Occupation of Independence

  It was quite a view from the knoll I was camping on. It has always surprised me how little altitude you need to open up the landscape. The view was mostly of Wyoming cattle country, mesas, river valleys, and antelopes. To the south were the Uintah Mountains, covered with yellow aspen. What is more miraculous is how uncrowded and untouristy it was. It was possible to relax, without fearing that a late-arriving camper was going to move in close and start slamming car doors.  Off in the distance, a couple miles from my knoll, a herd of 15 horses ran parallel to the foot of the mesa. They looked like fast-moving white dots. What a contrast between their furious motion and their near-anonymity,  since they were so tiny visually and were almost lost in a vast landscape. What a classic image of the olde West! If only I had been closer to their path on my mountain bike! Why were they galloping along, anyway? Ahh dear, there is so much about animals and land that I don't know. I've re

To a photographer it would be hard to beat the works of ancient Rome when it comes to water.  But a mountain biker in the western states might find other "hydrology" projects more interesting, such as the remains of an "ancient" project I stumbled across recently in southeastern Idaho.   The interest came from the surprise-factor and the endorphins, of course, not from its value as a tourist postcard. It was cute that the local towns boasted of soda springs and hot springs. But it has started a theme for me: to appreciate springs where water flows out of the ground. This started in Wyoming a few weeks ago. Then it continued into Idaho, and now back to Wyoming, yesterday. We were "mesa-bagging", as opposed to the more conventional "peak-bagging." It seemed early for the aspens to turn yellow.  Perhaps drought brings on fall colors earlier. Drought isn't all bad if it helps you appreciate running water. We followed a surprise descent off the m

In real life or in the world of drama, most people have run across an archetype: a woman who has buried two husbands and is now married to her third husband. She prefaces most topics with, "Well, as my first husband used to say..." How her third husband resists strangling her, we never learn. I thought about that when I adopted my second (and current) dog. At first I wanted another miniature poodle, as my first dog was. But what if I started comparing the second miniature poodle with a nostalgic and romanticized view of the first miniature poodle? Number 2 would always suffer by comparison. Unfair. It would ruin what would otherwise have been a good experience.  Thus I chose a second dog who was opposite of the first dog in several ways, and was glad that I did. How could that logic be applied to Number 3? My best guess is to choose a dog that is different that the first two. Let her shine in her own limelight.

If you want to feel like the world is crazy and that everything is stacked against you, try looking for a dog. You can do so much searching and get nothing in return but discouragement. There is a reason for this: most dogs simply don't fit reality for most people. Most dog species were developed to perform some function that no longer matters much: retrieving dead ducks from a pond, protecting a herd of sheep from wolves in the mountains, chasing rodents away from the corn crib, pulling a dog sled in the Yukon, hunting wild boars, patrolling the barbed wire perimeters of POW camps, etc.  What do people need today? They need a small dog that doesn't shed too much, and loves being a good companion. But those are the dogs that are instantly adopted by somebody else, so you never get the chance. And what is left to choose from? Losers. There are several mistakes I must avoid when choosing a dog. 1. Don't choose a dog with your eyeballs. Choose behavior, not appearance. 2. Go