Tag Archives: Nevada

Borders

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There were so many borders. He crossed the Sierra’s and ran out of gas. Down the backside he coasted. Then hours later it was the state line. An ocean of desert to be crossed. More mountains and miles and miles of road. But those were borders.

The real border was the front door. The end of the drive way. The day he told her he was moving. The real border came weeks before as he accepted the job. The far away job. Or the day he applied, wanting to be far away from her. The borders were crossed in his heart. Many times, and many times he came back. Would he return to her love again?

The cat slept on his lap as he drove. The radio playing a Lucy Kaplansky song about the road. Clearly she had also done travel at night. Her magical voice was holding him tonight. The music was a hug. The cat slept peacefully at last in the car. But it wasn’t an easy start for her. She cried and cried and cried. Like he wanted to cry and cry and cry. Maybe they both missed her. And all these years later he wonders if Baby Girl misses her like he does, at night, alone.

But maybe no being could miss another in the same way.

Years before he lived in Yosemite. When not crossing the high mountain trails he wrote. So much sad poetry and prose. So many long and pointless hours of cutting his own wrist with a pen. Bleeding onto the page, onto the screen. Into the snow, cold and unwatched. But he crossed a border in the park. It was the place where he learned to let M go. He moved beyond. And beyond he remained until he returned from Wyoming. And then borders were crossed again. There was no on in his heart for him for so long. Now she had crossed into his love.

Nevada is a land of barren beauty. A place unique and magical in a sparse way. Maybe one day he’ll live in a hermit shack off a dirt road in Eureka. Not the left-leaning town on the California coast. The dusty town hanging to the side of a mountain in Nevada. He passed through the town on this trip. And later trips. But tonight it was just a moment on the road. How many moments on our roads we pass through blindly. But for someone else the moment is dear. The moment lasts in memory. The touch lingers like a kiss on wet lips.

How many borders did he cross driving in the night. And in the heat of the next day. His heart had for so long been barren like the desert. Empty, uncrossed by human love. At least this is how it felt to him at times. But she was there like a dream. A well in the middle of the vast plain. Driving he crossed state lines. He crossed county lines and city lines. And each line was a step further from the one he couldn’t cross away from tonight.

Even after the granite valley of Yosemite. The strange orange land of south Utah. Through the dark of night and the heat of day. In Utah the temperature drove the cat to seek a place to hide. And she didn’t mind being wet for once. Like he was learning the lessons of having a wet heart. But he could never find a place to hide. The heat was so strong between them at one moment. It burned like the sun on his alabaster heart. And now he was peeling. One of his borders was slipping away into dust around him.

Maybe it didn’t have to be this way. Maybe it couldn’t be any other way. A voice inside told him to turn back. Cross back to safety. The comfort of her heart. But the clear sad truth was this border couldn’t be crossed anymore. He could cross Nevada. And later even crossed it in a snow storm. But the storms and the cold winds of live were driving them now. And each on a different current. The land he drove across was once at the bottom of the sea. In a time which feels so far away now. But years from now, across other borders so will today. The feelings, the journey, the borders crossed. It will fade as a memory. But she will never fade.

The Long Trip Home

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In the next few weeks I crossed much of the west. From North Dakota. Down to Arizona. And west to California.

News was breaking and I wanted to see. In North Dakota the river was flooding. So I made my way there to write a story. When I got there I spoke with some local news teams. I had hoped to write something freelance. But it didn’t work out. Being a new reporter I imagined things would come to me in a way I soon discovered was wrong.

I did get a Labor Ready job though. It was with the city of Moorehead. Inside a large warehouse I helped stack sandbags to be delivered. I worked with the city for a number of days. At the end they suggested I apply for a job. It was a good area. An area I could see myself going back to live. But not at the time.

The flooding had caused havoc along a long part of the river. This was the Red River of the North. Not to be confused with the one along northern Texas border. This one runs north along the Dakotas and Minnesota. This being one of the flattest parts of the country. When the river flooded, it spread out fast.

While I was in Fargo I slept in my car. There was an all-night coffee shop. It had free wifi, so this is where I used the internet. In general Fargo was a friendly college town.

While in the area I took a side trip into Minnesota. The Mississippi River begins not far from Fargo. And I wanted to see the headwaters of the great river. To see its humble origin. By this time I had given up on writing a news story. And my Labor Ready job was winding down. It looked like it would be time for me to leave soon. I couldn’t be so close and not make the trip.

