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First things being first, there are new images on the
way, but not yet.
 Secondly, I sit here annoyed in Pagosa
Springs, Co tonight after hearing that a "second home" owner from god
know's what big city, shot a bear in his yard last week when he felt
threatend. Apparently he exited his home, saw, the bear and attempted
to scare it off. When it wouldn't leave immediately rather than go
inside and wait it out, he went inside and got his gun...Game &
Fish has now turned the dead sow's cubs over to an "orphaned bear"
caretaker... how come there isn't someone available to take care of
jackass city folks?
Thirdly, there is no easy explanation as to why this RoadNotes has been
so long in the making (it's actually harder to write this way and no
doubt shows) other than the fact that it's been more of the same...good
and bad, and quite frankly I wanted to be more thoughtful and cease
with some of the banality that has accompanied some of the earlier
editions...
On the other hand, I had committed to not talking about my trailer
woes, based upon my respect for the wishes of someone I respected...but
since I now question their judgement and have heard from numerous
people whose judgement I don't question tell me that it was their
favorite part...I shall continue.
To that end, last night I returned to my trailer to find my gnerator
gas tank had been siphoned with the hose on the ground and the gas cap
gone...Oh well, they only got a half tank, but such behavior in the
land of "second homes" (and now orphaned cubs). To be fair, it is a
major thoroughfare in the Southwest and the rest of the town has been
good to me...I just wish I'd caught them.damn
Worse yet , I need to return to the midwest to have an overhaul on my
trailer, because to quote the service manager, 'they've never seen
issues like this before'...sure.
Next up, and it is beyond anything I could have predicted, but Diesel
(my coyote mix) has paid for his surgeries in just three (or is it
four?) short months...the sales which put him (his picture actually)
over the top came in Flagstaff, where it was something akin to an all
Johnny Cash weekend in the radio biz, only in this case it was ‘All
Diesel, All the Time”...six framed prints and numerous prints of the
little delinquent sold in two short days....I informed him after the
show that he was now safe from the pound.
Things I've Learned of Late
I can’t be as honest about some of my travels as I would like
especially when it comes to people whose paths I cross...
some deserve more adulation than I feel comfortable offering, others
deserve more disdain, and some deserve more of each.
I amaze myself with my ability to appreciate the little things...an
example being...I found a truck stop in Blanding Utah (an appropriate
name for a town if there ever was one) that had a laundromat right
across the street...noiw this may not sound like much, but if it means
one less unhitching to drive around town and find one, it makes my
day...
Anyway, when I asked the clerk in the truck stop what time the
laundromat across the street opened, she said 9 o’clock (it was 5:30),
‘Ah, that’s no good’, I responded...then she added ‘But ours is open
right now, it’s just around the back.’...today was going to be a good
day, I thought.
Most people in America today are incapable of minding their own
business.
It appears Edward Curtis' stuido, then based in los Angeles, was the
studio hired by myparents to photograph their wedding in 1953. He had
been dead a year, but his daughter continued to run the business....a
VERY strange bit of irony in my mind anyway.
Grown men should not go by the name Timmy...a so named trucker in his
70's, stopped to chat with me as I changed a (yep you guessed it)
trailer tire outside Helena, Montana...he was travelling with his
Miniature Pinscher named "Tyson (as in Mike) Arnold (as in Einstein)
and seemed to just need to talk to someone...
When trying to beat the heat with a cold one or two, check to see that
all of your tires are inflated...100 degree heat and truckers named
Timmy can take a heavy toll when combined with a bit of the hops.
Next, Apparently, or so I've been told, I "dress like a Mexican"
(whatever that means...more about that later) but I'm okay with that,
because I tend to eat like one as well...(more salsa please!)
Not all of Montana is god’s country, whereas all of Lake City, Colorado
IS... unfortunately it's a tourist trap too, with some un-godly people,
and over priced, very bad food.
America in Decline
Seen on a cowgirl’s Ford pick-up truck rear window; yes I’m single, yes
this is mine, no i’m not a lesbian...
