In Memorium

It's raining again in Homer and apparently in other places as well. The U.S. Open, way back in New York City thousands of miles east of here, has been totally rained out for the second day in a row. I'm mostly packed, the fridge is cleaned, most of my clothes and tools are boxed, labeled and in storage, and there's no tennis on TV. So I find myself with time on my hands. And that got me to thinking about writing. I just popped the cork on a bottle of Cabernet that unfortunately isn't going to last long enough to enjoy with my dinner of Sockeye Salmon Dijon with broccoli and tomato salad.

The motivation to write came as I was sitting around being mellow last night. Suddenly out of nowhere I flashed back to a camping trip I had made with my two best high school friends, Mike and Pete. Back in, oh, about 1959 or '60 possibly. I chose the title of this piece because both of these guys, once my closest friends, are dead now. Mike died long ago. I'm not exactly sure what took him, a heart attack I think, because we lost touch after I graduated from college and moved to Rochester. Pete died a year or two ago, of Alzheimer's. I hadn't seen or talked with him since the mid 60s and, if truth be told, I hadn't made any effort to keep up with my high school friends in the intervening years, preferring instead to keep my pleasant memories of them intact. When I finally decided to reconnect a couple of years ago, it was already too late. At that point Pete was in the final stages of Alzheimer's -- his wife told me that I could come to visit if I wanted to but that he wouldn't recognize me if I did. Under the circumstances, I chose not to visit. Pete died the following year -- I'm mad at myself for having waited too long. Now, all I have left of my buds are memories and these high school yearbook photos.  Together we hunted woodchucks, partridge, pheasants, squirrels, deer, whatever, it was all fair game to us. We played touch football, baseball in the summers, hockey on the icy streets of our neighborhood, and tons of pinochle during the long Buffalo winters. These guys were once very important to me. And now, through some strange trick of fate, I'm the last one left standing.

Mike in 1961

Pete in 1961

Our camping trip was a seminal experience for me. In some way I suppose it ultimately led me to Alaska because I became fascinated by the idea of wilderness and being in it, maybe someday even living in it, without the usual comforts and conveniences. This trip was my first exposure to that idea. All of us loved the country around Belfast. Pete's dad, Pete Senior, was quite a hunter. He and his buddies had been hunting deer in the Belfast area for many years, going back as far as the war years (WWII) in the 1940s. They termed themselves "outlaws"and used to go out at night with powerful spotlights and a scoped 30-06 rifle to jack-light deer--totally illegal and totally unsportsmanlike. Whatever. They killed deer for meat during the rationing days of WWII and never got over it. These guys were not rich and the venison helped stretch a tight food budget. Pete senior, who we called "Raggy" behind his back because of the way he dressed and the ever present chewed up cigar dangling from his mouth, was nevertheless our hero. He was a proven hunter with many legal bucks to his credit, and besides that he was an outlaw, a jack-lighter! When he offered to make the 80 mile trip down to Belfast to set us up in a "wilderness" camp on a local farmer's woodlot, we were totally jazzed.

Pete Sr - Belfast 1965

It was early summer when we cooked this adventure up and the country south of Buffalo along the New York-Pennsylvania border, the Southern Tier as we locals termed it, was my favorite place to be in the world. Aside from hunting there, my grandparents lived in the tiny village of Allentown about 30 miles south of Belfast. Grandma Swarthout, Sophie, was my favorite. I  always loved staying with her and my grandfather, Poppy, in their tiny house on White's Creek. She always had fresh baked ginger cookies or her special sugar cookies for us as soon as we got out of the car. In the summertime I slept on the sofa in the front room and as the nights deepened I would listen to the thrumming bass notes of the "power houses" in the surrounding hills until they lulled me to sleep. These single-cylinder, natural gas driven "powers" supplied motive force to the thousands of Oklahoma jacks that pumped oil out of the ground in the years when I was growing up. Maybe I'll tell the story of Allentown and its oil boom years in another post someday.

An "Oklahoma jack" (Allentown, NY, circa 1960)

Anyway, that's one reason camping in Belfast had such an appeal for me. It was near my dad's hometown and it was as "wild" as any place I had been. Both my father and grandfather had lived in the same county, Allegheny County, and had worked in the oil industry for years. This was truly my own homeland.

So here we were, camping on our own for the first time on this beautiful hillside, in country that was to us, wilderness. We had rifles for woodchuck hunting, a camp stove, a cooler with enough food to last a week, a boy scout tent, and our sleeping bags. We played pinocle in the evenings. And we hunted each morning. Our quarry was the woodchuck, a burrow dwelling rodent that favors sweet alfalfa over almost any other food. The fields were littered with their characteristic dens, each with a runway of fresh dirt at the entrance.  I can almost recall the fragrant aroma of those fields of fresh cut alfalfa lining the river in the valley below our camp. We hunted 'chucks with scoped high-velocity rifles. I had a .222 Winchester I had bought with my savings from a whole summer of greenhouse work that paid 50 cents an hour, Pete had a .22 Hornet, Mike a .243 Winchester.  We kidded ourselves into thinking that the local farmers would thank us for tying to kill the critters that were robbing the alfalfa they were growing for their dairy cows. Sure, who doesn't just love hearing the report of a high-powered rifle coming from the alfalfa field behind the barn at 6 am?

We thought we were pretty cool, hunting in the mornings, playing cards and sleeping in a tent at night, walking the dirt roads in the lazy afternoons. We heard strange sounds coming from the woods that we city kids had never heard before. There was one in particular that sounded exactly like a tractor or old car with a bad muffler trying to start its engine. It would go chug-a-chug-a-chug but never catch, and then start all over again. It had us completely baffled. Years later I learned that those mysterious engine sounds had been made by male ruffed grouse beating its wings, drumming, on a hollow log during mating season.

The week passed quickly. Pete's dad had dropped us off on a Sunday and came back on the following Saturday to pick us up. After that and for many years afterward I was an avid backpacker and hunter. I only stopped hunting when I realized that what I enjoyed most about it was simply being out in the woods. Backpacking too has lost its allure. Carrying a 30 or 40 pound pack on these old shoulders for 10 or 12 miles over broken terrain just doesn't get it anymore. As I think about my old friends I wonder about my own mortality. Pete Sr and his son both died of Alzheimer's but it doesn't seem to run in our family. Heart disease. That will be it I reckon. But when will it happen? Nut is fond of telling me how we can't know the future. It's probably a good thing.

It's Friday morning as I finish this and the bad weather of earlier in the week has been replaced with a beautiful sunny day. I'll hit the courts later for a last outing with my tennis buddies and then tomorrow I'll take my flat screen TV over to Kirk's for him to use while I'm away. Everything else, almost everything else, is packed and ready to go. I leave Alaska in two days.

