Palm Springs , Flora, Bump and Grind Trail
Posted by: travelreporter on: January 24, 2012
Palm springs seems to exist for golf, everything is golf here, but if you go just beyond the developed areas there are thousands of square miles of undeveloped wild lands.
Growing up in Southern California we often took camping trips out into the Deserts, Joshua Tree and Anza Borrego, but I never really appreciated how cool and unique these places are. So on this trip I devoted every free minute to appreciating the native plant and animal life. With all the effort that people spend to dive tropical reefs, visit Africa savannas, and other heavily exotic places , I wonder how many overlook all the really strange and exotic plants and animals that live about 60 miles from the LA basin. Have you ever looked closely at a Barrel Cactus, or seen the only native palm in california in the Palm Canyon Oasis. On our visit, we started at the base of Palm Canyon and quickly skirted up the side foot hills of Mt San Jacinto. As we followed a little side canyon up into the San Jacinto mountains my attention was focused on how high in elevation will the small groves of Palm Trees grow.
Located close to sea level in elevation, Palm Springs proper gets an occasional frost, so it was already established these native Palm trees will not wilt on a hard freeze, otherwise they would not be here. Obviously they have a limit for prolonged minimum cold temperature they can withstand, otherwise you’d see Palm Trees in Iowa or Colorado. As we rose up above the valley floor to 2,000 feet, I surprised to see a grove or two of Plams clinging to the side of the mountain in protected spots. Two thousand feet higher and the first alpine pine conifer groves start to appear , so somewhere in between Palms cannot survive.
There does not seem be much literature on what is the range of cold a Palm can survive, but certainly it is quite a bit hardier than the pumpkin plants in our garden that wilt and immediatly die on the first frost. In Kansas and Colorado we have Prickly Pear cactus, and these plants survive exposed to the wind and cold to temperatures of at least -20 F. I wonder if our variety is much different than the several that live in low deserts Plam spring
s
On our first afternoon we asked around for a good trail to run, and after searching for a while on the Internet of options, I noticed there really is no metro park with level running trails, every square inch of area in the valley seems to be a golf course, so our attention was directed to the bump and grind trail. In a little under two miles it gains 800 feet of elevation, which is fine for hiking but really put the hurt on my calves.
cozumel
Posted by: travelreporter on: November 28, 2011
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Cozumel trip report
Cozumel has two industries cruise ships and diving. Diving grew up around the reefs in the area. Since sandy and I don’t dive, we were limited to snorkeling which was quite nice, but the very nice diving reefs are all 20+ feet below the surface of the water, and just a wee bit out of snorkeling range.
Despite the nicer reefs being a bit too deep to snorkel, there was plenty of smaller coral formation right along the shore where we could snorkel.
One morning I looked out and there were several very serious swimmers out in the ocean getting a workout. Very strange for a resort in Mexico, but this week was the Cozumel iron man triathlon week, and all sorts of world class athletes were in town. For some reason swimming in the open ocean by my self , creeps me out a bit. I think it creeps most people out. Even fresh water lakes creep me out. I hate to let fear dictate my life, so I decided to incorporate a 1 kilometer ocean swim into my morning workout . The sheer feeling of freedom of swimming in the clear waters, surrounded by tropical fish, outweighed the cons in this case. Swimming in a pool was so monotonous and right in front of me was the 82 degree carribean the same water we came 2000 miles to snorkel in. The first swim day I hugged the shore a bit, never really getting more than a couple strokes from the safety of the beach. The second day I decided it would be more interesting to move out away from the shore mostly to avoid the constant dodging of the rocky outcrops. So I moved out into deeper water. I was cruising along, about 30 yards off shore in about 30 feet of water, when I spotted a school of Barracuda. These slender predators made me a little be jumpy because they a good sized ocean fish. I picked my head up to get a a bearing on where I was. You have to do this every minute or so to see where you are going, there is no easy way to navigate as you can’t easily pick up surface landmarks with the small ocean swells blocking your view. So when I popped my head up, with the barracuda below me, I catch the tail end of splash 30 yards off in deeper water, like a really big fish returning after a breach. And now, already on edge from the barracuda, I am thinking oh shit that was big, should I stop swimming and float lifeless in the water, should I sprint the 40 yards into shore. Is that thing heading my way.. Then I see it, a big white tourist body flailing fins at the surface in the same vicinity of the previous splash. I never saw how he got out there, it was the first person I had seen away from the shallow beach, but to my relief he was not going to eat me.
We took our car to chakanaab park because we heard it had a nice beach for snorkeling. The park is well maintained clean with a nice white sand beach. Note all the white sand beaches on the west side of the island seemed to have retaining walls to hold the sand in place. It seems without them a consistent white sand beach was hard to maintain in place without a little help. Although we did not swim with dolphins, we did take a quick tour of the dolphin enclosures which consisted of a a series of piers with netting to separate the dolphins from the open ocean. There were hoards of cruise ship people, no less than 40 ships came through that week. I am not sure how you qualify to swim with dolphins but once accepted you get a briefing and the are lined up to swim with the dolphins . The term swimming, in this case is a bit of a misnomer. Swimming with dolphins involves standing on a submerged platform , three feet under the water, with a railing between you and the dolphins. You must also wear a bright blue life vest, I guess this is in case the dolphin drags you over the rail into deep water . The trainers will coax a dolphin over to each person in the group one at a time. In turn, each the person uses a hand signal to encouraging a dolphin trick from the smorgasbord of two available tricks. You could get a dolphin kiss, or a hand shake. Due to strict rules only the staff photographers were allowed to shoot pictures during your encounter. So any visible proof of your Cozumel dolphin trick were going to cost you. That was the extent of the swimming.
Best thing we did was rent a car and drive to the far uninhabited side of the island. White sand, unspoiled beaches broken only by the thatched roofed beach bars every 5 to 10 miles with very few people. At the far end of the island where the main road turns back toward the tourist side, there is a little turn off marked by a sign that said something like, “do not drive on this road , even four wheel drive vehicles may not be able to pass.” This is the road where your rental car insurance becomes void if you drive on it, so what did we do ? We drove on it. It was getting dark so we only went perhaps 3/4 of mile , as my main goal was to defy the sign. The road was rutted and rough but nothing like the jeep roads in Colorado. It hugged the coast line just inside of the beach. The only person we encountered was an eccentric British gentlemen in his 60′s that was out birding . We asked him if he had seen anybody else, and he said one other jeep had passed. In the same time, he had walked 3 miles and had seen 20 different warblers. He also told us to be ware of the cat as he had just seen tracks in the road. In a quick exchange of naturalist speak, we both concurred that there are not supposed to be any big cats in Cozumel, but from his manner, and field equipment, two expensive spotting scopes, cameras and field glasses, I suspect he spent quite a bit of time in observing nature. When I mentioned that the cat must be a feral house cat, he said “Those tracks were pretty big”, and I had no reason to doubt him. We never saw the cat and had to get back to town as it was getting dark and did not want to drive after dark.
sandy with corona
blow hole
swim with dolphins pier
snorkel beach at El Presidente hotel
Bed Bugs
On our second night in Cozumel, I woke up and noticed a blood stain near my pillow. Strange I thought, this is a 4 diamond hotel , and there was nothing there last night. There was also a rust colored blotch by Sandy’s pillow. During the day I did some more research and also found some dark rust looking black flecks on the mattress. Bed bug poop confirmed. We got a new room , with no problems , but the real hassle came when we got home . The more we read the more we realized how sneaky these buggers are , and how a small colony can start from one stow away egg in your luggage. The last 24 hours we have spent throwing out luggage , back packs and sterilizing clothes and shoes. You can kill them with 130 degree heat and so we did.
Hunting Season and the Harrier Rescue
Posted by: travelreporter on: November 14, 2011
Wounded Harrier
Yesterday was the first day of Pheasant Season here in Rawlins county Kansas. With record Pheasant crops in our area, an unusual amount of rednecks in pick up trucks and dogs appeared out of no where.
Saturday morning, it sounded like a firing range out there. Volleys of 20 30 shots at a time, followed by more shots every 30 seconds. Bands of cousins of friends of friends roving around in their pick up trucks. Seems none of these folks walks the draws like they do on the TV hunting shows. Maybe they do ? But I never see them doing anything except trawling along in their pickups waiting to jump out and shoot when nobody is looking.
Today,Sunday, things were a bit calmer. My legs were a bit shot after our 8 mile run yesterday, so I decided to take off on the bike while Sandy did Yoga on the deck. It was a balmy 60 degree Indian summer type day.
At the top of the Hill near our house, I ran into my neighbor Delbert Anderson coming down to water his Cows. He reported seeing a Golden Eagle roosting on a telephone pole shadowing three turkeys. When I go to the top of the hill , I saw the turkeys running along , but no eagle or raptor of any kind in sight. I really wanted to see the eagle.
All along the rest of my ride, I was flushing pheasants right and left. Six coveys, and 30 birds later, I was starting to get used to them , when I saw a lone bird flush. This bird flew up about 5 feet and then came back down, which caused me to take a second glance. I could tell it was a hawk, and I thought, wow how bold, it must be protecting a kill by the side of the road. And then I noticed splotches of blood on one of its wings.