Finding the birth place of the river was easy. Up a small paved path from a parking lot was a small lake. The outflow of this lake was maybe 15 feet wide. But if you dropped a twig in it, the twig could float all the way to the ocean. It would go down the longest river in the country. When you think of how important the river is to our nation. And how long, and wide it becomes. It enters the world in a obscure park, when I was there there were few visitors.

After this short trip I started back west. I wanted to make a stop at Mount Rushmore. I’d been there before. But I wanted to see it again. It was a bit of a race against time. To get there before it got dark. But I made it, speeding across the Dakotas. There isn’t much to see in these states. But seeing Mount Rushmore is an experience. And I saw the monument to Crazy Horse off in the distance and fog while driving. But it was dark, and the park was closed.

After stopping in Wyoming I started back for California. I had graduated but hadn’t done a ceremony. Since I had free time I wanted to be there to walk with my friends. When I got back to Arcata I thought I would stay for the week. But then I got a short-term job and fell in love in a long-term way. So plans changed.

There was an adventure along my path back to Arcata. From Wyoming I drove south to Boulder. It is such a magical place for me. I spent a couple days in town. And I hiked to the top of the Flat Irons. I didn’t plan on staying in town. Though I always think about staying every time I visit. One day I may move to Boulder and stay to live for a while. But this wasn’t the time to think about such a move. In the past I’d taken the northern route from Boulder to California. This time I took the southern route.

It went through the high mountains, and along route 70. I drove right through Vail, a place where I would soon be living. Though I didn’t know it at the time. I got off the freeway and drove along the route I drove many times later in my life. The mountains are amazing, still covered in snow at the tops. I couldn’t have gone to Yellowstone on this trip because of the weather. But the road through the Rockies was clear.

Moving out of Colorado into Utah I found an amazing landscape. There are few words to really tell people what it looked like in front of me. It looked like an alien landscape. It was orange. The rolling land was broken by deep canyons. The colour made me feel like I was on another planet. Like Mars, but it wasn’t red. The ground had little life. Looking around I couldn’t imagine I was still on earth. It was beautiful in a way which I’d never imagined. I had no clue such a place even existed. All my trips through Utah were in the north. And it has its own beauty. But it is flat and grey, and white. Nothing like the striking deep colours of the San Rafael Reef. This magical place was formed under the ground. After being pushed to the surface it was eroded by many floods. These formed the deep canyons and mesas of the area.

Coming west my goal was Arcata. But I had yet another short adventure.

I went to visit my family in Stockton. I’d talked to mother about a trip to see my brother in Arizona. I asked if she could afford to pay for the gas, and I would drive. We took the route through the desert of Nevada. Because I love Nevada. Even though I got a speeding ticket on this trip. It was a smooth drive down. We stopped for the night a couple hours from Phoenix. It was a cheap little hotel in a small town. The bed was comfy enough for me to sleep. Even if the towels didn’t match each other. Mother pointed this fact out.

Once in Phoenix we spent a couple days with my brother. This was the first time in a number of years I’d seen my brother. He was well. We took a hike on one of the mountains in town. But it was hot there, and Mother wanted to return. On the drive back we stopped at the Grand Canyon. I’d also been here a couple years before with my father. I wasn’t sure if Mother had seen the canyon. Either way it seemed like a waste to drive so near and not stop.

The good news about the return trip was I didn’t get a tickets. Some of those small towns have slow speed limits. But we also made a stop in Reno on the way home. Mother’s sisters live there – and yes I know they are my aunts. But I don’t know them at all. So, they are my mother’s sisters. After visiting for a couple hours we made our way home. We drove along the scenic Lake Tahoe.

After leaving Mother in Stockton I made my way home to Arcata. I think we may have many homes in this world. If this is true, my heart will always be at home in Arcata. And Santa Cruz, Yosemite, Boulder.

Like I said. My plan was to walk in the ceremony. Then leave town. And yes my plans got turned around and I stayed for about two years.

My First Real Job

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I’ve never been more hopeful. I had a degree and I was ready to find a job. It didn’t take long either. It was a bit of a shock. I had a theory about getting experience working in small papers. I’d go out to the middle of the country, where there would be fewer job seekers. So the first job I landed was in Wyoming.