Odds and ends

Wednesday, August 31, 2011
 

Rainy day on Diamond Ridge - fall is practically here already

 It was a dreary day today. It was okay with me because I didn't mind being kept indoors on such a foul day. The U.S. Open is on TV every day now (and for the next 2 weeks) and I've been watching it more than I want. Then in the afternoon I watched the Boston Red Sox destroy the Yankees in an exciting 9-5 victory. I hardly ever watch baseball but a Bosox/Yankee matchup is too big a temptation to resist. This time the Sox won but it hasn't always gone their way. When I lived in Boston in the 70s the Yankees were dominant and the Red Sox hadn't won a World Series since about 1916. Things are different now and the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry is between two teams that are more or less equals in abilities (and payrolls). My brother and some of my old friends still living in New York State like the Yankees -- but they've never lived in Beantown as I have, or caught Red Sox fever, as I have. Consequently they don't know any better and love the Yankees -- they've no other teams to root for, with the possible exception of the Mets. To this observer, who left Buffalo and New York State many years ago, any Bosox victory over the goddamn NY Yankees is sweet, very sweet.

Members of the Homer Tennis Association and I played quite a bit of tennis last weekend. Several kids from the Kodiak High School Tennis Team came over on the Tustamena ferry Saturday morning for an impromptu tournament. We had fun and just about knocked ourselves out up at the courts; we played for about 6 hours Saturday and another 5 on Sunday.

Saturday morning at 7am - Homer Spit

The "Trusty Tusty" arriving Homer Harbor

The tournament crew

We ended the weekend with a pizza fling at Starvin' Marvin's on the Spit. Sunday was a beautiful day -- below is a view of the mudflats and mountains from Marvin's window. By the time I crawled into bed that night I was bone tired.

And of course, I studied Thai. It's going slowly but I am beginning to gain familiarity with the Thai alphabet. I like the shapes of the Thai characters so as I watch tennis I draw chaw chaang and tau poo tau and raw rhua repeatedly in hopes that by writing them over and over again their names and shapes will somehow sink into my brain. I'm bound and determined to learn those confusing W shaped characters I put in my previous post: ผ, ฝ, พ, ฟ.

Here's a note sheet I taped up on my wall above the computer. I'm trying to create a memory trick that will help me to recognize these very similar characters when I come across them.

Then it's just a matter of knowing the 25 consonants that come before the "W characters" and the dozen or so that follow. LOL

I signed up for a few hours of instruction with a Thai woman in Bangkok who conducts classes via Skype. I've had two meetings with Narissa so far and have benefited from both. She stresses pronunciation and occasionally speaks in Thai so I can get a feel for conversations. I'm not sure yet if I'll continue with the Skype tutorials after I get to Bangkok but at that point many other options will be available.



Tuesday, September 6, 2011

I had wanted to publish this entry on the same day I started it but packing and tennis on TV have distracted me. At this point it seems my little method has worked and I can pretty much recognize the W characters on sight. I do have to recite a little ditty in my head though. It goes like this: two pairs of paw-faw sounds, the first two have their "heads" inside (innies). One of the strangest things about Thai is that while there are 44 consonants many of them have the same sound. For example, there are four characters that have a "kaw" sound (like our K), three with a "chaw" sound (like our C), six(!) with a taw sound (like our T). Why that should be is unknown to me but it makes things just a bit more interesting.

As I work on my Thai lessons I'm reading a fascinating book about language, The Language Instinct, by Steven Pinker. At some level it's discouraging to read about language acquisition in this book because humans acquire language skills from their parents when they're babies. Pinker and others believe that inherent in humans is an instinct, we are in fact hard-wired, for language and grammar but that it's the parents that babies model their speech after. The book is full of interesting tidbits about language that relate to what I'm trying to do here. A full review is more than I want to include in here but you can follow this link to Amazon.com for more.

Learning a new language is fraught with problems, especially if one's brain has started to atrophy ;-) Although I've been trying to illustrate some of the strange and tricky  features of the Thai language, all languages are difficult to learn if you're not a native speaker, English included. Take English spelling for example. Pinker includes this nifty little rhyme in his book:

Beware of heard, a dreadful word
That looks like beard and sounds like bird,
And dead: it's said like bed, not bead --
For goodness' sake don't call it "deed"!
Watch out for meat and great and threat
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt).

He goes on the tell us about George Bernard Shaw's campaign to "reform the English alphabet, a system so illogical, Shaw said, that it could spell fish as "ghoti" -- gh as in tough, o as in women, ti as in nation." Indeed, English is every bit as crazy as Thai when you look into the details.

The Language Instinct is a very entertaining and informative read that's sprinkled with humor and fascinating insights. Highly recommended.

Okay, enough said. I need to run into town for a few more boxes and get the rest of my packing done.  After the kitchen is packed I'll be eating out with the exception of my morning tea and a few cans of soup for lunches. I'll be in Thailand in just over two weeks. But before that I'll be visiting Harper, aka Harpzilla, my grandson in Eugene, where it's still summer!

It's all good.

สวัสดีครับ (sa~wat-dii krap) (hello, goodbye)
เดวิด (David)

20 Days Left & Learning Thai

It's less than 3 weeks to d-day. There's still much to do, sorting and packing, planning, shutting things off, my satellite TV and ACS Internet, auto insurance, etc.  I'll have the last laugh on ACS, my goddamned ISP, when I tell them to shut it off for good and stop charging me the $90 a month for its precious DSL line. It used to cost me $30 a month even when I wasn't here! Not any more. Next time I sign up for Internet in Homer I'll do it though a wireless provider.

It's coming down hard again after a small break in what's turned out to be a week-long inundation. Somehow the rain motivated me to wash my dishes. They've been piling up for about a week now. It will be nice to get back to having running water again. Not having it encourages my lazy side. Let them go, I tell myself. You're the only one here. But then before I go to sleep I'll think, now why didn't I wash those dishes?
Okay, dishes done.
Now for those clothes in the closet. Which of those shirts have I worn lately? What should I take to Thailand, to Oregon? I've still got some tools to sell or give away - or maybe I'll just stick them in storage But it all has to get done. And I'm in the middle of the U.S. hard-court tennis season. I pre-record the matches on my DVR and then watch them without commercials later on. I watch almost all of them, dammit, because I can't stand to miss a good match. I'm also playing tennis or working on my game almost every day now that the season is winding down and I'm getting ready to leave. I'm getting short.

What I'm doing tonight is memorizing the Thai alphabet. The Thais have a certain way they teach and recite their alphabet. At first, I thought their method was a bit strange. Then later somewhere on the Internet I read about someone who compared it to the way Americans say alphabetic letters when we want to be sure the listener has no doubt about which letter we're referring to. We merely add a common word after the letter's name to help clinch its identity. That's just what they're doing in their method. Many Thai characters sound the same and some even look the same so this "pairing" of the two sounds is a memory aid that really helps a person to learn the 44 Thai consonants. Thus a Thai child will begin to learn the alphabet by reciting it like so:
gaw gai      (gaw is the sound of the character and gai means chicken)
kaw kai      (kaw is the sound, kai=egg)
kaw kwaai (kwaii=water buffalo)
all the way down to,
haw nok hook (nok hook=owl).
In similar fashion here in the states we might say during a telephone conversation, Alpha, Tango, Zulu, to unequivocally indicate the three characters ATZ -- it's exactly the same idea. Once I got that straight, it no longer seemed such a strange system. You just have to memorize those 44 sounds and names-of-words in the correct order. Here's a link to a YouTube video I've watched over and over. The Thai Alphabet.

