Occupation of Independence

It takes a carefully maintained sense of balance to enjoy a mountain bike ride.  I am not just talking about what you do with the handlebars and leaning the body. There was a road that headed uphill from camp -- I think.   A little information from maps certainly helps, but you only want enough encouragement to try it.  You don't want somebody spoonfeeding you all the answers in advance.  Much of what I care about is simply not available on any map. I got what I was hoping for: a monotonic climb, without any of those useless and disheartening drops.  Relentless climbing.  It is so easy to slip into a daydream on the way up:  you are true to your calling, your Noble Suffering. The Little Cute One was running along side me.  She wasn't suffering any.  She wondered why good ol' Pops was so slow. Surprisingly, reaching the top is not the most glorious moment on a ride like this.  I love the last minute or two of the climb, when you see blue sky poking through gaps in the trees

I was surprised by an odd sound outside the trailer door.  It has been awhile since I have seen any wild turkeys.  There seemed to be about six of them, walking around in their clumsy and confused manner. Of course the Little Cute One heard them too.  She came to the screen door and looked out curiously and then frantically.  I couldn't resist: I opened the door so she could give chase.  It was a "target-rich" environment.  She didn't quite know how to choose a target.  There must have been ten of these birds.   It takes all they have, but those silly birds can finally get air-bound and into some low branches of nearby trees.    They seem so unbalanced and awkward when they do land on a tree branch.   How does this species survive?  Just think of all the predator species that would consider turkeys a tasty lunch! In particular, what about grizzly bears?  I was carrying two cans of bear spray this summer on my mountain bike.  I watch scary videos on bear attacks, a

Despite my praise of the last campsite I relocated to one that could not have a neighbor.  Getting settled in required some digging, despite the newly built leveling blocks.  Digging beneath your high wheel has the advantage of chocking that wheel -- a nice reassuring thing, since land is seldom flat. I grit my teeth as I started to dig.  It is never easy.  Sometimes you hit your first rock in the first couple whacks.  Imagine my surprise to hit nothing but dirt, and not just any dirt, but lush loose dark almost-black soil.  I didn't believe such a thing was even possible in a Western state, the empire of rubble.  And I was halfway up the mountains rather than in a valley, next to a river. It would have surprised me more if I had struck a large nugget of gold or if oil had spurted out of the ground.  But not by much. I am making a big deal of this because it is so satisfying to get beyond the mindset of a scenery tourist and think about being a pioneer 150 years ago -- someone wh

  How the world changes when you drive perpendicular to a river!   Utah is a great place to practice that game, because of the Colorado River.  Here in Idaho I drove away from the Salmon River to accomplish the same thing. After climbing 2000 feet where nothing was flat, I was surprised to find a large flat campsite.  It had certainly been used and since it was a Friday I expected to accrete neighbors.  But none came.  Apparently there is a bit of a camping lull between Labor Day and hunting season. What a large and flat campsite it was!  Here was a chance to act out a long term fantasy: pull everything out of the tow vehicle (a van) and organize it.  Normally that is impossible at campsites because the actual work space outside the van is tiny and cramped by rocks, weeds, and steep slopes.  What a strange irony there is to being confined in one sense while looking off 40 miles in most directions to suck in those great panoramic views.   The campsite was as big as a football field, and