Tag Archives: Old Friends

Kodel’s Canyon

Kodels Canyon 086

Kodel’s Canyon

In the late 1950’s, some friends and I liked to go to Kodel’s Canyon.  The canyon is in the Colorado National Monument about five miles from Fruita.  We would get a ride from a parent and with our .22 rifles, hike on the relatively flat desert area between the Colorado River and the National Monument, laying waste to any number of unsuspecting rocks with our .22’s.

 

Sometimes we would climb over the Park boundary fence and up into the canyon.  It is the first canyon west of Fruita Canyon, where Rim Rock Drive climbs, and the scenery is as spectacular as the rest of the National Monument, but at the time was seldom visited.  Carrying firearms into the National Park and firing them was illegal, but we never worried about getting caught.  No one went there but the local kids.

 

The canyon has the sheer sandstone cliffs the Monument is famous for, but the lower end is black Precambrian granite, schist, and gneiss, black and weathered into narrow cracks and rounded humps.  A demented miner who gave the canyon its name worked a mine in that rock for many years, never finding any gold.  It should have been clear to him there was no gold; there is relatively little quartz in the rock, which is associated with gold, and Kodel’s canyon is far from the Colorado Mineral Belt, which runs from the Golden-Boulder area to Telluride. Most of the state’s minerals, including gold, are in that roughly 20 mile wide belt.  The big exception is Cripple Creek, a volcanic neck with a rich gold deposit.  Nevertheless, Kodel persisted for years, giving the local Fruita kids a place to risk their lives.

 

We would poke around in the mine, and its mystery.  We didn’t go too far in, as we never had a flashlight.  The big attraction was the climbing.  In some places the 1.4 billion years old rock is broken and crumbling, but for the most part is so smooth and rounded as to look polished.

 

We had no climbing shoes, just our tennies.  We had no helmets, ropes, or the hardware climbers use today.  We got good at mostly unaided climbing and went up places that trained climbers attempt only with ropes and hardware.  The only climbing aids we used were our .22 rifles, using them to help one another up especially steep pitches or as support.  The climbing was somewhere between bouldering and free soloing.  Not for those afraid of heights.

 

Years later, I climbed Long’s Peak with some friends.  Lee had a bad knee, and Danny was helping him as we went up the Cable Route, which traverses the top of The Diamond, that sheer northeast face of the mountain with a 2,000 foot high cliff.  Years ago the route had a fixed steel cable leading to the top that climbers could hold on to.   When we climbed, there was no cable and some of the rock was wet.  I just climbed up, doing what I learned in Kodel’s Canyon.

 

Danny would move up a pitch with the rope and belay Lee as he climbed on that bad knee.  Danny remarked to Lee as they crept up with their rope that I was single-handing.  It was steep, but I had good shoes and walked up, using one hand to occasionally support myself as I chose each foot placement.  Proper safe climbing technique calls for having three support points on the rock, moving one hand or foot at a time.  I was not ignoring the rule, I didn’t know it existed.

 

I only know of one serious injury in Kodel’s Canyon.  Jerry badly sprained an ankle on the approach to the canyon and had to have help getting back to the road.  He hobbled around for weeks, not getting much sympathy from us.  In retrospect, we were serious risk-takers, but we just went where we wanted to without thinking about the danger.  Those experiences in the hills and canyons south of Fruita made us all willing to accept challenges with little hesitation.  We also gained confidence in our ability to overcome difficulty.  We acquired life skills there.  In our safety-oriented society, kids may be missing some important lessons.  We need to test ourselves in the name of fun, and risk is part of the test.  For me, it was a fun thing to do.  I think I will go back, a bit more carefully this time.

Teek’s Hot Rod

hot rod 3It’s 1958, and fast cars are what we wanted.  Teek, my classmate with a funny nickname, found a Ford Model A roadster body and frame, but needed everything else and had little money.  He heard about a wrecked 1954 Oldsmobile with a good engine at the bottom of a canyon.

We’re in Fruita, Colorado, a town of 1800 people a long way from most anywhere.  South of town is the Colorado National Monument, an area of striking sandstone canyons traversed by roads bordering the canyon rims.

