Older sister's warnings about aging all too true

My dear sister, Monette Johnson, alongside the Mississippi River in Coon Rapids, Minnesota, not far from where she lives. To my knowledge, she has never addressed the river regarding unpleasant changes it may encounter as it meanders through the eons. Not so with me, her way younger sister, as I grind along behind her through the decades. She has issued multiple dire warnings, and lo, they are coming to pass. 

The first time Monette alerted me about aging, she was perhaps in her fifties and I, my forties. She sent me a birthday card with the thoughtful message: If you think you're old now, wait five years.

Later her warnings had to do with cringing at the mirror and seeing "new wrinkles every day." She was closing in on 70. I was a mere 61, which you must believe, if you are younger, really does make a huge difference. 

Now, at almost 73, "new wrinkles" is my every-day mirror experience. And also divots, shadows, sags, rough spots, or food particles lodged between my crowded teeth.  And let's not talk about the neck.

Nora Ephron, a fabulous funny writer already did that in her 2006 book, I Feel Bad About My Neck and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman.

On second thought, let's do talk about it.

From a NYT July 2006 review, an excerpt from Ephron's book:

“Our faces are lies and our necks are the truth. You have to cut open a redwood tree to see how old it is, but you wouldn’t if it had a neck.”

This is true. I had a friend who was married to a plastic surgeon. He often  told her, his hand hiding his mouth because the object of his observation was near by, "There's one," he'd whisper. "A 35-year-old face, a 50-year-old neck."  

When my sister, way back in 2006, saw that Nora Ephron had a new book called "I Feel Bad About My Neck," it fed her angst about aging. But instead of rushing to read it, she wrote her reaction to the title, which revealed her own wicked sense of humor, as you shall see. (She has since read the book and recommends it, especially to women over 60 who need a laugh as they experience their own quibbles with Time.)

  Nora's Neck

      By Monette Johnson 

When I first read that Nora Ephron wrote a book called I Feel Bad about My Neck, I knew what she meant, but had to wonder how she picked her neck when there's so much else to feel bad about that's so much worse. 

I haven't yet read her book, so maybe she covers some of the other stuff too. But still. I would have thought a professional writer like Nora would  have picked something equally bad that at least could have led to a snappier title, something alliterative such as I Feel Bad about My Belly. Or better yet, I Feel Bad about My Bulging Belly or why not My Bulging Belly and My Behemoth Butt.

And I guess her whole point is what's happening as she ages, so bad bellies and butts aren't really pertinent since they happen to the young, too, although I swear my belly was as flat as the proverbial pancake until it started to get old and the older it gets, the badder it makes me feel. My butt is a whole other story.

Maybe Nora picked her neck because necks are usually naked whereas bellies and butts usually aren't, at least not for any woman over 16 or so if she's got an ounce of sense after sagging and bulging starts to set in. 

You can always attempt to camouflage bad necks with scarves, and bad butts and bellies with long, loose-fitting garments. No one is fooled by this, of course. But it makes women of a certain age feel as though spending an outrageous amount of cash on a stylish tunic and still more on a fashionable scarf is somehow worth the expense. 

Or maybe Nora focused on her neck because some of the other stuff hasn't happened to her yet. Maybe her belly is still flat, her butt nicely rounded, and her boobs firm and perky. Maybe she looks in the mirror, sees the skin sagging around the prominent neck tendons and thinks this is as bad as it's going to get. 

I've got news for Nora. It gets way worse.

On the other hand, Nora is rich. She must be after all those successful books and screenplays. Maybe she's had it all fixed. That must be it! 

Yes, she's had her belly and butt liposuctioned and her boobs lifted along with parts of her face. Or maybe she's a Jane Fonda follower and keeps it all properly in place working out 10 hours a day. 

If her neck truly is all she's got to feel bad about, she's a woman to be envied. I know women who feel bad about varicose veins, thick, ropy blue things that wind and coil around legs that are way more unattractive than scrawny necks. 

Some women even feel bad about brown spots on their hands; this is probably because they're referred to as liver spots. Calling them large freckles instead might have prevented at least a bit of angst.

Some women feel bad about thinning and/or graying hair. Of course, there's an easy fix here with wigs and hair dyes but again, no one is really fooled. 

