Occupation of Independence

 We haven't seen the last hot day in 2026 but, still, it seems like we've 'broken the back' of this summer.  A camper has a right to celebrate that.  I am even happy about a smoky sky (from the forest fires) because it takes the edge off the hot sun.  Smoke bothers some people but I can even stand bicycling in it.  So off we went, onto a new road and perhaps a scenic view from the continental divide .  The trees were thick and unburned, so the shade was nice.  But the viewscape was pretty closed in.  After a while, it seemed like something was about to change. The dirt road got closer to an almost cliff-like mountain edge, so the view opened up, with each curve seeming to hang further and further out into space; swelling into a type of crescendo. By sheer dumb luck, I had happened to watch this video on You Tube the previous day, and the music was still stuck in my head:  It was the " Love Death " from the climax to Wagner's "Tristan and Iso...

The older I get, the more willing I am to admire people without wishing to emulate them.  The perfect example of this is all the trekkers on the Continental Divide Trail.  Congratulations to them for finding something they really like.  But it wouldn't work for me: it is too oxen-like.  And too warm. I was surprised to see a horsewoman coming down the trail, with a packhorse behind her.  Girls will be girls, and she had a stylish blanket under her saddle.  Alongside her ran a friendly, long-legged spaniel or pointer.  The dog had spiffy hiking boots on its fore-paws.  I said, "What a team!" to her.  We spoke a little bit and then she quickly disappeared.  A horse walks faster than you think.    But that "team" really made my day.  I not only admired it, but I did wish to emulate.  But of course, I won't -- for practical reasons.  If only my camera had been handy!   Today's team was my favorite since I ran i...

Seeking new books -- or novelty in general -- is quite a vice.  One can not praise the rereading of books, enough; especially if the book 'sort of' worked for you the first time around, while many years have passed, with changes in the world or in yourself. For instance, many years ago I read " The March of Folly ", by Barbara Tuchman .  She wrote:  "To qualify as folly for this inquiry, the policy adopted must [...]  have been perceived as counterproductive in its own time, not merely by hindsight." You'd think that European statesmen bumbling into World War One would be her best example, but it was not included in this book perhaps because of her more famous book, " The Guns of August ." She made examples of the Trojans accepting the gift of a wooden horse from the Greeks; Renaissance popes provoking the secession of protestants; Britain losing its American colonies; and the American debacle in Viet Nam . If she were writing this book today...

 It is wonderful to see yourself becoming more appreciative of solid, unspectacular things.  Maybe that happens more and more the older a person gets? Look at this nice -- but ordinary -- thing at the beginning of summer.  It made a great impression at the time, but I couldn't explain why it seemed like such a big deal:  Maybe it was the context and "set up."  It was early summer and I was driving from ID to OR.  Just before leaving ID, I saw people eating outdoors and driving around with their windows down in a way that made them look like they were celebrating the onset of summer.  I was deeply offended. Then on the OR side I saw people practicing predatory parking while looking for the tiny bits of shade available at the Walmart parking lot.  This seemed funny to me.  "Hey, these Oregonians are OK," I thought. As I have done a thousand times during my RV career, I escaped the (low altitude) heat of the 'big city' early that morning, by cli...

 Maybe being a 'trail angel' is worth looking into.  I did it today, accidentally, for the first time.  It was enjoyable. It was grocery and water day, so I was driving down the forest road to the town of [redacted], Idaho.   Ahead of me was a backpacker who really looked like a strong hiker.  I was only 1/4 mile from where the Continental Divide Trail crossed the forest road.   He was off the official trail and I asked him about that.  He said he was headed down to the highway where he would hitchhike 42 miles to town in order to buy food.   "Well, hop in if you don't mind a dog licking your face," I said.  It certainly made the drive to town faster and more enjoyable to have a personable fellow along.  I never pick up hitch hikers, but he didn't really seem like a hitch hiker. In town, he treated me to a baked good and a delicious coffee at the bakery. Maybe I should try this trail angel thing on purpose, rather than jus...