The other task connected to this is learning to associate each sound and its name with the beautiful but totally unfamiliar representation of that consonant in Thai script. Some of the characters are simple, gaw gai for example. It looks a bit like a chicken: ก and usually sounds like a "g" while kaw kwaai is this one: ค. It usually sounds like our "k". You also have some like this: taw poo-tao (elder person). Its symbol is ฒ (it sounds like "t"). A complex but beautiful character I think. Most of the curves and shapes of the Thai characters are quite pleasing. Good thing. Because I'll be looking at them and drawing them a lot in weeks to come.
One of my favorites is law ling (monkey): ล. Maybe it's because when Nut and I are kidding around I call her Ling (ลิง) which means monkey). But no, I like law ling on its own too. By the way, the little "hat" over the law ling character defines the vowel sound "ee" while ngaw gnoo (snake) ง adds the ng sound. Note however that the "ng" sound, which in English only appears at the end of words like sing and hang, can appear in the beginning of a Thai word. Try saying gnoo a couple of times, in one syllable. But I digress....

 For your continued enjoyment, I offer for consideration two characters that look alike but are not. We've seen one already.
It's kaw kwaai ค. The other is daw dek ด. (child). 

Notice in daw dek that the "head" points inside, "under it's mother's arms", so to speak, while in kaw kwaii the "head" points out. Simple, huh? And then there are these little gems: paw peung (bee) ผ, paw paan (tray) พ, faw faa (lid) ฝ , and faw fan (tooth) ฟ. You did note where their "heads" were pointing, right?

Let me make those guys a bit larger so you can see them better: ผ, พ, ฝ, ฟ. 
Then let's just throw in this last one, law ju-laa (kite) ฬ, which has an "l" sound,
to create a recipe for total confusion. 

In case I forgot to tell you: there are no spaces between words in a Thai sentence. Or in a Thai paragraph. Here's a sample sentence followed by its translation:
นพรัตน์ขอบคุณสำหรับจดหมายและรูปถ่าย รูปถ่ายน่ารักจังเลย!ค่ะ 
I thank you for the letter and photograph. The photo is so cute!

I think now you can see where I'm at (taking baby steps) and what I'm doing (struggling) during my last days up here. But I'm happily whittling away at it.

I'll sign off with my name in Thai. Incidentally, my name David cannot be spelled or correctly pronounced in Thai because no Thai word can end with a "d" sound. Here's the best approximation Nut can come up with.
 เดวิด

Until next time....

Learning Thai

I'm writing this instead of studying Thai but I want to get back to  that soon because I'm enjoying it more than I thought I would. It's a challenge to apply myself to a new field of study. It's been a long time since I've tried to learn anything new. I once quite liked working with computers and software but the thrill in that has long gone. Now, I'm like almost everyone else out there -- I just want to use my computer as a tool. Now that I've said it, I guess I'll be held to task if for some reason I cannot learn this difficult language. I'm going to give it an honest try though. Luckily there are a ton of language resources in the Internet to help me. Many of those resources include sound files to help with the pronunciation. Several knowledgeable people I've asked suggested that the best way to learn the language is to learn to read it first. Wow, that's huge!

I've spent about 8 months in Thailand since I first went there in February of last year, enough time to suggest that I would really benefit from learning to speak at least a bit of Thai. Their  spoken language is especially baffling to the novice because unlike European languages it uses tones to determine the meaning of words. The example I always use to demonstrate this is the short, simple word which we can spell phonetically as maa. Said straight out with a flat tone of voice it means "come" (to reach, arrive). However if you say it with a rising tone, which sounds like you're asking a question, it means dog. Said with a falling tone it means horse. These rising and falling tones are what give the Thai language it's sing-song effect. There are countless words like this one. Another example, and one that could get you in trouble, is taken from a blog entry written by an American I've been emailing with lately, Stephen Cleary, who teaches Thai in my neighborhood in Bangkok. He uses the example of a farang who asks a Bangkok cabbie to take him to a shop where he can buy a ticket for some event or for transport. The Thai word for "ticket" is tua and is pronounced with a rising tone. If however, he were to incorrectly use a falling tone, then tua means body. The cabbie might end up taking you to a shop where you can buy "body", perhaps to a certain kind of massage parlor.

To make matters worse Thai characters are like nothing I've ever seen before and the Thai alphabet contains 44 consonants and 11 vowels. Returning to my example above, the word maa is written like this in Thai script:  มา, while horse is written ม้า. The little "hook" over the "m" is important but at my level, I haven't reached the place in my studies where I've yet seen it in use. The first character in both words sounds like our letter "m" while the second is a vowel that essentially adds a long "aa" to the base sound. Incidentally, the Thai character for "n" is น. And there are 42 others to become familiar with (moan).

Stephen suggested I start by learning to read what is essentially a Thai nursery rhyme. After all, I'm really much like a baby when it comes to this new language. Might as well start off like one. The story is called Manee and Friends and is more or less a Thai version of the Dick and Jane stories I read as a small child in first grade, that is, a story composed of simple short sentences made up of very easy, common words. You can see the first chapter if you follow this link: Manee Chapter One or just look at a screen shot of a small portion of Lesson 3 below:

I also bought a Talking Thai-English dictionary that runs on a computer, one that pronounces Thai words correctly. I already own the paperback version of this dictionary but this one with it's well integrated sound files is much more useful. Here's a screen shot of the entry for "come". I also pulled up the Font Samples entry for this word so you can get an idea of the various ways the word might appear in handwriting, newspapers or signs. The dictionary is available as a 275 Mb download for about $30 from Paiboon Publishing and Word-in-the-Hand! Its authors are the well known Benjawan Poomsan Becker as well as Chris Pirazzi,and the website is here: Word in the Hand. Of course, when I'm in Bangkok Nut will be a huge help as I slowly progress in my studies.

So far in about 12 hours at my desk I've only covered four lessons in the Manee book. But in addition to my reading I've made flash cards, alphabet cards, looked up many words in the Talking Dictionary, done a ton of reading about the Thai language online, and made tentative arrangements to study with Stephen when I get to Bangkok next month. To get only the briefest glimpse of what's available online in the area of learning Thai, check out this very helpful site: Women Learning Thai...

