Israel, England, Scotland, South Africa, Italy, Australia, and France.
Additionally, people from my past have resurfaced in many places, such as a woman from my hometown 44 years ago and a former colleague from 17 years ago. I have also had the opportunity to reconnect with old friends and spend time with family members.
The most precious experiences are those gained from immersing myself in the surrounding wild nature of life. I had an eye-to-eye encounter with a juvenile bald eagle twelve feet from
me, chats with ravens, songbirds sit on my shoulder, frequent sightings of a local cougar, delight at the play of an otter family, and watching behavior of many birds as they live out their lives. What they share with me, I try to share with others.
Opportunities to spend time in fantastic wild areas frequently fills my free time. Camping for days on Steens Mountain in eastern Oregon, hiking miles in the painted deserts of Oregon and Arizona, spending two nights at the base of towering cliff and alkaline lake with no humans within miles, and smelling the musky scent at my feet of bighorn sheep was I stood on a rim gazing thousands of feet below. I gladly trade the conveniences of cafes and supermarkets for these experiences.
The world is fantastic, marvelous and beautiful out there. I am glad to break out of the small, trivial and many times petty world that was chocking and suffocating me.
For the past six years, our current global trends have depressed me. The rapid loss of natural diversity and the spiraling decline in connections between humans and their environment, the lack of compassion between people themselves and with other creatures, a prevailing disconnect and abuse of power by public officials and policies. The growing corporatization of higher education and science while sacrificing quality teaching and research was the final clincher.
I fled from the Empire. I left academia to fight at the grassroots level.To lend a voice to those creatures whose plights are disregarded by humans. And to help people become aware and more appreciative of the intrinsic and moral values in their environments. My mission is to help people better understand their environment and to establish meaningful connections with nature.
My life is very now different from the last several decades. In some sense, it is reminiscent of my years in Maine when connections with the land and wildlife were the strongest. Shedding most of the personal burdens that anchored me like a chain the past ten years has simplified and lightened my life. The sacrifice of personal possessions and commitments for a nomadic and simpler lifestyle suits me well. Indeed, I haven't been this happy in almost 10 years.
Now I travel around the country to live and work at the national and state refuges. I share my interests and knowledge of natural and cultural history with visitors. I also help the ecologists and biologists with my varied skills in the life sciences. My reward is spending time with the wildlife and visiting natural areas, and sharing many wonders of natural science with visitors.
Traveling offers opportunities to experience not only a large diversity of wildlife, but also meet a wide diverse sampling of our own species. What amazes me is the people that come to the refuges from all over the world. I've met people from Canada, Argentina, Switzerland, Netherlands, Israel, England, Scotland, South Africa, Italy, Australia, and France.
Additionally, people from my past have resurfaced in many places, such as a woman from my hometown 44 years ago and a former colleague from 17 years ago. I have also had the opportunity to reconnect with old friends and spend time with family members.
The most precious experiences are those gained from immersing myself in the surrounding wild nature of life. I had an eye-to-eye encounter with a juvenile bald eagle twelve feet from
me, chats with ravens, songbirds sit on my shoulder, frequent sightings of a local cougar, delight at the play of an otter family, and watching behavior of many birds as they live out their lives. What they share with me, I try to share with others.Opportunities to spend time in fantastic wild areas frequently fills my free time. Camping for days on Steens Mountain in eastern Oregon, hiking miles in the painted deserts of Oregon and Arizona, spending two nights at the base of towering cliff and alkaline lake with no humans within miles, and smelling the musky scent at my feet of bighorn sheep was I stood on a rim gazing thousands of feet below. I gladly trade the conveniences of cafes and supermarkets for these experiences.
The world is fantastic, marvelous and beautiful out there. I am glad to break out of the small, trivial and many times petty world that was chocking and suffocating me.
This is my new life as a nomad. And this is my new retirement 'career': to help foster and nurture connections between people and wildlife, to rejuvenate compassion. My optimism is encouraged by the dedication and commitment of those people working in wildlife services, especially with dwindling budgets. I am glad to see the growing number of academic and field ecologists and biologists finally speak out in kind. I hope this is a growing strength. We need more on the side of nature.
And for me, e non ho amato mai tanto la vita.
Labels: Adventures, essays, Traveling, wildlife refuges
11.07.2014,2:10 PM
Two Days Back in Time
On the way from Oregon to New Mexico, I spent two days back in time. A long time ago.
Traveling on the road can sometimes be as exhausting as it is often exhilarating. I needed a break. I've always wondered what was hiding in the northeast corner of Arizona. And one point of interest which may travelers often pass by without stopping is the Petrified Forest National Park, which also contains the Painted Desert. The latter is like eye candy for many, but there is so much more revealed there.
I spent almost two full days exploring both. And it wasn't enough. Like many places like this national park, a one-day, even two-day visit is more a superficial introduction. But it barely is enough time to immerse one's self into all the land and cultural features. Especially the hikes.
So I will return some time to spend more time. And it won't be many years down the road!
Traveling on the road can sometimes be as exhausting as it is often exhilarating. I needed a break. I've always wondered what was hiding in the northeast corner of Arizona. And one point of interest which may travelers often pass by without stopping is the Petrified Forest National Park, which also contains the Painted Desert. The latter is like eye candy for many, but there is so much more revealed there.
I spent almost two full days exploring both. And it wasn't enough. Like many places like this national park, a one-day, even two-day visit is more a superficial introduction. But it barely is enough time to immerse one's self into all the land and cultural features. Especially the hikes.