 Photography used to be more fun before the smartphone era.  Yes, that sounds a bit ungrateful to all the things that camera phones do well.  One advantage that doesn't get talked about much is their lack of moving parts.   That was always my problem with compact zoom cameras, with their dust covers and telescoping zooms.  It seems like a single grain of sand could have jammed things up.  But if you want to go back to having more fun, maybe a two-year lifespan is just something that has to be tolerated. For example, when walking through a thick forest a person can slip into quite a mood.  It is hard to believe, but there was a time when I considered thick, dark forests to be undesirable.  Gloomy almost.  Today they make me think of being 5 F cooler, and what else matters? The darkness makes you think about stumbling into a bear.  Thick vegetation could turn lethal!  And then, all of a sudden, you see a bright spot where the sun...

 Recall that I am a recovering armchair general, attempting to become an armchair media critic.  It has always been surprising how much talking there is on You Tube, and yet there are hardly any maps.  I have seen talking-heads give confusing and lengthy speeches about war-front geography -- please, shut up and show me a meaningful map! The maps that are shown do not even have labels on them.  If graphs are shown, their labels and legends are illegible. Perhaps the medium is the message.  Graphs and maps do not show well on the restricted real estate of a smartphone, but talking does.  Earlier I wrote about how bad many talking-heads are, at talking.  But there are people who are good at talking.  Other people would be wise to imitate them.  So this is a shout-out to one of those good talkers: 'Mr. Global,' on You Tube.  Seriously I love the way that guy talks! 

In preparation for a colonoscopy, they put you on a special diet to empty out your intestines.   It involves a lot of Gatorade, clear broth, and laxatives. I thought I would be hungry without solid food, but the broth was surprisingly satisfying.  I had never bought broth before, at the grocery store.  Why wasn't I buying broth all the time?  On top of everything else, broth doesn't need refrigeration when unopened.  A camper should like that. Putting leftovers into broth for more nutrition and taste is so easy.  That is how our frugal (and less obese) ancestors ate.  They used leftovers from the main meal in mid-day.  Remember that they didn't have good refrigeration in those days.  There is always something that needs to be used up, soon. My new evening meal. Just think: all my life I had been cleaning out skillets and pans during the mid-day meal by washing the residue down the sink, instead of saving it for evening soup.  A...

 Perhaps we got as much as 0.05" of rain the other day.  If that weren't miraculous enough, it stayed cloudy most of the day. The next day there was some dampness to the ground.  This is fantastic for a hiker or mountain biker.  The ground had turned from something uncomfortable and dead into something completely different, something with real hope.  But don't think I am telling tall tales: there weren't any mud puddles to slosh through. If life and hope aren't worth noticing and writing about, what is?  But how would you actually write about it?  Lavishing adjectives on it probably wouldn't work.  The long-suffering reader knows my stump speech by heart, by now.  But each new manifestation of it seems fresh to me because something that was dead and predictable is washed over by the surprising and the alive, like a wave of white sea foam onto a beach.  Before the smartphone, RVers still had daguerreotypes to capture the moment....

It is rare to get a punch in the gut when reading a history book.  But how would you react to this quote about the war between ancient Athens and Sparta, from Lewis Dartnell's "Origins, How the Earth's History Shaped Human History"?  It was written  7 years before Trump-anyahu's War Against Iran : "Ultimately it was Athens' dependence on grain imported along the sea lanes from the Black Sea that proved her fatal weakness. Falling upon the Athenian navy right in the narrow strait of the Hellespont, the Spartans utterly destroyed it.  The Peloponnesian War is a good illustration of the central importance of the geography of the seas and the vulnerability of vital maritime routes at narrow straits. Commanding such naval chokepoints, and thus a rival’s access to overseas resources, is often as important as controlling territory on land, and can determine the outcome of wars and the fate of civilisations." It is rare to see such a tangible and pithy examp...

