Category: ruminations

My Favorite Place

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On the trail, and on the hunt.
On the trail, and on the hunt.

Last Saturday the Girl and I rose quite early to get out and hike (and geocache) before the heat rose. The story is already told, but a further rumination rose a few minutes ago. I suppose when the Muse calls me, I better answer.

I was scrolling through recent images collected and stored on my computer and came across this capture. It was made after our climb-out and while we were hiking along the ridge of the Prison Hill Range. This is a view of the Girl I see often when we’re out in the sageland. She runs back and forth, doing her favorite thing — hunting. She’s a high-drive dog and will chase rabbits, squirrels, and lizards. I know her well and have learned to manage her drive for the most part. I am still sometimes surprised, but far less often than I was a few years ago.

This is something that is just part of her. I accept that and watch for those times when it might be a problem. I’m OK with that as well.

So we hike and hunt. It fills a need that she has and a need that I have. We both gain a lot from our time on the trail. In fact, there’s no other place I’d rather be (at this time) than out on the trail with my Girl. I have to watch the heat because she overheats easily. But if the weather is moderate, then we can go for hours.

Our normal morning walk is now five miles. If I push it and keep my pace at about 18 minutes/mile, I keep my metabolic rate up and it pushes her as well. We’re both tired (but maybe not done) when we get back to the rig.

On Saturday, we did a bit more than five miles with terrain. The climb-out challenged my legs and glutes and it was good. The descent challenged my quads and put some pressure on the patellar tendon, which was also good. We were both tired when we got back to the rig, went to breakfast, and returned to our room. That was good. Saturday was a really good day!

This morning we were out early again. It was cold down by the Carson River in Riverview Park. It was cold enough that my legs and hands were cold until the sun rose sufficiently to shine on me. With the cool air, I pushed pretty hard. The Girl had to run a few times to catch up. She’d be distracted by a scent, pause to sniff, and then notice I was 50 yards down the trail, calling and whistling to her to catch up.

And then catch up she would, blasting by me to pick up the next trail or chase a rabbit. We hiked out to the Morgan Mill Road river access. We took a five-minute break there so I could eat a snack and pee. She continued snuffling in the willow brush, then came over to beg some of my snack (no chocolate for her!). I offered a bite of apple, but she declined (with a snort).

After the short break, I donned my pack again and off we went, me jogging part of the way. I carried my walking stick at port-of-arms to practice. No, the stick isn’t a six-pound rifle, but it will do for practice.

We hit the rig before 0800 with just over five miles on the clock. It was time to get back to the room, feed her, and get a shower so I could get to my dentist for a procedure.

She was curled up in the back of the rig when I came out from the dentist’s office. I left with much to think about. The tooth I thought would be crowned will be extracted tomorrow. It’s cracked and cannot be salvaged. The price of the work just went up. I needed to think on this a bit more, consider the options, and make a decision about how to proceed.

We stopped at Wally-World to fill my prescription. I pondered on my decision while we wandered through the store waiting for my prescription to be filled. I bought a strawberry shake (or what passes for a shake) and a cup of coffee from McDs in the Walmart and sat down to enjoy the coffee. I bought a deck of regular playing cards to keep in my kit. I think that sometimes just sitting playing solitaire will be good for me. I like real cards.

After retrieving my meds, we headed for the room. It was good to feel the sun on my body and good to have the Girl curled up in the adjacent seatpan. I fiddled with her ears and stroked her side as we drove.

Yeah, I’d rather be out in the sagelands with my Girl than nearly anywhere else these days. Wife is gone, the kids are grown and independent, I work for myself. The capture of us on the trail together is idyllic, at least to me. Yeah, I challenge my body when we do those hikes. Yeah, I get tired, hot, sweaty. Yeah, I feel the mental game to push the body when it rebels. It’s a different form of training, not as intense as strength training but just as big of a mental game. Yeah, I’m going to get the dental work done (yet another mental game), then recover from it, both physically and mentally.