It is funny in a way. The job wasn’t far from a small town I had visited on my travels. Where I lived and worked was bigger. But not much, it was still small. But I am getting ahead of myself.

I located the job through a website. Applying for a job in the middle of the country was hard. But I knew I could do it, because of my travels. The first step after landing the job was buying a car. The car I purchased and still own is a Santa Fe. I got it from a dealership in Stockton. And it has been a good fit for me. But first I had to fit all my things into it for the move. It turned into a rolling brick.

Since I had a drive ahead of me anyway, and some time, I made a few stops. One was in Santa Cruz where I still have dear friends. I was off on the next adventure in my life and I wanted to share. One friend in Santa Cruz has been there for a lot of my adventures: at least in spirit. And I didn’t know how long I would be gone.

The next stop was in Stockton to see family. When I drove out of the state I imagined it could be years before I returned. But it wasn’t. The drive itself didn’t get interesting until halfway through Nevada. It started to snow. And I didn’t have chains. And I didn’t care. Because I wasn’t going to stop. It was getting dark and traffic was light. As I drove the snow got deeper.

Entering Utah there were a few trunks which had slid off the road. Someone hadn’t made it where they were going. At some point I stopped and walking around in the snow it was clear it was deep. In the gas station parking lot it was about six inches. And there was a good base of ice. But I pushed ahead and got back on the road.

As I drove through the night it kept snowing. And I assume it was getting deeper. Passing through Salt Lake City was fine. But the mountains to the east were a bit scary. This was the first point I felt could be dangerous. But I had come this far and didn’t want to stop. It may have been worse to stop. I only recall seeing one car over night. It was a utility truck which passed me a couple times. Each time driving even faster than I.

The next morning I entered Wyoming. As it got light the snow cleared. And I started to drive faster. But I found out soon enough I road wasn’t cleared yet. Driving through Rock Springs I got cut off by a semi-driver. I braked too hard and spun around toward the side of the road. Clever driving and good luck meant I didn’t go off the road. But I stopped facing the wrong direction.

My arrival in Douglas was in the late morning. I’d already lined up a place to live and had to get the key from work.

After landing the job I asked if they would run an ad for me. Just stating I was looking for a place to live. Soon I got a call from someone. They told me they lived in a duplex and the other unit was empty. They were not the landlord, but gave me the number. When I contacted the landlord though he had no clue. “Empty unit,” he said shocked, “which one.” After talking about it he agreed to check it out. And if it was empty I could rent it. I never did meet him, I paid rent by putting it into his account at the bank.

The job itself was so new for me. It was my first newsroom and I don’t feel like I started out fast. But I was starting to get my feet under me. Then I got laid off. There may have been two factors. One was a bank stopped running an ad. And because of this they couldn’t afford my salary. My $10 an hour salary. But, a second factor was a small error I had made in a story.

I had been covering the county government. The county chose to use a different bank for its business. One of the reasons given was the other bank was bigger, and the person talked about the banks deposits. When I wrote the story I failed to contact the bank the county had quit using. This was the same bank which dropped the ad. And while I was told it wasn’t in response. My editor did say, “it probably didn’t help.” The complaint they had when contacting me was simple and true. In the store the county official had put the bank is some doubt. And I should have contacted the old bank to let them counter.

It was a learning experience.

Wyoming is a beautiful state. I wasn’t there long enough. The weather was cold and snowy. One day it snowed so much while I was at work, I walked home. It wasn’t far. It was easier than trying to dig out my car. In this case it was a rental. My car was in the shop after I backed into a small wall. Another time the weather called for snow. I woke up early and went out to clear the snow. But there wasn’t any.

Going back inside, I relaxed. Taking my time I ate breakfast, watched the news and got ready. About 30 minutes later I walked outside to nine inches of snow on my car. I was aghast. And it wasn’t just snowy. It got cold. One morning I remember trying to get the ice off my window. But as I scraped one side. I could look over and see the side already scrapped re-freezing.

There are miles of back roads in the middle of the country. Miles and miles of dirt roads. And I love to drive on them. My car works great because it is small enough for some pretty slim roads. But it has good clearance. And it is light. Once I was on a dirt road going at a good pace. I zoomed through some mud. Then some snow patches. And then I came up to a turn. The snow and ice weren’t a problem if I could just keep moving through them. They weren’t large. But this turn was covered in deep snow. I got stuck. No cellphone reception. And the idea of walking miles to the road wasn’t appealing. But, since my car is light I was able to dig the snow out of the way. Then I pushed my car out of the snow.