 It is time to come up for air.  I can only think and write about the problems of the world so much before I need to shift my attention to something more soothing.  Such as the prettiest field I have ever seen.  It was just outside of town (in west central Idaho).  Wouldn't it be nice to drive by agricultural fields and know every time what the crop is?!  Presumably this is barley or wheat:  It seemed like you could drown in there!  Lush fields of grain are sometimes featured in movies: think of the fantasy scene in "Gladiator" or the 'Kiss' scene in "Room With a View".  I wish I knew of more such scenes. The reader might think I am exaggerating the beauty of agricultural fields, and wonder why I don't show more mountains, arches, and cliffs from famous national parks in the western states.  Believe me, a person can get tired of lifeless rocks, trees without leaves, and cholla needles.  A person can get tired of endless drought and ...

 For better or worse I like to write about travel in terms of subjective experiences.  I prefer not to write about breathtakingly beautiful scenery, how many solar panels you need, or whether RV toilet paper should be one ply or two.  When you camp in the backcountry, and then return to civilization, you notice things that you probably wouldn't notice if you lived in town all the time.  In that sense, it is a 'travel experience.' Rolling into a gas station in the "big" city, I noticed a couple obese female customers.  Why oh why didn't they at least wear long pants and shirts?!  It is not exaggerating to say that they 'wounded' me with a special type of sadness. What was causing this reaction?  Was it just a male-sexist-pig being deprived of his fair share of eye candy?  No, I don't think so.  As a man gets older he places less emphasis on his own pleasure or excitement and looks at the Big Picture of the human condition. The punch in the gut...

 The introductory chapters of history books are usually marvelous to read.  But Big Pictures can sometimes become over-generalized, superficial verbiage.  So there is the opposite approach, using a tangible and specific event to serve as a metaphor to illustrate the Big Picture. Perhaps that is the approach future historians will take when discussing the end of the American Empire.  They will introduce their book with a comparison of the funeral in Iran and Trump's Great American State Fair, taking place on the same weekend. Did you have a chance to see videos at the street level of the funeral in Tehran?  I was impressed with how calm and long-suffering people were.  They needed hours just to get to it, after fighting the traffic of a giant city.  Where were the porta-potties and the food trucks?  It didn't seem like Iranians needed hats for that sun.  They stood shoulder to shoulder in triple digit (Fahrenheit) heat. Why!, it's as if t...

 Everybody probably has a list of worst fears.  For my part I have long 'horribilized' crossing Hell's Canyon in July.  Yesterday, the day before the Fourth of July, I did cross it.  It was hard to believe. Getting ready to cross the bottom.     At the bottom I crossed paths with a couple bicycle tourers.  They didn't seem too miserable.  A few more miles in Idaho, we stopped at a nice rest stop and campground.  The leaf-bearing trees were gorgeous.  Walking through the little park I felt warm, but not hot. People and children were jumping in the Snake River to cool off.  Their pleasure was infectious, even to me.  Up on top, the first couple small towns were having a nostalgic Independence Day celebration.  Farmers' Markets, watermelons, sweet corn, parades.  The grocery store was packed. I didn't see one pro-Trump banner or Israeli flag.  Everything seemed so normal and wholesome.  This is not an advertise...

 It is terrible to hear the saber-rattling by NATO and Russia.  Reckless threats!  As if talk of Russia hitting industrial or government facilities in Europe is not bad enough, the pundits even speculate about tactical nuclear weapons.   My guess is that Russia does need to hit NATO directly, if Russia is ever to stop NATO from sending drones to Ukraine, which then hit Russia.  Russia needs to find a way to retaliate that does not escalate the situation.  It should not inflame NATO countries, cause them to unify, and pull in Uncle Sucker from Washington, DC.  To do this, the loss of life should be minimal.  How could you hit drone-production in Europe without killing people?  The Ukrainian drones sometimes hit energy facilities in Russia.  Within 24 hours, Russia should hit back.  But at what? Look at the unique electrical generating system in Europe, especially in the countries along the North Sea.  These countr...

