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Category Archives: My Story

Holiday Decorations

Posted on December 19, 2014 by Bill Leave a comment

Carol and I have always been ambivalent about elaborate holiday decorations. We have had natural trees, artificial trees (boo), and now a little painted plywood tree made by a former coworker. Decorations go on the mantel; there are colorful magnetic ornaments on the refrigerator door, a Santa on the stand in the foyer, and a Menorah in the front window.

Holiday Lights

The big one is the 20 foot tall tree in front of the house. A few years ago something inspired me to light the tree. This entailed quite a project. The tree is between the street and the sidewalk, so I had to tunnel under the sidewalk to install a two inch pipe for the electric cord. We didn’t want a cord tripping people on the sidewalk. I dug, I pounded, tried a water jet,and dug some more.

The pipe is in, is capped and doesn’t show most of the year. After Thanksgiving I run a long extension cord from the tree, throughout the pipe, and up to the outlet on the side of the house. We decided to be old fashioned and use large colored bulbs rather than the mini lights popular today. Seven strings of lights for that big tree.

Next comes the hard part, getting those lights up. We have a big lighted star on top. Several seasons of trying methods have come up with the solution of putting the star on a stick and bungeeing it to the trunk. The problem is getting it up there without killing myself. That tree is TALL. I have wobbled on the top step of my eight foot stepladder, tried to place it with the long hooked pole I use for hanging the light strings, and prayed, while Carol is on the ground crying and wailing.

This year I drug out the 20 foot extension ladder after deciding my life was worth breaking a few branches on the tree. It turns out there is a sturdy side branch in just the right place to support the ladder. I firmly believe I have a guardian angel. Without that angel I would be dead many times over.

With the star up, is is just the matter of winding those strings of lights around the tree. Carol holds the string, and I put a kink in my neck placing the wires around the tree. The whole process took three hours this year, and I am still alive. The timer lights the tree from 4:00 PM to about 10:30 PM.

More neighbors on our block have lights, and it is festive out there in the evening.

Happy Holidays! Peace on Earth, Goodwill to All!

Posted in Current Activities, Family History, Holiday Lights, Home Improvement, My Story, Stories, Writing

Nuking Western Colorado

Posted on December 19, 2014 by Bill Leave a comment

In the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, Project Plowshare, a U.S. government program was created to develop peaceful uses for nuclear detonations. The program led to three trials in rural Western Colorado designed to release natural gas from tight geologic formations that contained large amounts of natural gas. The gas was there, but was difficult to recover because it would not readily flow to wells. Nuclear fracking, in other words.

The idea was to fracture large amounts of rock releasing the gas for use. Fracking was in use in that era, but the area fractured around a well hole was fairly small, limiting the amount of gas freed. This would remain the case until horizontal well drilling was developed, resulting in a boom in natural gas production.

The use of atomic explosions somewhat larger than the one that destroyed Hiroshima would fracture a large amount of rock, liberating huge amounts of gas. There were three experiments. All three were somewhat successful, yielding gas in recoverable amounts. Big surprise, the gas was radioactive and remains so. A study indicated that the level of radioactivity released in a California home, when blended with gas from other sources, would be well below the dose we receive from background radiation. People would have none of it. No one wanted radioactive natural gas coming into their home at any level.

Western Colorado, source of much of the uranium used in nuclear bombs, had three detonations in a doomed experiment. The most casual of examinations of the proposal to liberate gas from tight strata would raise the radioactivity question. It took millions of dollars to prove the obvious: radioactive natural gas.

Some shots were done at the Nevada test site to explore using bombs to excavate. Huge amounts of radionuclides were released, affecting generations of downwinders, especially in St. George, Utah. Our nuclear tragedy started in New Mexico with the first Trinity detonation that led to Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It continues today, with all the radioactive spots around the planet and the people sickened and killed by fallout.

Most historians assert that President Truman’s decision to bomb Hiroshima and Nagasaki ultimately saved lives. What they did do was trigger the nuclear arms race with its terrible consequences. Chernobyl and Three Mile Island have shown that nuclear power is risky as well.