So I will return some time to spend more time. And it won't be many years down the road!
Labels: Adventures, meanderings
10.06.2014,11:23 PM
Leaving Serenity
My last night in eastern Oregon was spent boondocking at Chickahominy Reservoir, managed by the BLM. It was a quiet evening and peaceful night. A nightcap to my summer in southeast Oregon.
The next morning I drove north to Santiam Pass and into the Willamette Valley. Along the way clouds and fog slithered over the the Three Ladies of the Cascades (Three Sisters), like a lover's fingers embracing the peaks of these mountains. I could almost feel their fingers along my own skin. These geological ladies have always made me smile, especially during hikes along the bottoms of their skirts. I have slept at their feet along the shores of Scott Lake, the eerie and enchanting sound of loon calls lulling me to sleep.
I love this country. It is wild and free, diversified with desert basins, giant trees and subliminal coasts; deep expansive canyons, blue glistening lakes and rough run but life-giving rivers. One can stand in wide open skies or stoop small like a hobbit dwarfed by giant trees, and spread your arms like a hawk standing on the edge of a mountain rim with the scent of bighorn sheep filling your nostrils.
This is the land of freedom if you want it.You can get lost in it and never feel alone.
The next morning I drove north to Santiam Pass and into the Willamette Valley. Along the way clouds and fog slithered over the the Three Ladies of the Cascades (Three Sisters), like a lover's fingers embracing the peaks of these mountains. I could almost feel their fingers along my own skin. These geological ladies have always made me smile, especially during hikes along the bottoms of their skirts. I have slept at their feet along the shores of Scott Lake, the eerie and enchanting sound of loon calls lulling me to sleep.
I love this country. It is wild and free, diversified with desert basins, giant trees and subliminal coasts; deep expansive canyons, blue glistening lakes and rough run but life-giving rivers. One can stand in wide open skies or stoop small like a hobbit dwarfed by giant trees, and spread your arms like a hawk standing on the edge of a mountain rim with the scent of bighorn sheep filling your nostrils.
This is the land of freedom if you want it.You can get lost in it and never feel alone.
Labels: Adventures, Oregon
9.16.2014,8:06 PM
Inward Bound
Every once in awhile, unplugging from the rest of the world entices the mind to turn inward. While at the same time connecting with the non-human element. This is the world that daily becomes more invisible to all of us. This summer I have had the fortune of becoming immersed in the Invisible. But it is not invisible to me.
Spending most of the summer at a National Wildlife Refuge in sothheast Oregon, I have enjoyed my reunion with wildlife. Surrounded by birds -waterfowl, shore birds, songbirds, raptors, and owls- my days are full of new discoveries and remembering old lessons. In the sagebrush steppes of the northern Great Basin, my plant skills have been honed. And I have enjoyed observing mammals that I haven't seen in decades.
But not all delights have been living organisms. In this land of recent volcanism and shifting continental drama, these basalt rims, towering uplifted fault blocks, and volcanic cinder cones dotted with pumice of all colors also give me delight. The child inside smiles and sometimes even squeaks, as I did when watching five otters in a pond one morning.
Part of my duties was to greet and inform visitors to the Refuge. More than just providing directions, I like to relay tidbits of natural history, sometimes personal anecdotes, encourage their questioning, and serve as a guide through the eyes of the creatures that inhabit this region. Rather than just directing them to a place where they can check off names on the bird list. I enjoy helping to tease their curiosity and searching for answers.
This is my calling.
And I enjoy spending the occasional self-indulgence of escaping to the wild.
Spending most of the summer at a National Wildlife Refuge in sothheast Oregon, I have enjoyed my reunion with wildlife. Surrounded by birds -waterfowl, shore birds, songbirds, raptors, and owls- my days are full of new discoveries and remembering old lessons. In the sagebrush steppes of the northern Great Basin, my plant skills have been honed. And I have enjoyed observing mammals that I haven't seen in decades.
But not all delights have been living organisms. In this land of recent volcanism and shifting continental drama, these basalt rims, towering uplifted fault blocks, and volcanic cinder cones dotted with pumice of all colors also give me delight. The child inside smiles and sometimes even squeaks, as I did when watching five otters in a pond one morning.
Part of my duties was to greet and inform visitors to the Refuge. More than just providing directions, I like to relay tidbits of natural history, sometimes personal anecdotes, encourage their questioning, and serve as a guide through the eyes of the creatures that inhabit this region. Rather than just directing them to a place where they can check off names on the bird list. I enjoy helping to tease their curiosity and searching for answers.
This is my calling.
And I enjoy spending the occasional self-indulgence of escaping to the wild.
Labels: Adventures, wildlife refuges
8.18.2014,5:49 PM
On the Road again. Road of Life.
This
recent trip was my first solo camping expedition since 2009. It was the
last snip off of old garbage, a rediscovered freedom; the old me surfaced
and spread wings. It's been way too long.
I saw and met many new places, things and people. They all enrich my life. I will never trade this ongoing discovery for anyone or anything ever again. It makes me who and what I am and I am grateful I am living this life here and now.
THIS is how life should be. Living it.
I saw and met many new places, things and people. They all enrich my life. I will never trade this ongoing discovery for anyone or anything ever again. It makes me who and what I am and I am grateful I am living this life here and now.
THIS is how life should be. Living it.
Labels: Adventures, Oregon
7.21.2014,8:37 PM
Back in business!!
