After Glacier, Craig had to get home but I still had a couple more weeks of vacation left. We had to drive to Boise, Idaho and Craig flew home from there. On the way to Boise, we decided to stop and see the Hell’s Canyon area. It was still fairly early in the season though, and we found that the road we were trying to take up into the area was closed by snow past a certain point. We parked along the side of the road and hiked up (a couple of miles) and walked around for a while.
While we were up there, because we were old motorcycle riders, Craig asked me if I could hear a 2-stroke bike off in the distance. I told him that I could and, as we listened, the sound got louder and closer. A few minutes later a guy came over the top of the snow bank blocking the road on a little yellow dirt bike. Nearly sliding out and doing a face-plant as he did so. He saw us and stopped and we talked for a while. Nice guy. He said he had to go back down, but, if we were headed for McCall keep an eye out for him. Look for the bike in the back of a white mini-pickup truck. He took off.
Later, as we hiked back down, there were some interesting marks in the snow that we speculated was our friend crashing.
When we got back to the truck, there was a note stuck on the windshield from our friend. He asked if we saw his “crash & burn” marks coming down and said he hoped he’d see us later.
We drove down and went into McCall. Nice little resort-type town. Good size lake. Lots of boaters. Also one of the entry points to get back into the Sawtooth Wilderness. As we drove through town we saw a battered white mini-truck with a yellow dirt bike in it parked at a restaurant/pub (The Brass Frog if I remember correctly). We laughed, made an abrupt turn, and parked. We found our friend inside and we all had a good dinner and talked about travel, motorcycles, forest rangers (he was studying to be one), and Idaho (he was from Pocatello), A very pleasant evening. He gave us some good tips on other things to see in Idaho.
The next day, we were going to take my 4-wheel drive truck and go back over a few logging roads back into the Sawtooth wilderness. That plan didn’t last long. Even with all of our preparation, the logging road had so much debris from the trucks on it that, only about five miles down the road, we punctured a tire on some ghastly looking shard of metal. We changed it and limped back to McCall where we had the tire repaired and called it a day.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Thoughts Like Molasses
In the late 70's I went on a long vacation out west. While in Tucson, I had the opportunity to get a job with a camping outfitter. Now, my dream, my fantasy in life was to move out west to live. I did not take the job. "Why not you moron?" You may rightly ask. The answer was a woman. I was in a very deep relationship with a girl and I refused the job to come home and be with her. Less than a month later, we had a very ugly break-up when I found out I was only one of several guys she was very adeptly juggling. That was a great heartache, and incredibly angering all at the same time. It tainted my relationships for several years after that. So, I blew my chance at my dream, and dumped the two-timer who broke my heart. A really rotten summer.
Before that though, one of the fun things about travelling by myself was the opportunity and chance to have some very interesting intimate encounters. I didn't spend all my time looking for them, but, if they presented themselves, I was hardly the one to turn them down. I met some really nice people and had some very nice encounters. I helped a girl in Colorado on a rather chilly morning whose car had stalled. The help was genuine and I had no other motives in the assistance than to help. Afterwards, when it was obvious the car had breathed it's last, she invited me in to warm up a bit and, after getting to know each other a bit, she "rewarded" my help. I met a really nice person in the Grand Canyon who was a waitress there. We talked for a while as she was getting off work and she and I decided to hike into the canyon together the next day. It was a fun day. She was a great person. Wonderful personality and sense of humor. Smart and sexy. We snuck off the path several times to enjoy ourselves. On another Grand Canyon trip, I met a girl while hiking in the canyon. We talked for a while just exchanging general information. She was going "up" as I was headed "down." I gave her my cabin number and half-jokingly told her to drop by later. I expected never to see her again. My surprise. She dropped by and spent the night.
Travel can be very rewarding.
