Occupation of Independence

Humans do seem to have stubborn predispositions. Children would rather eat dessert before their vegetables. Adolescents have difficulty thinking that something is more important about a potential sweetheart than their physical appearance. And outdoorsmen have their stubborn inclinations. A beginner wants loop routes instead of out-and-backs. Sheer necessity made me adapt to an out-and-back mindset. After all, most spur roads deadend halfway up a mountain, while the loop routes are full of motor-crazed yahoos. I am still surprised (and happy) that I was able to make that transition. But one predisposition remained: beginning a trip by pedaling uphill, getting the required dosage, enjoying the view at the top, and then coasting back down. This pattern worked so well because the sweaty ascents were in the cool of the morning, and the descents were in warmer air. And there is something pleasing about looking forward to 'eating your dessert' after you have finished the hard work fir

There was supposed to be a spring on the ride today. I certainly hoped so, since I had biked downhill from my ridgetop aerie to creek level. It would be quite a grunt to get back to camp. The creek was turning into a pretty good sized tributary of the Green River, in western Wyoming. The forest service is wonderful here. There was virtually no signage. When I finally got to a little parking lot for the spring, nobody was there. You had to want to find it -- you couldn't just be a tourist rushing to their next scenic delight. That might sound like a little thing, but it feeds a mood that you can love. I left my mountain bike in the parking lot, unguarded, unlocked, and walked to the spring.  It actually seemed like a mountain stream at first. Quite noisy.  But all that water was coming from one crack in the mountain side, where the water gushed out without any moiling riffles:  I am almost glad -- I said "almost" -- for the ghastly drought, and for admitting how horrible i

The delicious rain had ended by morning. It had been replaced by fog. The drought had gone on so long, that I had forgotten what fog was like. It had become almost exotic. Out of that fog rode a man on horseback. He cut quite an impressive figure. Playing a hunch I said "only one dog today," in Spanish. He understood. But my Spanish has weakened over the years since I have stopped going to Mexico in my RV. Indeed he was a pastor, a shepherd, and was from Peru. He was here for cinco meses, five months. A previous summer he had worked near Elko, Nevada. But he wasn't just visiting me on a social call. He pulled out several batteries that needed recharging. How ironic! This hombre lived in a tent for those five months, rather primitively, in a manner reminiscent of the 1800s; perhaps as primitive as the pioneers who traveled the valley a few miles from this ridge, on their way to Oregon or California. Yet he had two Samsung smartphones that needed recharging. He also had

  Would it be necessary to go out to the van and dig out the Mr. Heater BigBuddy -- in August? Maybe so. I have adapted to brutal sunlight and aridity. Hopeless drought has become normal. And now it was foggy and cold. Did it even reach 50F today? Late in the afternoon, after a day of much needed rain, the sky brightened up a bit. The best way of avoiding cabin fever is to take advantage of these little breaks in the weather by going out for a walk. Coffee Girl certainly appreciated that. I heard a human voice close to my trailer. Who could be in this neighborhood, now ? Outside a man was walking by with three dogs: two Australian shepherds and a Great Pyrenees. He said something about "caballos," Spanish for horses. But it seemed like some of his words were English. He, five horses, and three dogs overlapped our walk a couple times. We were too far away to talk, but we exchanged friendly waves of the hand.  One of the horses had a bell, un cencerro, which made quite a bit