Leaving aside my Thai studies for a while, today I gave away my Lazyboy recliner. I have spent countless hours in this chair, both reading and napping, in the years I've owned it. I bought it at a yard sale back in the mid 90s and the fact that I'm giving it to a friend has some significance. I'm really not sure at this point if I'll come back to Alaska next summer. No, I'm not ready to move to Thailand but I do want to spend the spring in Europe and part of the summer with friends and relatives in the "lower 48".  If I end up buying that nice van I want, there won't be room for most of this "stuff" I've been hanging onto for all these years. I've been, as I said before, giving away, selling, and otherwise compressing my belongings all summer. Having lived quite well out of two suitcases for 9 months last year I had to ask myself why I find it so necessary to keep all this stuff in my life. So, the chair must go. And the lamps, the extra clothing and all those books I've been moving around for years. I've read them once and will not read them again so why the hell keep them? So it goes. It will be weird staying here on that last day before my flight. This cabin must be totally empty by September 10th. I leave Alaska on the 11th.

Summer is rapidly winding down up here on Diamond Ridge although it's a perfect morning right now. It looks as though I'll get down to the courts to hit balls with my machine later today. Last Saturday, however, was brutal with windy, rainy, cold weather. Many of my friends went to an outdoor concert in Ninilchik that weekend but I was happy to stay in my cabin watching the cold rain slash the trees in the meadow. A few entries back I included a shot of the sky at midnight. Here is a shot of the same skyline a month later and an hour and a half earlier in the evening. Clearly, the long days of summer are inexorably morphing into the short days of winter.

Sunset Aug 9, 2011 - 10:30 pm

I hope all of you are doing well. And thanks for reading.

Musings on a dreary day

I've been watching the rain falling steadily outside this little cabin all day. It's been a good day to stay indoors. At 55 degrees it's not been particularly cold but I've been wearing a wool sweater to keep the chill at bay. Now, after baking a squash and cooking some panang curry with rockfish for dinner, the cabin has reached a more comfortable temperature and I'm enjoying a cold beer. I've just finished watching the News Hour on PBS and am dismayed about how those cut-throat Republicans in Congress have managed to once again force Obama to back down and cave on raising taxes for the rich to help offset the nation's huge deficit. Hell, it ain't even a tax hike I'm after -- just a return to the days before that devil Bush's tax cuts for the wealthy. Gee, the Repubs want fiscal responsibility? They have such short memories. They can't seem to remember it was their man who's responsible for our economic calamities.

And what happened to the strong person I helped elect to the presidency? The one that brought tears to my eyes when he was inaugurated, the first black man ever to occupy the Oval Office? Ah, Washington tonight is an ugly place indeed. Full of shameless opportunists where anything can be had for enough money. Same as it ever was, same as it ever was.

There's no point in continuing that rant. It's apparently reasoning that few in power would agree with. Fox News will set everything straight for us I'm sure. Turn on the TV and watch those infomercials masquerading as news, yep, that's right.

I've spent a good portion of this rainy day studying the Thai language online. I know that I must learn to speak at least a little bit of Thai if I want to enjoy and enhance my time in Thailand. Nut has been running interference for me and while that's certainly handy, it has not helped me learn very much. There are tons of learning resources on the Internet and I've been reading reviews of various language schools in Bangkok trying to find one that might be a good fit. I came across this one that sounds both novel and interesting. It's called the AUA Language Center. They use a method they say is modeled after the way a baby acquires language. It's a total immersion course but one without tests or homework or vocabulary assignments. Students sit in a classroom with two teachers who speak Thai with plenty of pantomime to help flesh out the dialog you are watching and listening to. The teachers are for all practical purposes actors who seem to enjoy what they're doing. The idea is that eventually you will "acquire" the language and become a fluent native speaker just a a baby does. They've been in business for quite a while so their system must work, at least for some people. The cool thing is, you can watch a ton of AUA's videos on You Tube and assess whether it might be a good approach or not. I figure I may as well begin the task I've set out for myself -- to learn conversational Thai by the time I leave there next spring. Maybe this is a way to start.

The other thing I've been doing today is reading a fascinating blog I stumbled upon recently. It's written by a guy who calls himself Village Farang. He's an American expat married to a Thai woman who's lived in Thailand for 35 years. As the blog begins they're in the process of  building a nice home near a small town, his wife's home town in northern Thailand near Chiangrai, after having lived in Bangkok for 30 years. Not all of what he has to say pertains to my life but quite a bit of it does. In one entry he asks, "why do I write this blog?" I've asked myself the same question.

It is somewhat narcissistic endeavor surely -- and perhaps merely mental masturbation. But I reckon most importantly writing is one of the things I do that I really like doing. I'm a lazy person at heart but I do write with some degree of dedication. I have no hope of ever becoming a real writer but I enjoy myself when I am writing. In the back of my mind is the hope that someday my kids will read this blog because I'm pretty sure none of them are reading it regularly now. Village Farang got me thinking about this when he expressed a similar sentiment about his family members. Anyway, his musings are often insightful and I think quite well written. His success in Thailand has a lot to do with his long residency there, a solid long-term relationship with a wonderful Thai woman, and I'm sure no small amount of will power. I'm not sure I have enough of that in me should I ever decide to try my own hand at living in the Land of Smiles but he's managed to pull it off quite well. His blog is called My Thai Village Life. It's pretty cool.

Will this rain ever stop? I wonder as I check the weather report on the Internet. (Oops, by the looks of things not right away. My regular tennis day is tomorrow -- that probably isn't going to happen.) It's dark now mostly because of the heavy clouds just overhead yet only a few weeks ago the light in the sky at midnight was bright enough to allow me to walk down the path to my cabin without a flashlight. I'm glad I'll be missing the long darkness that will engulf Alaska before long.

Summer in Homer

June 30, 2011 - just past Summer Solstice

I've been back in Homer since May 22 and I'm still waiting for summer. Could it be possible that this summer will be a repeat of last, when the good weather waited until after I was gone to show up?  Damn, I certainly hope not.

Solstice evening - Diamond Ridge -  June 21, 2011

 The photo above was taken on Summer Solstice evening. Notice the swirling mist, the wet saturated greens of the plants and trees. It's been wet and chilly for much of the 5  or so weeks since my return. This scene is typical of what's been going on up here on Diamond Ridge so far this summer.

I've included a few more shots of the plants and animals that inhabit the meadow where my little cabin sits. It's been a terrible spring for many people. When I talk with my sister Sandy, she complains about the cold weather in Buffalo. The people I spoke with in Utah and Nevada during the motorcycle tour complained about the slow start of their warm weather, and I complain about the Homer weather. By comparison, however, people in Missouri and other parts of the tornado belt had the worst spring imaginable -- the wind ripped up houses in a mile-wide swath of devastation in Joplin and a few more towns. And in Japan, the tsunami and Fukushima nuclear disasters continue to haunt the entire country. I guess we should all be thankful for what we've got.