 If I wasn't familiar with this hill, the highway sign would have been alarming:  They even had a third warning, a half mile later!  But the risk was over-stated.  Real risk needs a nasty surprise and I almost got one, a few days later: I didn't see this vertical drain hole (and tire trap) when I drove in, pulling my trailer.  By sheer dumb luck, I missed it.   Imagine the embarrassing discussion with the tow truck driver that could have happened later in the day: "What were you thinking, mister?  Didn't you even see the hole?" Actually I was more concerned about the high winds on this half-bare ridgeline, and the upcoming weather forecast.  There were a lot of blow-downs in the area:  And yet, the high altitude, high winds, weather forecast, and isolation were exciting, probably because Book Bub had told me of a discount on Lawrence Bergreen's "Columbus: The Four Voyages."  There is nothing like reading the right book at the right...

 If you live long enough, you'll have a chance to experience anything, no matter how ridiculous.  Getting excited about buying clothes seems about as silly as you can get.  But it actually happened. I bought an excellent windproof, hooded shell in a thrift store, the other day.  I have always admired people who come out of thrift stores with their trophy-like bargains.  But you have to tolerate disorganized clutter, and I don't.  Since I bought an over-sized windshell, it came down long, almost to the mid-thigh. And the arms were long, too.  I love jackets like that. Recently an expensive bicycle jacket wore out at the zipper.  It was probably 8 years old.  I didn't think those narrow zippers would last more than one year.  But I felt inspired to get completely away from over-priced bicycle clothing.  After all, the fabric is just common nylon or polyester, made in some fabric mill in east Asia that makes square light-years of the s...

 It doesn't feel natural or desirable to start off on a walk by going downhill, but that was what we had to get used to, at our current campsite in eastern Oregon.  But I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard some loud and strange animal noises. Some You Tube videos clarified things: I was hearing the plaintive mating calls of rutting elks.  They sounded so close!  And every 30 seconds!  I have never heard so many 'bugles' by elks in my life.  The bugling is so high-pitched, it is hard to believe it comes from an 800 pound beast! There were so many bugles going off in my neighborhood that it was almost funny.  If an elk cow can't find a willing bull in this area, she just isn't trying very hard.

 No more embarrassment and no more apologies for becoming completely satisfied and content when I get certain things.  The other day I experienced a strange kind of chiaroscuro, of violently contrasting bright blue sky and lush, liquid green.  Eastern Oregon was being good at what it does.  If you live in a part of the world that has real trees and grass and soil, you just can't appreciate this: Yes, I can still remember mowing green grass when I was young.  It was wet and smelly sometimes.  I am so fortunate to be able to flutter my eyelashes over trees that actually have leaves.  This is a pin oak, perhaps?: As if these things are not miraculous enough, the city park also had a spirited river running through it: I laughed when I saw these thistles: There was a time in life when these would have seemed fierce to me.  Nowadays, I could chop 'em up, put 'em in a salad, and throw on a little salad dressing.  These softies in the Northwest don't...

Eastern Oregon: I love horses, as so many people do.  But they are not a big part of life, even in the western states.  So it was a real pleasure to stumble onto this, on today's bike ride:  (After popping the arrow twice, the viewer might want to click the rectangle on the black footer bar of the video to enlarge into  "theater mode.")  The immense 'sagebrush sea' (that starts down in southern Nevada) ends here.  The cowboy was only a mile from where the still-visible Oregon Trail exited the sagebrush sea.  Recall Nevada, a month or so ago:  A morning rain shower was dissipating, so the sky was opening up into puffy cumulus clouds: Meanwhile still photography is up to its old tricks -- that is, looking for soft hills and shadows: There is nothing more classic-western than Indian Paintbrush, and there are plenty of them around, in eastern Oregon: