June | 2015 | Bill's Views on Most Everything

Monthly Archives: June 2015

Motorcycles

Posted on June 22, 2015 by Bill Leave a comment

Kawasaki KLR 650

I have owned and ridden three motorcycles. I like motorcycles. They are as close to flying as one can get on land. There are challenges, such as trying to stay upright on two wheels. I know people who have never been down on their bikes. I once fell over right by the front door of the biggest motorcycle accessory shop in Denver. It trapped my leg and some guy had to lift it off me. I bet he is still telling that story.

I have crashed on city streets, on a paved canyon road (sand), in parking lots, and an uncountable number of times in the dirt. Two of my motorcycles were what is now called dual sport; they are able to be used on the street and in the dirt. They aren’t top notch in either role, but some riders do things most people can’t imagine. 80 mph on the highway, and some challenging back country roads and trails. Lots of good dual sport roads in Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Wyoming, where I traveled.

One of the best grew up riding on the streets of Mexico City, where you have to be good to survive. I could keep up with him on the highway because we had the same bikes. In the dirt, he could go places with that fairly heavy thing that I didn’t even dream of. He and quite a few others have done 50 mountain passes in Colorado in 50 hours. I am good for about six in a day, and hurt for two days. He also did a lot of single track trails, something I never attempted.

I liked road trips with some gravel or dirt roads thrown in. Forest Service roads were about as gnarly as I wanted. On the asphalt, it was curves in canyons. Fortunately, Colorado’s Front Range has lots of canyons. There was a geological event that bumped the long bench from Conifer to its Estes Park. That bench was once at Denver’s elevation, but got pooched up to where it is now. We call the road the Peak to Peak Highway.

Golden Gate Canyon

Go up any of the canyons from Deer Creek to the Big Thompson, ride those fast sweeping curves a ways, then down another canyon. My favorite was Golden Gate Canyon, where I tore my posterior cruciate ligament when I hit some sand on the road.

It’s the lean, folks. Go around a curve on two wheels and you lean. Go faster, lean more. Go faster, and crash. I went fairly slow for a motorcyclist. I still got some lean, and was able to look at the geology. A low side crash is when the bike slides out from under you and goes off the road ahead of you.

High Side Crash

A high side crash is the bad one. The front wheel starts to slide, then gets traction. You are flipped off and into the air, while the bike bounces along behind until it lands on you. Both are bad, but you really do not want to high side. Some riders get flipped into the guardrail. Ouch.

My knee wrecking crash was a low side. My knee was bent, the tibia-fibula stopped on the pavement while the femur went a little farther. It really hurt. Hurt bad. I picked the bike up and rode on until I couldn’t stand the pain and called for help.

Aside from the crashes, I loved motorcycling. Yes, it is dangerous. Other drivers don’t see you and turn in front of you. You crash all by yourself. There is a famous twisty road in North Carolina where a biker went into the bushes. Just in front of him was another motorcycle with the remains of the rider. He went into the bushes and nobody saw a thing.

Yamaha SR 400

I always wore all the protective gear. Those Harley riders who won’t wear a helmet because their balls will protect them are nuts. Mass delusion, those Harley people.

This spring I got the itch again. Yamaha makes a single cylinder bike that looks a lot like the classic British thumpers from the 1950s. It isn’t fast, but sure would be a good canyon bike. Nah. Too old and slow myself. I guess I will stick to four wheeling.

Posted in Colorado Mountains, Fear, Health Issues, Memoirs, Motorcycle Crashes, Motorcycling, My Story, Stories

Bears in Yellowstone

Posted on June 21, 2015 by Bill Leave a comment

Scared Babies

In the 1950’s there were lots of bears in Yellowstone National Park. Despite warnings, people fed them, got out of their cars to photograph them, and listened to the campground garbage cans being raided. I saw hundreds of bears in Yellowstone, but have seen only one in the wild elsewhere.

I was never in danger there, but did have a few experiences. We traveled with a nineteen foot travel trailer, which made camping a lot easier. On one trip we were in a campground near the Firehole River so my father could fly fish. A sow and her two cubs had established residence close to all that food in the trash cans. The Park Service decided it was dangerous to have them in the campground and decided to trap them. The trap they used was mounted on a trailer. It was made from a ten foot section of galvanized 48″ culvert, closed at one with a trap door at the other end. They put bait up near the closed end with a trigger arrangement that closed the door when moved.