Alright! Blog header image is back up and now we can move on!
Thanks again to good friend Lyle Gunderson for having a back-up of the image :)
I will try to bring the journey to Oregon and adventures in eastern Oregon up to speed over the next few weeks. Have two months to catch up on!!
Meanwhile, here is a teaser.
Thanks again to good friend Lyle Gunderson for having a back-up of the image :)
I will try to bring the journey to Oregon and adventures in eastern Oregon up to speed over the next few weeks. Have two months to catch up on!!
Meanwhile, here is a teaser.
Labels: Adventures, Oregon
5.30.2014,7:58 PM
FREEDOM!!!!
"Out of sight, out of mind.......
since I've been gone,
I can breath for the first time!"
Labels: Adventures, Oregon, Traveling
9.04.2013,3:11 PM
Summer in NY: Hogarossa Rally
Starting towards the end. Who said everything has to be linear? 
My First Motorcycle Rally
35th Annual Hogarossa Rally
Non-labor Weekend
Springville, NY
Every year my sister and brother-in-law (BiL) attend this rally in the foothills of the Allegheny Mnts. of Western NY. I was invited. I went.
I wasn't sure what to expect during this four-day event. But I packed up and loaded the bike with an open mind, no expectations. Best way to go.
(yes, that's my Turtle - new-ish travel trailer- and new-ish truck, camped at sister's place in western NY)
Cathy, my sister on her Harley, and I rode to the private campground. Tom (the BiL) had already set up their trailer for camping a couple days before. Arriving Friday morning, there were a few other trailers set up. But it was relatively quiet.
I set up my tent (actually, borrowed sister's tent) behind their trailer. Wiley was making himself at home.
Cory, my nephew-in-law (is there such a relation?
and his girlfriend. Kattie, arrived later in the day. His tent was
HUGE. This was Kattie's first camping experience. And her first rally,
too.
We all got settled in for the afternoon and evening.
The place filled up, and up. And UP! Must have been a couple hundred people there; motorcycles, ATV's, mini-bikes, bicycles, you name it. Under a huge tent were a main stage for music, a wall of remembrances and tributes to motorcyclists that were 'gone': to accidents, cancer, etc., a booth run by the NY ABATE, tables and chairs. I missed the music that evening having opted to visit and chill at our little group.
However. I realized the next morning that I was missing two things. A better air mattress and earplugs. Between the constant ATVs and the loud music, I realized the only way I would get any sleep was to mute it all. The second cause of sleeplessness was laying on a thin air mattress. I'm too old to sleep on the ground, and, with some recent back issues, I got no sleep. Besides, my sister's old tent leaks....... I was loaned an inflatable air mattress. And I acquired a few pairs of soft earplugs. I slept good the next few nights.
Saturday I met a distant cousin who, with her husband, attend the rallies, too (I have met several relatives this summer I never knew I had). I have to say, I never encountered a tighter knit crowd of wonderful and generous people in my life. Everyone was hugs, sharing, kind, gracious, respectful, and wonderful. All ages, sizes, colors, shades, and kins. And I had a blast.
We all shared food in one way or another. Many people in this area raise, prep and preserve their food. We shared jars of pickled garlic, dilly beans, home-grown and smoked bacon, venison, fresh fruit and veggies, and even moonshine (not a fan). Here we all tested the picked garlic and beans.
One of the big events is a two-day motorcycle rodeo. Being naive in these things, I was not quite sure what to expect. In fact, I had to ask, "Huh?" Events ranged from a race with the slowest bike, pushing a beer keg, a serpentine with five eggs (a partner race), a race to fill a beer bottle with water (also partners), biting a hot dog hung from above (partners), tug-a-rope, keg toss, tire toss, and a few more.
Bikes ranged from choppers, full dressers, a 1937 pan head Harley, dirt bikes!, and even a scooter. Here's a shot of the line-up for the slow race. There was one I coveted; can you guess which?
Our group on sidelines during the first day watching the MC Rodeo.
Second day of the Rodeo
A moment of relaxation:
The music Sunday night was phenomenal. Patty Parks sang excellent blues and jazz with her band comprised of impressive musicians, several of them in the Buffalo Music Hall of Fame. Most impressive was a young man named Mick Hays, who grew up with NiL Cory in East Aurora. Mick is a family friend, so I got to hear the background of how he started playing at age eight years. His specialty is blues, but also plays rhythm and blues, Delta blues, etc. Both his guitar and voice are exemplary. This young man is promising, and, in my opinion, bests Stevie Ray Vaughn.
I rocked and rolled with them all, danced (the first time in decades) for hours, and just enjoyed being able to experience it all. Despite the rain. (hanging the clothes out to dry....)
Home in the rain Monday afternoon.
Getting down to business now, since I will be leaving here in about four weeks. Getting the urge for going now with fall closing in. Back Home. To Terlingua. Hauling the Turtle, the travel trailer that is my home, and a bike in the pick-up bed. No matter where I go, there I am.
I will post up a few more adventures as I get photos uploaded and have access to wifi. 'Till then:
"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”
― Augustine of Hippo
My First Motorcycle Rally
35th Annual Hogarossa Rally
Non-labor Weekend
Springville, NY
Every year my sister and brother-in-law (BiL) attend this rally in the foothills of the Allegheny Mnts. of Western NY. I was invited. I went.
I wasn't sure what to expect during this four-day event. But I packed up and loaded the bike with an open mind, no expectations. Best way to go.