My first literary effort was a story I wrote while a student at Mesa College in Grand Junction, Colorado in 1966. Project Rulison was in the works, and my story depicted an even greater failure. The blast sent radioactive oil into a previously unknown aquifer that opened into the irrigation canals that provide water to Grand Valley farms. Radioactive oil in Palisade, Grand Junction, Fruita, and the rest of the valley, rendering it uninhabitable. Pure fiction, but a fun story.

Come up to today, and fracking is still controversial. I think the legacy of Project Rulison is stalking the oil and gas industry to this day. Somehow the industry did not get it that bad practices will catch up with them, despite the API’s slick commercials.

Posted in Colorado History, Energy Policy, Environment, Geology, Memoirs, My Story, Oil and Gas Policy, Stories

Election Day 2014

Posted on November 9, 2014 by Bill Leave a comment

Election Day

On November 1, 3, and 4, I served as an election judge at the Athmar Recreation Center in Denver. I was a machine judge, responsible for setting up, monitoring, and securing two voting machines at Athmar, required for use by persons who have difficulty with printed ballots.

I also was a judge for the last General Election in 2012, when I helped voters obtain the proper ballot for their precinct. The process then involved looking voters up in printed books. This time, the voter lists were computerized. There were the inevitable glitches, but no voter was denied the right to vote.

Here Come the Judge

I was not very busy as a machine judge. In three days, the machines were used five times. I got a lot of reading done. I also worked at the table with the ballot boxes, helping voters cast their ballots and insuring security of the ballot boxes. Voters also got I Voted stickers. Those who came in to vote had lost their mail-in ballot or wanted to change a selection after they marked it in ink and ruined the ballot. No one said the dog ate their ballot.

Athmar also had a ballot drop-off station in the street in front of the Recreation Centers. Voters were able to drop off their ballots without getting out of their cars. I spent time out there as well, a welcome break from sitting at a table.

My fellow election judges were a delight to work with. Knowledgeable, helpful, dedicated, and friendly, they helped voters and helped the time go faster. There was one who was a bit annoying, but that is the case in any setting. I think I have been the annoying one at times.

A big part of the job is setting everything up before the polls open, and securing everything after the polls close. There is a lot of stuff needed at a polling place. Handling all that stuff is big, but assuring the security of all the ballots is the most important part. The voting machines had several kinds of seals that had recorded numbers we tracked to prevent any tampering. Each morning and evening the seals were checked and their numbers recorded.

There were other judges who handled the ballot boxes. They were locked open, seals applied, closed and locked when full and new seals applied. It would be very difficult to tamper with ballot boxes with all the security measures. There was also a police officer on site.

The big thing? The money! I was paid $10.00/hour for four hours training, and $11.00/hour for the election. About 28 hours as a judge. What a deal. Our supervisor had served four 17 years for that kind of money. That is dedication.

Saturday and Monday were fine. Tuesday, Election Day, went from 6:30 AM until 8:00 PM. That is one long day. It took the rest of the week to recover. Will I do it again? I’m not sure. I enjoyed it, but it sure is a strain for an old guy.

Posted in Election Judge, Memoirs, My Story, Stories

My Life With ADD/ADHD

Posted on October 27, 2014 by Bill Leave a comment

My Song

At age 59, I was diagnosed with ADD. I was in a therapy session which was, like most of my therapy sessions over the years, going nowhere. My therapist stopped, looked at me and asked, “Have you ever been evaluated for ADD?” Well,no. No one had ever suggested it and it had never occurred to me.

That evening a computer search brought up several checklists. On the first one I took, almost every question was a head slapper. I was a match for 48 of the 50 questions. That therapist was not a big help for the ADD; most therapists aren’t. The diagnosis, however, changed my life. I had always known something was wrong. I just did not function like most people, and the stress of living in a world where I didn’t quite fit in was taking a physical toll.

I have a number of symptoms, including a short attention span if not wholly engaged, impulsivity, irritability, hyper focus at times, forgetfulness, poor attention to detail, trouble getting started, distractibility, poor memory, and absent-mindedness. Did I mention I forget stuff, like people’s names?

In my fifties I was treated for a bleeding ulcer, migraine headaches, had prostate surgery, rectal surgery, knee and back problems, hernias, and was involved in years of individual and couples therapy. Much of this was due to the stress of trying to function in a world of normies.