 Others feel bad about disappearing libidos, especially now that studies have revealed hormone therapy could be deadly. 

Then there are women who feel bad about knees, hips, and shoulders that need replacement. Or hands and feet that no longer work with dexterity and without pain 

And some women feel bad just because they feel bad, dammit. So there you have it, Nora. Buck up, buy a spiffy new scarf and try not to think about what lies ahead.

Monette and me about 10 years ago. We knew that if we lifted our chins, our necks would look better. If not, then a little more wine would help.

Kapawi Ecolodge - Great experience, shaky start

Email subscribers - please click on the blog title for better visuals. Thanks. MK

View from the center of Kapawi Ecolodge in Ecuador's Amazon basin. 

Last year about this time our good friends Steve Lambros and Laurie Gerloff and PK and I booked a five-day four-night stay at the Kapawi Ecolodge in Ecuador's Amazon basin—along with making arrangements for other Ecuador adventures. Soon after, Laurie was felled by icy concrete steps, cracking a bone in her lower back, and I was diagnosed with freaking melanoma. 

We weren't going anywhere! Situations like ours are why God created travel insurance, and I was thankful to have purchased a policy just a few hours before the deadline. Whew.  

Laurie's back healed, and my evil little spot was surgically excised before it leaked deadly cells into my lymph system. By late November 2016, we were ready to roll. And roll we did, right into a remote lodge in Ecuador's Amazon basin, except "roll" isn't the right word. Limp? Skid? At least it wasn't "crash," which was an arrival possibility that occurred to us.

The Kapawi Ecolodge is somewhere in the green dot in southeastern Ecuador on the Pastaza River near the border with Peru. The light yellow represents the Amazon basin including parts of Columbia, Bolivia, Brazil, Peru, and Venezuela

Getting there involved a four-hour drive, a 45-minute flight in a bush plane, and a half hour ride in a motorized canoe. Early on, we wondered what we'd gotten ourselves into.

Our driver, dispatched by Kapawi, fetched us from our Airbnb in Quito, Ecuador's capital city, at 5:30 a.m. for a four-hour ride to a bush-plane hub in Shell, a small settlement named in the 1930s after the oil company. The drive took us through stunning territory called the Avenue of Volcanoes, including a rugged stretch along the Pastaza River, which we would soon come to know.

When we informed our Spanish-speaking driver that we needed a "bano" (restroom) he thought we were talking about the tourist area of Banos, which was along our route. Finally, when the toileting situation threatened to flood the back seat, we were able to communicate the urgent need. He jolted off the road over a significant curb, and we spilled out of the pick-up seeking private spots. Those who may stand while relieving themselves, found privacy. Those who must squat, no luck.

Our six-seater was scheduled to fly us from Shell to the remote Kapawi lodge around 1 p.m. We arrived in plenty of time, despite our roadside potty break, but the skies unleashed fire-hose torrents. We were stuck inside the tiny airport watching rain pelt our luggage, even though the driver threw a piece of cardboard over it.

We're thinking that weather is going to delay our flight, possibly until the next day. Maybe someone is also thinking, Do I

really want to fly in a tiny plane in bad weather to an ecolodge 100 miles from anywhere, a 10-day walk to the closest road, and land on a short muddy runway surrounded by rainforest full of snakes giant insects? Too late. We're going! But when? 

We waited four hours before a grinning airline employee announced that it was now safe to fly, and the plane would take off as soon as we could load. The rain had stopped, but white and grey puffs were thick in the sky. We'd be taking off into what looked like cottage cheese.

The magic began soon after liftoff. As the ground and evidence of civilization fell away, so did misgivings.We were enthralled by the unfolding landscape, especially the Pastaza River. The river starts with a waterfall in the Avenue of Volcanos, carves whitewater canyons beloved by adventurous tourists, then spreads to cut through the Amazon basin. Here its braided coils of ever-changing channels create natural art and navigational challenges.

Miles later, the channels have converged to form a mighty river that rises and falls several feet a day, and where the sands are always shifting. The Pastaza is a major tributary of the Maranon River ,which flows into the Amazon itself. We spent time on the Pastaza most days during our Kapawi stay.