Seen on a grandfather’s t-shirt as he walked his baby grand-daughter
"The Only Mark I Ever Left in Life is in My Underwear"..I won’t even
get into what I see on young girl’s shirts.
And there’s no hope for me now either as I am surely
going straight to hell...  After the last day of the Prescott World’s
Oldest Rodeo show, I went into a local gas station for a well deserved
(if I do say so myself) six-pack of hefiweizen and as I began to pay at
the counter, a male employee of a about 40 who was obviously suffering
from cerebral palsy and was perched on a step stool stocking beer
nearby, began to teeter...it was not long before he and his display
crashed to the ground in a heap.
He gave me a stare and not wanting him to feel that it was anything out
of the ordinary, I pointed to the beer and said, ‘Don’t worry, I might
do the same thing before the night is over’.
Well, empathy was apparently not something he was interested in, for
while the clerk at the counter began to giggle, he glared at me and
screamed some unintelligible curse words (think Ralphie in A CHRISTMAS
STORY) and stormed off into the back room. Anyway, I have a bad habit
of such foot-in-mouth some far worse than this...
 More Hell
Without going into too much detail, I my recent trip back to the
midwest and to say the least, Indiana was not good to me (again)...in
fact, if I may quote a former friend, ‘I think I may have been cursed’
in the Hoosier state...but that same friend (former) also advised me,
that I need to to keep these RoadNotes more positive.
So in keeping with that spirit, I am POSITIVE I have been cursed.
Which makes the fact that I have several shows booked there in
September all the more unfortunate...and I am positive about that as
well.
Chicago on the other hand treated me well and the crowds there were
more open to the “Vanishing West” than I could have hoped for...the
trip also served to make me appreciate The West all the more.
As I returned, it was uncanny how mother nature knew to turn off the
heat and humidity as I crossed the Colorado state line and rolled into
her massive vistas...it was a Dorothy moment,,,there's no place like
home...at least if that home is not a trailer.
I have come to the conclusion that my trailer is indeed a LEMON.
The list of issue continues to grow at about the same rate that my
patience diminishes...unfortunately, I called a lemon law attorney
whose forst question was how many times has it been in?..When I told
him for these problems, just once, he informed me I had another
thousand to go before any lemonish type laws would kick in.
So as they say, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. And I shall
as this baby will be on the auction block after it is repaired and I
shall move in to a more reliable home.
Whiteriver, AZ - Memorial day weekend always means two
things are certain, first I’m yet another year older and “Band of
Brothers” will be in my DVD player. I’ve found both events help me to
keep my eye on the ball so to speak... which brings me to all of the
missing RoadNotes...
Quite frankly, it was a result of my under-whelming sense that I was
beginning to dwell on the mundane rather than the interesting...these
thoughts were originally meant to align themselves with the spirit of
Lewis & Clark, not Abott & Costello...and with that spirit, it
is my equally sincere intent to avoid such banality in the future.
And in that spirit, the day before a show in Pinetop, AZ, I returned
from a three day cattle drive with the White Mountain Apache cowboys.
As they do every year, they moved a good part of their herd (500 head
on this trip) twenty miles up into the mountain pastures for the summer
If the phrase God’s country was ever intended to describe a landscape,
this is it.
I always have an inexplicable calm when I‘m here and any one who is
lucky enough to travel across this untamed and historic land, will
surely understand why so many of the Apache refused to submit and stay
on their assigned reservation at San Carlos...dry and arid as it
is...you can also understand why it was so hard to retrieve them once
they’d fled...
At the same time, I’ve always said that the Apache of these White
Mountains were lucky a government that had grown almost as weary as
they had at the time, eventually and rightly allowed them to retain
this, their land, as their home.
Random thoughts: Chief just went to bed and it’s only 8 o’clock...me
thinks it’s the adorable 6 month old heeler puppy outside the trailer
that has him thinking sweet dreams.