It worked. It trapped mom, but the cubs were outside. What a noise! She sent the cubs up a tree and they cried. Mom roared. I don’t remember when she was trapped but it was still dark, and there was no more sleeping for anyone in the campground. The Rangers showed up around 8:00 AM and stood around trying to decide what to do. The usual procedure was to haul the bears to a remote area some distance from the capture point and release them there.

Bear in Trap

This would not work here, with two howling cubs up a tree. Why hadn’t they thought of this beforehand? Three bears making enough noise to be heard at Old Faithful and a couple dozen campers standing around watching the fun. The Rangers thought about moving the trap across the creek and releasing her there. Would she charge back on a rampage? Would she stay there with two cubs across the creek afraid to come out of their tree? Would she cross the creek, collect the kids send then go on a rampage?

The Rangers were reluctant to release her right there, afraid of a rampage. Dilemma. Lots of standing around and talking. They finally chased all the campers away some distance away and let her loose. She called the cubs out of the tree but they were reluctant and even noisier, then they came down, and all three left the campground in a hurry. Everyone was relieved to not have a berserk bear in their midst.

1955 Nash

On another trip my friend Mike was along. There was a bear visiting the campground each night. My parents were in the trailer, and Mike and I slept on the reclining seats in the 1955 Nash (shudder). We decided to leave the windows down and shoot the bear with our slingshots when he came around.

We had a metal cooler with lunch food that we kept in the car when traveling. It was on the ground outside the car with good smells coming from it. We slept, than something woke me up. I heard something outside and poked Mike to wake him up. We loaded our slingshots and looked out. A BEAR! Just out the window. A big bear! Never have hand cranked windows gone up so fast. No shooting bears that night.

Posted in Memoirs, My Story, Stories, Yellowstone Bears

Backpacking in the San Juans

Posted on June 20, 2015 by Bill Leave a comment

Getting Off at Needleton

My backpacking days are over. I’m old, I have a titanium knee, and I hurt in lots of places. The inspiration for this piece is Reese Whitherspoon’s Wild. The movie is about a woman who decided to pull her life together by backpacking the Pacific Crest Trail. She did it and found herself on the way. I didn’t find myself backpacking, but had some experiences that are still with me. I even had some parallel experiences, the main one being: don’t go on a long backpack with boots that don’t fit unless you enjoy pain.

On a long trip through the San Juans, my boots were too small. We took the narrow gauge train from Durango to Needleton, just a stop on the line halfway to Silverton. We got quite a few looks from the flatland tourists as we got off for a trail into a canyon a long way from anywhere. From the trailhead it was several uphill miles to Chicago Basin in the heart of the Needle Mountains, where we planned to spend some time.

Don’t Buy Them Too Small

About halfway, we came across some guys helping their friend with a badly sprained ankle to get to the railhead. He was in serious pain, unable to put any weight on his ankle. His friends were looking pretty strained. That first trail is where I began learning about my boots. It was the seventies when you had to have those massive European climbing boots for a walk in City Park. I think I spent something like $200.00 for them. I was determined they would fit OK once they were broken in. Hint: those things could be so worn out the soles are falling off, but they won’t be broken in. There was only one thing to do, keep walking.

Chicago Basin

Chicago Basin was miraculous. It is a large glacial basin ringed by mountains, three of them fourteeners. Windom Peak, Sunlight Mountain, and Mt. Aeolus. The area is full of thirteeners, not as famous, but challenging. It is steep country. Most of the San Juans are volcanic, but the Needles are the cores of ancient mountains, much older than the relatively recent volcanos.

In the 1970’s, the United States Geological Survey was changing from 15 minute topographical maps to 7 1/2 minute maps. The map for the Needle Mountains was somewhat behind in the revisions. It was published in 1900. No color, no modern changes to man-made features, but still useful for navigation. 7 1/2 minutes is roughly 7 miles. It is possible to walk through the area covered in one day. The Needle map was 15 minutes with a note to add eight feet to each elevation. No GPS in those days, just triangulating from one peak to another.

The Needle Mountains are one of the most remote mountain ranges in Colorado. A big glacier once sat in that basin at the foot of those mountains and ground away for a long time. There are lots of places in the Rocky Mountains with great views, and Chicago Basin is right up there. The other good thing is that it is hard to get to. Keeps the riffraff out. We had the basin to ourselves, even during the backpacking boom.