Having recently attempted the rescue of two other birds I was currently batting 500. One Collared Dove lived , and one House Finch well on the way to recovery got mauled by the cat when it got loose from its cage. Now faced with another potential rescue, I sat there wondering what options I had. This bird , a Harrier, had a nasty beak and sharp talons. Aside from the broken wing it was at full strength not happy with me. I called Sandy and asked her to get the car and some bird capture supplies and meet me at road “M” about 1 1/2 miles North East of our house. For then next 15 minutes or so I just kept an eye on the bird and thinking of ways I might be able to capture it without getting mauled, not to mention what to do from there.
Sandy came with capture kit and Nick our old dog piled in the car. The dog was a bit of a distraction, but Sandy feels bad leaving Nick home alone 
. The capture kit included one large plastic Tupperware type crate, a wool blanket and a small screen window pane.
Sandy took one look at the bird staring back at us and said we can’t catch that, it will scratch our eyes out.
I had already figured if I can get the blanket on top of it, I could then wrap it up and throw it in the box.
Before I could get close on first attempt the bird flew up in the air again , and landed deep into the weeds growing along the side of the road. On my second attempt I tossed the blanket and he escaped into some deeper weeds. I trudged over to him to him, now lying semi prone on his back in what I assume was a deliberate defensive position. His talons wide open facing me, beak open and wings spread. I suspect this position would be effective against a coyote or ground predator, but for me and my blanket it allowed me the opportunity to toss the blanket over it without him hopping out of the way. I had him pinned down under the blanket and I slowly cradled his wings together with both my hands. Problem was his head was not completely covered and he was ready to dig in with his beak if I let go. Fortunately, Sandy felt safe enough to pull the blanket up over his head and I was able to wrap him up. It took a minute or so to free the blanket from the adjoining weeds , but with the birds head and talons completely covered by the thick wool, he was not struggling at all.
So now we had our bird, still wrapped in the blanket in a box in the car for transport back to the house. First order of business was where to put him ? We have a bunch of spare dingy basement rooms and I thought we could contain him down there, although I dreaded having to catch him again. What to do if he got out of the room and loose in the house. Nick might dispatch of him with one bite, or perhaps the bird would latch on to Nick’s nose like the time he grabbed a prairie dog in his mouth. Between Nicks yelping and the Prarie dogs screaming it sounds like a medieval torture session. Only in the end the Prarie dog ended up limp and dead when Nick finally let go.
As we pulled into the driveway we started looking at the myriad of out buildings we inherited with this property. And then I remembered the Chicken coup, although it smelled strongly of rodent droppings, it was secure from coyotes and out of the weather.
Once I the Harrier was in the coup, I got on the phone with a bird rescue center in Pueblo. Diane Miller was the director and she told me to bring the bird in right away. When I told her I was 250 miles away and had to take care of it for the night , she told me not to worry about food but to make sure the bird had water and was out of the elements. I told her the story of how I found the bird and that it was hunting season here. She assured me in a very nice tone that the people that shot it didn’t mean to and was sure it was an accident. I am thinking to myself,” hmm, no they were drunk yahoos shooting at anything that moves, and they could care less that they shot a bird”, and then it dawned on me. She must get calls from many a guilty hunter all the time. Threatening them a federal crime will end up getting the bird tossed in a ditch by the side of the road with no witnesses. She is thinking I am the perpetrator ?
Tomorrow we will transport the bird to the Broomfield rescue center, and if all goes well his wing will mend with some antibiotics and rehab.
11/17/2011 Epilogue: Unfortunatly Necropsy had set in on Carlysle’s injured wing and he had to be put down.
Rattle Snake Adventure Rawlins County Kansas
Posted by: travelreporter on: October 16, 2011
October 15th 2011, was bike adventure day. We finally had our little collapsible Schwinns, retrofitted with hefty tubes , slime and a tire lining. All these things are required to combat the goat heads that have plagued us with flat tires on previous adventures. The new tire protection worked as expected , but the sandy dirt roads, hills, 20 knot winds, combined with the thin small wheels on the cruiser bikes, made for a good workout. We covered 16 miles in about 2 1/2 hours of riding. The bikes are an excuse is to cover ground and stop when see something interesting which is often.
More Calf sorting
The whole way we were commenting on how we had not seen any rattle snakes this year, the best we could do was a small bull snake, and then I saw it. On the side of the dirt road. You can’t see it in the picture but this snake had been run over. There was clearly a red gash a few inches long on one side. The snake was not moving. It was lethargically flicking its tongue a bit. Without any sticks of any kind near by, I rolled my bike over to it while standing behind the back holding the seat, extending the front tire as fodder. Thinking what a dumb idea this is, at best the snake might puncture my front tire, and at worst it might chase Sandy down and attack her . As my front tire approached just an inch from the snake, he coiled, rattled , hissed and did a bluff strike at the bike. I am thinking “cool”, while Sandy wanted nothing to do with it, just like the encounter with the reef shark, she was heading the other way. Normally I would not kill a snake, but with a 3 inch open gash on one side, I figured we should kill this snake as it did not have long to live. As per my mantra of not eating anything I was not willing to kill, I was eager to fry it up and try it.