Work had ups and downs. I always had authority problems and often missed small details. I was never in enough trouble to get fired, but I had several of those long sessions with several levels of supervisors.

School was much the same way. I am fairly smart, so I almost always got by. In college things got worse. I couldn’t get by on brains and charm. I actually had to work, and found that if the subject matter or the instructor didn’t engage me, I literally could not do the work.

Brain Disorder

I remember a political science course with an instructor who was always patronizing with students and wanted us to learn about Communism by studying Yugoslavia. By the time I realized I was not going to learn anything there, it was too late to drop the course. Another F added to my list.

I lived with anxiety that I would do or say something wrong. I also have a lifetime of replaying the things I did do wrong. Even now, 13 years after the diagnosis, I obsess about things that happened long ago. I sometimes do things on impulse I later regret. To protect my self-esteem I defend situations I get myself into that are indefensible.

Recently at work I threw some things away that needed replacing, but the replacements are not ready. My impulse got my colleagues all stirred up, and the children who come to play don’t have stick horses to ride. I don’t think they minded that the old horses I threw away were worn out.

I get irritated by noise. Big crowds, barking dogs, truck traffic, elevator music, and crying children all get to me. A neighbor friend had a little girl that cried a lot. I found myself getting angry at her to the point of wanting to harm her. I decided then that having children was not an option. To my first wife’s disappointment I got a vasectomy. I’m not sure that was the right decision, but I often believe so. I have poor impulse control.

The diagnosis at age 59 changed my life. The first thing that happened is all sorts of feelings I had not allowed myself to feel came to the surface. Anger, bitterness, rage, sadness, frustration, and just plain pain surged out. I was not much fun to live with for a while. I told Carol that I just had to be those feelings.

After the old feelings subsided and I found a good therapist and a good psychiatrist, things rapidly improved. Cognitive therapy gave me coping strategies more effective than making trouble to get my prefrontal lobes to wake up. The medication helps with focus and awareness. I can sustain tasks, where previously I was terrible at mundane tasks. Now, I am just bad at them.

For me, the biggest change is that I can now write. I have always wanted to write, but the ADD did not allow me the focus to produce anything. Now, except for occasional bouts of writer’s block, I can write. All those years of not writing were not wasted, as I studied good writing. I also practiced doing clear, concise writing when writing the daily shift reports in the water treatment plants where I worked. One or two paragraphs, but I got some practice.

Today, I have gratitude. I can manage the ADD (mostly), I have a wonderful marriage, a comfortable retirement, and I can write. What a long, strange trip it’s been.

Posted in ADD/ADHD, Memoirs, My Story, Pain, Stories, Writing

Why I Read and Write

Posted on October 13, 2014 by Bill One comment

Writer and Helper

I have been a reader since I learned how reading Donald Duck comic books in kindergarten. In first grade, Dick and Jane were boring compared to Scrooge McDuck diving in his three cubic acres of cash. I read most everything in sight. I have to know.

At home, there was a lot to read. The living room was dominated by a round oak dining table cut down to coffee table height. It was piled with newspapers, magazines, and books. My father had subscriptions to Time, Newsweek, Life, The Saturday Evening Post, Reader’s Digest, Outdoor Life, Redbook, National Geographic, and Cosmopolitan. Mother had Ladies Home Journal. I had Boy’s Life.

The Grand Junction Daily Sentinel and the weekly Fruita Times were always there. Mother belonged to a book review club, and we had those Reader’s Digest Condensed Books. We had lots of railroad history and books about regional topics. I read it all. Well, not all. Father had Cosmopolitan and Redbook for the romances they ran every month. Not for me.

I read a lot of the stuff boys read in those days. Mark Twain, Jack London, Hemingway, Richard Henry Dana, James Thurber, and Dickens were influences. I think my biggest influences were Mark Twain, with his descriptions and humor, and Richard Henry Dana’s Two Years before the Mast. In fact, I think I will reread that one. It combined a great adventure for a young man with fine writing.

Today, most of my reading is nonfiction. John McPhee is my favorite writer. He writes on a wide range of subjects, almost all of his topics interest me. He does have a book about fish for some inscrutable reason. He combines humor, good stories about the people he finds, extensive research, and clear writing. I even read his fish book.