Douglas is a small town. Supported by coal and ranching. It claims to be the home of the Jackalope. It has a Safeway, and wanted a Walmart. Many people talk about Walmart and the death of small town business. But people around Douglas shopped at Walmart already. They just drove further to Casper.

When I moved to Wyoming I believed I was getting my life started. I changed my address and my phone number. My old cell service wouldn’t cover where I lived, so I switched. I got a TV and purchased TV, phone and internet services. When I lost my job it was like a giant balloon deflating. I felt defeated. It may have not been my fault. But I was broke. I was alone. And without a job I had few options. My things went into storage in Cheyenne. It sits on the cross country interstate. The next step in my life was a mystery to me. But I imagined I would get another job. And wanted my things to be easy to pick up. But it was also easy to drop off.

Maybe if I had been in a larger town I would have stayed. Maybe a lot of things could have been done different. But I just gave up. Really I didn’t even look for another job. And I didn’t think I’d be able to afford my rent. Living in a car in the cold of Wyoming doesn’t work like it does in California.

Leaving Douglas I was off on a new adventure. North Dakota was flooding and I wanted to be near the action.

Montana Trip

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The bus ride from New York in California is long. On the bus I met a teen guy and girl. We were on the bus together for a long time. The girl was cute. But she was young for me. Sometimes I still like to flirt. I had a practice of the bus. I’d put my bag on the seat. Then I would watch people getting on the bus. But not look at them. When I saw someone I wanted to sit next to, I’d move my bag. Then I would wave and smile to the person. It worked often. Most people will choose an empty seat. And on a bus full on strangers, people go towards someone friendly.

On a long bus ride, getting the right seat-mate is important. Late in the trip there was a child on the bus. It was early morning and most people were sleeping. Or trying to sleep. He was running up and down the isle. “Look it’s the salt flats,” the boy said. It wasn’t cool but I told him, “no kid, those are the cocaine flats.” The mother got upset. But she did make him sit down and be quiet. Which was all I wanted.

Waiting for my bus in Sacramento was interesting. I met a woman who used rubber checks to steal cars. She’d make a down payment with a check. Take the car. The check would bounce and she would be gone. Also I met several people who had just gotten out of jail. Sacramento is now a beautiful city. And downtown has gained life. But these were dark days for the town.

I was back in California. But not for long. I stayed with mother in Stockton. She lived in a dump. Really, it was a dump. As much as she tried to get repairs done. The landlord refused. Until one day she stopped paying rent. It went to court. Mother took pictures of the apartment to show the judge. Not only did mother not have to pay rent. The apartment was condemned.

In Stockton I connected with people going to the gathering. In 2000 it was in Montana. I met up with them in a house in Sacramento. It was a group, including a mother. And some young children. The means of transport was a big yellow bus.

The first leg of the trip was to a festival north of Sacramento. The plan was to spend the night, and move along. But problems started with the bus. Someone had put the wrong fuel in the tank. And it took some time to get things fixed. I’m not sure how they resolved the issue. But we were able to get moving again.

Over the mountains and into Nevada was our path. The next stop I remember was in Winnemucca. We stopped near a park there for a couple days. I believe there was another problem with the bus. Old school buses aren’t known for running without problems. While at the part we took showers. There was a pool in the park. Some of the guys on the bus started hanging out at the skate park. And selling drugs.

Most of the people on the bus felt this was a bad idea. And asking for trouble. Soon the bus was fixed. In fact not a moment too soon. The cops showed up to question the group. They did their thing, nothing serious. And we were back on the road.

Driving along the highway they kept the front door open. Maybe it was the heat. But it was also because of number of them were smokers. They could blow their smoke out the door. Which was important because the kids had allergies to smoke. And it wasn’t a problem, until it was one night. The cat got freaked, bolted right out the door. We stopped the bus, but never found the kitty.

During another stop going through the desert we found a car. It looked abandoned. But there were things inside. A tent and other gear. Things a few of us wanted to take. It did look like the owner had walked away for good. Like the car had been there for a while. But I argued against taking anything. Because we didn’t know the story. Whose things were in the car. Or were the owner was now. We did know it didn’t belong to us. Nothing was taken.