(yes, that's my Turtle - new-ish travel trailer- and new-ish truck, camped at sister's place in western NY)
Cathy, my sister on her Harley, and I rode to the private campground. Tom (the BiL) had already set up their trailer for camping a couple days before. Arriving Friday morning, there were a few other trailers set up. But it was relatively quiet.
I set up my tent (actually, borrowed sister's tent) behind their trailer. Wiley was making himself at home.
Cory, my nephew-in-law (is there such a relation?
and his girlfriend. Kattie, arrived later in the day. His tent was
HUGE. This was Kattie's first camping experience. And her first rally,
too. We all got settled in for the afternoon and evening.
The place filled up, and up. And UP! Must have been a couple hundred people there; motorcycles, ATV's, mini-bikes, bicycles, you name it. Under a huge tent were a main stage for music, a wall of remembrances and tributes to motorcyclists that were 'gone': to accidents, cancer, etc., a booth run by the NY ABATE, tables and chairs. I missed the music that evening having opted to visit and chill at our little group.
However. I realized the next morning that I was missing two things. A better air mattress and earplugs. Between the constant ATVs and the loud music, I realized the only way I would get any sleep was to mute it all. The second cause of sleeplessness was laying on a thin air mattress. I'm too old to sleep on the ground, and, with some recent back issues, I got no sleep. Besides, my sister's old tent leaks....... I was loaned an inflatable air mattress. And I acquired a few pairs of soft earplugs. I slept good the next few nights.
Saturday I met a distant cousin who, with her husband, attend the rallies, too (I have met several relatives this summer I never knew I had). I have to say, I never encountered a tighter knit crowd of wonderful and generous people in my life. Everyone was hugs, sharing, kind, gracious, respectful, and wonderful. All ages, sizes, colors, shades, and kins. And I had a blast.
We all shared food in one way or another. Many people in this area raise, prep and preserve their food. We shared jars of pickled garlic, dilly beans, home-grown and smoked bacon, venison, fresh fruit and veggies, and even moonshine (not a fan). Here we all tested the picked garlic and beans.
One of the big events is a two-day motorcycle rodeo. Being naive in these things, I was not quite sure what to expect. In fact, I had to ask, "Huh?" Events ranged from a race with the slowest bike, pushing a beer keg, a serpentine with five eggs (a partner race), a race to fill a beer bottle with water (also partners), biting a hot dog hung from above (partners), tug-a-rope, keg toss, tire toss, and a few more.
Bikes ranged from choppers, full dressers, a 1937 pan head Harley, dirt bikes!, and even a scooter. Here's a shot of the line-up for the slow race. There was one I coveted; can you guess which?
Our group on sidelines during the first day watching the MC Rodeo.
Second day of the Rodeo
A moment of relaxation:
The music Sunday night was phenomenal. Patty Parks sang excellent blues and jazz with her band comprised of impressive musicians, several of them in the Buffalo Music Hall of Fame. Most impressive was a young man named Mick Hays, who grew up with NiL Cory in East Aurora. Mick is a family friend, so I got to hear the background of how he started playing at age eight years. His specialty is blues, but also plays rhythm and blues, Delta blues, etc. Both his guitar and voice are exemplary. This young man is promising, and, in my opinion, bests Stevie Ray Vaughn.
I rocked and rolled with them all, danced (the first time in decades) for hours, and just enjoyed being able to experience it all. Despite the rain.
(hanging the clothes out to dry....)Home in the rain Monday afternoon.
Getting down to business now, since I will be leaving here in about four weeks. Getting the urge for going now with fall closing in. Back Home. To Terlingua. Hauling the Turtle, the travel trailer that is my home, and a bike in the pick-up bed. No matter where I go, there I am.
I will post up a few more adventures as I get photos uploaded and have access to wifi. 'Till then:
"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”
― Augustine of Hippo
Labels: Adventures, New York
12.30.2012,1:43 PM
One to Remember
Somewhere, at some time, you might find a glimpse of a fleeting reality
where every triviality, all the daily complexities and demands dissipate
into the air. The old rocks welcome you and remind you that you are
small. Trees and plants of all sizes and colors invite you to look
closely, touch and share their space. You can't see the animals who call
this place their home, but their tracks and sign let you know they play
hide and seek. The child inside that we have too often discarded, or
buried in our own personal dungeons, surfaces and is delighted. And like
a mother wrapping all her children in her big comforting arms, the wild
outside us merges with the innocence of our inner child and the
cautious adult armor we sometimes bear like a cross. We become whole.
It was my birthday. I don't often celebrate or even acknowledge the day, often forgetting it myself. I sometimes go off on my own and reflect on the year, my life, the future; then shrug it off and carry on like any other day. November seems like a month of contradictions for me every year. So I was born on this day in this month. So were thousands of other people. It's no big deal. I'm not special.
I'm not big on presents. I don't like the attention because it's not special and I don't subscribe to obligations of buying and giving presents dictated by tradition. Presents should be given based on genuine caring. I only want to do something special: go camping, go to a movie, go for a long bike ride, do something different. So I did.
I suggested to Ed that we invite Bob and Gloria to go on a day's hike in the Chisos Basin, something I have not yet done. I chose the Window Trail because it was relatively short, ~5 mile round trip, with a drop of 980 feet, and top it off with cobbler and ice cream at the Basin Lodge restaurant. So we did.