Columbine Pass

As a bonus, the weather was good. When it was time to leave, we thought a good breakfast was in order. Pancakes and coffee. Lots of both. We struck camp and headed over Columbine Pass. The trail switchbacks up that glaciated wall to a summit over twelve thousand feet high. Hint number two: don’t climb a steep trail at high altitude with a stomach full of pancakes. They didn’t feel like pancakes, they felt like lead in there. I guess suffering is one of the aspects of backpacking.

The descent led us to Vallecito Creek, and a long hike to Vallecito Reservoir, where my father gave us a ride to the car in Durango. Now, it is day hikes or four wheeling. The knees are the first to go.

Posted in Backpacking, Colorado Mountains, Geology, Memoirs, My Story, Pain

Colorado Rain, Ritual

Posted on June 16, 2015 by Bill Leave a comment

Rain for a month. In Colorado! The climate change deniers must be having second thoughts. It rains on the unrighteous (Republicans) as well as the righteous (me). The upside is that we have been finishing up our landscaping project which began with our new garage last summer. There are just a few loose ends, a little planting, support for the raspberry bushes, and cleaning up after the hailstorm.

Some of our new plants are a bit ragged, but I don’t think we lost anything. Our neighborhood does not seem to get quite the weather extremes as other areas in the metro area. We have a lot of leaves down I will rake up if it ever dries out. I had sense enough to put my pickup in the garage before Thursday’s hailstorm.

Climate change. It seems like this area will be wetter with more extreme events than in the recent geologic past. Our front range mountains are good at catching moisture brought in from both gulfs by a low pressure system south of here. Some call it the Albuquerque Low. Unfortunately, it doesn’t bring much rain to California.

This area may become something of an oasis in a growing desert. What is clear is that we can no longer count on the status quo. Humanity has to drastically reduce the amount of carbon dioxide we pump into the atmosphere. Of course, the earth seems to have self-correcting systems that restore a balance. It takes a long time however, and may mean the extinction of the species responsible for disrupting things. Once again the adage is proven true: “In the long run, we are all dead.”

On a completely different subject, I am I the coffee shop right next to the Denver University campus and today is graduation day. There were all these people all dressed up at 8:00 in the morning. The woman across from me at the table flew in from L.A. Last night for her best friends graduation. These rituals were on the wane for lots of years. I did not even entertain the idea of add ending my graduation from CSU, but of course it was the sixties. The only important ritual was passing the doobie.

Preschool

Now ritual seems to be returning. The Masons and the American Legion are dying out, but preschoolers are wearing caps and gowns to graduate. Ritual brings us together, and we need more. I don’t know what will replace the obsolete organizations, but something will probably happen. People need one another, and have to come together to reaffirm that need. Which reminds me, my 55th High School reunion is in September

Posted in Environment, Floods, Hailstorm, My Story, Rain, Stories

The Dentist Part Two

Posted on June 5, 2015 by Bill Leave a comment

Dentistry

I wrote in March about my dental phobia. I home with a temporary crown. The last three months has been a dental black hole. I haven’t flossed, hardly brushed, and stuck with mouthwash. My cleaning last month wasn’t too bad, but only because Barb, my hygienist, is the best. I made an appointment for the crown after stalling for five months.

Thursday was the day and I have been something of a mess for a week. Worse, I was scheduled to have it done two weeks ago and came down with a bad cold and had to reschedule. That prolonged my agony. In defense of the dental office, everyone there is just great. They are nice, competent, and do their best to make every visit as painless as possible. I have been a patient there for over twenty years.

Steve Law is the dentist. A Minnesota boy, he went to St. Olaf College in the same town as Carleton College, that Susan, my stepdaughter,attended. He is a nice guy and a musician as well. Today he had trouble getting the old crown off. He drilled, pried, pulled, drilled, pried, and drilled some more. After he got all the gear out of my mouth I asked him why he didn’t use Channel Lock pliers instead. He said something about making it more comfortable. I do not equate the dentist’s office with comfort, despite their apologetics.

The assistant was also good, and funny as well. I just do not remember her name. I should remember, she has worked there as long as my tenure as a patient. I have a temporary crown she installed which will fall out before the next appointment.