Our fears about a muddy runway were well founded. However, the pilot didn't appear to be at all concerned, as frequent

heavy rain is a fact of life in, duh, the rainforest. Mud splattered the plane's windows and wings as we landed, and also as we took off five days later. A little fish-tailing was no big deal. 

Thus began five adventure-and-wonder packed days, among the best of my traveling life. Our positive experience was influenced by a few key circumstances:

• We were the only guests in a lodge that can accommodate 30 or more.
• The weather was relatively dry, even though rain fell for a couple hours most days, and mosquitoes and other insects were not a problem. Hordes of insects and enormous beetles were no doubt present, but we didn't see many. The air was humid but not stifling. 



Well, we saw big beetle, but it was at the little airport.

• Most importantly, our naturalist guide was a real-deal authentic member of the indigenous Achuar Nation who spoke English and communicated in word and deed his deep knowledge and oneness with this unique spot in the universe. I later read Trip Advisor reviews about Kapawi; most are five-star, and all but one credited the guides as much as anything else.

In a previous post, I gushed about our guide and the indigenous Achuar culture. Here I aim to describe what the lodge itself is like and how a typical tourist day unfolds. Although some of what I have to say may be perceived as negative, Kapawi provided us a one-of-a-kind travel experience that I would gladly repeat and highly recommend. Kapawi has received numerous awards including being listed in 2009 as one of National Geographic's top 50 ecolodges in the world.

Guest cabins are 100 percent Achuar style construction - made of palm trees without a single nail. Netting keeps the bugs out, for the most part. With so much rain, Kapawi structures require frequent patching and replacement.  Our cabins had a few minor leaks and bug netting needed some patching. Repairs were underway.

A dozen or so locals came by canoe with bundles of palm leaves to repair roofs.

A bundle of palm leaves awaits application to a cabin's leaky roof.

Kapawi prides itself on being eco-friendly, and solar hot water contributes to conservation efforts. The solar shower bag sits in the "sun" all day (should the sun happen to appear) and then hangs in the shower for when guests return from activities. The water was tepid at best, but I'm not complaining. We didn't visit  Kapawi for luxury.

                          For more about Kapawi's conservation efforts, check the website.

Beds are large and comfy and protected by mosquito netting.

Rooms have an ample sitting and/or hammock area looking out on the lagoon.

Typical—more or less—tourist day at Kapawi Ecolodge
6 a.m. - Haul your keister outta bed

6:30 a.m. - Early morning activities  such as birding and pink-dolphin watching begin after coffee and a handful of animal crackers, believe it or not.
8 a.m. or so - Breakfast - typically a fried egg, something starchy, processed meat, lots of coffee, fresh juice and a plate of fresh fruits

10 a.m. or so -  Board the motorized canoe for transport to a trailhead or other activity. Usually we were out somewhere until almost noon.

Noonish - lunch  

2:30 p.m. - After a siesta, we're ready for the afternoon fun including kayaking, beach walking, birdwatching. We could have gone fishing or swimming. We could have visited a shaman. Late one afternoon, following an amazing hike, we visited an Achuar village. (see below)
6 - 6:30 p.m. - dinner
8 p.m. - night activity (caiman by canoe, night hike);  briefing about the next day's plan.
10 p.m. - Bedtime

 WIFI Note: Don't count on it. The lodge has wifi in the bar, but even with just four of us trying to use it, it was impossibly slow. Disconnect!

 Most evenings an hour or so after dinner the four of us met with our guide in the meeting room/bar with this map set up on a tripod. He'd call the meeting to order by saying something like, "Now we will discuss tomorrow's activity." And he would proceed in a formal manner to outline where we might go, what we might do, how we should prepare,  and do we have any questions? Or would we rather do something else? He was most accommodating, but we went along with all that he suggested, including a nighttime canoe ride where we spotted caiman (alligators) and fell into a trance during five minutes of silence listening to the rainforest's magical night music. We also enjoyed an 8 p.m. hike in total darkness (except for our headlamps and flashlights) to see nocturnal frogs and other creatures.

We were served a hot lunch on palm leaves after a great morning 

hike. Lunches, including this one, were a lot like dinner-

standard Ecuadorian fare of rice and/or potatoes  fish or

meat,  and typically a light fruit dessert. This particular meal was 

carried on the motorized canoe and kept warm in a cooler.