Packing hiking boots, camera, snacks and water on the bikes, we rode up to the campground in the Basin and struck out on the trail. We were joined by a new addition to the Trickster family, a large coyote puppet, compliments of Ed. Indeed, the two of them make a really good team, as you will see.
After a short but quite steep beginning, the trail began to reveal cliffs tinged with orange, brown and muted green where lichens form large patches indicating moisture and shade from the sun. Tall rough grasses and other interesting plant life begin to dot the typical low shrubby desert growth of mesquite, prickly pear and creosote. Soon we see unusually tall yuccas, some with flowering stalks, interspersed with giant clumps of agave. And I'm constantly distracted by unknown tiny wildflowers that blast with color and gray-green foliage, or branches of shrubs I've never seen before.
The trail gradually becomes a winding gravelly path with a moderate descent. It's easy to keep a comfortable pace in the wide open space. Soon my attention is directed up and ahead as giant upright boulders appear, like monstrous flakes of skin shed by the inside of a great mountain. Grasses hugging the ground begin to give way to shrubs with gnarled branches and small evergreen leaves. Some small trees have yellowing leaves stubbornly hanging on and it reminds us that the temperatures here in this microclimate are very different from those that we are used to on the warm desert floor. At times we all just stop and absorb the views around us.
I am attracted to the Chisos Mountains like a food magnet pulls a starving person. This group of mountains defies the desert stereotype of drifting sand dunes and absence of life (topic of an essay in progress). Like the surrounding rugged and angular valleys and dry arroyos, these mountains were created by a changing landscape: landmass collisions, continental distentions, and an ancient river basin whose origins began with mountains that rose far to the northwest.
Unlike in the east and north, the landscapes of mountain ranges in the Chihuahuan desert are relatively new. Earlier land mass collisions far to the west caused deposited sediments of an ancient sea to rise and form the Sierra Madre mountain range along the eastern edge of the desert in Mexico. More tectonic collisions initiated volcanic activity for thousands of years, during which the western Sierra Madra mountain range was formed. This was following by periods of several millions of years during which the North American continental plate stretched and distended. The last known period of tectonic loosening (called the Rio Grande distension) began over five million years ago, and which we are currently experiencing. The isolated groups of mountains that we know today, as well as the features associated with the Rio Bravo, were created during this period. And will continue long after we are gone.
Anyone visiting the southern Big Bend region of Texas associates it with the Chisos Mountains, an isolated group of stark rock sharply thrusting upwards out of the northern Chihuahuan desert. This group, and others like it, are known as 'sky islands', isolated oases surrounded by an entirely different environment. Because of their often perceived abrupt change in terrain, they are considered 'islands in a sea of desert'. Yet even though they are often widely separated by several to hundreds of miles of hot and dry desert, these islands are cooler, wetter and create their own ecology, even weather.
The steep slopes of these mountains transform from low elevation desert to high mountain tops. Along these transitions are overlapping ecosystems that favor a changing myriad of vegetation. From the typical hot- and dry-adapted cacti and low scrub brush, vegetation zones transition to lush zones containing many species of oak and junipers, then soaring cliffs of pines, finally to clumps of fir and spruce trees at the top. And, because each sky island is ecologically isolated, some species of plants and small animals cannot move easily from one island to the next.
The complex and changing nature of diverse life and its surrounding geomorphology is what captivates me. Like a child in a new world, I can spend hours, even days, exploring the small and large rocks, diversity and richness of wildlife -from lichens and moss to the big predators and tiny birds. It's a playground for the inquisitive child inside and the largest field lab for the scientist that was the successor of that child. This is what I try to do on my birthdays; celebrate that child and adult because they are connected. And I loved every minute of that hike, sharing it with people I cared about.
During our hike, our companion coyote demonstrated his trickster self with the help of Ed's child inside. Coyote traveled most of the hike cradled on Ed's hand, and often in his folded arms. Because of its size and surreal resemblance to a small live coyote, most fellow hikers of all ages reacted to its presence; from surprise, amusement, entertainment, and, with one adult woman, fear.
Reactions ranged from identification as a small dog, a raccoon, a cat, a cougar cub, to plain perplexity. Some of the younger children (and an occasional adult) stopped to stroke its 'fur' as Coyote's mouth 'panted' and his muzzle 'smiled'. Ed actually became very adept at imitating an adolescent canine through his arms and hand, down to a wagging tail. And, of course, we derived immense amusement from the mini puppet shows.
As the trail descends deeper into the Basin floor, we are ringed with towering cliffs whose colors overlap with yellow, orange, rose and dark brown. Some of the towering crags are angular rock almost resembling spikes of geological teeth. Others are giant round boulders as big as a house. On closer inspection, some of these reveal themselves as huge amalgamations of different types of rock all fused into one resembling some giant transparent and complex dead organism. Some have waves as if the dead organism spasmed while being melded together and belched from the throat of an angry volcano. Almost a juxtaposition, and an example of endurance and perseverance of opportunity and adaptation, life grows in and/or out of these hard geological remnants, finding any pocket or crevasse to take hold and squeeze out water and food, from moss and lichens, to succulents to small trees. And we are amazed at how they thrive even in glazed and fragmented black rock born of fire.
The trail begins to wind and descend into Oak Creek Canyon. The changes in vegetation are testimony to periods of flowing water and lingering moisture. Grasses and tens of wildflower species grow alongside the trail where light penetrates easily. Off the trail, the canyon thickens with gnarled and intertwining trees and shrubs. As the trail leveled next to the dry creek, we came around a corner to enter a tunnel of vines that do as vines do: seek opportunities to twine themselves around shrub and tree branches, or attach themselves by little vestigial stems, commonly called 'tendrils.'