The farmers kill rattlers on sight. Short on time ,they usually , deliberately try to skid their tires on them. Rattle snakes don’t die easily unless you get them directly on the head. We did see skid marks nearby as evidence to support my theory. I made a mental note to come back and kill the snake , skin it, and eat it later. It was gone when we returned later.
Just to give you an idea on how rural this area is, we were on the roads, stopped and riding for a combined 3 1/2 hours. During that time, we were passed by one combine, two trucks hauling corn, and one other pickup pulling some cows in a trailer. That is it. On one stretch for an hour and half we did not see anybody.
The picture below is of Sandy making her way up Sappa Creek. You can see the bridge in the back ground where we ate lunch while dangling our feet over the side.
- Calf Sorting the Rollins Place
Rattle Snake
Along our ride we ran into one of our neighbors who was out separating calves. They invited us down to watch/help. This operation works something like this. You run the calves into a small pen, and then Daniel Neighbors son, jumps in there with them and separates the calves from the steers and heifers. The idea being to load the heifers onto a trailer and move them to a different pasture. Herding them all into a 40 by 40 foot pen is one thing. Getting them separated and the heifers into the trailer is another. The calves and steers don’t like to go easily. Daniel and Sylvester, Daniels Father, jump in with a stick and wack them on the nose, sending the Heifers one way and the calves the other.
Meanwhile, outside the pen, Francis their 85 year grandfather, and I, work the gate to let the odd ones out at just the right time. At one point, one of the Heifers gets out of the pen, and I somehow manage to hold it off in a section of field adjacent to the Pen by waving my arms and acting stupid. Without my heroic bravery it might have escaped into the adjacent 300 acre Pasture. In the process of seperating the calves out, the larger Heifers and Steers will kick at you sense you behind them. They will also rub shit on you as they pass. I was pretty useless. Not because I was a afraid , I just did not know when to say Haw , or Hee , wack them on the ass, or get out of the way. The four generations out there, have been doing this all their lives. The spectacle plays out as an unspoken, disjointed dance of body language, with some yelling thrown in. For example when Daniel forgot to close a hatch on one end of the shoot, all the calves ran up into the trailer, not where we wanted them, the intent was to keep them out of the trailer, and load the Heifers.
Ditch Weed Wild Mary Jane
If a snake, a cattle round up weren’t enough adventure. We also came across rows of ditch weed, alias wild hemp. If you look along the smaller roads you can find it everywhere.
Sappa Creek
Keuka Lake Outlet Trail Penn Yan New York
Posted by: travelreporter on: September 19, 2011
Kueka Lake outlet trail
Spent the last few days in the Finger lakes region of New York. It was quite a busy weekend on the Keuka Lake wine trail. The warm days and crisp cool nights of early autumn tend to inspire people to get out and do a winery tour. For those of you that don’t live near wine country, a wine trail event, is a promotion where you buy one ticket and it covers tastings and food servings at a string of wineries around the lake. Witnessing the event from a local winery was quite an experience. Tour companies sell these events as a travel package , just like you would book a rafting trip. You get a limo and a guided winery shuttle for a day. I imagine most people finish the day in no condition to drive, so the tour often includes a bed breakfast.
The finger lakes wine country is stunning, fields of golden rod , framed by purple aster were everywhere. The wine, and scenery should be a highlight of any visit to western New York.
There are not many acceptable options for running trails in the Finger Lakes. You could run on the roads, but during a busy weekends, you would have a steady stream of cars brushing your hair back as they zipped from cottage to winery.
For our morning trail runs, we started in Penn Yan New york, which is at the north end of the finger lakes area. The outlet trail follows the grade of an old barge towpath along a creek. The creek connects Keuka Lake and Seneca lake.
The finger lakes each occupy their own U shaped north to south valley. They are about 1 mile wide by 25 miles in length. Since Seneca lake is almost 3 hundred feet in elevation below Keuka lake, the connecting creek has a significant drop as it traverses its six-mile course between the lakes. In the 1800′s, before electricity and steam engines, water power was king for milling and power to machine shops. Surprisingly sound structural remnants of the old mills line the outlet creek appearing every 1/2 mile or so . Granite cliffs waterfalls , wild flowers and small cottages also dot the route.
The only strange thing we encountered for the weekend, was the drug dealer on the trail near Penn Yan. It took me the better part of an hour to figure out what was going on. I’ll try my best to piece my conclusion together.
