Occupation of Independence

The last national holiday weekend of summer is always a poignant moment and a chance to reflect on seasonal progress.  How could a person find a way to enjoy or be interested in their "fellow campers" when they seem to be about nothing more than noisy and showy toys?  Perhaps I am not optimistic and persistent enough to find something of interest.  Instead, I aim my efforts at non-human things like topography, clouds, creeks, and dogs.    And it always seems to work.  My little dog sent a text message down to "Duke,"  her doggie friend down in Utah. Water never seems more alive than when it splashes through a fast moving creek.  I think my little girl was trying to make Duke envious of our Idaho location.  He is a labrador retriever after all. My little girl loves her lifestyle.  She runs to the bicycle to get snapped into the bungee-leash.  She has learned to keep her distance from the front wheel.  Her pace is a relentless fast trot, occasionally breaking into a w

It has been a long time since wind was a factor when camping.  But I was caught by surprise at 2 a.m. by severely gusty wind.  It was impossible to sleep, especially because I was not prepared for the wind.  Otherwise, the stabilizers would have been put down and the window would have been closed on my door.  But I was afraid to open the door in that wind. What could cause gusty wind at night?  In the daytime you can imagine violent sunlight causing differential heating of the local topography.  But at night, it seems like air pressures would gradually equalize.  Hence no gusts. My goodness, how can a fellow spend so much time outdoors and not learn more about how the earth works?  And yet,  virtually every blog or video talks about  nature as eye-candy to be consumed. 

I followed a river in Montana the other day.  Rivers are no small miracle to an old desert rat who has trouble visualizing moving water.  After an hour of trying I gave up on finding any good campsites along the river.  This experience confirmed my first decision about camping, learned many years ago: avoid lakes and rivers.  It sounds weird but I enjoyed feeling lost and frustrated.  It was late enough in the day to feel a twinge of desperation.  Finally I saw a humble, brown sign for a dirt road that headed perpendicularly to the river, towards high sagebrush hills.  It looked like the kind of area that scenery tourists -- including van nomads -- would not be interested in.  Therefore I was.  The road wasn't too rough and steep, and it is usually possible for a van + trailer to get turned around in places like this. Sagebrush hills always grab my imagination.  The hills are like giant, lethal waves sloshing over the "sagebrush sea."  That is how waves on a stormy lake c

Montana is too big of a state to "waste."  But I have spent little time camping in the state because of grizzly bears.  It takes some real effort to overcome this phobia.  But I am doing it!   It seems safer to camp on BLM grass/sagebrush than in forests, since you don't have to worry about a bear hiding behind trees and brush.  But actually, grizzlies love open areas if they have lots of rodent burrows.   BLM land is windier than forests, which hardly helps with bear spray.   Also, every small rise in sagebrush produces a blind spot on its far side.  (For people who have seen or read "Lonesome Dove," recall what finally happens to the main character when he carelessly and overconfidently rides over the top of a small hill, with no concern for what could be on the far side.)  I had better stop talking like this or I will lapse back into ursa-phobia!  Let me just focus on avoiding Yellowstone, Glacier national park, and the land in between the two.  Avoiding se