Twin moose calves out for a walk in my meadow

Pushki ready to burst forth

Lupine on Solstice evening

Still, it's been a tough re-entry for me. Things have happened that I did not foresee, some good, some bad. I sold the VStrom the other day with Tuli's help. I got what I paid for it not counting the money spent on the new tires. With its sale I've put an end to my motorcycle touring of the good ol' USA at least for now. I'll be shopping for a new bike in Thailand as soon as I get back there this fall.

On the bad side of the ledger: I had some dental implants that failed. As if that weren't depressing enough on its own, the cost to replace them would be a staggering $13,000! Sheesh. My  dentist looked at me with a straight face when he told me what it would cost. I was like, are you serious? Who has 13 large laying around gathering dust? And the teeth that I lost weren't out of sight somewhere in the back of my mouth. Oh no, they were my front teeth! I look okay until I smile. All the more reason not to I reckon. I'll get new implants in Thailand where they're more affordable. Then I learned that this cabin will not be available next summer. So I've got to pack my things, compressing as I go by selling, tossing and/or gifting much of the stuff I've been clinging to for years. There is a saying about the stuff we accumulate: if you haven't used it in two years, get rid of it. You don't need it. Having lived out of two suitcases for 9 months I'm in complete agreement with that statement. At any rate, by the time I leave Alaska in September I'll be moved out of this beautiful cabin and its sweet little meadow I've so thoroughly enjoyed for three seasons. I truly believe that every cloud has a silver lining. Living on Diamond Ridge has many good points but it's too far from town and, for me at least, because of its 1200 foot altitude not a good place to bike from. When I eventually come back I'll be living in town, at sea level, for sure.

I talk with Nut almost every day on Skype and, without her really knowing it, she cheers me up immensely. And I'm playing tennis and enjoying it. My serve, while still not a boomer that wins free points, has improved considerably by becoming more consistent. I was feeling so down a while ago that I actually considered giving up tennis which has been my most consuming passion for the past 15 years. I'm glad to be past that stage.

A  camper van I photographed in 1995

I had dinner with old friends Ed and Sarah the other night. They've recently become snowbirds too and have bought a small home near Tucson where they are spending their winters. And they bought one other thing -- a Roadtrek RV! When I saw that vehicle I knew I just had to have one. At left  is a photo of a similar van I noticed parked in the library parking lot back in the mid 90s - I lusted over that one then. New these rigs cost almost $100K but many can be had used for $10-30K or even less.

Some of you in Homer might remember the van KJ and I drove to Alaska. It was a 1969 Ford Econoline van with a little 302 cu in V-8 engine and I loved it. We practically gutted and then redesigned the interior to maximize storage space for our move to Alaska. It had a comfy full size bed and a tiny propane stove in a cabinet off to one side where I could brew coffee without ever leaving my bed. Clothing was in a storage cabinet just behind the pillows. Under the bed were a dozen or so milk crates carefully filled with our belongings -- stuff we were going to need to make a new life in the wilds of Alaska. It was an interesting year-long voyage that ended up in Homer at "The End of the Road" in the summer of 1983. Here it is 28 years later and I'm thinking again about traveling and living in a van. However, this van will be quite an improvement over the old Ford. The Roadtreks and their kin are fully self-contained and come equipped with heater, air-con, shower, microwave, generator, TV, fridge, the works. I'm quite looking forward to it.

Typical summer dinner - Salmon Dijon, grilled fennel, purple potatoes, Inversion IPA

July 28, 2011 - Summer is winding down

Pushkii (cow parsnip) blossom - July 11, 2011

As I complete this entry summer is marching along to its inevitable conclusion. The lupine and pushkii are almost finished in the cabin meadow and at least up here the fireweed is just about ready to burst forth in the last floral blast before the season turns. The good weather finally came and has brought some warm sunny days. When it's sunny up here on Diamond Ridge it's a very special place. Along with the weather my mood has improved greatly, especially considering the fact that my time to fly is approaching rapidly. I'm eagerly looking forward to being with Nut for the winter and I'm seriously thinking about returning to Europe next spring. I bought a one-way ticket to Bangkok and my research shows that a one-way ticket to Paris will cost only about $500 on one of several middle-east airlines. I'm guessing a week or so in Paris and then a few weeks bicycling in the Netherlands. Why the Netherlands? Because it's flat! There are no hills except for the small bridges over the canals -- my kind of biking. And it's a friendly country where almost everyone speaks English. After Europe I'll visit my family in New York and finally return to Eugene to begin looking for that van. By returning to Eugene from the east I'll have made a complete circuit around the world.

Midnight sky - July 13, 2011

Once I'm back in the states the decision about whether to return to Alaska next summer will take some thought. I've no doubt I'll be experiencing feelings both pro and con about that. I have so many friends here and so much history. I rented a small storage area downtown and what I can't sell or give away will remain there until such time as I return. I know I bitched about the chilly weather we had in June but the summers in Alaska are fantastic in their way too. Part of my problem earlier this summer was not knowing what's in my future. I'm definitely in a transitional period in my life and it's been a little uncomfortable at times. I have one foot in Thailand and one in America. But is that foot in Alaska or somewhere in the "lower 48"? Good question.

Max and me at the Homer High School tennis courts (July 27, 2011)

I received an invitation to the Sloan High School Class of 1961 reunion the other day. It will take place in Buffalo on September 24th, which is coincidentally my 68th birthday. I can't make it because I'll be in Bangkok with Nut then. I think that's pretty far out, especially considering that most of my classmates are living in the same neighborhood 50 years later. If I try to remember that far back, to the days when I was the dorky looking kid in my high school yearbook, I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined how my life would turn out.

Yearbook photo (1961)

I mean, take a look at that hair. What a dork!

I haven't accomplished anything big or lasting but there's still time, right? LOL  I'm healthy, have enough income to live modestly, and I'm continuing to enjoy my addiction to tennis. There is more travel in my future, more adventure, more motorcycling, more love and more tennis. Everything's working out as well as can be expected, better actually. Again I find myself counting my blessings because I am indeed a lucky man. Blah, blah, blah.

Today is an absolutely beautiful day. There's tennis this afternoon and afterward at my office, a meeting of the 501 Club. All things considered, what promises to be a nice day lies ahead.

The cabin on July 29, 2011

Motorcycling - Redding to Eugene

Eugene, Oregon

Some thoughts: I'm only a few days away from  returning to Homer, my home for the past 28 years. Yet, exactly where my actual home is these days is a continuing mystery. I have another life of sorts in Thailand. I have 28 years and many friends in Homer, in Alaska. But is it time to leave the Great Land in favor of someplace warmer, sunnier, easier to get to and out of? All my relatives are in the lower 48, and I'm finished with winters. Logic says I must leave Alaska. But where would I go?  Bothersome questions, and questions without answers, at least for the present.