We made a short un-eventful stop in Idaho. The next long stop was Bozeman. The Montana town sits right next to a mountain. We parked at the disc golf course. At one point a man drove up. Then a woman drove up. They drove away in his car. An hour later they came back. And drove away alone.

Wow. Every time I looked up. Wow. All I could think was wow. The mountain was so close and so big. It was almost alarming. While in town I tried to connect with an old friend. But it didn’t work out. I developed a deep love for Bozeman. Besides some great scenery. It also has a good health food store. I always feel better about a town with a good source of food.

The next stop was the gathering. In the future I’ll be sharing a chapter about Rainbow Gatherings. Most of all because I have been to a couple. And they run together in some ways. I once promised a dear friend I would take her to a gathering. And if I ever see her again, she wants to go. Then I will keep my promise. But it is the ever seeing part which I doubt the most.

After the gathering I went to Boulder, Colo. I spent a couple weeks in Boulder, doing yoga and tarot card readings. After Boulder was a brief stop in Stockton. Then a return to Portland.

Land Theft and arson

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The remote high desert of eastern Oregon became the latest flashpoint for anti-government sentiment as armed protesters occupied a national wildlife refuge to object to a prison sentence for local ranchers for burning federal land.

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I don’t think it is an accident they choose to attack a wildlife refuge. Many of the people behind this movement would rather run cattle on land than have it saved to support wildlife. The government manages the land for the public as a trust. And it is in the public’s interest for species to be protected. Maybe not the ranchers’ interests.

Ammon Bundy posted a video on his Facebook page asking for militia members to come help him. He said “this is not a time to stand down. It’s a time to stand up and come to Harney County,” where Burns is located.

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They are calling for an armed insurrection against the government. We still live in a democracy. A flawed system to be sure. But not flawed enough to replace it with the type of militia rule tearing apart countries like Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Yemen and Somalia. Any number of countries around the world would have responded with over-matched violence and exterminated the threat. I am not suggesting violence is the answer. But these people are criminals. They aren’t using a political process to address their grievances. They are turning to the power of their guns. And in a democracy this is not how things are done.

This is no different than rioters in the streets protesting police shooting. No different than a lunatic shooting people at Planned Parenthood, no different than terrorist who resort to violence to solve problems. This is still a democracy. The land in question is not owned by the government it is owned by all of us. The public as a whole owns the land.

Dwight Hammond, 73, and Steven Hammond, 46, said they lit the fires on federal land in 2001 and 2006 to reduce the growth of invasive plants and protect their property from wildfires.

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Honestly I can understand their concerns. But if I live next door to someone with a ranch. And they never maintain their property. It doesn’t give me the right to go over and set fire to their land. It may be a measure to protect my own land. But it would still be illegal for me to burn their property. This is not the way things are done in a country ruled by laws. The process can be slow and frustrating. Maybe it even needs to be changed. But taking the law into your own hands by burning property which doesn’t belong to you is wrong. It would be wrong if I burned your land to protect my own. And it is wrong for these people to burn out land. Period.

The two were convicted of the arsons three years ago and served time — the father three months, the son one year. But a federal judge ruled in October that their terms were too short under U.S. minimum sentencing law and ordered them back to prison for about four years each.

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This is where I agree with the Hammond’s. They should have been given the longer sentences. But there was an error. Someone made the mistake of giving them the lighter sentence. Well, if they served the time, let them go. It isn’t fair to call them back and force them to serve more time. A court of law gave them a sentence. And they did the sentence. If I pay a bill with a company, and they agree it is settled. It wouldn’t be fair for them to come back later and tell me they made an error. And expect me to pay an extra amount they just figured out I owed. I would expect the company to take the loss. And I expect the court system to accept they made a mistake. And due to the mistake these two criminal got off easy. Now, if there is a repeat of the crime. Then the original sentences should be enforced.

Now for a discussion of what I believe is at the root of the issue.

These people are suffering real losses. They are hurting and struggling in their businesses. I can understand the natural desire to target the Federal Government and public lands. It would be tempting to believe expanded range could save the business. And understandable why people would feel the need to take illegal actions to protect a business already facing so many risks. This applies to this case, but also the Bundy Ranch case in Nevada.

As for the Hammonds, they hope to keep the family business going with help from relatives. Maybe, Dwight Hammond said, when his son gets out of prison, “he can still have a family and a ranch to go back to.”

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I feel bad for these people.