We were so surprised! All meals were tasty, 

and simply  prepared. Not surprisingly, we were 

served a lot of fish. Portions were modest, not the huge heaps
overflowing the typical plate served in the USA.

As for alcohol, in case you're wondering, Kapwai promises a "well-stocked bar". This was not the case. Wine wasn't available, small beers were $7 each, and mixed drinks were non existent because staples such as gin, vodka, whiskey were no where in sight. I managed to run up a bar bill with a nightly shot of brandy. 

We enjoyed lazy kayaking and bird watching along the Capahuari River, along which Kapawi is located, not far from where it flows into the Pastaza River. Most of our bird watching was from a motorized canoe or on trails. Only one of us is a certified birder, (Laurie Gerloff) but we all enjoyed seeing and hearing multitudes of marvelous avians throughout our Ecuador trip.

Visiting an Achuar village is part of the Kapawi experience. This young man agreed to

entertain us in his home, where, after partaking of chicha*, which partially fills his bowl, we asked questions

through our guide. Also present, his wife and several children, not necessarily his.

After "chicha" and the Q&A session, we were invited to purchase crafts made in the village. Children brought in pottery,  decorative arrows, and a few other items, displaying them on banana leaves. We were told earlier that we needed to have small bills (Ecuador uses U.S. dollars) with which to purchase stuff because they have no change. They have little money, and are largely self-sufficient through hunting, communal gardening, and crafting almost everything they need

from palm and other natural materials. A "store" housed in a large covered canoe comes in from Peru and sells items they can't make, hunt, or grow. Stuff like salt, flour, and I don't know what else. We saw one of the floating Peruvian markets but didn't get to go aboard. We failed to bring enough small bills to buy an item from each banana leaf, disappointing some of the village children.

These bowls are made from local clay and hand painted. We bought the bowl on the left and a smaller one not pictured. The large one cost $5 and the small, $3. 

* Chicha! A guidebook forewarned us that we'd be offered this mildly alcoholic drink if we visited an Achuar village, and that it might present cultural awkwardness. To avoid offending our host, it was suggested that we at least try it. What's the problem? It's made from the manioc root, a staple in the Amazon diet. But for this drink, women chew the root then spit it into a bowl to ferment. Seems to me that a whole lot of spit is required to fill bowls such as those pictured. Fermentation is said to kill bacteria, even overnight. Our host and guide each drank at least two full bowls. Three of us tasted it. One pretended to taste. It was not popular.

Back at the lodge, we took turns blowing darts into a bullseye target about 15 feet away after learning the previous day how the blowguns and darts/arrows are handmade from palm trees and continue to be used by the Achuar to hunt game. Our guide told us that Achaur hunters can fell a monkey from treetops, and pointed at one far away above the lodge. We couldn't begin to see it. We believed it was there, though, because we often needed binoculars to see what Diego could see with his naked eye trained to spot the slightest movement and color.

Our last morning, after our daily 6:30 a.m. birdwatching and blowgun practice, guide Diego decorated Laurie and me in Achuar fashion. My tattoo turned out to be an anaconda, which was the only time we saw one in Ecuador.  

Coming next - photo essay - what we saw in the rainforest

Earlier post
Amazon Adventure - Kapawi Ecolodge  - All about tramping around in the rainforest, gaining insights into Achuar culture, and seeing how various rainforest plants are used for just about everything from housing construction to medicine to spiritual enlightenment.

Start it up! - SW Road Trip Spring 2017

Lenticular clouds shifted and slithered for hours entertaining us in the Alabama Hills outside Lone Pine, CA, early on our spring 2017 road trip. More photos below.

We're back from five weeks touring the Southwest and Texas, and, as usual, I have way too many photos and stories. I rarely have time to blog while traveling in our small  Roadtrek van, but I attempt to jot down a daily account of trip highlights. I'm looking at it now, and deciding how to start. How about at the beginning?

The real beginning, of course, is a belief that life is short and we need to forget about amassing material treasures and instead gather treasured moments while we're able. Travel is one way to become a collector of experiences, and it is good.