The narrative resumes: The last leg of the motorcycle tour brings me back to my starting place, my son Tuli's home in Eugene. As always, I try whenever possible to avoid using the Interstate highways. They're boring and at the same time, dangerous for motorcycles. So I opted to take the scenic route back to Eugene, north and west on California Rte 299 to the coast, north along the Pacific shore on U.S. Rte 101, then a quick run east on Oregon Rte 126 from Florence to Eugene. Much longer but much more scenic. I had purchased a new front tire in Redding and consequently wasn't as  concerned about hitting wet roads as I had been -- I was feeling confident and up for the challenge. In addition, I was coming off of three days rest so my body was saying "no problem", it will be a great last ride before battening the bike down for the summer.

True to its promise California 299 was a hoot, offering great curves, smooth pavement and pretty views. The road runs alongside the Trinity River after crossing the height of land -- it's awesome highway and gorgeous scenery all the way to the coast.

Trinity River -- CA Route 299

The coast. The north Pacific coast. Damn it! It sure got chilly all of a sudden. I felt the change in temperature as soon as I sighted the ocean. And I had about 200 miles of coast road to cover before turning east. I stopped in Trinidad for coffee and clam chowder and to get warm. While I was in there I changed into my long johns, long-sleeved wind shirt, again added the fleece liner to my Kilimanjaro jacket and otherwise prepared myself for the cold. When I resumed my travels I felt fairly comfortable and I took my time running along the Redwoods Highway. I'd visited here a few years ago when I had made this very same trip in a rental car. However, the redwoods are always a special treat. How could we have cut most of them down and made them into decks and lawn chairs? An incredibly stupid waste.

In the redwoods

Elk grazing in Prairie Redwoods Park

By the time I got to Gold Beach the wind was blowing fiercely. A headwind of course. How can it be, I asked myself, that I always get headwinds, and never a tail wind? I've traveled north, I've traveled south, and east, and west, and never have I had a sustained tail wind. The wind died down after a while but I had lost enough heat while fighting it off that a warming stop, preferably over a hot cup of coffee, was what I wanted most now. I passed through town after town but I found no coffee shop, restaurant, or even a greasy spoon that was open, or so it seemed. I finally did spot a drive thru espresso shop in Bandon that was doing a brisk business. I pulled over and ordered a big latte. Clutching the cup with both hands I took my coffee over alongside a nearby supermarket and jumped up on the bags of mulch that were stacked in its lee, there to soak up some precious warmth from the sun's last rays.

Oregon coast - U.S. 101 - 208 miles traveled, 195 to Florence

Florence is but a hop skip and a jump from Bandon and before long I had covered the 70 or so miles on Rte 126 and was back in Eugene. I parked the bike, unloaded my stuff and sat down to some supper with Tuli, Shannon and Harper. Full circle. Walking upright, and safely back. A small miracle I suppose.

Trip stats: Tuesday, May 11th (my brother's birthday) 469 miles -- 8:46 ride time -- 11:02 total time. This is the most mileage I've ever accrued in a single day on a bike. And the longest time in the saddle.

After I had been back a few days, I found myself wondering again what I should do about the bike. My original idea had been to keep it here in Eugene and ride in the fall and spring, on my way to and from Thailand. And while this trip has been quite an experience I do not relish the thought of driving three or four days just to get back to southern Utah. Throw in a week or three of bad weather, a few days of gale force winds, some ghastly American road food and expensive motels, and Thailand is looking more and more like the best place to own and ride a motorcycle. Add to that the fact that I really can't afford financially to travel like this (staying in American motels and eating restaurant food) and the question becomes, why did I buy a bike here in the states in the first place?

I reckon it had to do with my assumption that motorcycling here would be essentially the same as motorcycling in Thailand. I've never entertained the notion of owning a bike in Alaska. Why? The climate is too damn cold. And this trip, here in the "mellow" lower 48, was a cold, windy one. Carrying enough clothing to meet every situation you might encounter in the springtime means carrying a massive amount of gear. Contrast that with Thailand winters where weather is rarely a factor, the winds light or calm, accommodations inexpensive, the food delicious, and cheap to boot.

And too, the distances one needs to cover between the fun motorcycling roads are vast here in the states. Example: the trip from Needles to Tucson was a tough one, 352 miles, brutal miles on I-10, that were not very scenic. We had a 3-day interlude in Tucson before driving another 93 miles on I-10 until we got into good roads again on the way to Silver City. So was it 500 miles between Needles and the next "good road"? No, not quite. Actually, the last good road before Needles was in Death Valley, 196 miles back. We drove roughly 700 difficult miles to get from one good motorcycling road to the next. Sort of crazy, eh? Or maybe I'm just soft. Not cut out to be an American long distance biker. At any rate, after much soul searching, flip-flopping and gnashing of teeth, I've decided to sell my bike; the same bike I spent so much time researching, so much time looking for and so much time driving last month.

The VStrom is an awesome motorcycle and I hate having to sell it. While I wish I could own two bikes of this caliber, one here and one there, I simply can't afford to do that. A choice must be made. I've looked into importing a bike into Thailand but everyone says that process is fraught with difficulties. The DL650 would eat up those Thailand hills, even riding 2-up and carrying all of Nut's and my gear. If I can sell this machine for about what I paid, I will turn around and start looking for a similar motorcycle in Thailand.

All dressed up and no place to go

 

I'm not sure when I'll write again. It will be early spring in Homer when I get there. The pushkii will be just showing, the French Open will be playing on TV and my partners may or may not have work for me. I'll do a little salmon fishing, ride my bike, and play some tennis. Before long it'll be time to head overseas again, back to Thailand and back to Nut, my BTGF. I have tentative plans to visit Nepal next fall.  And then too, my buddy Joe is back in Fiji running the dive school at the Manta Ray Resort in the Yasawa Islands so a visit there could just possibly be in the cards. A return to Fiji would really be going full circle because that's where all this wanderlust began. Stay tuned if you wish....

Motorcycling from Ely, NV to Redding, CA

Eugene, Oregon

I've come full circle and I'm back in Eugene as I write this post. My long anticipated motorcycle trip is over and I'm glad to be back safe and sound after traveling more than 4600 miles over the past few weeks. The weather was a constant hassle and surprisingly, the sheer geographical size of the United States was too. I'll explain that a little more as I go. But first I need to tie up a few loose ends before closing this portion of my blog, the journal of my motorcycle trip through the American southwest.

I left Panguitch, Utah, on my way to Ely, Nevada on May 5th. I took Rte 89 north to Utah 20 and hung a left to Beaver. From there I rode Utah Rte 21 west all the way to the junction with Nevada Rte 487 which skirts Great Basin National Park. I detoured into the park and took a short ride on a park road up to about the 8,000 foot level before it terminated in a snow berm. Even though the air was decidedly cool at that altitude, it was a pleasant day with the heady fragrance of fir trees wafting in the light breeze.

Great Basin N.P.

Jeff Davis Peak - Great Basin N.P.

From the park it was only a short jaunt into Ely. Trip stats: 250 miles (including the side trip to Great Basin) -- 4 hours moving -- 83 mph max speed -- 6 hours total time.