I have wanted to write for as long as I can remember, but I just could not muster the discipline to do so without the pressure of a school assignment. Instead, I read. I did do well with college writing assignments. I think I had assimilated enough good writing that I did well as long as the topic engaged me. Most topics did so for two reasons, I picked courses that engaged me, and instructors that challenged me.

I even wrote some papers for other students, usually forestry majors at Colorado State who could not write themselves out of a paper bag. I charged $10.00 per page, pretty good money in the late 1960’s. Strangely, I still could not write things for myself. I had to have a deadline.

At age 59, I found out why. I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder. I got cognitive therapy and medication. The therapy gave me skills to cope with the disorder that are more effective than the adaptation I had used for many years, mainly making enough trouble to get my midbrain revved up enough to fire up my prefrontal lobes. The other method that worked was the pressure and anxiety of an upcoming deadline.

I still use those methods, but I can often just sit down and write. I still have to have a topic that engages me, and there are those times when the words just will not come. The ancients wrote about the Muses, goddesses who brought inspiration to writers, and how sometimes they just do not attend. I don’t know about the explanation, but I understand the problem.

I like to go to a coffee shop to write, it helps me focus on what I am doing. At home there are too many distractions. I used to call writing the hardest work known to humankind. Sometimes that is true; sometimes writing is easy and just flows out of me. I do know it is one of my favorite things to do.

Posted in Memoirs, My Story, Stories, Writing

Part Three, the Keystone XL Pipeline

Posted on September 29, 2014 by Bill 3 comments

Pipeline Construction

When I was growing up in Fruita, Colorado in the 1950’s, the El Paso Natural Gas Company built a 26″ natural gas pipeline from north to south through Western Colorado. In flat country, laying a pipe is fairly straightforward. To lay a pipeline, dig, lay pipe, weld, wrap, and backfill. In the Colorado Plateau, the pipeline not only goes from point to point, it goes up and down.

North of Fruita, The line had to go over Douglas Pass. As Colorado passes go, it is no big deal. Not that high, but near the top there is steep and unstable ground famous for landslides. The trenchers, welding machines, side-boom tractors handling pipe, and bulldozers; all had to be winched up and down the mountainside. That is a slow, expensive process. To us in Fruita, it meant that our little town had lots of pipeliners for several weeks.

I mostly saw the pipeliners in Hill’s Cafe, where we often had dinner. The stereotype is that pipeliners are a wild bunch, but we didn’t see it in the cafe. They were quiet, well-behaved, some prayed before eating, and I liked them. After all, if you are from Bald Knob, Arkansas, how wild can you be?

That pipeline brings gas from Wyoming, Western Colorado, and Eastern Utah to markets in Texas and the southwest, including California. To my knowledge, it has few problems and quietly does its job. I think that pipeline has shaped my thinking about pipelines in general.

Today there is much oil and gas development in North Dakota and Alberta. A pipeline network exists to deliver crude oil from there to the refinery complex on the Gulf Coast. It can’t deliver all that is being produced. Proposed is a new line, the Keystone XL Pipeline that would run west of the existing line, picking up crude from the Williston Basin in North Dakota as well as the synthetic crude from the Alberta tar sands.

There is a lot of opposition for several reasons. One reason is fear of leaks. Big spills, contamination, fire, ground water contamination, and all the risks that go with moving lots of nasty stuff that burns. That Alberta synthetic crude is even nastier than regular crude. Its carbon footprint is much higher than oil from traditional sources. It is thick and has to be heated to separate it from the sand. Most of the crude oil refined here in Denver is tar sand oil.

Oil Car Train

The fact is that as long as demand for petroleum products stays high, that Alberta crude will go south, but in rail cars if the pipeline isn’t built. Here in Denver, there are many tank car trains headed south, competing with coal trains for right of way. In the upper Midwest there is so much oil traffic that farmers are having difficulty shipping their grain. Pipelines are safer than rail cars for shipping petroleum.

Some of the opposition is for environmental reasons. Tar sand crude is bad. Pipelines are bad. Fossil fuel is bad. All true. The solution is not stopping pipelines, but reducing demand. How to reduce demand? Make fossil fuels more expensive with higher taxes. Use the tax money to develop alternative energy and transportation. Build rails not freeways. Tell that to Republican legislators.