Then what? I’m not sure right now. I think there is work for me to do. I need to do some of it and replenish my savings account. I’m good with that… and with spending as much time as I can on the trail… with the Girl.

A Light Show and a Concert

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Yesterday morning, the Girl and I rose very early to get out for morning walkies before the summer heat. It’s been warming quite early the last few days and the heat is really hard on the Girl. So, I set an alarm, rolled out, roller her out, and off we went.

I could tell the sunrise was going to be gorgeous. As we started our walk, we passed the wetland area in Riverview Park on the Carson River. The blackbirds were jabbering quite a lot. I was so struck with the sight and sound, that I paused to make a short video of the event.

I was quite thankful for the show and expressed those thanks to God, the giver of good gifts.

Stepping Stones

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After finding our first geocache Sunday morning, we continued hiking up the trail along Rifle Creek. This tributary had to be crossed. Someone conveniently placed stepping stones across the water for those of us who don't like wet feet.
After finding our first geocache Sunday morning, we continued hiking up the trail along Rifle Creek. This tributary had to be crossed. Someone conveniently placed stepping stones across the water for those of us who don’t like wet feet.

Yesterday’s outing to Rifle Creek and the Three Forks trail was very good for me. I decided to go find a geocache located a quarter-mile from the trailhead, loaded that location (and a few others) into my GPSr, and we headed out. The drive out was healing, moving at a modest velocity so the windows could be down and we could take in the glorious morning air.

We drove up to the trailhead, past many rock climbers. There were so many rock climbers out there that there was no parking. I would have stopped to make some images of them working (and find a geocache) had I found a place to park.

We got out of the rig and the Girl started sniffing about, as usual. I met another old guy who was perched on top of his RV. We chatted a few minutes and I gather that he works on telecommunications. My gut feeling is that he’s a network engineer of some kind, but I never got clarity on that.

Saying goodbye, the Girl and I headed upstream. The water in Rifle Creek burbles along its path here. The water sound was musical and refreshing. The sound of the wind in the fir and spruce trees sussurated comfortingly. I listened for critters as we walked. The Girl stayed fairly close after so many days on lead.

I found the geocache without too much trouble, pawed through the contents in case there was a travel bug or other trackable (no joy), signed the log, and buttoned up the container. Instead of turning around, we continued our path upstream. It was simply too beautiful to return to the motel room without more time in the field.

So we hiked another half-hour, me mistakenly thinking I needed to be out of the park by noon. (I had a day pass from the State Park that expired at noon. We were on Forest Service land; not State.) On the back, I picked a nice shady spot to rest and did my meditation regimen. The Girl stayed pretty close, there being many things to sniff. Being outdoors for a meditation was very nice and is something I should do more often.

We turned around and headed back downstream toward the rig. The sky had a few puffy clouds and we had intermittent periods of sun and shade. It was warm, but not hot. It was nearly a perfect day.

I paused at the stepping stones on the way back. The life metaphor of the stones in the clear, talkative water struck me as I stood there, listening to the water, listening to the Girl being a dog, and listening to the winds speak in the evergreens.

I appreciate those stones, literally and metaphorically, even if I sometimes slip and get my feet wet anyway. (I did.) Although we humans like to think we know where we are going in this thread of time called life, we don’t really know. Life changes, sometimes drastically over a short period of time. The plans we make often do not work out, sometimes because the plans were faulty (unforeseens) and sometimes because we change and the plans are no longer appropriate. It doesn’t really matter, I think.

Don’t get me wrong; plans are important. It’s good to have goals and measure progress toward those goals. However, life is more than plans and goals. It’s a journey I’m on and a part of that journey is to touch the lives of those people I encounter as well as have my own life touched by others I encounter along the way. There is learning and ministry that is part of this process. That’s important.

So, with that reflection, I’m going to ready myself for some travel today. The Girl and I are going to make an easy day of it, geocaching and playing outdoors along the way to Green River, Utah. We’ll spend a night there, or maybe two if there are interesting things to see there. Then we’ll move on towards western Nevada.

