Saturday, September 29, 2007

Roughing It

Some friends invited me to come up to Flagstaff this weekend where they were going to camp. Now this couple, Jesse and Carol, take it all with them.
I loaded the KLR with the necessities and headed up at 4:00 but didn't arrive until after dark. It was a good thing that I couldn't see the road coming in because this is how it looked in the daylight.
The "camp" was already set up. There were two canopies, a pop-up trailer, a half dozen tents (one just for me!), tables, seating for a congregation, a blazing fire, full kitchen, a multitude of ice chests, and food cooking. Oh, not just "food", steaks.
They had thought of everything but I, of course, didn't. It was cooler than expected but I had forgotten to bring any hat at all.
There was this crazy wind that blew all night but not one structure came down. It was one of those winds you hear about on the ascent of Everest. One couple said that it literally smashed their tent flat, not permanently but with the fiberglass rods flexing all the way down and bouncing back up between gusts. My tent didn't do that but the sound was like trains roaring by on about a five minute schedule. Very strange.
On the way home Saturday afternoon I rode down Schnebly Hill Road partly to get off I-17 for a while because the crosswinds were brutal and partly to see the scenery. This is one of the roads they take on the Pink Jeep Tours, for those of you familiar to Sedona, so the views were postcard perfect!

Friday, September 21, 2007

The Journey

Why the attraction to times and places inhabited by ghosts? On an iron horse it is possible to travel to a distant time where old men lived and died. Looking at the towns they built and trying to recapture their dreams makes it seem almost as though we knew them. But that is just imagination, I think.

Visiting the reclaimed mining towns examining the buildings rejuvenated for the benefit of us who travel through gives a sense of peace. It is visiting the family sepulcher and placing your fingers on the tombstones remembering a long lost phantom relative. Is it real or an illusion?

We had to have come from somewhere.