In mid-March we drove from our southern Oregon home to Beatty, NV stopping a couple nights in Reno to admire the grandchildren. We need a grandkid fix every couple months so their adorable selves don't disappear, in our absence, into children we hardly know, and who don't know us. Most of our road trips involve a night or two with them, coming or going. Ok. Just one photo. 

 Noah and Hadley sharing a secret. She may be asking him if he has bacon to share. 

The Actual Trip

Beatty, NV on Hwy 95 is a gateway to Death Valley, and as such, has developed a quirky character. It's good to spend a night there, or nearby, if only to get an early start into the park, the entrance to which is just 32 miles west. Early morning light in Death Valley is not to be missed. Get up early!

During a road trip to the Southwest in 2007, we stopped at Rhyolite, a ghost town just a few miles outside Beatty en route to Death Valley.  It's well worth your time. We stopped again this year, for old time's sake, to discover that it's even better now. Something important we've learned after thousands of road miles; it isn't just the national parks and famous attractions that make traveling edifying....it's also Rhyolite and other roadside oddities, small surprises that you often enjoy in blissful solitude, as we did in Rhyolite, or a sparse crowd, as in the Alabama Hills. (Coming right up!)

These ghostly Last Supper sculptures in Rhyolite are eerie and evocative. 

Rhyolite sculptures appear to gang up on our van. Also at Rhyolite: a house made from glass bottles, a colorful stone mosaic sofa, and a huge labyrinth. 

The sofa had been brightened up since we last saw it.

We've explored Death Valley several times, including during the 2016 Super Bloom (many photos) so  we put on blinders and drove through. Without the blinders, the park's beauty may have sucked us in again. But we had other plans.

Climbing out of Death Valley over the Panamint Mountains into California, however, we stopped for a quick hike at a place we'd missed on earlier trips, Father Crowley Point Overlook. Surprise!

These photographers, plus a few more, were clearly waiting, but for what?  They seemed pleased at our interest, even offering us a cold beer, and told breathless tales about having seen fighter jets fly through the canyon below them several times, including earlier this same day. Once was not enough; these guys were hoping for a rare appearance by the Blue Angels. We hung around for an hour or so before our need to find a camp near Lone Pine, CA, became greater than our desire to see screaming fast jets make impossibly tight turns through the narrow canyon.

Imagine fighter jets flying below this canyon's rim. According to the photographers, they do so almost daily. Check it out, should you find yourself at Father Crowley Point.

Alabama Hills, Lone Pine, CA

Just outside Lone Pine, the Alabama Hills rest in the glory of their movie days —at least 150 films or TV productions since the 1920s—while most travelers scoot by on the ultra scenic Hwy. 395, not knowing what they're missing. Alabama Hills, managed by the BLM, is a jumble of impressive  puffy-looking rocks and formations with the Sierra Nevadas, including Mt. Whitney, as a backdrop. 

Sunrise as seen from our dispersed campsite in the Alabama Hills. The Sierra Nevada Mountains glow in the early light, including Mt. Whitney, with the Hills in the foreground. We didn't arrive until after 3 p.m. the previous day, and had to hunt for a camp. Not bad, since it was spring break. There an official campground, where we stayed on an earlier road trip, before we learned that we could just drive around and camp any place that wasn't blocked to preserve vegetation. I don't think there's a boring view in the Hills. A person could spend a few days exploring on foot, including a loop trail to a famous arch. This place is a gem. 

Photography bonanza

Since our trip to Africa in 2013,  during which my best travel day ever occurred, I've come to see the world through a camera lens. I don't think of photography as missing out on the moment, but an opportunity to see more closely, more clearly, to be more aware of how landscapes and people intersect, and how light, color and form create magic. The light on the mountains in the panoramic photo above lasted a minute or two, max. I caught this view shortly after I awakened in the van and peeked out of my mountainside window. The sky was pink! The mountains were golden!

I threw on pants and a jacket, leapt from the van, snapped the photo above and a couple more, then RAN to the nearby Mobious Arch, maybe a quarter mile away, the object of which was to frame the sunrise on the mountains through the window of the arch. I was carrying my Lumix Panasonic camera, which I purchased for that fabulous trip to Africa, but I mostly used an iPhone7Plus. Except for telephoto shots, I now prefer the phone to the Lumix.