This time I’m going to stop at the Great Basin National Park. I’ve meant to stop there a number of times and never have. This time I’m going to.

Wife’s Memorial

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On our way out of town, the Girl and I stopped to visit the place where we dispersed Wife's ashes. Her family keeps a cross and flowers posted here to remember her. It's a beautiful field and I love to stop here and remember her at her best, not at the end.
On our way out of town, the Girl and I stopped to visit the place where we dispersed Wife’s ashes. Her family keeps a cross and flowers posted here to remember her. It’s a beautiful field and I love to stop here and remember her at her best, not at the end.

I love to visit this place, where we dispersed Wife’s ashes. It is across the county road from my old place, where I moved when I was 15-years old, finished high school, helped dad with the farm, and where Wife, I, and our two older children lived while I was working on my master’s degree.

I still believe this is a happy place for Wife’s ashes. It is a place that is meaningful to her, her family, and to me. That makes it right, at least to my mind.

Mate de Coca

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The second day of my trip to Bolivia I discovered Mate de Coca, a light tea made from coca leaves. Yes, it has coca alkaloids in it. Yes, it is contraband in the States. Yes, it is a very good tea.
The second day of my trip to Bolivia I discovered Mate de Coca, a light tea made from coca leaves. Yes, it has coca alkaloids in it. Yes, it is contraband in the States. Yes, it is a very good tea.

After Easter Almuerza, it was time to get to work. We had our first big set of presentations Monday morning and needed to edit our slides and practice our talks. Papá set us up in one of the work rooms at Los Tajibos and we got to work. After some futzing about with the equipment, we were able to use the flat panel display as a monitor and got after it.

While waiting for my turn, I decided to have a cup of tea. (The coffee is generally instant coffee and not up to my standards.) I found this bag of green tea, made from the leaves of the coca plant. So, I made a cup of Mate de Coca.

It is a very nice light tea. It has a slightly sweet flavor, even without sweetener. I did a little research on Wikipedia and learned that Mate de Coca contains coca alkaloids with a concentration of about 4 mg per cup of tea. A line of cocaine has an alkaloid concentration between 20–30 mg. My expectation is that ingestion by swallowing is very different than inhalation (or injection) and the impact of the drug is much changed in the tea form. However, on my return from Bolivia I would have tested positive for cocaine use because I drank the tea at every opportunity.

Its use is being discouraged. It is contraband in the States. I really don’t see why, unless it were to be used to refine cocaine from the leaves. The tea is a mild stimulant and I don’t think one could easily drink enough of it to get high.

This is another example of our world gone wrong where a naturally occurring substance in its organic form is banned because it is abused in its refined form. Meh…

The tea is quite good. When I get back to Bolivia, it will be one of my staple drinks. I like coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon. I see no reason to change that habit and green teas are a nice change from black teas.

A Wizard of Earthsea

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Cover: Wizard of EarthseaMany years ago, I read a book — A Wizard of Earthsea, by Ursula K. LeGuin. It was partly for fun, for I enjoyed the best works of fantasy and science fiction, and partly a class assignment. For my university literature elective I sat the Science Fiction and Fantasy as Literature class under Eugene Warren. Although the class was for credit, it was for fun that I sat it. In the process, Mr. Warren taught me a few things about literature.

I met Eugene Warren and his wife, Rose, sometime in the early 1970s. I think they were involved with the Intervarsity Fellowship group on the University of Missouri — Rolla (now Missouri University of Science and Technology) campus. But, I cannot recall.

What I do recall is that they were different than anyone else in my experience. On looking back, I think they might have been part of the Hippie Movement from the 1960s. That is what I think, but I am not sure. That they were very different than me was clear. But, they believed God and trusted Jesus and that was all I needed to know.

My interaction with them was episodic, but always pleasant. When I learned that Warren would teach the literature class, I was intrigued. I am so glad that I sat that class. I was introduced to LeGuin and other great authors and still appreciate it.