I have lived with dental post-traumatic stress disorder for almost sixty years. Carol is a therapist and has offered to help, but I just cannot face dealing with the anxiety of reliving dental agony. At least the suffering is a good contrast with the good times I usually have. How can we know the good without experiencing the bad? Why does it have

Posted in Dental Phobia, Dentist, Fear, My Story, Pain, PTSD, Stories

Four Wheel Drive Equipment

Posted on June 3, 2015 by Bill 2 comments

Willys Jeep Wagon

I have been involved in four wheeling since childhood. Stuck up to the axles and high-centered in Utah, Colorado, South Dakota, and Wyoming. I like to get out where the country is wild and there aren’t too many people around. My favorite places are mountain passes in Colorado and the vast red rock country in Utah. I am not a hard core rock-crawler with a vehicle jacked up in the air with near tractor tires whining and rumbling down the street.

I have had International Scouts, Nissans, Dodges, and my current Toyota Tacoma. There is a long succession of Jeeps I have ridden in and driven. I have also been stranded in them. So, no Jeep for me, I just don’t trust them. There are lots of choices in four wheelers, but not as many choices for cheap four wheelers. I’m cheap.

1953 Chevy 2wd

I buy base model vehicles. I even bought one without air conditioning. 4x4s aren’t particularly cheap, but it is not necessary to spend $50,000 for a nice rig. My Dodge pickup had a small engine. Oh, wait, it wasn’t even four wheel drive, although I treated it like it was. I guess my willingness to use a two wheeler goes back to my youth, when we had a 1953 Chevrolet pickup. That was in the days when the only 4x4s were old military Jeeps and the venerable Dodge Power Wagon. Both were capable, but slow and fairly unreliable (35 mph in the Jeep, about 50 in a Power Wagon). Dad and I went hunting and fishing in that old Chevy. Dad was an amazing driver in the bad stuff. He used to maintain the telephone line from Fruita to Cisco, Utah across that adobe desert in a two wheel drive pickup. Up in the Bookcliff area, there used to be a pile of rocks at the bottom of a bad hill. If it was muddy or snowy the driver would stop, load the rocks in the back of the pickup, go about his business, and unload the rocks at the bottom of the hill on the way out.

Two times we went places in that old Chevy where no sane person would go without four wheel drive. Once, we were deer hunting up in the Douglas Pass country after a storm. The road was muddy with that slick stuff Western Colorado is famous for. We drove down into a saddle that was steep at either end. We couldn’t get up the hill. A newer pickup came by that had a limited slip differential, new at the time, and went right up the hill. We had to put the tire chains on.

Battlement Lakes Road

The other adventure was going fishing at the Battlement Lakes road on Grand Mesa. That road wasn’t steep, but was full of big rocks and mud holes. It was narrow, with little room to maneuver around obstacles. Dad put that old pickup in second gear, not even the granny gear, and mostly idled along thar road with that old Chevy six lugging along. The rocks in back rolled around and smashed my good spinning rod. We met some guys in there in a Jeep. They could not believe we got in there with a two wheel drive pickup. I don’t think the fishing was very good that day, but no matter.

Scout I

After he retired, Dad got into four wheeling. His first one was an old Jeep station wagon with a 283 Chevy V8. That thing was good in the bad stuff, but leaked oil and had some ignition problems. The next one was an International Scout I. Pretty primitive, but capable with one exception. There was a place on Elephant Hill in Canyonlands named Scout Slot. It was narrow, in solid rock with a ledge that was in just the right place to break the transfer case of a Scout.

After that was an older model Jeep Cherokee. It was pretty good, and it went around the White Rim Trail with some friends. Next was a Scout II. It was good, but one night coming off Elephant Hill it quit. Dad and I walked to the Canyonlands Resort and got the owner to tow us with his Ford pickup. We bounced a short distance and the Scout started. The carburetor float must have been stuck and bounced loose. I sold the Scout for the Dodge pickup.

2009 Tacoma

I did two wheel drive for a while then bought a Nissan Frontier. It was capable, lasted quite a while, then I crashed it on ice in Glenwood Canyon. Now it is the Toyota. It is good, but I gave it a dent on Pearl Pass. Now I have a Detroit Trutrac limited slip differential which should help. Summer is coming, and I’m ready to get out there.

Posted in Current Activities, Four Wheeling, Memoirs, My Story, Stories