In Ely I again stayed in a small motel. I first stopped at a few chain motel offices to inquire about rooms and prices and learned that the going rate in this town was around $70/night. The place I ended up staying, the Great Basin Inn, was cheaper at $50 and nicer too. The exterior wasn't much to look at but it had old fashioned doilys adorning the end tables and lace curtains backing the venetian window blinds. The huge bathroom was tiled with those white octagonal tiles that were popular back in the 40s and 50s. I liked it just fine.

There wasn't much going on in Ely except gambling. I pushed on to Winnemucca the next day. I was expecting to face a long trek through the dessicated and barren northern Nevada desert. If my past experiences were any guide, there would likely be headwinds as well. Instead, and to my great surprise, the desert was green and there were even flowers, great masses of flowers, in some areas. The first part of that trip was over U.S. 50, aptly nicknamed "The Nation's Loneliest Highway". It was definitely that. With its open spaces, huge magnificent vistas, few towns, and no traffic to speak of, it lived up to its namesake. Because it had been a warm morning I was able to get an early start --  before the wind could build to any velocity -- so the ride west was easy. Just outside of Austin I turned north on Nevada 305. Again I was pleased to see green fields and rafts of flowers here and there. I stopped for lunch at a stone house ruin, pictured below.

Lunch stop along NV Route 305

Lunch stop along NV Route 305

VStrom in the sagebrush -- NV Route 305

I stayed at the Town House Motel in Winnemucca. Another nice place, run by the owners, neat as a pin inside and conveniently located just off the main drag - about $60 for the night. Ride stats: 322 miles -- 5:18 ride time -- 6:56 total time.

I had always intended to end my tour with a visit to eastern Oregon. But the goddamn weather simply would not cooperate. As I've mentioned earlier, the forecasts for all of eastern Oregon had rain, cold temps, and even snow in them for the next few days. It was either wait it out in Winnemucca (no thanks) or call it quits and head back to California where the weather was decent and where I had friends to stay with.  My trip log follows:

May 7, 2011: Winnemucca, NV to Redding, CA: 395 miles -- 6:40 ride time -- 85 mph max speed -- 8:50 total time -- a long day but not too uncomfortable -- a  testimony to the riding characteristics of the VStrom.

The rides were unpleasant, and boring, heading west on I-80 (163 miles) and north on US 395. I-80 was head-windy by late morning and it was very windy and gusty on 395 until I reached Susanville. The roads from Susanville to Redding were awesome (retraced my route from Chester to Shingletown) although I was racing the rain as I fled out of the mountains. I had to stop to don my fleece liner and rain pants near Lassen when it got chilly at higher altitudes. I hit a bit of rain in Manton and was worried because my front tire was almost treadless now. I managed to escape the rain when I turned west on Oregon Rte 44 at Shingletown. Arrived Redding in good spirits, staying just ahead of the rain. The weather report indicates a break in Eugene's persistent nastiness on Tuesday. Hmmmm.... It took three days to get out of Eugene and from the looks of the forecast, it was going to take three days to get back.

I stayed again with my Homer expat friends Kay and Bruce. Kay and I played some tennis on two of those days and I did better than when I was here a few weeks ago. I reckon I won't have to give up tennis right away. I can still hit the ball and if I can manage to lose a few of the pounds I picked up during the past month of extreme non-aerobic activity, I might even do alright this summer ;-))

Bruce and Kay at their home in Redding

Soon it came time to pack up for my trip to Eugene -- the last leg of the "big tour". When I arrived in Redding I joked with Kay and Bruce that I was thinking of selling the bike. The trip had been fun, and exciting even, but overall I had to rate it as not as much fun as motorcycling in Thailand. As the days passed I found myself thinking more and more about that. We gossiped about Homer, I cooked some Thai food for an appreciative audience, Bruce took me for a ride in his Corvette, Kay and I played some tennis -- but in the back of my mind that thought had taken root and lodged itself firmly.

Motorcycling through southern Utah

Winnemucca, Nevada

I know I've said it before; that this or that particular highway is the most spectacular, the prettiest, (or the curviest, the most enjoyable on a bike), but Utah Route 12 takes the cake. Fantastic scenery everywhere you look, many nice curves, amazing vistas, stunning colors, massive geological displays -- it has it all. Someone was telling me it's one of the top 10 motorcycling roads in the country and now, after experiencing it for myself, I can totally agree with that assessment. I'm in Winnemucca, Nevada, and in position to run up into southeastern Oregon tomorrow, to stay at a hot springs a fellow Dull Men's Club member, name of Kevin, recommended but once again the Oregon weather has snubbed me. In the forecast: rain, rain, and then later, possibly some snow!

Snow! What a bummer. I'm reading, and hearing from random people I've run into over the past few days, about how awful this spring has been for so many people, for so many communities. All I can say is, I've been there and experienced the bad weather first hand. Motorcycling during a threat of snow is bad business, dangerous business.

I left Capitol Reef at about 9:15 on a nice, but cool, morning. I had camped in my tent that night and, although it wasn't a particularly cold night, I didn't sleep well. I can't figure out what's going on with me and tent camping but for now at least, it seems I simply cannot sleep in one. On this night, I had put the rain fly over the tent in a move to keep it warmer, put all my warmest clothing in it too, including the heavy fleece liner from my motorcycling jacket, in a bid to beat the chill.  You can see the tent site again (repost of that photo) in the photo above. Wunderground weather later informed me it never got down to lower than 50 degrees that night. Still, I didn't get much sleep.

Oh well, off I went, groggy and in need of a cuppa. Dressed for a cool ride I headed back into Torrey where I got that much needed chance to stop for coffee and get online with the free wi-fi in a little cafe at the junction of Utah Routes 12 and 24. The plan was to do a slow, casual tour along Utah Rte 12 visiting the Burr Trail and Bryce Canyon N.P. The trip along Rte 12 was possibly the best motorcycling I've ever experienced and the little side trip along the Burr Trail out of the little town of Boulder was special beyond that. Donna had told me not to miss it and I'm glad I took her advice.

View south from Utah Route 12 - chilly at 9000 ft above sea level

Along Utah Route 12

The Burr Trail is mostly within Capitol Reef National Park. It's a paved road that meanders through a fantastical, lovely red-rock canyon. It's early spring in these photos so the cottonwoods are just unfurling their leaves.

My VStrom on the Burr Trail

Burr Trail dry creek

 

Burr Trail cottonwoods

Burr Trail cottonwoods

After the Burr Trail and Capitol Reef N.P., Bryce Canyon was something of an anticlimax. Sure, it was pretty and offered some great long distance views but it's a popular park and the overlooks were crowded with tourists. Give me the peace and quiet of off-the-beaten-path places like the Burr Trail any day.