I documented our location on the Earth before charging toward the Mobius Arch. The light had already changed. Still good, but lacked the glow present just a minute earlier.

By the time I got to the arch, the pink sky and golden light on the mountains had disappeared, but the sun now shone gold on the arch. How fleeting the moments of beauty, and how relative. Had I not seen the pink and intense gold a short time earlier, I would have thought this photo was great. Next time I'll set an alarm.

That's a relatively small photography vantage point that I asked permission to share with a pro photographer who beat me to the arch by a half hour! He was most gracious. When I started to leave after light faded on the mountains, he urged me to wait for the sun to light up the arch. The sun obliged in a minute or two. 

The Alabama Hills have set the scene for numerous film and TV

productions, many of them Westerns.The couple above are modeling

for an outdoor gear catalog. 

Sunset the previous night saw the lenticular clouds settling into the Sierra Nevadas.

We sipped wine in our camp chairs, grateful for the present moment and those still ahead of us on road, where many surprises awaited. 

Next up: Joshua Tree National Park

Mountains, deserts, hot springs and Las Vegas?

The Alabama Hills at sunrise in March 2017. We didn't see quite this much glory in April 2019, but you can't go wrong with the Hills. 

Pool venue at the music fest.

We drove our fancy van in early April to a music event - the Bender Jamboree (bluegrass) at the Plaza Hotel in Las Vegas. Yes, Las Vegas. An absurd reality, perhaps the furthest possible place from the natural world.

Although we had an engaging four-day musical experience, the road trip from Southern Oregon to Las Vegas was rich with scenic routes and side trips. And, of course, a couple days in Reno to lavish love on the grands.

We were able to spend several of those scenic-routes and side-trips explorations with hometown friends Sue Orris and Ferron Mayfield, and their worried dog, Curry.

Yes, they brought Curry to Las Vegas, but it turned out OK, even though the dog was worried about staying in the van while his people were in a hotel a block away.

Maybe that was me who was worried. Anyway, the weather was cool and Curry was fine and very well attended. No worries!

Three places stand out: Alabama Hills near Lone Pine, CA, the Shoshone and Tecopa Hot Springs area bordering Death Valley, and Red Rock National Conservation Area about 17 miles west of Las Vegas, NV. 


ALABAMA HILLS - Not to Be Missed

The Alabama Hills was our first stop after meeting up with Sue and Ferron in Bishop, CA on Hwy. 395, which cuts a pretty path alongside the scenic Sierras. Truly, if you haven't driven that road, add it to your plans. And do not miss the Alabama Hills. Even for a quick drive-through.

The Hills are just outside the town of Lone Pine, the western gateway to Death Valley National Park. 

Our Class B vans are dwarfed (look for them) in
a perfect camp spot in the Alabama Hills.

Compared with nearby Death Valley's vast expanse, the Alabama Hills is a concentrated wonder. A jumble of giant buff-colored rocks is lorded over by the Sierra Nevada Mountains including 14,000 ft. Mt. Whitney. I used to think about climbing up there, but I got over that notion when, age-wise, I was already over the hill.

Lenticular clouds are common in the Alabama Hills. This dreamy color was fleeting during an otherwise dull sunset. 

If you've lived long enough, you've probably seen the Hills on the big screen. Over 150 movies (Some sources claim as many as 400 ) and numerous TV shows, mostly Westerns, were shot there in the days of Hopalong Cassidy, Gene Autry, and their ilk. A film museum in Lone Pine is said to be worth a visit. We will get there next time.

Responsible campers carry it out.

Alabama Hills is managed by the BLM, which means, that in addition to one fee campground, the rest of the area is absolutely FREE for dispersed camping, AKA boondocking.

Campsite hunting is competitive, with tent campers, small trailers, and Class B and C RVs seeking the perfect place to settle in and enjoy the splendid views all around. 

Sue and Ferron were in their element. Mt. Whitney is circled. The Mobius Arch Trail begins behind us.

The loop trail to the arch is about a mile long. 

Ferron exults at the Mobius Arch. A sprite-like person,  Ferron usually doesn't travel without a kite, a blaring horn, or his dog. I was pleased that he left the horn behind. 