On the way out, about 1/4 mile down the trail from Pen Yan, there were two men with two bikes parked by the side of the trail. Being from Boulder , when you see a bike near a trail, it is usually a sport bike with an accompanying outdoor enthusiast out for a ride. Contrasting my typical experience with these non sporting bikes and two crusty men things just did not look right from the start. They were parked along a wooded section of trail, out of sight of both roads and trail head. One guy looked a little down trodden, a home less person missing the typical accessories, no duffel bag etc; the other just looked like an older guy out-of-place in his surroundings. The older guy did not turn around when I said good morning. He purposefully faced away from the trail and mumbled something inaudible as a token response. Both men toked cigarettes.
Later when I made the drug dealer connection ,I was actually relieved, at least they had a motive other than rape and pillage for being there. In our whole time on the trail we did not see any other person that looked like they used it for any type of exercise and we ran there 3 days in a row. In fact, we saw perhaps a total of 9 people including our drug dealers on the trail over 3 days.
That first day, we did a round trip of 6 miles , 3 out and 3 back.
On the way back, 45 minutes after our first pass, I was running ahead of Sandy by about 3 minutes . I was hoping that the two creepy guys were gone by now having finished their smoke break and moved on. To my surprise they were only half gone. The older, gray-haired guy , with cigarette in tact remained. Bike parked right next to him. I must note another oddity about their location. Most people using the trail for any reason choose to stop at points along the trail where there is a view of the river or meadow, or perhaps a bench. Not this guy. When I caught sight of him the second time , maybe 100 yards ahead, I immediately turned back to run with Sandy. When she caught up, she knew exactly why I turned around to meet her. This time as we passed him together and I said good morning in voice so loud and direct that he had to look at me. Still smoking his cigarette , he mumbled a barely audible good morning while looking askance. By now, I am running all the scenarios in my head no longer enjoying my run. What is so fascinating about this stretch of trail that you would hang out for so long? … and then about 200 yards down the trail , almost at the southern terminus, we pass another young guy on bike. Not as scummy but stopped making a quick call on his cell. He is dressed casual like a student riding to school on a commute, not like a person a trail. I then realize he is going our direction and has never passed us ,meaning he only traveled up the trail the first 1/4 of a mile before turning around, his only motive for being on the trail was a rendezvous with a drug dealer.
Two more times while running errands around town we passed the initial homeless guy , first time he was collecting bottles at trash cans and then once at the redemption center.
Pen Yan is a town of only a few thousand , no violent crime , and a drug dealer with a perfect location His clients, all regulars arrive via trail on bike. Out of sight from the watchful sheriff who no doubt knows all of them on first name basis. Should the sherif walk up the trail, it is too muddy and narrow for a car where he hangs out, the dealer can peddle off in the opposite direction dumping or hiding any contraband in the woods ,or just toss it in the river.
Mt Lincoln and Mt Cameron Labor day 2011
Posted by: travelreporter on: September 6, 2011
I am not sure why we do a 14 teener every labor day. My cussing and swearing started in the first half hour this year. Why the F&$% are we doing this again. I have a headache can’t breathe. It would be one thing if this was a pristine wilderness, and maybe it would be, if you could remove the 400 other people on this route today. I counted well over one hundred cars at the trail head most with multiple occupants.
Climbing 14 teeners in Colorado has become a hobby similar to collecting Beanie Babies. There are thousands of peaks to climb here, and yet only 54 that are over fourteen thousand feet. Why don’t I just climb an obscure thirteener ? I don’t know , why do people choose to live in New York? .
I suppose the subset of the population over 40 that actually can hike up several thousand vertical feet on talus at 20 percent grade at 14 thousand feet is maybe 5 percent . Aside from the will power to do it, you can’t have bad knees or and extra 40 pounds at that age and make it up.
Art and Sandy action shot
For some reason the pain starts dissipate as your adrenalin kicks in and your hands warm up. By the half way point , you can see the summit. At halfway, I start to imagine how good my sandwich will taste on the top. I have a little side packet in my back pack , and since this is a day hike I can keep some kind of perishable food in there cool for a few hours with a tiny little ice pack. I have carried such things as grilled shrimp, seared ahi tuna in the past. Today was just a sandwich made from Whole Foods honey turkey and globbed on mayo mustard gouda cheese.
Exhausted , dizzy and jelly legged, endorphins kick in as you transition to happy bliss. A toasted Rat would taste good after 2 and one half hours and 2700 feet.
Another thing I noticed, is that, nobody at the top is in a bad mood. You can’t maintain a bad mood and make it to the top. The people with whiny kids have all long since turned around. I passed a gentleman today , and gave him few hits of the small oxygen container. Refreshed him like he had just taken 30 years off his legs, but I never saw him on the top, he turned around someplace below.