 

CanyonSomeone had decided to get rid of his car by rolling it over the canyon rim just outside the Park boundary.  Teek heard about it and decided to salvage the engine in the wreck at the bottom of a 200 foot high cliff.  That called for creativity and a lot of help.  He and some of his gearhead friends climbed into the canyon and disassembled the engine as much as they could.

They packed the smaller parts up out of the canyon with only Jerry smashing a finger falling while carrying a cylinder head.  Next, how to get that big cast iron engine block out of the canyon.  One Saturday, about ten of us assembled at the canyon rim.  Teek had taken the rubber tire off a wheelbarrow wheel and bolted the wheel to a long 4″x4″ piece of lumber.  We poked it over the sheer rim, weighted the back end with some big rocks, and ran a 1/4″ hemp rope through the pulley and into the canyon.

Thankfully, I was not involved in wrestling that big block from where the car had rolled to under the rim.   With the rope tied to the engine block, all we had to do was pull.  That block probably weighed 400 pounds.  We pulled.  And pulled. And complained. And pulled.  The little rope slowly unwound as we pulled, and we worried it would break.  It sure looked skinny.

It took most of an hour with hands and muscles complaining, but we got it to the rim and dragged it to level ground.  Teek had a motor for his roadster!

A few months later we showed up at his house out in the farm country north of town.  The car was running, sort of.  The motor was in, transmission and running gear installed, and it was loud.  No exhaust system, no gas pedal, just a wire coming back from the carburetor, and no starter.  The cooling system was two hoses jammed together and filled with irrigation water.  Oh, no seat, just a board laid on the frame rails for seating and to hold the battery.  No fenders, of course.

Teek and another guy sat on the board, he had one hand on the wheel, the other on the throttle wire.  Three of us laid on the trunk lid of the roadster body with our feet on the bumper of the pickup truck start vehicle behind us, and the pickup driver started us moving. The Olds engine fired up, and off we went.

I have had fast cars, motorcycles, and flown, but never had such a sensation of pure speed as roaring down those country roads lying on the back of a roadster trying to keep from being bounced off.  We would go until the engine got hot (no radiator, remember?), stop, pull the hoses apart and fill it with ditch water, push start again, and fly!

Never again have terror, joy, excitement, and sheer speed come together like that day.

High school graduation came and I moved on.  Teek finished his car and drove it for years, but I never got a ride in the finished model.  We talked about those days at our 50th reunion, and the memory is still fresh as the day we broke lots of  laws riding on Teek’s hot rod.

The pictures are not of Teek’s hot rod or of the canyon the motor came out of, but are good representations.

Elegy for Tedd Brumbaugh

 

 

tricycleMy old friend Tedd died a couple of years ago.  I wrote this after his death.

We went back a ways.  I used to visit him on my tricycle.  We would eat mulberries in the tree behind Jimmy’s house.  We would fight on the way home for lunch and make up on the way back to school.  His mother served both whole wheat and white bread at meals.  My family didn’t have bread on the table for meals.

In high school, Tedd wanted only to District Attorney for a day.  All the county elected jobs were available, and I didn’t care which job I got, I just wanted to go, so I ran for every job and lost.  The last office to be chosen was District Attorney.  I won, Tedd didn’t go.

I was best man at his wedding, traveling to McPherson, Kansas for the ceremony.  I painted Help Me on the soles of his shoes.  A woman gasped when they knelt at the altar.

Our class Valedictorian, Tedd, and I went to a Quaker youth camp in Palmer Lake between our junior and senior years.  That week changed our lives.  Liberals!  They didn’t exist in Fruita.  I went with Tedd and his family to my first classical music concert ever.  We went with our high school science teacher to Paradox Valley and the Hanging Flume.

Tedd’s last couple of years have been pretty rough.  He was having some health problems then was diagnosed with brain cancer.  The oncologists killed the cancer, but he began having mini-strokes.  The last few months, he hasn’t been around much.  Now, he’s gone.

Tedd was pretty much unresponsive for a time before he died.  After watching this more times than I like, I think the dying person is doing some work in our world before moving on.  I don’t know what the work is and they aren’t saying.  I am not entirely sure about this, but in watching, I can see that something is going on at some level.  It is more subtle than a dog’s twitches while dreaming, but it is there.

Life is a mystery, filled with joy, sorrow, and all those other times. I like to think about the mystery, but don’t ask me for any answers.  I do know I felt joy riding my tricycle over to Tedd’s house.