DEATH VALLEY - Blown away

Death Valley, where we had camping reservations for two nights, was devoid of spring blooms and spring crowds. Due to the unrelenting wind and dust, it was soon devoid of us.

Serendipity at SHOSHONE and TECOPA

Thus we took an unplanned one day/night side trip to the Tecopa Hot Springs.  Our experiences there hung me up for days in getting this post out. 

Honestly, the Shoshone/Tecopa hot springs area just outside Death Valley is such a quirky bit of Wild West Americana that I got all twisted about it. I wrote pages. None of them any good!


I've decided not to tackle it. There's too much to tell and way more to learn before I pretend to capture the spirit of this unusual place. We were there for fewer than 24 hours. 

It's worth a return trip and perhaps a few days .... or more. But I'd better be careful.

Seems that numerous people living in the area had been just passing through.....and the place took hold of them. On the surface, it's dry, dusty and decrepit with scant visual charm. But there's something juicy going on there.

I didn't get his name, but the bartender/brewmaster at Death Valley Brewing was justifiably proud of the 15 or so beers being served. No wine. No liquor. Just beer. Just pizza. Crust crafted in Italy. All good. I had pineapple beer. It was delicious. 

If you're traveling from Death Valley to Las Vegas, discover Shoshone/Tecopa for yourself. Be sure to visit the museum in Shoshone, where, if lucky, you'll be greeted by John.

A former big-city chef, John is eager to share info about a place he loves. After living in Tecopa for 13 years, he knows everything tourist.

Curry contemplates as he walks the labyrinth at the Tecopa Hot Springs Resort. What is life's meaning? Why is my tongue so long? He's quite the philosopher, that dog.

Typical Tecopa scene. Curry leads Ferron in exploration. Soon we reluctantly leave Tecopa. At least I was reluctant.

RED ROCK CANYON National Conservation Area - Great side trip from Las Vegas

In Nevada's Mojave Desert, Red Rock Canyon's primary attraction, aside from an excellent Visitor's Center, is a 13-mile scenic loop drive with numerous viewpoints and parking areas from which to hike, picnic, photograph, rock climb, or otherwise take pleasure in this beautiful place. 

Here's the not-red-rock part of the conservation area, but even if not red, it is imposing, dramatic, beautiful.

Two million people visit Red Rock Canyon each year, which might keep shy persons away. But after several visits, we've learned that it doesn't take much effort to hike a mile or so on one of the 26 trails and escape the crowds. The canyon is just 17 miles west of Las Vegas and is an antidote to the madness and mayhem of the city.

Cairns for Dummies is what we called the numerous (thank you) extravagant (thank you) trail markers.  Without them, we might still be there.

Is it an agave?  Curry is weighing in from a lower position. Or maybe that's his power position.

Sue was still recovering from knee surgery, so we chose a relatively short hike through the red rocks. See that cairn? 
Without it, we would not have chosen this skinny passage.

Then, I'm afraid, it was on to Las Vegas and the Plaza Hotel and wrapping our heads around living in a casino the next four days. 

But then, there was the 
    🎶MUSIC! 🎶


BENDER JAMBOREE -whoopee!

This is Billy Strings. Never heard of him? Neither had I, but the virtuoso guitarist/singer was my favorite.  Apparently, he's getting around. Check him out. 

Other artists to join my "listen" list: 

• Railroad Earth (not new to the list, but the primary reason we attended the Jamboree)
• Della Mae - all female. Kicked butt!
• Leftover Salmon
• The Hillbenders
• The Good Time Travelers
• Keller Williams Pettygrass (all Tom Petty covers)

Like many music festivals, this one was crazy with costumes, theme days/nights, gregarious music lovers, spontaneous celebrations, lots of dancing, and not too much casino. 

Della Mae's band stood out amidst a mostly male lineup.
Not just for being women, but for being good!

Ferron always brings a cute outfit.

On our way home to Oregon, we camped alone at a reservoir near Fallon, NV. Ahhh. Just what we needed.

Previous Posts

SW Road Trip Spring 2017 
Death Valley 1, Super Bloom
Death Valley 2  



A couple of posts about our winter Baja trip are below. A few more to come. Unless I decide to write about gardens and food for a while.

An Inglorious Day on the Road in Baja
On the Road in Baja - Part 1