Art's adorable daughters
Lindsay and Paige were in 80′s retro today, they both braided their hair making it hard for me to tell them apart. This was Paige’s first fourteener. Somewhere, between Middle school and their Junior Year in high school, working out becomes cool again. Lindsay and Paige sort of hopped and skipped to the top , although they did admit their legs were turning to jelly on the final ascent.
Look out she might actually jump!
I thought this shot, with the tiny people on top, of Neighboring Mt Democrat was rather cartoonish. Although we did not climb Democrat today, it is adjacent to Lincoln and we climbed it a couple years ago, so we took a shot of the summit hikers from a distance. Many of these folks on Democrat will come down 1200 feet to a saddle and then follow the ridge we did today over to Cameron and Lincoln. Makes for a long day.
Ya, we were all the way up there. See the tiny people on top?
Yay we made it!
View of the parking lot on the way down 100's of cars
Sandy had a terrible case of vertigo on the way up. If you recall last year she did not make it up to the top of Mt Sherman same problem, nasty ridge with wind. This year, on a narrow ridge she almost turned around. But with encouragement from other poeple pushing on , just as freaked out, Sandy eventually over came the drop offs and hiked on to the summit of Mount Lincoln.
scary ridge on the way down
We are starting to run out of easy peaks, the only ones that you can do with less than 4 thousand elevation and use a decent trail are Bierstadt, Evans, Torreys. So we’ll see what we can next year.
Angry Bulls and Prairie Dog Town
Posted by: travelreporter on: August 21, 2011
Bulls as seen from the safe confines of the Truck window
Six years ago, on our way back from our Arkansas River Canoe trip, Sandy and I stopped to see the worlds largest Prairie Dog in Oakley Kansas.
Last April while visiting the FIck Fossil musuem, we again side tracked over the to the Prarie dog town, only to find it closed. What a sad day that was. The Antique dealer across the road told us that he comes back in the summer after memorial day, but did not know much more because of some sort of bitter fued between the roadside attractions. Seems the Prairie dog town owner did not want to reciprocate on brochures. I guess one or the other of these roadside attractions would have to lower their standards for cross marketing to occur.
So as a make up, yesterday we drove the 45 miles south to Oakley to re-visit Prairie dog town before it closes again for the season around labor day. Sadly , on this Friday afternoon, we were the only people there. According to Larry his business was down 40 percent this year because nobody is driving anywhere , gas was too expensive. No way could it be that the kids and people of the 70′s who stopped at these attractions are now out Kayaking and adventure traveling in truly wild places.
What’s with the people in their smug little Prius’s that don’t like this attraction? What did you expect when you saw the faded sign that said, worlds largest Prairie dog or the banner for the 6 legged cow.
Some day a future Social Anthropologist may compare Prairie dog town to the in the same light as Aztec Virgin Sacrifices or the Romans feeding the doomed to lions in a stadium. For now , I am happy the place exists. In my opinion, a zoo is a zoo, and putting a bobcat in a 20 by 20 foot concrete based enclosure is not much different than a one acre diarama at a fancy well funded zoo. The animals know they are in a cage and just sleep in a corner all day either way. A bobcat has a natural range of up to 100 square miles, and there is no moral high ground for any zoo given this context, so please keep that in mind, a bigger cage with a diorama, a few trees, and waterfall is a concession for humans not for captive animals. Give Larry a break, he has been looking after these animals for 44 years.
As for the Prairie dogs they are running amok, they have tunneled well outside the facility . Larry claims, the rattle snakes in a crate, were all caught from the , RV park across the road where the snakes come to hunt the ground squirrels. I think that is a bit of tale for the tourists. His prairie dogs are by far more the natural prey of the local rattle snake. Either way the caged snakes all rattle in unison when Larry rubs is finger nails across the wire mesh on the top of the cage.
The six legged cow is obviously a conjoined twin where the body of one animal absorbed it’s twin after conception. The cow somehow managed to survive calving. These animals are were born in a field someplace perhaps with the help of a rancher with a calf puller at the ready.
The best part of the Prairie Dog town is the entry way set up. Larry has a couple of shower curtain type rods near the cash register so that you can see the Rattle snake cage, and hear them as a temptation , but you can’t mosey over there and see them unless you pay up. He gives each customer a tiny bag with 3 broken dog biscuits to feed the animals. For an extra $1 you get 3 larger bags with the little food pellets that go much farther than the dog biscuits. After 44 years I suspect he knows kids are going to waste the dog biscuits on the first few prairie dog holes, and by the time they get to the pesky goats begging for food, they’ll come back and pony up the dollar. A goat is a lot more fun to feed than a stupid little prairie dog that won’t let you within 10 feet of it.