So, it was a little surprising to me that I noticed an old copy of A Wizard of Earthsea on Daughter’s bookshelf. I had been thinking about the book because Older Son and I watched a Hayao Miyazaki rendition of Tales of Earthsea while I was in Denver a few weeks ago. I pulled the old paperback from the shelf and opened it.

My name was lettered inside the front cover. I had forgotten that these were my books, given to Daughter during one of my recent purges of things. I set the book aside to read it.

Yesterday afternoon I spent some time with Older Grandson. I asked if he had read the book.

“No,” he responded.

“You should.”

“What’s it about?”

“It is the tale of a young wizard learning to be a man. It is a good story and you will like it.”

I began rereading the book, now after nearly 40 years, last night. I woke early this morning, agitated and restless from my dreams and picked it up again. I didn’t want to turn on a light, so I bought a copy for my Kindle. I listened to music and read for a bit.

Then I set it aside and rolled over to return to sleep for a few hours. I remembered Warren and the class I sat so long ago. I decided that the story was worth telling — and the book well worth rereading.

Sunlit Carson City

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On our Dead Truck Trail hike, I stood in the saddle between the two adjacent ridges that overlook Carson City. The afternoon light on the city caught my eye and so I paused for a few minutes to take it in, and then to make a capture of what I saw.
On our Dead Truck Trail hike, I stood in the saddle between the two adjacent ridges that overlook Carson City. The afternoon light on the city caught my eye and so I paused for a few minutes to take it in, and then to make a capture of what I saw.

Saturday afternoon the Girl and I hiked up Dead Truck Trail (there’s still a few photographs to process from that expedition). At the saddle between the adjacent crests of the range east from Carson City, I stood for a few minutes. The wind gusted, popping my hat and buffeting me about. I’m thankful for the chin strap of my Tilley Hat, that’s for sure.

I couldn’t move for a few minutes, transfixed by the sight of the afternoon sunlight moving across the city. The clouds shifted about, uncomfortable in the higher winds aloft. It was a magical few minutes, shared with the Girl, who continued doing her doggie things, snuffling about looking for critters, checking in with me now and again to make sure it was still OK to range out a bit.

For me, there will always be something about being out. I was away from the buzz of city energy and out in Nature, where my soul recharges. I gain spiritual energy from the expenditure of physical energy to get to these places and the opportunity to take in what God created… what God shows me. I can feel the city energy drain away from me in these moments of cleansing and it’s cathartic.

I stood there, taking in the magnitude of God’s creation in contrast to the city of man’s creation. I’ll take God’s creation anytime.

After a few minutes, I withdrew my iPhone from its carrier and made a few captures. Then I returned to looking for a geocache and hiking my way up to Stegosaurus Ridge (where I found one). The Girl stayed close, although she spotted something to chase while we ascended the ridge. The geocache was found and logged and we began our descent back down to the Silver Saddle Ranch, and then back to the hotel.

I’m grateful for the time outdoors, the health to move about, and the freedom to do so.

On to Reno

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Near Shaniko, Oregon, was another "shoe tree." This one has also met its demise.
Near Shaniko, Oregon, was another “shoe tree.” This one has also met its demise.

After spending a few weeks in Mount Vernon, Washington, I could delay no longer and left for Nevada. I arrived a few days ago and began working on those tasks that absolutely must be done. I have a bit of breathing space now, so I can start on the other things I want to do and have time to play a little.

I left Mount Vernon on St. Valentine’s Day, after helping my friend get through some tasks that had been waiting for her attention. One of the things I’m good at is looking through things in storage, sorting quickly, and then organizing those things that need someone else’s attention/review and discarding the remainder. So, this is what I did that morning.

I handed off those things that needed her attention, then carried bins to her storage area for her. We shared a bite of lunch and watched a little television (Walking Dead Marathon) as I realized it was time for me to go. I said a very difficult “Good Bye” to her, her dogs, and Mount Vernon and drove into town to refuel and head out.