Both of the first days went well, but last night 99 were lost to the
forest after we returned to camp...Gary Alchesay, my host, friend, and
head cowboy for the White Mountain Apache Tribal herd (ID brand), said
the bulls were fighting and knocked down a line of fence.
Gary like most Apache and cowboys is a man of few words and not one to
let the little things get him...besides as I’m sure he would tell you,
bulls will be bulls. He also knows this land is too perfect to leave,
so he knows they’re out there somewhere (we saw at least 30 on the way
in tonight...and tomorrow’s another day...
There’s a Mexican wolf (part of the reintroduction program) in the area
that’s starting to become more than a nuisance...it walked into camp
day before last when the cowboys were working and their their first
ever female cook was alone ...
The cattle dogs who defended their territory quite boldly when I pulled
in with my three, apparently paid little attention to the wolf
(probably too busy scratching as mange has hit the pack badly which
means they’ll soon get the Apache mange treatment - motor oil).
Random action: Went outside to see the heeler puppy and felt a full
tick on her ear...got it off including the head...always makes me
wonder who does it when I’m not here....I of course know the answer, no
one.
To make a long story short, she didn’t return the next day which made
the cowboys none too happy...couple that with the fact that on the day
I arrived, the wolf challenged the cowboys in a nearby meadow as they
approached a calf it had killed...and you have Gary, none to
happy...but again it’s one of the little things...
Gary called the wolf program this morning and told them they should
come and get it (they are all supposed to have GPS collars but Gary
knows the ones in his area don’t) when the wolf person said those
didn’t have collars, Gary said, then he’d just have to shoot it...he
wouldn’t, but he says it always gets them out that day.
Diesel (my coyote mix) was almost a casualty this day as well...for the
second time in two days I made the mistake of thinking I could let the
dogs off leash to give them some REAL exercise and again it bit me in
the butt...yesterday, Chief was the first off and before I could even
unleash the others, he had flushed a squirrel from some under-brush and
the chase was on...at least for him. For the rest of us (Diesel,
Willow, and myself) it was simply the wait that was on...so we did.
After about an hour of wondering if the wolf had claimed yet another
victim, Chief returned with no squirrel , but a big grin and as happy
as I’ve seen him to date on our travels...as for Diesel, he was for the
most part an innocent in this one, guilty only of looking a lot like
the coyote he’s mixed with...anyway, I was running low on film, so I
decided to conserve what I had until the drive approached Paddy Creek
where the herd was to stay for the night and right across from that
trail, was a massive and stunningly beautiful meadow surrounded by a
distant perimeter of nicely thinned, but equally impressive pines...
As I let the dogs off leash, Chief and Diesel bolted but for just a
moment. Willow looked at me as if to say ‘you’re kidding, right?’...but
she didn’t bother waiting for an answer and before long she was right
behind the others.
As the three of them raced in all directions throughout the meadow, I
slowly followed them both pleased with my choice and happy they were
happy, yet growing mildly concerned as they were getting very close to
the tree line where Chief’s holy grail (elk) might lie in wait...with
that in mind and without an hour to spare this time, I decided to try
my luck with my “Come here right now because I’ve got something really
amazing waiting for you” whistle.
Well much to my surprise, all three of them turned on a dime and began
to race back to me (they must have been getting tired) but even more to
my surprise was what exploded from the tree line behind them...with two
young colts in tow, the angriest wild horse I have ever seen was
snorting, charging, and picking up ground on Diesel, but quick...
Random musical thought: Every one should listen to if not own a copy of
The Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash’s - “Loneliness Is a Blade”.
Now at this time, I don’t think Diesel knew he was being chased, but
about the same time the feral mare had decided she had run them off and
turned to return to the tress with her colts, Diesel must have heard
the pounding hooves and turned back as well.
Now in Diesel’s mind I’m sure he was thinking, nothing I had for him
could be as amazing as what he now had on the run, so he reversed
course just as quickly and decided to take on bigger game...
