Occupation of Independence

It is so easy to praise September and October as months of paradise, and for the most part, it is true. Ahh but there is trouble in paradise: this is the time of year I want to go to sleep at 730 pm.  I knew somebody once who used the 'natural' argument: that you should go to bed when it gets dark, regardless of what "o'clock" it is. He was wrong. Going to bed too early destroys your sleep patterns, and sleep is just too important to play games with.  So what is a camper to do? This is one of those conundrums that will only lend itself to partial solutions. As usual, a person pines for a giant or perfect solution instead of a combination of smaller solutions. 1. Run more lights at night. 2. Blink more frequently. 3. Avoid reading books. Only do easy things with the eyes. Write rather than read. 4. Permit yourself just about any activity as long as you are conscious. 5. Shift your evening entertainment to the ears. 6. Do household chores. Get set up for tomorrow so

I am migrating south through the southwestern corner of Wyoming right now, but not quite at the same spot as in July, when I was heading north.  Then, it was the famous South Pass. This time it is Ft. Bridger. This must bring a smile to the face of anyone who is a fan of the classic TV western, "Wagon Train."  Just think how many tourists have been disappointed -- and probably appalled -- by southern Wyoming! They hear the word "Wyoming" and immediately think of the front cover of a National Geographic magazine, the Grand Tetons, Jackson Hole, "Jellystone Park" and Yogi Bear, and maybe even the movie "Shane" and its opening shot and musical score by Victor Young, or the fictitious "Medicine Bow" of the classic TV western "The Virginian." Then they look out the windows of their car and see brown, treeless, hills and plains. It is about as bleak as anywhere in the West, bitterly cold in the winter, hot in the summer, and windy

Frustration with unharmonious latitudes and altitudes is not exactly news. But I was hoping to do better at solving the conundrum than when I was a newbie RVer. The Columbia River system is to the northwestern USA what the Colorado River is to the southwest. (Notice no upper case S.)  Overall the northwest slopes downhill towards Astoria OR, where the mighty Columbia debouches to the sea. (Or shall we be Lincoln-ian and say 'where it rolls unvexed to the sea?') At the middle latitudes, altitudes are inconveniently high. Credit bad planning by the topo committee of North America. This messes up the autumn migration towards the south. You can't just wait until you are 5 F cooler than you want, and then drive 100 miles south. It is embarrassing but I really don't have a better and smarter idea about migrating south. Perhaps it doesn't matter so much: as long as Indian summer holds, it is nice at most places. When winter hits, it hits all at once, and you skedaddle qu

I stopped to talk to a couple of mountain bikers the other day. The man had a nice handlebar bag, which I complimented him on. He said he liked to ride without one of those ubiquitous "Camelbak" bags that are virtually part of the uniform these days. It felt so good to hear somebody else said that. I have always disliked anything on my back. I used to joke that it was half the reason why I biked instead of hiked. But when everybody else buys their $100 Camelbak (or another brand) you can feel like such a crank for being different, even though you can give good arguments for your preference. Anyway I am back to biking the way I like. What a difference! ______________________________ Isn't it amazing how imitative humans are, if a curmudgeon has to consciously struggle to liberate himself in such a trivial thing?! You could blame this eccentricity on a tacto-centric orientation. Again, it makes one feel like an oddball. The other day I walked out of my trailer on a coolish