The cold on your face wakes you up. Shoot, it’s still dark out. Retreat to the inner sanctum is immediate. It might be the only time that humans act like turtles. It doesn’t take long for breathing your own carbon dioxide to get old. And so you stick your face out, only exposing a little oval. Or maybe just your nose. At this point you’re relishing the moments that you can stay in your cocoon. You’re wondering how long you can stave off the desire for coffee, or how long your bladder will hold out. 🙂  Cold nose, man that didn’t take long. Turtle like, you pull your face back into your cocoon. If you fluff inside, you’ll either have to stick your face back into the cold or add your own pew to your carbon dioxide. The eventual escape from your snug and warm cocoon stares you down. Pre-dawn in Yosemite. Welcome to camping in March.

On a sunny morning in my campground, the early light hits the peaks that loom above. There’s a perfect shot of Half Dome through the trees just steps away. On a line, the base of Half Dome is about two miles away, but it feels like it could be touched. This place!

Yosemite Valley in afternoon light.  In the middle of the picture is Half Dome and beyond that the Cloud’s Rest Peaks.  On the left is El Capitan, and to the right of Half Dome, first The Cathedral, and then Bridal Veil Falls.

I’ll differentiate the different Yosemite posts with the number of exclamations marks. They are not intended to imply some escalating wow factor. The wow factor here doesn’t really go up or down.

In my first post I mentioned El Capitan.  This is one of the first natural landmarks you come to when coming into the Yosemite Valley.

There are advantages and disadvantages to being in this park, or any, at this time of year. One of the great plusses is the water that runs and falls seemingly everywhere this time of year. It will not be true later in the summer.

This is Bridal Veil Falls. I believe it will still be here later. J While up near the base I quickly chilled from the cold mist. You have to hold your camera down then raise it to shoot your picture before the mist covers your lens.

Here’s a little falls that doesn’t have a name. 🙂

I’ve thought a lot about what the first thing is that I want to say about Yosemite.  In the end it is this;

If anyone comes to my house and pays any attention at all to what’s on the walls, they know I’m an Ansel Adams fan.  Have been for a long time.  I think I have about 8 or 9 of his photos ranging in size from poster on down.  That is prelude to;

The first time I laid my eyes on first El Capitan, and then Half Dome, in the flesh, eyes on, it was a bit of a hyper ventilation experience in the way they stop you, and then start you.  Taking breath.

The images of these iconic Yosemite Peaks surround me at home but they have now graduated.  They are God’s and now they are mine too.

For all my spiritual friends, and for the rest of you too, if you think I’m writing a post about one of the parables from Jesus, I’m sorry to disappoint.

At this time the only entrance into Yosemite is from the west. This forced a choice to change my intended route and push further west before turning north. So instead of a trip through Death Valley I get this;

The 99 (Californians put “The” in front of all their highway numbers), is a wretched patch of highway up the San Joaquin Valley. Think industrial strength I94 between St Paul and Woodbury for hundreds of miles. You people who have driven in California know what I’m talkin’ about.

To be fair, at certain intervals, The 99 is lined with farms, orchards, and vineyards.  But in spite of that, you are left with absolutely no doubt that you are right in the famous California smog that we always hear about. I thought that was LA.  It’s depressing.  It left me wondering if I would drink California wine again. I don’t think I want to consume the grapes and wines that come out of this area. The traffic is constant, somewhere between steady and Twin Cities rush hour. The trees that line the highway all look like they are slowly being poisoned. Which, I guess they are. My malaise about this is magnified by the fact that we currently have an administration that, in the main, doesn’t seem like they feel the environment is anything worthy of anybody’s time.

And the signs; Valley Farms, No Water, No Jobs. And, Is Growing Food Really a Waste of Water?  Then, Make America Great Again, Ain’t Happenin’ Here!

And; Helter Skelter Café (really, that’s your sense of humor?). Oh, and Gunrunner Inn. Yikes.

At one point I’m driving along and starting to think, man this stretch of highway is really in bad shape! Two minutes later, a billboard; Dear Legislators, kicking the can down the road is not acceptable!   www.fixaroad.org

I kept thinking, what if I had to choose between living here and living in Houston? Double Yikes!

Ok, so why am I writing about this?

I don’t know.

Take heart faithful readers, my next post will be titled Yosemite!

I’ve always prided myself in having a high level of faith in the basic goodness of folks.  But occasionally, if you trust too much, it will bite you in the a**.

I rolled into Ranchcrest, CA late in the day.  There was only $15 difference between a motel and the local RV Park.  Mostly I was worn out and wanted to avoid setting up and taking down the pop up for one night.  The cost became greater than $15.  In the morning, my second tote of clothes was gone from the back of my truck.  Within feet of my motel room door.  I even thought at one point to bring it in but didn’t.  I mean I was backed right up to my room.