In the meantime, I think the pipeline is the best alternative until our energy policies change.

Posted in Colorado History, Energy Policy, Environment, Fear, My Story, Oil and Gas Policy, Pipelines, unjustified Fears

Pearl Pass Part Two

Posted on September 15, 2014 by Bill 2 comments

North Side to Summit

In Part 1 I discussed the history of Pearl Pass and my family connection. I also covered the four wheel drive experience travelers have on the pass. I have been rambling around the Rocky Mountains most of my life. There is a lot of good country here. I am fortunate to have spent time in some of the Rockies from New Mexico to Alberta.

Some of the best pieces of mountain country are the Elk Mountains. I have not spent much time there because of Aspen. A Western Colorado native, for many years I harbored a prejudice against ski area development. Aspen is the ski town that started the Twentieth Century Gold Rush, this time mining tourist pockets. The place is just too rich for a small town boy. Over time I lost my bias, but still tended to avoid the Aspen area. I have never been to the Maroon Bells.

Living along the Front Range influenced not visiting the Roaring Fork Valley as it is a four hour drive to Aspen from Denver. Rocky Mountain National Park and the Collegiate Peaks are a lot closer. Recapturing my interest in my family history has drawn me to Pearl Pass. If Grandmother Pearl could drive a wagon over the pass in 1887, I should do it as well.

Pearl Pass has seen no change in the last 130 years. Between Aspen and Ashcroft the road is paved and there is development, but once on the four wheel drive road it is as it was. It goes between the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness and the Maroon Bells Snowmass Wilderness. Together, they harbor the largest cluster of 14,000 foot high peaks in North America.

Sandstone

That huge area of high mountain wilderness means wild. Pearl Pass is one of the wildest places I have ever visited. Up high, what you see is almost all above timberline. To the east, the mountains are granite, what I am familiar with in Colorado. To the west is sandstone. Layered sandstone, capped with basalt.

To me, that layered rock seems wild, out of place. It is gray, with a hint of red. When I see sandstone I expect red or tan. The view is so striking and beautiful I am at a loss for words. I have been trying for days to come up with a description that matches what I saw. The pictures will give you an idea, but cannot portray the impact of so much wild space with little human influence.

One reason for the view is because the Elk Mountains are west of the central Colorado Mountains and get more moisture. The glacial cirques are huge, creating a series of basins surrounded by many high peaks 13,000- feet or higher. The pass itself is 12,700 feet high, surpassed by Mosquito Pass for example, but unsurpassed in sheer majesty.

I am now committed to more exploration of the Elk Mountains. There are Taylor and Schofield Passes that are four wheel drive accessible. A winter drive to the Maroon Bells is on my list. I may even break down and get out and walk. My backpacking days are over, but there are lots of day hikes. Lots of people on the trails, but most of them are nice people. The high passes are for solitude.

Posted in Colorado Mountains, Family History, Four Wheeling, My Story, Stories

Pearl Pass Part One

Posted on September 8, 2014 by Bill Leave a comment

Road to Ashcroft

On Wednesday, September 3, I drove over Pearl Pass. Pearl is one of those four wheeling trips that have been on my list for a long time. My grandmother, Pearl Willits Shanks, drove a team and wagon over the pass when the Willits family moved from north Texas to Colorado in 1887. Pearl was 12 when she drove over the pass. She may have been a Texas girl before Pearl Pass, but she was a mountain girl after that.

The road was built as a toll road in the early 1880’s from the railhead in Crested Butte to the newly discovered silver mining area in Aspen. It was in use until the railroads came to Aspen in the late 1880’s. The main use was hauling coal from mines at Crested Butte to Aspen.

Today the road is much like it was in the nineteenth century. From the start of the four wheel drive portion until it drops into the valley on the Crested Butte side it has no dirt, just rock.

The Bad Ledge

Fist sized rocks, baby head sized rocks, rock ledges, big rocks in narrow places, and big rocks in the middle of the road. One can grow tired of rock.

It is also narrow, made for wagons a long time ago. There is no room for error. In reading about the pass, most of the reports involving trouble were where a vehicle got too far to the side. When that happens, there better be good help available, because it is a long way to the bottom if the vehicle rolls over.