One look at the leaves and I knew right away I had found the elusive 'canyon grape'. Fewer vines are found in the Chihuahuan desert than in the Sonoran desert, which both share a boundary. That is attributed solely to the evolution of the desert's geomorphology: its mountain ranges and elevation. Because the Sonoran desert has had a historically greater influence of tropical climate, due to the Gulf of California, many of the existing species there are tropical remnants, especially vine plants.
Conversely, the Chihuahuan desert has been isolated from most tropical influences because of the long bordering mountain ranges, and is at a higher elevation. Therefore, it has had a more temperate and cooler climate history and few plants of pan-tropical neo-tropical origins remain.
However, two vines of note, and my favorite, grow here in the Chihuahuan desert: Clematis drummondii (Old Man's Beard), found over a wide range in the Big Bend area; and the canyon grape, Vitis arizonica. The latter has been a rather elusive plant for me to find here in this area. Until now. And here it forms a tunnel under which we walked, and I lingered to relish my discovery. Now if only I can get cuttings, I can root them and establish plants to cultivate (and eat the grapes!)
The Chisos Basin is home to the most diverse wild collection of agave I have ever encountered. Probably my most favorite plant of the region, agaves come in many sizes, shapes and forms, but with similar characteristics. And they are the most photogenic to me because of their color, texture and shapes. In the Basin, they grow as big as a child and even shorter adults. Most of them show the dolphin-like colors and texture that I love to photograph and touch. Even Coyote likes the agave.
Soon the trail began to descend again and the canyon walls narrowed in on us. We were now in the Oak Creek Canyon. As I started the decent on the trail that has been built into the side of the towering orange and tan cliff, I began to feel small. I must have eaten the one pill that makes you smaller. Or entered the land of the Hobbits. I felt the kid inside taking over the rest of me and giving in to wonder and mouth-dropping awe, and tended to drop behind the rest of my fellow hikers to wallow in this majesty.
I'm a canyon addict and these canyons always leave me feeling wonderfully small and insignificant with a primordial pleasure that I'm sure my caveman ancestors did not share. Or perhaps I share the spiritual connections of the Navajo, who consider many canyons as sacred places. The light was just right on this overcast day; no bright blue sky and light distorting the deep greens of the evergreen oaks and madrones, or blinding my eyes from bounced light off the canyon walls. Indeed, the overcast day and light only deepened the mystery and magnificence of the canyon cliffs towering over the gravel bottom and trees.
If one stopped in their walk to look up at the cliffs, the waves and fissures in the cliff rock, these grandfathers, would evoke a movement inside your body that might be hard to resist. But I realized that others might be waiting for me, so reluctantly I continued on my hike.
Then, rounding the corner of the cliff base revealed another section of the canyon. Here, a chasm is carved from the creek leaving undulating smooth gray slick rock and small pools of water. A hiker can hop from rock to rock, but if wet, it could be dangerously slippery. Sections of steps are tastefully built to aid navigating the descent closer to the window pour-off.
Soon the steps disappeared at the bottom of another drop-off and small tinaja in the chasm. The rock surface alongside the bottom reminded me of gills, whale's gills.
The last quarter of a mile to the window pour-off is slick rock. Here, thousands of years of rainwater rushing down the creek and through this canyon have polished the rock baby smooth. It's impressive to feel how smooth it is. It is also very dangerous to get to close to the Window opening.
There we met a young couple from Russia, and we all took a break to chat and devour a snack.
The pour-off, appropriately named the Window, frames panoramic desert vistas through a V-slice in the cliff walls, 220 feet above any surface below. I hope that some time I will be able to see the water falling through his slice some time.
After resting and marveling at the slickrock canyon, and the views below, we turned around and made the hike back with discipline. aka, I did not stop to take any photographs. We all knew that the return hike was up, up, and a long up. By this time, several hours after we started with bubbling enthusiasm, we were tiring and looking forward to a late lunch at the Basin's restaurant.
I was literally dragging my self up that last steep ascent to the restroom. Where I realized my clothes were drenched with salty sweat despite the relatively mild and overcast day. Luckily, I had packed a spare pair of dry socks and I exchanged those on my feet for the wet sweaty ones and hiking boots. We slowly donned our riding gear and rode to the Basin. Where we had to wait for 35 minutes for the restaurant to reopen for dinner (we missed lunch). Outside on the patio, I took a group photo while we sat and relaxed.
After dinner, I was too full and tired for cobbler. And it was getting dark. Not really relishing riding down the Basin Road on the DR with a little flashlight of a headlight, I rode behind Bob and Gloria on his Motoguzzi, Ed following behind.
It was the best day I have had here thus far, and the best birthday ever. One I will remember and cherish for a long time to come.
It was my birthday. I don't often celebrate or even acknowledge the day, often forgetting it myself. I sometimes go off on my own and reflect on the year, my life, the future; then shrug it off and carry on like any other day. November seems like a month of contradictions for me every year. So I was born on this day in this month. So were thousands of other people. It's no big deal. I'm not special.
I'm not big on presents. I don't like the attention because it's not special and I don't subscribe to obligations of buying and giving presents dictated by tradition. Presents should be given based on genuine caring. I only want to do something special: go camping, go to a movie, go for a long bike ride, do something different. So I did.