On the way back from the Prairie dog town, about 9 miles east of Achilles Kansas, on an unnamed road, we came across a pasture with a couple of bulls. In the background behind the bulls was a developing thunder storm. I wanted to get a shot of the bulls framed by the towering cumuli nimbus clouds. So I parked the truck and got out with the windows rolled down. On either side of the truck there were bulls , two in the south pasture and one in the north , separated by the width of the road and and a whimsy 3 wire post fence.
I started to circle west of the Bulls to put the sun at my back and that is when they started to snort a bit, really started to snort and drool and paw the ground kicking up clumps of grass. The ranchers have told us when a bull gets worked up they can take out a row of posts while running through a wire fence no problem. They will essentially drag the posts and wire behind them and just keep going. These boys weight about 2200 pounds each. ( A big cow may weigh 1500 pounds). Sandy starts yelling at me to get in the truck, not because she fears for me , but thinks they may run amok and get her in the truck. I am thinking , at worst, they might head butt the truck and dent it, but not likely are they going to come through the window. Unfortunatly, I was not going to buy any time with the Bulls grunting and snorting 8 feet from Sandy’s open window. My initial plan was to jump into the truck bed should they make a break for me, I figured the fence would slow them down, plus I had not gotten my cloud shot yet. At Sandy’s very loud urging, I got back in . Down the road I did get some better cloud shots , just no bulls in the fore ground this time.
sandy feeds Donkey in Prarie Dog Town Oakley KansasSunset Achilles Kansas
Bull before getting angry
Pasadena California Gold Cup Soccer Match trip
Posted by: travelreporter on: July 7, 2011
June 25th 2011 on a whim we decided to fly to Los Angelos from Denver and go to the Concacaf final between the US and Mexico. It was a bit scary to be in the Minority at a Major sporting event. About 95 percent of the fans were rooting from Mexico, 99 percent of them were friendly and obviously also proud to be from the US. Its just that the US has no Soccer tradition so you must root for Mexico. For Mexico, this was probably as big as an event as our super bowl. It was certainly the biggest soccer event played in the US since the world cup back in 1994. We did get shouted down by a few groups of drunken Mexican fans, but I suspect being a Giant Fan in Dodger stadium is much more hostile. The Mexican fans like all good soccer fans are there to watch the Match, they get there early and stay glued to the game. And this is much appreciated after going to various sporting events in Southern California and having stupid drunk people wondering in spilling their beer and peanuts half way through a game like they are on some sort of bar crawl.
I had only ever been to Pasadena a couple of times, UCLA played at the Colliseum when I was there and they did not make the Rose Bowl any of the years I was a student back around 1980, hence there never was a reason to travel to Pasadena. All I can say from my brief visit is that it was a fantastic place. Not just the game but Pasadena itself. You can really lose yourself from the rest of Los Angelos.
Lake Tahoe
Posted by: travelreporter on: June 20, 2011
Lake Tahoe California Squaw Creek Resort. We pretty much had the place to ourselves as it was the shoulder Season. The Mountain resorts of Colorado would be bustling by the first week in June, and at first I could not figure out why Tahoe was so deserted, then I checked. Most of the Northern California School districts were still in session. Tahoe is mostly a vacation spot for the Bay Area. And with the kids still in school nobody was here. That was sort of a double edged sword. Having a great resort to ourselves was kind of fun. No fighting for seats at the pool, I could dress as Mullet Man without raising an eye brow, the few other guests were Japanese and must have thought Mullet man was normal. The heavy record snows were still thick on the mountain side, but the afternoon sun was roasting. Lindsay got the idea to do Bikini Skiiing which was a big hit. Rosies in Tahoe city had surprisingly good food.
As far as the business go it was sort of hit or miss. The spoiled ski urchents despise tourists, but must deal with them to make a living to support their freedom at various service jobs. The owners of these businesses must often cringe when some of the stories of rudeness get back to them, hungover party animals just don’t like talking to people at 10 am on a monday. Many of them are just plain stupid to boot.
Tourist lady: “Is there a bike rental in town?”
Stupid: ” I don’t know”
Lady: ” Your sign outside says bike rental ” as the lady admires rows and rows of idle bikes
Stupid: ” Bike rental is close for the season”
I felt embarassed to be a business owner myself at that point and was tempted to fire stupid on the spot but I held no authority, most likely the business owner was here to party also and wasting their trust fund.