To be fair, the value of what was in there wouldn’t make a decent Schedule A deduction.  The most valuable items were my Patagonia long johns. 🙂  My favorite caps were in there and a favorite blue Northface light jacket.  All of the stocking caps I brought (which I’m gonna need), including my favorite which was hand knit.  It was featured in an earlier picture of me.  You know, the dumb one with the pipe.  Oh yeah, that one.  It’s just stuff, but my Cubs hat and my green Boston Red Sox hat were reminders of very memorable days.  My backpack was in the bottom.

My sense of violation was not placated by my prayer, “God, help me believe that the person who took my tote needs the clothes more than I do.”  The bitter truth is that this person took this tote without even knowing what was in it.  They took it just because they could.

My anger and frustration began to wane with a great drive up over Walker Pass in the Sierras and the angel voice of Caitlin Taussig in my CD player.  I went through two funky little mountain towns on the shore of Lake Isabella, a large and beautiful mountain lake.  I stopped in the sun for awhile and just listened to the deafening rush of the Kern River dropping 3000 feet in about ten miles.  I began to let go, but I will have to buy a stocking cap before I return to camping in the mountains, and the other little reminders are sure to continue to come for awhile.

I’m lonesome but I’m happy, I’m rich but I’m broke.  And the good Lord knows the reason I’m just a cowpoke.                                                                  Caitlin Taussig

Monday, March 13th

When there’s ground to be turned, you gotta get behind the mule.  You gotta get behind the mule boy, up on the row(d).                                                  Tom Waits

I left this morning long before sunrise.  Not because I was in a hurry but because I was awake and knew I wouldn’t be falling back to sleep.  That said, I do have a lot of ground to cover in the next couple of days.  I’ve been enjoying the comforts and cooking of visits with family and friends and there aren’t adequate words of appreciation for that time.  But it was time to get behind the mule.

The moon was one day past full and a welcome companion.  I drove a couple of blocks before deciding I should probably turn on my lights, and I was able to unlock and hook up my camper in a storage lot without the aid of artificial light.  On my trips I have limited the time I’ve spent driving in the dark ’cause I don’t want to bring a sudden end to one of God’s critters, and selfishly, don’t want to break a headlight or punch a hole in my radiator.

I’m always aware of how my other senses are working when vision is limited.  I felt the truck feel an incline.  I smelled water but could not identify the source.  Shortly I could see by the moonlight that I had big farms on both my right and left, raising crops out of the desert floor.  I could smell the distinctly odiferous wafting of a feed lot but never drove past one.  The moon was hung in front of me and slightly to my left and for awhile it was joined by the orange light of dawn filling my rearview mirror.  When daylight came the roadsides were rich with yellow, purple, and occasional white.

I saw the purple mountain’s majesty today.  The late morning sun on the east side of the Sierra’s gives them a subtle but distinct purplish glow.  America, God shed his Grace on thee.

A great morning led to a long, hot afternoon.  I don’t generally drive faster than 66 or 67 when I’m pulling the camper, but if you are towing anything in California the speed limit is 55.  So I’ve been breaking the law ever since I crossed the line, but still, the difference between 60 and 66 feels huge.  Lots of construction of course, and at one point, I spent 45 minutes in a stop and go line of traffic in the middle of nowhere.

I know it’s been awhile again, but motion has resumed and I’m heading to Yosemite.  I don’t know what net access adventures await there but I hope you’ll stay tuned.

I am well and hope you all are too.

I arrived for my visit at my sister and brother-in-law’s home in time to be witness to my sister’s latest woodworking project finding its “home” in their backyard.

My sister has been doing wood projects for years and has a nice little shop in their garage.  Her projects always come out good because she is very meticulous and detailed.  For this one she jigged and painted all of the pieces to give the faces their three dimensions.  Pretty cool huh?

Like most younger brothers I give her all kinds of crap about all kinds of stuff.  🙂  But I’m proud of her.                       

Whenever I was in conversations leading up to this year’s trip, invariably the similarities of this year’s route to last would come up.  Much of that is driven by simply hugging the southern rim of the country for the warmest weather.  But in those conversations I would almost always say, “I saw an awful lot of stuff last year, but I also drove by a lot of stuff”.

The McDonald Observatory was one of those things.  When I was in west Texas last year my focus and time was mostly spent on Big Bend National Park.  This year I wanted to be sure to visit this site and ended up going there twice, once at night for what they call the Star Party, and the other in the afternoon to tour the two largest telescopes and view the sun on a video screen.  The latter being a remote feed from a telescope in Germany.

The McDonald Observatory site spans two prominent peaks in the Davis Mountains, Mt. Locke and Mt. Fowlkes.  It gets its name from William Johnson McDonald, who in his will in 1926, left a million dollar grant to the University of Texas for the expressed purpose of building an observatory.  Problematic in all of this was the fact that, at the time, the university didn’t have an astronomy department.  A partnership was born with the University of Chicago which lasted until the 1960s.  The first of its major telescopes was dedicated in 1939 and was eventually named for Otto Struve of the University of Chicago who served as the first director of the site.  At the time it was the second largest telescope in the world.

