Occupation of Independence

In our day many people feel revulsion towards the Valley of the Sun, metropolitan Phoenix. And yet people are still moving here. If ever there was a proof that 'Reputation is a Lagging Indicator..." I've avoided this smoggy monstrosity for most of my career as a full time RVer. It has been a pleasant surprise this winter to find some areas on the western fringe that are still nice. This was probably the largest, irrigable, agricultural valley in the Colorado River system. Only the Grand Valley near Grand Junction, CO, or the Dome Valley east of Yuma come close. And yet the specialness of this never made much of an impression on me before. Just after sunrise one morning I noticed pendulous bulbs of dew hanging on the side of the van. But just barely. Tap the van, and they collapsed like a monsoon downpour. They were accentuated by the rays of the sun striking them at a glancing angle. Suddenly I was a schoolboy doodling at the blackboard, and why no

Taos, NM. The other day I remarked how odd it is that I never see other mountain bikers on dirt roads in public lands. Years ago, this would have been a complaint, but now I pretty much accept it. No sooner had I written this than four mountain bikers appeared in as many days. But I did appreciate running into someone who appreciates my point: Henry David Thoreau, in  Walking. What he says about walking could apply to mountain biking or travel in general. Here are a few excerpts: “ I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understand the art of walking, that is, of taking walks—who had a genius for sauntering... ...but equally at home everywhere. For this is the secret of successful sauntering. He who sits still in a house all day may be the greatest vagrant of all. We should go forth on the shortest walk in the spirit of undying adventure. We have felt that we almost alone hereabouts practiced this noble art...” The modern image of Thoreau is that of a

Pecos Pueblo, near Pecos, NM.  A traveler in the Four Corner states has to visit a few pueblo Indian ruins, which usually come with a fine old Spanish church. I've visited a couple pueblos located far enough east to have traded with and fought with less settled tribes from the high plains to the east, like the Apaches. Imagine what it was to be a Plains Indian seeing a five-story pueblo building for the first time. It must have been similar to a pony-mounted Mongolian, in Genghis's era, riding east until he got his first look at a Chinese city. But what did the more settled and civilized Puebloans think of the Plains Indians? As a Plains Indian rode east, away from the Pueblo, perhaps some of the Puebloans looked at him wistfully and thought, Ahh, there goes a real man, living in harmony with nature. The best part of visiting the Pecos pueblo was the chance to crawl down into a restored kiva. It's surprising that the Park Service trusts the public that muc

The lives of the gods living on Mt. Olympus is starting to resemble a tawdry soap opera these days. Zeus in particular has fallen in stature as far as the English royal family did in Princess Diana's day. If that wasn't bad enough, the Norse equivalent of the Roman Vulcan is throwing temper tantrums in Iceland. A quick perusal of Wikipedia did not reveal the Indo-European god of debt. Whenever I read an article about Germany's response to the financial dysfunction of Mediterranean Europe, it brings a wry smile to my face. My goodness, the north-south split. How long has it been going on? It is charming, and must explain much of the popularity of the movie, "A Room with a View," which I rewatched recently. In the movie English tourists were visiting Italy; full of primness, they were confused or offended by the chaos of Italy. As usual, the commentary track neglected to credit the mostly-Puccini soundtrack with the movie's popularity. One can&#