Sunday afternoon is a good time to drive through the Seattle suburbs. There was traffic, but nothing like what I experienced on my way north. It did not take long to be on the long upgrade to Snoqualmie Pass. Rain fell on us off and on, but no snow.

Soon, we crested the pass and descended onto the east slope of the Cascade Mountains. The farther east we drove, the less rain and clouds we experienced. After a bit, I checked my road atlas and decided to stop in Yakima for the night. I had food with me, so the Girl and I went for a walk, then settled in for the night. We both enjoyed our bite of supper while I checked the television for the next day’s weather.

We drove US 97 south to Bend, Oregon and then on to La Pima, where we took SH 31 southeast, finally connecting with US 395. As I drove into Lakeview, Oregon, I recalled the last time I passed through this interesting small town in southern Oregon. I stopped there last June on my first trip to Mount Vernon to get a bite to eat and find a few geocaches. It was a beautiful June day last year, with just a hint of the oncoming afternoon heat in the morning air.

This time through I stopped for the night. Alturas, California was a little beyond my reach. There’s a wonderful little hotel in Alturas where I’d stay anytime. But I didn’t have any miles left in me, I wanted out of the car for awhile, and the Girl needed a walk. So, Lakeview it was.

Given there were only about 250 miles to go, I wasn’t motivated to make a really early start. We didn’t languish too long in Lakeview, but didn’t rush out the door either. The route through northern California is quite beautiful and we stopped along the way to enjoy the outdoors, get some exercise, find a geocache, and be alive.

Yes, there is now an element of just being alive. Somewhere along all the miles over the last three-quarters of a year, I found something that was lost. There were a few glimpses in the years since 2005, when I left my clinical depression behind. I shared many of those moments with Wife before her decline. As I recover from Wife’s death, I find myself in moments of simple joy — simple happiness. I am able to spread my arms wide, look into God’s sky, and be thankful to simply be alive.

There are entire days that come and go and I feel gratitude. I am grateful for many things — all the years I shared with Wife, even those difficult times that measure character. I’m grateful for my family (and hers). I’m grateful for my children and grandchildren. I’m grateful for old friends. I’m grateful for new friends. I’m grateful for my dog training friend and her dogs. I’m grateful that I’ve been able to get to places where I can see people who are important to me, whom I love.

I feel happiness again. I’m able to feel light, to run with the dogs, to look at the mountains, the sky, my dog, and feel the lift the comes from joy. I’m able to thank God for his grace and mercy.

Happiness is not a constant state. Without periods of non-happiness, the value of the gift is lost. So, I don’t feel happy all the time (I’m not sure that is even possible). But, I have big chunks of time now when I feel good. It has been a very long time.

I have some additional thoughts on this. Maybe I can pull them together for another essay. We’ll see.

In particular, there is a small rest stop along US 395 in the California mountains north from Susanville. I can’t remember the name, but that’s not important. The Girl and I got out of the car, I made a sandwich, snagged a few carrots from the Yeti, and put an apple in my pocket. We bypassed the fence and walked out onto the very rocky ground. She sniffed about, doing her doggie thing, beggin for a bite of my sandwich, and running from me when I chased her.

I smiled at her, at the sky, and marveled at the rough terrain. I used my phone to determine there was a geocache only a few hundred feet from my location. We hunted it down. I listened to the passing traffic, busy folk on their busy ways. I listened to vehicles stop at the rest stop for breaks. I gave the Girl the last bite of my sandwich, laughing at her as she ever-so-gingerly took it from my fingers, knowing that if she gets snappy I’ll palm the morsel. I enjoyed my apple, it’s sweet-tart crunchiness a nice ending to a cold meal taken outdoors with gratitude and joy.

We ran back to the 4Runner, laughing, and knowing that it was time to drive out the last of the journey. We drove on, she snoozing in the seat next to me, me with music playing just enjoying the road.