Crystal Bay Casino Lake Tahoe
Bikini Sledding
Squaw Valley Bikini Sledding
Bikini Sledding
Mullet Man
Mullet Man
Sandy At the slots
Slots
Paige Before wipe out
Paige
The Bikini Crew plus Matt
St Paul Saints and Minneapolis Baseball Trip
Posted by: travelreporter on: May 16, 2011
Target Field home of the Minnesota Twins
It all started with a book, Slouching Toward Fargo, A book about the St Paul Saints of the Nothern independent league that I read 10 years ago. All good baseball books, use baseball to expose guys and things they don’t talk about. A good base ball book, is a man’s equivalent to a romance novel. Think of dreams, tragedy, comedy and pain. And so it was with the St Paul Saints, their live rendition was better than the book.
Some of the stories that played out in front of us were
Reggie Abacrombie, a flamboyant, red shoes clad, former prospect of the the Florida Marlins and Cincinnati reds. For some reason he landed on the Souix Falls Pheasants. The Pheasants were in town to play the St Paul Saints. Reggie was the only player in the stadium wearing red shoes. He also adorned silver chains with enough slack so that they flopped around as he ran. Perhaps these were concessions in his contract ? Being a bonified ex major leaguer he might have worked this into his contract while awaiting his unlikely call up to the majors. Over the course of the first three games he went an astounding 0-10 against pitchers that rarely through faster than average college player. Bill Tyler quipped “There is a reason you end up in the Independent league” . For Reggie we could only guess. At one point he turned to a heckler who questioned why he was dumped from the majors so quickly. Reggie quipped, ” I made a lot of money”. As if to imply he was only here for a brief time by choice, and unlike the heckler who he assumed, and most likely correctly was a drop out , and not ever going going anywhere beyond the Malt shop. The irony might be that Reggie had likely spent all his money and really needed a another Major contract to avoid the Malt ship himself?
Sitting on a small uncomfortable bench protruding 15 feet off the ground from right field, outfield wall, was some guy wearing shorts . I asked, Bill Tyler the resident super fan, why he chose to sit there on the bench. Turns out it is a long running promotion from one of the sponsors , if you can sit there the whole game without coming down to pee or eat, you win something , not sure what , but something, I don’t think it really matters. Seems they had toned it down a bit the last couple years. Prior to the bench, contestants put on a Velcro suite and were stuck to the wall for the duration of the game.
Justin BieBoar is the teams mascot this year. Each year, the Saints, start with an un-weaned swine named after a different celebrity. They eventually mold him into a functional ball boy. Last year was Brat Favre. The pigs job is run baseballs out to the umpire between innings, however it takes a few weeks before the pig gets the hang of it. On the opening weekend, the Pig was still suckling from the trainers bottle of milk while getting used the spotlight. Bill Tyler assured me that, by July, the Pig would be several hundred bounds and be fitted with two saddle bags full of baseballs. I asked Bill if somebody ate last years pig, and he was not sure.
A big guy named Bob sat behind us keeping score during the action while reading a sci fi fantasy novel between innings. He’d be glued to the action during the time in but between innings he picked up his rain soaked book, yes it was raining the whole time, ignoring the constant cheesy promotional stunts. Stunts involving fans doing things like rolling themselves up a Burritos throwing faux fabric 40 inch pizza’s from the top of the dougout into a box, you name it nothing is too cheesy. When ever an opposing player struck out, Bob would call off in military cadence “left ,left , left right left”, as the forlorn player marched back to the doug-out. You have to understand this guy is 15 feet away from the player in a small park he might as well have taken a blow horn to the players ear.
Some times the organ player would fire up a tune as parody to an opposing players last name. The one that comes to mind was an old Carpenters song “sing out load, sing out strong” for a player with name a last name of Sing. Think of 25 or so frozen drunks singing ” La- la, la la la ” as the guy comes up to bat and you get the idea.
The absolute highlight of the second evening , we went back for a second Saints game after the Twins game on Saturday, was Real Japanese guy sings Karaoke. I am not making this up, they actually have a segment where Seigo comes out and does Karaoke songs, that are shamelessly promoted. Saturday night he did Ring of Fire by johnny cash, surprisingly in tune, but his Japanese accent comes through loud and clear. The accent is so out of character with the music that his performances are legendary. According to Bill Tyler, the Japanese guy is a lawyer by day, and few years ago they needed a translator for a couple of Japanese players they signed . The Saints management soon find out Seigo was willing to do dress up and do any kind of pomotional stunt they could think of, eventually the Karaoke routine become the standard.
Gert The Flirt, is new this year. She is what they call an Ushertainer. I motioned her over and the first words out of her were “do you want my phone number?”. I asked her what she did when she was not working the Saints Game and she gasped at me for even incinuating that she was anything other the Gert The Flirt. I settled for a red lipstick smeared peck on the cheek.
Oh I almost forgot we also saw a twins game in their new stadium Target Field.
Gert the Flirt and Matt St Paul Saints Game
Harmon Killabrew not still living
Karaoke With a Real Japanese Man
pig mascot in training