Before that though, one of the fun things about travelling by myself was the opportunity and chance to have some very interesting intimate encounters. I didn't spend all my time looking for them, but, if they presented themselves, I was hardly the one to turn them down. I met some really nice people and had some very nice encounters. I helped a girl in Colorado on a rather chilly morning whose car had stalled. The help was genuine and I had no other motives in the assistance than to help. Afterwards, when it was obvious the car had breathed it's last, she invited me in to warm up a bit and, after getting to know each other a bit, she "rewarded" my help. I met a really nice person in the Grand Canyon who was a waitress there. We talked for a while as she was getting off work and she and I decided to hike into the canyon together the next day. It was a fun day. She was a great person. Wonderful personality and sense of humor. Smart and sexy. We snuck off the path several times to enjoy ourselves. On another Grand Canyon trip, I met a girl while hiking in the canyon. We talked for a while just exchanging general information. She was going "up" as I was headed "down." I gave her my cabin number and half-jokingly told her to drop by later. I expected never to see her again. My surprise. She dropped by and spent the night.
Travel can be very rewarding.
Captain Nemo Loves to Read
Yes, it's been a couple of months. I told you this would be random.
Writing has always been a strange thing for me. I like to write, but, not all the time. The spirit needs to move me. I took writing classes in high school and college and I could write for assignments and get good grades. But I did not always like what I wrote when forced into it. I write my best when I need too. That sounds weird but it is true. Occasionally things come into my head and I am just compelled to write. The thought and the words hammer at me relentlessly until I put them to paper. At other times, it's just a hobby and a fun diversion. This blog falls into the second category.
I keep copies of what I write and someday I may decide to publish the short stories as part of this blog. We'll see.
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In high school, Joe and I had a fascination for language, and the way people killed it every chance they got. We eventually started keeping track of really great sayings, and really great killings, of the language by people we knew. By our senior year, the "Quote Book" was getting rather lengthy and, with a bit of horror, we realized it was almost becoming an obsession. We decided to give it a proper sendoff and be done with it. A burial at sea sounded like a good choice for our endeavor. So, Joe found a large mason jar and we folded up the "Quote Book" and placed it inside. We added gravel to fill any extra air space and make it quite heavy. Joe then used wax and other stuff to completely seal the jar. We then took it out to the end of a large pier on the lake near our homes, and, after giving a proper eulogy, we heaved the thing as far as possible into the non-briny deep.
Sometimes I think about ti and wonder what really happened to it. Was it destroyed during some storm and the book turned into just so much lake litter? Was it buried intact so that some future civilization may one day uncover our tribute to weird English? Did aliens steal it as proof that no intelligent life lives on the planet? Who knows.
One of the best quotes in there was Joes. He was talking about something one day and he suddenly announced, "Hey, I've just come down with an idea." Imagine, an idea being something like an infection or an virus. You come down with a cold, a flu, or some other malady. Joe comes down with ideas. It was great.
Writing has always been a strange thing for me. I like to write, but, not all the time. The spirit needs to move me. I took writing classes in high school and college and I could write for assignments and get good grades. But I did not always like what I wrote when forced into it. I write my best when I need too. That sounds weird but it is true. Occasionally things come into my head and I am just compelled to write. The thought and the words hammer at me relentlessly until I put them to paper. At other times, it's just a hobby and a fun diversion. This blog falls into the second category.
I keep copies of what I write and someday I may decide to publish the short stories as part of this blog. We'll see.
---------------------------------------
In high school, Joe and I had a fascination for language, and the way people killed it every chance they got. We eventually started keeping track of really great sayings, and really great killings, of the language by people we knew. By our senior year, the "Quote Book" was getting rather lengthy and, with a bit of horror, we realized it was almost becoming an obsession. We decided to give it a proper sendoff and be done with it. A burial at sea sounded like a good choice for our endeavor. So, Joe found a large mason jar and we folded up the "Quote Book" and placed it inside. We added gravel to fill any extra air space and make it quite heavy. Joe then used wax and other stuff to completely seal the jar. We then took it out to the end of a large pier on the lake near our homes, and, after giving a proper eulogy, we heaved the thing as far as possible into the non-briny deep.
Sometimes I think about ti and wonder what really happened to it. Was it destroyed during some storm and the book turned into just so much lake litter? Was it buried intact so that some future civilization may one day uncover our tribute to weird English? Did aliens steal it as proof that no intelligent life lives on the planet? Who knows.
One of the best quotes in there was Joes. He was talking about something one day and he suddenly announced, "Hey, I've just come down with an idea." Imagine, an idea being something like an infection or an virus. You come down with a cold, a flu, or some other malady. Joe comes down with ideas. It was great.
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