I suggested to Ed that we invite Bob and Gloria to go on a day's hike in the Chisos Basin, something I have not yet done. I chose the Window Trail because it was relatively short, ~5 mile round trip, with a drop of 980 feet, and top it off with cobbler and ice cream at the Basin Lodge restaurant. So we did.
Packing hiking boots, camera, snacks and water on the bikes, we rode up to the campground in the Basin and struck out on the trail. We were joined by a new addition to the Trickster family, a large coyote puppet, compliments of Ed. Indeed, the two of them make a really good team, as you will see.
After a short but quite steep beginning, the trail began to reveal cliffs tinged with orange, brown and muted green where lichens form large patches indicating moisture and shade from the sun. Tall rough grasses and other interesting plant life begin to dot the typical low shrubby desert growth of mesquite, prickly pear and creosote. Soon we see unusually tall yuccas, some with flowering stalks, interspersed with giant clumps of agave. And I'm constantly distracted by unknown tiny wildflowers that blast with color and gray-green foliage, or branches of shrubs I've never seen before.
The trail gradually becomes a winding gravelly path with a moderate descent. It's easy to keep a comfortable pace in the wide open space. Soon my attention is directed up and ahead as giant upright boulders appear, like monstrous flakes of skin shed by the inside of a great mountain. Grasses hugging the ground begin to give way to shrubs with gnarled branches and small evergreen leaves. Some small trees have yellowing leaves stubbornly hanging on and it reminds us that the temperatures here in this microclimate are very different from those that we are used to on the warm desert floor. At times we all just stop and absorb the views around us.
I am attracted to the Chisos Mountains like a food magnet pulls a starving person. This group of mountains defies the desert stereotype of drifting sand dunes and absence of life (topic of an essay in progress). Like the surrounding rugged and angular valleys and dry arroyos, these mountains were created by a changing landscape: landmass collisions, continental distentions, and an ancient river basin whose origins began with mountains that rose far to the northwest.
Unlike in the east and north, the landscapes of mountain ranges in the Chihuahuan desert are relatively new. Earlier land mass collisions far to the west caused deposited sediments of an ancient sea to rise and form the Sierra Madre mountain range along the eastern edge of the desert in Mexico. More tectonic collisions initiated volcanic activity for thousands of years, during which the western Sierra Madra mountain range was formed. This was following by periods of several millions of years during which the North American continental plate stretched and distended. The last known period of tectonic loosening (called the Rio Grande distension) began over five million years ago, and which we are currently experiencing. The isolated groups of mountains that we know today, as well as the features associated with the Rio Bravo, were created during this period. And will continue long after we are gone.
Anyone visiting the southern Big Bend region of Texas associates it with the Chisos Mountains, an isolated group of stark rock sharply thrusting upwards out of the northern Chihuahuan desert. This group, and others like it, are known as 'sky islands', isolated oases surrounded by an entirely different environment. Because of their often perceived abrupt change in terrain, they are considered 'islands in a sea of desert'. Yet even though they are often widely separated by several to hundreds of miles of hot and dry desert, these islands are cooler, wetter and create their own ecology, even weather.
The steep slopes of these mountains transform from low elevation desert to high mountain tops. Along these transitions are overlapping ecosystems that favor a changing myriad of vegetation. From the typical hot- and dry-adapted cacti and low scrub brush, vegetation zones transition to lush zones containing many species of oak and junipers, then soaring cliffs of pines, finally to clumps of fir and spruce trees at the top. And, because each sky island is ecologically isolated, some species of plants and small animals cannot move easily from one island to the next.
The complex and changing nature of diverse life and its surrounding geomorphology is what captivates me. Like a child in a new world, I can spend hours, even days, exploring the small and large rocks, diversity and richness of wildlife -from lichens and moss to the big predators and tiny birds. It's a playground for the inquisitive child inside and the largest field lab for the scientist that was the successor of that child. This is what I try to do on my birthdays; celebrate that child and adult because they are connected. And I loved every minute of that hike, sharing it with people I cared about.
During our hike, our companion coyote demonstrated his trickster self with the help of Ed's child inside. Coyote traveled most of the hike cradled on Ed's hand, and often in his folded arms. Because of its size and surreal resemblance to a small live coyote, most fellow hikers of all ages reacted to its presence; from surprise, amusement, entertainment, and, with one adult woman, fear.
Reactions ranged from identification as a small dog, a raccoon, a cat, a cougar cub, to plain perplexity. Some of the younger children (and an occasional adult) stopped to stroke its 'fur' as Coyote's mouth 'panted' and his muzzle 'smiled'. Ed actually became very adept at imitating an adolescent canine through his arms and hand, down to a wagging tail. And, of course, we derived immense amusement from the mini puppet shows.
As the trail descends deeper into the Basin floor, we are ringed with towering cliffs whose colors overlap with yellow, orange, rose and dark brown. Some of the towering crags are angular rock almost resembling spikes of geological teeth. Others are giant round boulders as big as a house. On closer inspection, some of these reveal themselves as huge amalgamations of different types of rock all fused into one resembling some giant transparent and complex dead organism. Some have waves as if the dead organism spasmed while being melded together and belched from the throat of an angry volcano. Almost a juxtaposition, and an example of endurance and perseverance of opportunity and adaptation, life grows in and/or out of these hard geological remnants, finding any pocket or crevasse to take hold and squeeze out water and food, from moss and lichens, to succulents to small trees. And we are amazed at how they thrive even in glazed and fragmented black rock born of fire.