I was able to drive over all those rocks with no real damage to my Toyota Tacoma other than losing a mudflap. The forest ranger had suggested a Jeep Rubicon. I find my Toyota does just fine, although I may add a limited slip differential someday.

The Road and a View

At the Summit

This is probably the most difficult road I have driven. Steep, narrow, and did I mention rocky? I will do it again. The history is important to me, the story of my family. I spent the afternoon on that road marveling that a 12 year old girl from flat Texas could marshal the courage to drive a wagon over that hill.

I don’t know how long the entire trip from Crested Butte to Ashcroft, 10 miles from Aspen, took the Willits family. I do know that they misjudged the time it would take to get over the highest part and did not get off the hill into Ashcroft until 11:00 PM.

That road is scary enough in daylight. At night? It is good that horses are better at seeing at night than we are. Once I got down into the timber on the Crested Butte side, the alternating sunlight and shadow made it hard to see any serious obstacles. I can just imagine what Pearl was feeling.

I have given you some history and road condition information about Pearl Pass. My next piece will be about the other big attractions. The Elk Mountains that the pass traverses are some of the most spectacular and geologically unique mountains in Colorado. Next time.

Posted in Colorado History, Colorado Mountains, Family History, Four Wheeling, Memoirs, My Story

Four Wheeling for 65 Years

Posted on September 2, 2014 by Bill Leave a comment

Camping with my Nissan 4x4 in the Maze District

Camping with my Nissan 4×4 in the Maze District

My first four wheeling memory is from deer hunting season somewhere in the early 1950’s. We were staying at a neighbor’s ranch near Douglas Pass with a large party. We went up a creek in a WWII surplus Jeep. There must have been eight or ten people on and in that Jeep. We got up high on a rough road and a front axle broke. I was too young to know much of what was going on, but I did know the Jeep was broken and we were a long way from the ranch. A couple of the men were pretty handy and managed to pull the broken axle with a Crescent wrench and a screwdriver, all the tools they had. My father was impressed and we made it back to the ranch.

Other four wheeling trips were to what is now Canyonlands National Park. I don’t remember whose Jeep we were in, but we four wheeled over Elephant Hill into Chesler Park. The Elephant Hill road is still open, but Chesler Park was closed to vehicles many years ago. My father didn’t have a four wheel drive in those years, but we went places in our 1953 Chevrolet pickup that are considered four wheel drive only these days. Many of the roads were to fishing areas on Grand Mesa.

1953 Chevy

There just were not many four wheel drive vehicles in those days, so people made do. In the Bookcliffs area, famous for slick shale roads, there were many hills with a pile of rocks at the bottom of the grade. People stopped, loaded the rocks into the bed of the two wheel drive pickup for weight, and climbed the hill and went where they wanted to go, and unloaded the rocks on the way out.

WWII and Modern Jeeps

Army surplus Jeeps became fairly common in the 1950’s, but they were fairly primitive. 35 miles per hour was about what they would do on the highway unless the owner added a Warn overdrive. They also broke a lot. I remember walking home from across the river from Fruita when the steering linkage fell apart on a surplus Jeep.

Later, in the 1970’s, four wheel drive vehicles became more common. New and modernized Jeeps, International Scouts, Broncos, Blazers, and four wheel drive pickups became fairly common. My father had two Scouts, an early Jeep Cherokee; and his first four wheeler, a 50’s Jeep wagon with a Chevy small block V8.

The first Scout got us into trouble on Elephant Hill. We were coming out after dark and as we got to the top of the hill, bouncing over the slickrock, the engine quit. It would not start, so we walked the four miles or so to the Canyonlands Resort. At that time the owner flew tourists over the canyon country, ran the resort, and flew the occasional polygamist away from the law. We waited for him to finish an enormous plate of venison and biscuits, got into his big Ford ¾ ton pickup, and went to the Scout. He towed the Scout about 50 feet and it started. The carburetor float must have stuck and the bouncing knocked it loose.

When I started buying four wheelers I got Japanese pickups. They cost less, are reliable and capable, and after all, a feller needs a truck. I just don’t like buying lots of gas for a truck. My current ride is a 2009 Toyota Tacoma 4 cylinder standard cab. Toyotas have grown, it barely fits in our new 20 foot garage.