Well that didn’t last long either, because one that girl got her colts
safely back behind some trees, she decide it was time to finish Diesel
off....now There’s a lot you can say about Coyotes, including
opportunistic? Definitely. Brazen? Hell yeah. Stupid...not a
chance...so for the third time in about 30 seconds, Diesel had turned a
new direction.
It was about this time that I wished I had my camera but more than that
I hoped this mare was more interested in driving Diesel out of the
meadow than she was in stomping him into the dirt because his
artificial knees didn’t appear to be serving him well.
And as she continued to overtake him it was clear that my hope was her
intent because after a few very close stomps at his retreating tail
end, she again turned off of him at full speed and raced back to her
babies.
Despite the close call and what could have been a sad ending for my
“little man”, watching her protect her colts and race through that
emerald meadow with such fire in her eyes, was one of the most
beautiful things I have ever witnessed...a gift you might say.
Having had one gift, I decide to get greedy and returned to my truck to
fetch my camera...as I approached the tree line, the mare began to
challenge me as well, but she, like Diesel knew choosing which battles
to fight is an important part of remaining to fight yet another day.
After a few snorts and false charges, she gathered those under her care
and galloped off...again it was beautiful...but more about her later...
I could hear the banter of the approaching herd which was still a few
miles off, so I decided to move down the road to Paddy Creek where they
would be pastured for the night...
By now the dogs were exhausted and happy except for Diesel who gets
sore after such runs and can’t seem to relax (no doubt from all the
metal in his joints) but at this moment it seemed to be a “good kind of
pain”.
A few short moments later we rolled into Paddy Creek and I could see
one of the crew whose job it is to repair fence along the way was
already at the pasture...beyond that, the creek called Paddy was a
sight to behold...the hue of the green grass actually hurt the eyes and
would make any Irishman proud.
As I began to take in it’s beauty, out of the corner of my eye on a
ridge about 100 yards off, I saw a short burst of activity...while it
was just a bit of motion, I knew it was my ‘white whale’. The mare and
her colts!
I gave chase and at this point, my right hip (see RoadNotes #4) began
to feel what I imagined Diesel’s knees must be feeling like...but at
this moment it seemed to be a “good kind of pain”.
As I crested the ridge, I scanned the forest with my 300mm lens and saw
them standing still for just a moment, but still at quite a distance.
Unfortunately, with the wind at my back I knew their pause would be
short lived and it was. Before I could position my lens and monopod,,
they had my scent and were gone.
 Again, they were amazing to watch as she
lead them at full gallop through the dense pines, never breaking
stride...but then as she began to disappear into the woods, she began
to angle rather than race directly away from me (she was heading back
to the comfort of the original tree line)...after a few moments, I
calculated an area where she might pass through and...luckily I guessed
correctly...they’re not much as far as art, but to me they’re...well
majestic...
Just as I caught the last frame, I could hear that the herd was moving
down the road to the pasture...I had but five frames of film left, so I
knew I had to make every shot count upon their arrival.
In the end I gambled on what could have been a truly artful shot vs the
typical cattle drive images I already had...disappointingly, I just
could not find a high enough vantage point to make it happen and in my
opinion, the two frames I took of the herd’s arrival, are decidedly
mediocre...normally I would lose sleep over such things, but perhaps
some of Gary is wearing off on me, for I am comfortable knowing
tomorrow really is another day.
I’ve now had a day to reflect on my most recent journey with the
cowboys of the ID (stands for Interior Department, the governing body
who first gave the Apache cattle back in 1902???) herd and as is always
the case there were many constants...with the exception of Gary, the
faces are always new (drugs & alcohol sap his ability to recruit),
the unexpected is to be expected, their trucks break down and which
leads to mine being put to use and getting damaged, their hospitality
and gentleness continues to amaze me as does the silence with which
they endure pain and discomfort, I’ll see, feel or hear, something I’ve
never seen felt or heard before, and images to be treasured shall be
had...on this trip, I was not to be disappointed.
Until next time....be well and as always, please excuse any typos (and
you know who you are) and most importantly, "Save a Horse, Ride a
Mustang."
Jim |
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