The trail begins to wind and descend into Oak Creek Canyon. The changes in vegetation are testimony to periods of flowing water and lingering moisture. Grasses and tens of wildflower species grow alongside the trail where light penetrates easily. Off the trail, the canyon thickens with gnarled and intertwining trees and shrubs. As the trail leveled next to the dry creek, we came around a corner to enter a tunnel of vines that do as vines do: seek opportunities to twine themselves around shrub and tree branches, or attach themselves by little vestigial stems, commonly called 'tendrils.'
One look at the leaves and I knew right away I had found the elusive 'canyon grape'. Fewer vines are found in the Chihuahuan desert than in the Sonoran desert, which both share a boundary. That is attributed solely to the evolution of the desert's geomorphology: its mountain ranges and elevation. Because the Sonoran desert has had a historically greater influence of tropical climate, due to the Gulf of California, many of the existing species there are tropical remnants, especially vine plants.
Conversely, the Chihuahuan desert has been isolated from most tropical influences because of the long bordering mountain ranges, and is at a higher elevation. Therefore, it has had a more temperate and cooler climate history and few plants of pan-tropical neo-tropical origins remain.
However, two vines of note, and my favorite, grow here in the Chihuahuan desert: Clematis drummondii (Old Man's Beard), found over a wide range in the Big Bend area; and the canyon grape, Vitis arizonica. The latter has been a rather elusive plant for me to find here in this area. Until now. And here it forms a tunnel under which we walked, and I lingered to relish my discovery. Now if only I can get cuttings, I can root them and establish plants to cultivate (and eat the grapes!)
The Chisos Basin is home to the most diverse wild collection of agave I have ever encountered. Probably my most favorite plant of the region, agaves come in many sizes, shapes and forms, but with similar characteristics. And they are the most photogenic to me because of their color, texture and shapes. In the Basin, they grow as big as a child and even shorter adults. Most of them show the dolphin-like colors and texture that I love to photograph and touch. Even Coyote likes the agave.
Soon the trail began to descend again and the canyon walls narrowed in on us. We were now in the Oak Creek Canyon. As I started the decent on the trail that has been built into the side of the towering orange and tan cliff, I began to feel small. I must have eaten the one pill that makes you smaller. Or entered the land of the Hobbits. I felt the kid inside taking over the rest of me and giving in to wonder and mouth-dropping awe, and tended to drop behind the rest of my fellow hikers to wallow in this majesty.
I'm a canyon addict and these canyons always leave me feeling wonderfully small and insignificant with a primordial pleasure that I'm sure my caveman ancestors did not share. Or perhaps I share the spiritual connections of the Navajo, who consider many canyons as sacred places. The light was just right on this overcast day; no bright blue sky and light distorting the deep greens of the evergreen oaks and madrones, or blinding my eyes from bounced light off the canyon walls. Indeed, the overcast day and light only deepened the mystery and magnificence of the canyon cliffs towering over the gravel bottom and trees.
If one stopped in their walk to look up at the cliffs, the waves and fissures in the cliff rock, these grandfathers, would evoke a movement inside your body that might be hard to resist. But I realized that others might be waiting for me, so reluctantly I continued on my hike.
Then, rounding the corner of the cliff base revealed another section of the canyon. Here, a chasm is carved from the creek leaving undulating smooth gray slick rock and small pools of water. A hiker can hop from rock to rock, but if wet, it could be dangerously slippery. Sections of steps are tastefully built to aid navigating the descent closer to the window pour-off.
Soon the steps disappeared at the bottom of another drop-off and small tinaja in the chasm. The rock surface alongside the bottom reminded me of gills, whale's gills.
The last quarter of a mile to the window pour-off is slick rock. Here, thousands of years of rainwater rushing down the creek and through this canyon have polished the rock baby smooth. It's impressive to feel how smooth it is. It is also very dangerous to get to close to the Window opening.
There we met a young couple from Russia, and we all took a break to chat and devour a snack.
The pour-off, appropriately named the Window, frames panoramic desert vistas through a V-slice in the cliff walls, 220 feet above any surface below. I hope that some time I will be able to see the water falling through his slice some time.
After resting and marveling at the slickrock canyon, and the views below, we turned around and made the hike back with discipline. aka, I did not stop to take any photographs. We all knew that the return hike was up, up, and a long up. By this time, several hours after we started with bubbling enthusiasm, we were tiring and looking forward to a late lunch at the Basin's restaurant.
I was literally dragging my self up that last steep ascent to the restroom. Where I realized my clothes were drenched with salty sweat despite the relatively mild and overcast day. Luckily, I had packed a spare pair of dry socks and I exchanged those on my feet for the wet sweaty ones and hiking boots. We slowly donned our riding gear and rode to the Basin. Where we had to wait for 35 minutes for the restaurant to reopen for dinner (we missed lunch). Outside on the patio, I took a group photo while we sat and relaxed.
After dinner, I was too full and tired for cobbler. And it was getting dark. Not really relishing riding down the Basin Road on the DR with a little flashlight of a headlight, I rode behind Bob and Gloria on his Motoguzzi, Ed following behind.
It was the best day I have had here thus far, and the best birthday ever. One I will remember and cherish for a long time to come.
"The world crumbles as it turns into distance; countries become abstract, and even absurd notions; one simply comes to feel one's own existence on the planet, in the bosom of what -not without contradiction and a certain dose of pagan spirituality- we still call Nature." - Enrique Servin Herrera
Labels: Adventures, Big Bend