Partnering with NASA, the Harlan J. Smith telescope was completed in 1968, and at the time it was the third largest telescope in the world.  BTW, the size of a telescope is determined by the diameter of its reflective surface.  The Smith telescope is 107 inches (2.7 m), and I believe I’m correct in saying that it is one of the last major telescopes built with the “big ‘ol tube” approach to its design.

The “big kahuna” at McDonald is the Hobby-Eberle Telescope.  It was brought on line in 1996, upgraded in 2015, and is currently the third largest scope in the world, measuring 320 inches (9.2 m).  As you can see, there is no tube here.  The design is open frame work and the reflective surface is mounted on the green racking that you see in the photo.  Instead of the old school design of one large mirror surface, this one is actually 91 hexagonal panels.  This design reduces construction and maintenance costs dramatically.  This telescope is about to embark on a three year project called the Dark Energy Experiment.  The hope is to be able to measure the expansion of the universe over time.

When you go to the programs at McDonald you are absolutely blitzed with information, way more than can be absorbed.  Especially by a non-scientific mind like mine.  The passion of the people who live and work here is something to be admired.  I learned a lot and being able to look at bodies that are thousands of light years away is fascinating.  But I also learned that when it comes to stars, I’m a naked eye guy.  Being able to look at the whole panel of art that is the sky at night, is where I’m at.

As usual, if you are so inclined, there is tons of information on line about observatories, telescopes, and astronomical research projects past and present.

So I’m rolling down the highway this morning on the way to Alpine. Jerry Jeff Walker is with me on the Victrola and the anticipation is jumping around in my head like a grasshopper after a couple of white crosses. I wish I had a five dollar bill for every time I’ve talked about The Texas Cowboy Poetry Gathering since I was here last year. I guess I should admit that some of my anticipation had its roots in doubt, ‘cause you know how they say, “you can’t go back”. That the reality of a return to some special place doesn’t usually live up to the memory. But the Gathering did not disappoint.

As you approach Alpine from almost any direction, the most prominent thing you see, up on the hillside, is Sul Ross State University, the annual home of the Poetry Gathering. It’s named for Lawrence Sullivan (Sul) Ross whose family came to Texas from Iowa in 1839 to escape the Iowa winters. Imagine that. In his life Ross served as a Texas Ranger, an officer in the Confederate Army, and eventually State Senator and then Governor. If there was anything in his history that attaches him to Alpine, or this area specifically, I missed it in my quick scan of his life.

This is an aerial shot of the sole building that existed at it’s founding. Today it serves as the administration building, joined by nineteen others that randomly traverse the hillside with a beautiful “mall” at their center. Further down the hill, across the highway that passes below campus, is a sports complex.

I took these pictures just to give you a sense of what the format of the event feels like. My sense is that mostly regulars come to this, but somehow it felt like there were a lot more people here this year than last. Maybe they all read my blog from last year. 🙂 The sessions all feature three writers or singer song- writers. Sometimes it might actually be four people because there are some husband and wife, and brother and sister teams. Each one lasts fifty minutes and the poems or songs performed are loosely based on a particular subject. Rank Horses, Desert Solitaire, Starlight on the Range, and Snake Bit and Saddle Sore, are some examples. One session I’d like to make note of was called The Spiritual Side. It was exactly that and quite emotional. When Jean and Gary Prescott, from Ovalo, TX, finished their rendition of “Because He Lives” most of the room was in tears. If I tried to write too much more about individual acts I can’t imagine  where or how this post could end.

As I said, this year’s Gathering did not disappoint. Where last year I was here only during one afternoon, this year I attended sessions in both the morning and afternoon of both days. I do know quite clearly what draws me. There is a basic goodness and honesty in all who gather here, performer and listener alike. The performers are all current or former ranch people first, and performers second. I can only imagine how scattered the people who come to hear them are. Without even trying I noticed license plates in the parking lot from Michigan, Ontario, Saskatchewan, California, Wyoming, and Washington. I don’t know what next year will bring, but I do know I’ll be back again. And if lucky, again and again.

 From scattered afar they come,                                                                            These people of the land                                                                                              who love and revere what comes from God’s hand.

Horses and dogs and cows they know.  Blazing hot sun                                 and sting of wind driven snow.

They know love and loss, joy and sorrow,                                                          Work, and the stiffness of rest, and borrow                                                       They will from all of these things,                                                                                  For character inside and a voice that sings                                                               Out a line or a verse that honors what life brings.

For horses and dogs and cows they know, and the                                    Warmth of the sun and quiet of fresh snow.

I’ve been off the road for a bit visiting my sister and brother-in-law.  So I’ve been doing some stuff with them, taking a little break from posting, sleeping in an actual bed, and enjoying some home cooking.

I have been working on a couple of posts from last week, the next of which will be up shortly.

I am well, (I know good isn’t really proper grammar), and hope you all are too.  I really appreciate all of you who follow along.