My Taco

There are two basic types of four wheelers. There are those who four wheel to go to interesting places that require four wheel drive, and those who enjoy the sport of going to difficult places. There is overlap, but those lifted and modified vehicles are for hard core wheeling and showing off. I have a four wheel drive pickup to go places. My Tacoma is stock.

Southeastern Utah is a favorite destination for both types of four wheelers. The Moab Rally every spring brings hardcore rock crawlers from all over the country. There is so much to explore that is accessible because the uranium boom of the 1950’s brought about much road building into areas that had been horseback only.

My favorite area is the Maze District in Canyonlands National Park. 70 miles of dirt road to the ranger station, then many more miles of four wheel drive to places like the Doll House, which has access to the Colorado River just below the confluence with the Green.

This summer seems to be devoted to going over passes. I won’t name them all, but the next one is Pearl Pass. My 12 year old grandmother drove a team and wagon over that pass in 1887. I am a bit older and my team is motorized.

Posted in Four Wheeling, Memoirs, My Story

Incident on Mosca Pass

Posted on August 26, 2014 by Bill Leave a comment

Mosca Pass View

I was camping on Mosca Pass, the first mountain pass over the Sangre de Cristo Mountains north of well-traveled La Veta Pass. From the Wet Mountain Valley to the summit of the pass is a good road that provided access to an abandoned fire lookout tower just below the summit. The road is closed from the summit down to the visitor center in Great Sand Dunes National Park. The road washed out too many times and was abandoned for vehicle travel years ago.

I went there to see the area and find solitude, a scarce thing anywhere near the Front Range cities. I drove up a short spur road to a good campsite with fine view. There was even some firewood at the fire ring. There was no one within miles. No traffic, just an apparently unoccupied ranch about a mile down the road.

I ate dinner, read until dark and turned in. I like to sleep outside to see the stars and feel the wind. My new sleeping bag kept me comfortable, and I went right to sleep. A few hours later I got up to pee and decided to take a look around. Looking east and south there are two intermittent creeks about 1/4 mile apart running through a big open park, with mountains all round. There was a fine view, even during the dark of the moon with only starlight, so I went that way.

The flat spot where I camped ends and dropped down to the open areas not far from my bed. I walked that way and stepped into a hole right at the edge. I pitched forward into a big bush lower down and in some rocks. Head down, butt in the air, feet thrashing, arms entangled, it took a while to free myself. I had to scramble on hands and knees back up to level ground and in the process lost my glasses.

My forearms were scraped, punctured, and bleeding. I had a scrape on my nose, several bruises, and two big abrasions on my knee. I had walked out there in the middle of the night with only a t-shirt, underpants, and my shoes on.

Finding the campsite was a little hard. My dark green truck was backed in between some trees and I didn’t have my glasses on, making it hard to find in the dark. I went back to bed scared and angry at myself. The pain from the knee scrapes kept me awake for most of the rest of the night.

I laid there thinking of what could have happened. If I had injured myself so I couldn’t drive, there is no knowing when someone would find me. I was well off the road, no cell phone service, almost no traffic, and almost no clothes on. In Colorado there are several stories every year about someone not returning from a solo trip, the body found days or months later.

What was I thinking? I obviously was not thinking at all. People tell me I was lucky. Maybe so, but I believe I was stupid, just like the others who did not return from a solo trip. Carol asked me where my flashlight was. It was in my pack, where it belongs.

In the morning, I looked at my sore knee, cut arms, bloodstained t-shirt, and went to look for my glasses. No luck; after all I didn’t have my glasses on. How was I going to see them? There was nothing to do but have breakfast and get on with my trip.

I had no trouble seeing on the back roads, reading, and looking at the scenery, but reading road signs was pretty tough. I haven’t gone so long without glasses since I was in the fourth grade. Two days later I was home and could see again. I spent a day getting a spare pair of glasses fixed and having a grass seed washed out of my ear.

It has taken me a while to sit down and write this. I have more to say about my trip, so stay tuned.

Posted in Back Country Accident, Current Activities, Fear, My Story, Pain

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