Bryce Canyon National Park

I arrived in Panguich (Paiute for "big fish") shortly after leaving Bryce and turned in to a little motel on Route 89 on the east side of town. By this time I was in need of a shower and a real bed. I opted to stay at the locally owned Purple Sage motel. It was a nice place, furnished more like a home than a standard motel and at $49/night, affordable too. Stats for the day: 230 miles -- 72.6 mph max speed -- 5:19 total time moving. I encountered blustery winds a couple of times but overall the biking was pretty nice, a welcome change from the norm for this trip. And the scenery? Fantastic!

It was gonna be another chill night so I made no effort to get up early. Had a cup or two of terrible dishwater-blend coffee and plain toast that cost me more that $4 in a local greasy spoon before heading west to Ely, Nevada, my next stop.

Motorcycling - from Bluff, Utah to Capitol Reef N.P.

Panguich, Utah

I made it here to Panguitch late yesterday afternoon after another great day (2 in a row) of motorcycling. Southern Utah has to be one of the prettiest places I've ever been. I'm going to skip over the trip from Show Low to Bluff because again, it was one of those I'd rather forget-- it was basically a slog through a cold day with a ton of wind buffeting the bike almost continuously. We got up early and found that the temperature was only 29 degrees. Ooops, I reckon there's no need to leave right away. We had coffee, looked at Google Maps and the weather north of Show Low trying to come up with a plan and a destination that would avoid the cold weather that continued to plague us. Finally we decided to head to Bluff or maybe even Torrey, near Capitol Reef National Park, if the day proved favorable. With that in mind we set off heading north through Navajo country on Arizona Rte 77.

By the time we got to Bluff it was late afternoon. It had been a hard day on the bike (252 miles in 5 hours in the saddle) but the evening here in Bluff was shaping up nicely with blue skies overhead and a temperature of about 70 degrees. I was all for stopping but Donna was feeling the draw of her home and husband in Sacramento and wanted to press on to Torrey another 2-3 hours away. I told her to go on ahead. I was finished for the day. I wanted nothing more than to get some chow and pack it in. We had talked about splitting up at some point so I could do some camping. And now that we had finally reached our elusive goal of southern Utah, I was really wanting to take my time. It was great traveling with Donna but our pace on the road is slightly different. She likes to rip along at speed whereas I like to dawdle. Part of the reason for that is my inexperience, part is that my bike isn't as well suited as her Bandit for racing along on these big western straightaways. Nothing but kudus go to Donna - she frequently reminds me "always do your own ride. Don't do anything that you are uncomfortable doing. I'll be waiting up ahead." I'm grateful for that and for her vast storehouse of knowledge about biking in the southwest. She made it an exciting and interesting trip through some of the nicest territory on the planet. I owe her many thanks.

Donna refers to me a "returning rider" because once upon a time I had a bike, a 4-cylinder Honda CB750. But I never drove it on roads like these and I didn't fully understand the mechanics of driving a motorcycle back in 1975. It was fast, sure, and I had a good time with it but touring like we're doing is fairly new to me. My travels in Thailand taught me a few basics and reminded me of the joy of being out on the open road on a bike but the reality of my situation is that I need to go slow while gaining mileage, and experience. I had a few close calls in Thailand -- curves in which I went in too hot and had to drift into the opposite lane halfway through. Luckily traffic was always light and our speeds low -- nothing bad happened. But here in this open country I'm cruising at speeds the old Phantom can't even get to let alone maintain.

So it was that the time came to say goodbye to my traveling companion for the past two weeks. Donna made for Torrey and I looked around for a place to camp. I ended up in a little RV campground right in town. I set up my tiny 3 lb backpacking tent, distributed my gear inside it and then walked to a nearby restaurant for dinner.

It was a fitful night. It got down to 39 degrees and I didn't sleep well. I was chilly despite the fact that I was wearing everything I had with me. I never had trouble sleeping in a tent before -- I guess I've gotten too soft, too used to a big bed with a warm girlfriend beside me. Plus, the dry air irritates my nose and gave me a headache, neither of which helped my sleep situation. Along about dawn I did catch a couple of winks because when I woke it was 8:30 and the air had warmed up some. I walked over to the Comb Ridge Coffeehouse for breakfast. Had a very good quad latte, very unusual in these parts, and a helping of blue corn pancakes. Afterward I packed up and headed off to Capitol Reef National Park. The roads Donna suggested were fabulous and the day a fine one, at last.

Scene along U.S 163 just west of Bluff

Donna had suggested taking a road called the Moki Dugway (Utah Rte 261) even though I had to go out of my way a bit to do it. I went and I'm glad I did. It starts with a switchback gravel road that climbs up onto a plateau. Fortunately, the switchback turns are paved. I would never have driven it were that not the case.

The Moki Dugway

The plateau above was nice road and good riding. And totally without traffic.

Utah Route 261

After Rte 261 I turned onto Arizona Rte 95, perhaps the most scenic highway I've ever driven on. I include in that comparison one my favorite roads from Alaska, the Seward Highway from Anchorage to Seward. Beautiful surely, but different. Here the colors are vivid and varied, the rock exposed and weathered, the vistas practically endless, the sky overhead a brilliant blue.

Along the highway - Utah Rte 95

I don't have a lot of pics of 95 - my jaw was hanging open and I just couldn't decide which scenes could best communicate my sense of wonder at what I was seeing. I'd run up over a rise in the highway and when the view ahead opened up I'd say to myself, wow, wow, this is what it's all about. I took a break at a coffee shop in Hanksville and then turned west onto Utah Rte 24 and Capitol Reef N.P. The wind on 95 had been very moderate, almost not noticeable, but now a strong headwind battered me once again. But the roadside scenes were sublime and the sun full out making the colors jump out at me. I just slowed down to 45-50 mph and took it easy. Before long I found I was entering the park. The road runs along the Fremont River. I stopped to take a couple of photos.

Fremont River - Capitol Reef National Park

Fremont River - Capitol Reef National Park

I arrived at the campground soon afterward and asked what the prediction was for the night's low. The campground host said they were calling for about 40 degrees. I decided to stay but this time I'd go ahead and use the rain fly. Not for rain, because it seldom rains here, but to add a few degrees of warmth. Last night I foolishly left it off thinking I'd be warm enough. Wrong! I drove into nearby Torrey for supper, bought a Caesar chicken wrap and a couple of beers. I took this photo on the way there. You can see the highway to the right side of the photo.

Utah Rte 24 - Capitol Reef N.P.

After supper, and after writing in my journal, chatting with my neighbors, and finishing my setup work for the night I hit the sack. As it turned out, it never got below about 50 degrees that night. How do I know? I was awake most of the night even though I was plenty warm. Go figure.

My tent in Capitol Reef N.P. just before sundown

The ride to Panguitch along Utah Rte 12 was, once again, utterly spectacular. The day started out chilly but it soon warmed up and the biking was excellent. I'm out of time this morning so I can't write about it now but I'll try to get to it tonight. I'm headed to Ely, Nevada today where I'll again spend the night in a motel. This trip is coming to an end. Next day I'll bolt through Nevada to Winnemucca and then turn north into eastern Oregon. In a few days I'll be back in Eugene