We drove through Reno and on to Carson City so I could retrieve a few things from my storage unit and see Younger Son. We spent a couple of hours with him, catching up on the news, enjoying some food, relaxing. The Girl and I returned to Reno to meet a friend for coffee at a favorite place, Java Jungle. Then the Girl and I found a hotel where we can stay a few nights.

Tired and happy, she waited on her little bed in the hotel room while I schlepped necessaries from the 4Runner before calling it a night. I knew I’d be busy the following day and would need a few days to regroup.

It will take me a couple more days to regroup. It’s good to be in western Nevada once again. A part of me would love to stay here. It’s familiar, it’s beautiful, it’s not too cold, there is sunshine many days. But, my sense is that my time as a resident of this place is ended. My intuition tells me that I’ll move on to another place, or to other places. Maybe it’s time to be simply a nomad, having no home other than what I carry with me. I just sense that this is no longer my home.

That thought would be material for yet another random rumination (YARR).

It’s What I Do…

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While visiting my friend here in Washington, we talk quite a lot. She has a fine mind and a very high emotional quotient, at least in my opinion. During one of our conversations, she challenged me when I was talking about how I offer emotional support and encouragement. “You say that with such pride and arrogance, ‘It’s what I do.’”.

This caused me to pause and reflect for a few moments. Then I revisited the comment early this morning.

As I examine myself in this regard, I don’t have a sense of arrogance about the statement “It’s what I do.” It’s more an observation, similar to any statement of fact. I might as well say “I am a man,” or “I am human.”

It isn’t about pride at all, but she was right when she said “You do that to make yourself feel better.” That poked a bit.

I wondered why I bristled at the statement. Perhaps it is not OK for me to offer support if the motive is selfish — I do it to make myself feel better.

Furthermore, I wonder if it is arrogant for me to interfere with another’s suffering. Is that state something they need for their personal growth? I’m reminded of an aphorism I read about suffering well, in recognition that we all suffer and that suffering is a primary path for growth. If, in offering support and encouragement, I interfere with another’s suffering am I short-circuiting their path to growth and stymying God’s will for them?

That would not be what I want at all. If “It’s what I do” is interfering with the other person’s growth and I am doing it for the selfish reason of feeling better about myself, then that can’t be good at all.

Therefore, I think I need to reflect on this idea a bit more. It’s OK, I think, to be sensitive to other’s suffering, to be kind and gentle in one’s dealings with others. But to interfere, well, that might not be a good thing. Perhaps it’s better to keep to myself, to offer prayers (without even saying so), to mind my own business and take care of my own affairs.

Sometimes I think I talk too much and say too little. That is another rumination, though, and one I think I’ll save for later. This bit is enough for today.

Running with the Pack

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The three dogs I run with — Ki, Shep, and Bella in the background.
The three dogs I run with — Ki, Shep, and Bella in the background.
The last week or so I have had the opportunity to meet with the Girl’s trainer and her dogs for a noon walk. There’s a trail near here where we can get a short walk during the time she has available. So, we do.

Once on the trail, the dogs can run a bit off-lead. Of course, the Girl has her e-collar on, but that’s more for insurance than anything else. Sometimes the three dogs, Ki, Bella, and Shepherd, pack up and start running together. In my joy, I get in the middle of them and we run together, down the path, laughing and playing.

I love to catch the Girl when she’s sniffy and grab-ass. She always ducks her butt and runs off. Bella chuffs at me and we laugh and run. Shepherd is still learning how to be with his humans. He’ll get there under the able skills of the trainer.

This trainer is the best I’ve seen. She understands dog body language (and probably human too) better than any I’ve seen. She’s on it if she sees a problem developing. I’ve watched her demonstrate to handlers just what the dogs are saying. It can be hilarious to watch her get into someone’s personal space to demonstrate her point. That makes me laugh, in part because I’ve experienced it and it’s a powerful demonstration.

The time is coming when I have to leave here and head for Carson City. It’s time to go take care of some business there and see folks I need to see. I’m really going to miss this place and the people I’ve met here. I’m really going to miss running with the pack.